#p switch op

[eternally-tired-cryptid]

Y'all y'all ayll,,, the op,,, holy shit dude there's tea now

So op was actually from an rp blog and it was an in character post based off a joke in universe w the other rp blogs they interact w (super simplified but that's the gist of it).

The post then breached containment and people were super confused bc y'know, you see a poll you vote and maybe rp you don't always check the blog. I thought it was fun, bc like I could see people calling it other comes or cups and I was curious abt where it was fun and whatnot. But apparently some people were assholes in the notes abt it to op which sucks.

Op has since deleted the og post bc people are rude and the notes blew up. Reasonable reaction, tbh.

BUT THEY DIDNT STOP THERE. They expressed their frustration in subsequent reblogs and asked people to leave them alone. Then people began sending asks and responses being like "dude it's not that deep no one's gonna check the blog whatever" and like. Tbh I think it all coulda been avoided had everyone just. Backed off. But op kepts being angry and loud abt it and asks seemed to keep coming in.

Ultimately Op was like "donate to my Paypal for making me deal w this" and like. Not the best option but hey why not take advantage of the sudden traffic on your blog. Whatever. Then they told someone to kill themself over it. People understandably got angrier and op kept digging the hole abt how stressed and hurt they were and all that, and did eventually apologize when the asks calling them on it kept coming in.

But like. Wow. Tumblr is wild man. If your post breaches containment in a negative way bc people don't get the joke or whatever, I personally recommend just stepping back instead of fighting. Does the opinion of anonymous folks on the internet rlly matter? Esp bc if it breaches containment it's rarely folks who even follow you?

[eoieopda]

tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.” 

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind. 

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you. 

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright. 

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response. 

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you. 

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you. 

You don’t reciprocate. 

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope. 

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk. 

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so. 

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever —  have to convince me to fuck you.” 

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple. 

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw. 

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access. 

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?” 

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat. 

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…” 

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it. 

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound. 

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life. 

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic. 

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.” 

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you. 

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed. 

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist. 

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him. 

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you. 

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before. 

Christ. 

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you. 

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you. 

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

[m0chis-cafe]

how i think ignihyde members would kiss you.. ⋆⑅˚₊

word count; 1.2k

warnings; nothing (orthos is a bit short just cause its platonic)

characters: Idia and Ortho (/p, kind of a continuation off of idas part)

Idia Shroud🎧

-this poor man..

-he does skin care dont get me wrong, hes not crusty by means, his lips are always dry though

-when he meets you he tries to take better care of himself to impress you (its so cute)

-didnt even connect the dots when you started going to classes and suddenly a new person started playing games with him, someone that never used their voice chat

-is stil so nervous to be around you in public even after you guys start dating so PDA is absoultly out of the question, hes not even actually in classes 99% of the time..

-after your courses are over you always end up in the ignihyde dorms on his bed telling him about your classes while playing games on his switch, while he plays games on his pc

-it takes a very long time for him to be able to kiss you, just anywhere

-lost his mind when you first kissed his cheek after the first couple dates (the dates where in his room and around ignihyde)

-his hair flared and it scared the shit out of you.. thought you actually killed him..

-when he does get more comfortable its a lot of forehead kisses or you shoulder

-when he does initiate kisses theyre very quick and he gets embarrassed so quickly (your just too damn pretty)

-he also fiddles with your hands a lot when he is talking, hes not used to talking so much to someone

-hell occasionally kiss your hands as well when hes talking, or if your talking he will to just do something so he stays focused (ADHD final boss..)

-you guys play games together a lot so thats just easiest to not completely distract the other from the game but still be affectionate

-if you guys are in public they just assume yall are dating, no woman is aloud that close to him that isnt his mother or hed be running

-still gets so nervous any time you kiss him

-making out is almost out of the question, the one time you did.. he almost lit fire to his dorm room..

-best friends with ortho of course, you both try to drag him out of his room as much as possible

-in short your the only person he allows himself to be himself around, besides ortho, your so damn important to him

you walked into idnihyde dorm after your classes had finished, walking down the hall as you saw ortho talking to other dorm members, "ortho! hey.. do you know where idia is?'

"oh hello! hes in his room, as always" he chirped and smiled before turning his direction back towards to what youd assume was lost and confused freshman

you nodded and headed off to his room, knocking before there was a lack of response and you walked in. you rolled your eyes as you looked at idia sat at his desk, curled into his chair playing a new game hed gotten that just came out. a favorite creator of his had just dropped a new game and you both were so excited to play it, "starting without me shroud?"

he squeaked and jumped in his seat as he heard your voice, head whipping towards you "oh- well- you know i just got excited.. a-and you were on your way anyways" he nervously rambled looking into his lap, he looked up and smiled sighing "h-how was your day?"

"nice rebound.." you mumbled, closing his door behind you as you threw your school game at the edge of his bed. walking to stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and slumping into his neck, "eh its alright.. i dont mind. how is it so far?"

he smiled quickly and went on a 15min rant about the beginning of the game, the graphics, visuals, weapons, co-op ability, and so forth. you just smiled and placed a small kiss to his neck, unwrapping yourself from him to grab your own chair that you kept in his room so you could sit by him. he continued his rant, you placing small comments here and there, and he held your hand as he did. running his hand over your knuckles and tracing shapes on your palm.

you let him speak, lifting his hands to place a kiss on his knuckles, "sounds very interesting so far, you ready to keep playing?". he just nodded pulling up the game on his monitor again, pausing before he tuned and quickly pecked your lips. blushing he turned back to his monitor and started playing to distract himself, "..thank you for being here my love" he mumbled.

Ortho Shroud🔥

-were not being weird with minor chat, this is set in an area of you being with idia and the three of you just have a very close bond and ortho sees you as his family

-hes very excited when your in ignihyde

-hes also glad he now has someone else with him getting idia out of the dorm more so, he used to be upset his brother had no friends but when you came along he was so glad that he got out more. not entering club level social, but going to dorm leader meetings actually, some classes in person, et

-he loves to play games with you as well, any new game out, ortho wants to play with you or watch you play it (he has the best cheat codes for any game)

-no kissing here, but if it was itd be like a small chee kiss of just appreciation like itd be from a sibling

-he does hug you a lot though, especially when it means more progress for idia

-he was the main person pushing idia to be more social when he realized his brother had a crush

-overall is literally a little brother to you as well, and its so sweet

-other ignihyde dorm members comes to you and ortho for anything, theyre still afraid of idia

it was a day before a large break and most of the students were leaving campus, not the ignihyde brother though.. theyre parets were so busy there was no point in going back home for holidays. they could do what they were going to do here instead of bothering to travel.

what they didnt relize was that because you werent of this world, you also had no family to go home to.. which landed you all in the situation of hanging out in idias dorm as he played on his pc set up, you and ortho sat on his bed as you played on idias switch.

a new game has just come out and ortho was helping you get almost every single hack and cheat in the game, it was great. ortho gave you a big hug as you got something for him in the game, as you two both nerded out about a little farming game idia turned a bit and smiled at his brother and partner having such a good bond, it made him glad.

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes|| Arthur Shelby x OC!Reader

Summary:  When Arthur comes home with his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, willing to introduce you to the family, the reactions are lukewarm. Some love you, some are wary, and others do not really care. But when it comes to Thomas Shelby, things are different. After meeting you he comes to two conclusions: first, Arthur is madly smitten with you to the point it worries him. Second, he does not like you. Not at all. That's why he tries to scare you away.

Words: 4,5k

TW: smut, non-protected sex, p in v, age gap (reader is in her late 20s), typical canon violence, mention of suicide attempt, mention of drugs, Tommy being a dick,

Notes: ✞ All chapters can be read as stand-alones but it's obviously better if you read everything.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

“Bloody Hell.” 

That was all John could say when his vibrant blue eyes fell on you.  The night Thomas told him Linda and Arthur had divorced, he could not believe it. He, more than anyone else, was well aware of his older brother’s tendencies to kowtow under his wife’s authority. Hence his reluctance to believe in such an improbable event. Once he processed the information, John thought about the whole ordeal over and over again. At first, he genuinely thought Linda was the one who left for she had already threatened Arthur to do so countless times. Let alone the fact their relationship had been hanging on by a thread for a while. Somehow he could not blame her — dealing with his brother’s mental illness and tantrums was overwhelming, he could get it, but if there were positive traits among Arthur’s troubled behaviors they were certainly his loyalty and the gigantic amount of love he could give to his significant other. That was why he was persuaded Arthur would never leave his wife, as much as John and the Shelby women warned him she was not a good person.

— And here he came today after weeks of absolute ghosting, the fairest creature he has ever seen snuggling in his arms. For sure, no one expected it.

“Bloody. Fucking. Hell.” He reiterated, standing in the doorway with his hand still on the knob and his eyes wide open. Astounded, John looked at you from head to toe for probably the tenth time in a row. 

“Are ya going to stand there like a dumbass or can we come in?” Arthur growled. He tightened his protective embrace around you, ready to bounce on his little brother’s throat at the slightest inappropriate comment. You bit your lip, not really sure what to do or say — maybe meeting the Shelby family was not a good idea after all.

“Is she really your woman?”

“Fuck off, John! Let us in.” Arthur said louder. He did not want to throw a brutal fit in front of you but you could feel his body shaking against yours, for John was about to cross the very short limits of his patience. One of your small hands gently stroked his chest in an attempt to calm him. Luckily for John, the sensation of your cold skin, which he could feel through the thin fabric of his shirt, was enough to tame his fire.

John Shelby blinked again and, this time, his thin adorable lips stretched in a teasing smile. You did not know him, but you felt he was about to say something stupid. Very stupid.

“How could such a stunning young girl like her be interested in an old and ugly ass dog like you? Fuck, is that your real hair color tho?” 

The flip in Arthur’s brain switched - it was too much for him not to react.

“YOU LIL PIECE OF —“  

“Arthur, dear.” You said with an indescribably soft voice, stepping in front of him to block his path. You pressed your hands on his chest a second time to gently keep him from fighting with his younger brother and probably knocking him out with his bare fists, “It’s alright. He is just messing with ya, you know?” You looked at him, a loving smile flattering your juicy lips.  Letting a long and noisy exhale out of his quavering mouth, Arthur looked dagger at his brother one last time with a threatening gleam burning in his iris before shifting his focus on you. As soon as his steel blue eyes caught sight of your adorable pout his face relaxed.

“Alright. Alright.” He whispered, feeling his rage evaporating at the sole view of your holy smile, “Ain’t going to smash his face in front of such a delicate little lady, eh.” He said. The gravel in his voice never failed to make you burn with both love and desire.  Then, he leaned over you for a kiss, his mind finding its peace only when your lips crashed together.

John watched the scene with vivid interest, for he had never seen someone handling his brother with such genuine care.  To be honest, he had hated Linda since day one — not only for the power she exerted on Arthur but also because of her irritating and condescending nature. She had always walked among the Shelby family as if she had been irremediably better than them, both morally and socially. John could not help but see all her sweet gestures being tainted with a will of controlling Arthur. That, along with the muzzle and leash she had put on her brother,  strengthened his deep aversion for Linda. But you were different — he could sense it. There was something about the way your fingers laid upon his brother as if you were not afraid of his destructive fire but did not want to extinguish it either. Also something about the way you looked at him, with both love and admiration, to the point he could not say if you were his guiding light or if it was the other way round. And when he saw the sudden shift in Arthur’s behavior, immediately calming down at your angelic voice, he knew you were the one.

“Moreover” You added, slowly pulling away from the kiss to press your forehead against his. Arthur looked at you with eyes half closed, bewitched by your enchanting tone.

“Hmm?”

 “I only see one ugly ass dog here and it’s chewing on a toothpick.” Your smile turned into a cunning smirk and your precious aquamarine eyes glanced at John.

“Hey! Hold your woman.” John retorted, pretending to be vexed — truth was he liked your wit, “Alright you can come in,” he said, stepping away from the doorway to invite you inside the Shelby’s house.

“Ain’t holding shit, I love it when me angel bites,” Arthur stated with one sharp, almost carnivorous grin on his face. As he passed by his little brother he punched him right in the shoulder in a typical sibling way to avenge himself. The younger one swore.

You took a deep breath and looked at Arthur, trying to find the necessary courage you needed for this first encounter. Admittedly, you did not know what to expect, but one thing you knew was that the Shelby family was not people you wanted to mess with. 

A relieved sigh escaped from your lips as you filled the teapot with water, all alone in the family kitchen. You enjoyed this quick moment of calmness, soothed by the pleasant smell of freshly baked cookies Esme had taken out of the oven minutes ago. The wooden floor creaked when Arthur entered the kitchen, closing the door behind him. As soon as you left the table following Polly’s comment he had followed you.

“Yer okay?” He asked, his hoarse voice highlighted with sincere worries. 

“I’m fine dear,” You glanced at him above your shoulder and offered a light smile to reassure him even though you both knew you were hurt, “You should go back to your family, I won’t be long.. Just needed to take a big breath. And we are running out of tea.” You added, waving off his question.

Arthur shook his head in disapproval and walked toward you with his so-specific yet adorable gait, swinging both arms at the same time. You had always found this detail absolutely endearing, which had surprised him at first — you never mocked him for the way he walked, nor made the slightest snarky remark.

Your smile, flickering and fragile at first, soon widened in comfort knowing he’ll keep you company during this life-saving break. 

“I’m sorry for what Pol said to you. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Pretty sure she did mean I was a Devil and that I’ll bring woe to this family, but it’s fine.”  You said before shifting your attention back to the teapot. Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you in a tight and reassuring back hug. As soon your bodies collided together, his warmth alleviated all your doubts and you found a well-deserved comfort in his presence. Worries vanished in smoke, annihilated by his protective demeanor. 

Each time you touched was a reminder that everything will always be fine as long as you were together.

You wiggled your nose like a little bunny for his musky perfume tickled your nostrils. And its familiar fragrances were enough to chase Polly’s unpleasant comments away from your brain. If you had not been busy making tea, you would have buried your face in his chest and never moved again.

“It has nothing to do with ya,” Arthur broke the silence first, “it’s your hair.”

“My hair?” You asked in a half-convinced tone, one brow raised. 

“Yes, your hair. She thinks someone cast a spell on ya when you were young or something, and she’s afraid the spell will harm her too if she sits next to you. Like it’s bloody contagious. It’s some kind of superstitious shit, not that she had really felt something evil in you.”

At such a revelation, you brought your small hand to your mouth to cover it and tried your best not to laugh. If her words had hurt you, painfully reminding your troubled life in France, the idea of a strong woman like Polly Gray being afraid of you only because of the color of your hair had something hilarious.  

“Esme too. She told me she’d personally kick me in the balls if her fookin’ baby comes out with white hair. But that woman is batshit crazy anyway. Pretty sure she’ll kick me in the bollocks for free.”  He growled, his arms tightening around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder. Arthur was holding you firmly as if he was afraid you might run away from him after the disastrous encounter with the two Shelby women. After waiting all his life for a woman not to flee from him, he would break into a million pieces if you would do so. Fortunately enough, Ada seemed to like you. She fancied your wit and your curiosity. Most of the afternoon had been spent chatting with her and John under the judging eyes of both Polly and Esme. Usually, people would shut Ada down each time she would talk about politics, especially about her communist ideas, but you did not. Quite the contrary, you listened to her carefully and questioned her with a genuine will to learn — even though you had never been good with politics. At least the conversation had been stimulating. And just like John before, she had also noticed the indescribable care and love with which you blessed her older brother, never controlling him, and always showering him with signs of deep affection. Maybe that was why she did not tease you when she noticed that you and Arthur were holding hands under the table. 

As for Finn, he had been too busy staring at Arthur with eyes wide open to even bother interacting with you. He could not believe that you, a tiny young white-haired girl with an angel face, were in love with his violent brother.

“So they think I’m contagious.” You might have been too confident about your ability to remain impassive because you suddenly snorted with laughter as you understood the true nature of their rude behavior. The crystalline laugh that escaped your mouth sounded like the most delicate music to his ears — he would listen to it with delight each time, his sick brain momentarily forgetting the booming canons and cacophony of war. Arthur, relieved by your reaction, allowed himself to chuckle along. 

“They do, eh.” He admitted, his lips gently brushing your neck, irremediably attracted by your fragile porcelain flesh. His breath, slow and peaceful, caressed your sensitive skin as he exhaled, sending shivers down your spine. Arthur closed his eyes for a second and let the delightful scents of your perfume intoxicate him. Way stronger than any drugs, your fragrances made his head spin — he was losing touch with reality but, this time, he was more than allowing it to happen. Because instead of being sent into a violent craze, he would drown in a blissful haze. 

“You should flee from me, I might infect you too, and you’ll be under my spell.” You teased, your heavy French accent adorning your words.

“I’m already under your spell, love.” His arms freed your waist from their grip only for his strong, calloused hands to run up your sides. How much you enjoyed the sensation of your body flickering under his touch as his soft fingers left trails of fire in their sillage until they finally cupped your small breasts. A blazing desire awoke in your belly and spread like wildfire through every inch of your flesh.

“Arthur — no,” You looked around you to make sure no one had discreetly entered the kitchen.

“Why not say Arthur yes?”  He grunted in your ear. His raspy voice caused an earthquake in your whole being — it shook you so strongly that your legs were now trembling, ready to give up under your weight.  Your lips parted to say something but words got stuck in your throat as his hips pressed against yours to keep you trapped between the kitchen counter and his tall, lean body. 

“I’m serious, we could get caught. And half of your family already distrust me so I’m pretty sure fucking in their kitchen won’t do me good.” You managed to say quickly before biting your lip, trapping its juicy flesh between your teeth. 

“It will do good, love. Fookin’… Good…” His thumbs gently rubbed your perky nipples, which were already pointing through the thin white fabric of your dress. A feverish and liquored sigh escaped from his lips, as he started moving his hips against the sinful curve of your butt cheeks, “I crave you so much Heaven, ” he paused his sentence to lay myriads of hungry kisses on your neck, “You make me lose me bloody mind…” An excruciating heat pooled in his body, so insufferable he could have ripped his skin apart. Arthur growled again at the overwhelming sensation of lava flowing through his veins

—  “I. Need. Ya.”

You don’t understand. He did not only want you, he needed you.

You were his missing half, and he could only feel complete with you.

You were his light, and he could only find a way out of the darkness if you were here.

You were his saving grace, his redemption.

You were his breath, his blood, his heart.

You. You. You. You. 

There was only you. 

You could not help but moan in a frail and aroused whine: his hands had left your breasts to travel everywhere they could on your body, almost a bit too eagerly for you to keep up with what was happening. At that point you had to hold onto the counter, nails digging into its worn wood. 

“Arthur.” You whispered, eyes closed and head down. As the arousal building within almost suffocated you, Arthur kept invading your pale and fragile flesh with both his daring hands and mouth. You whimpered at the pinching sensation of his teeth that had just bit the base of your neck. You were usually not timid when it came to sex, but not when the family of your man was taking the tea in the room that was right behind the door. But Arthur could not care less about getting caught. All he wanted was a taste of his angel.

He was everywhere — on every inch of your body, his lips kissing and biting. His hands rubbing and grabbing. He was overwhelming your senses with his unquenchable need to touch you again and again. And how good it felt to be desired as he did. 

To be desired "À la Folie".

“Say you want me, eh. I wanna hear it.”  The gravel in his voice sent tremors in your belly. You exhaled, your breath shaky, for one of his hands had just lifted your dress. Doing so, he disclosed your garters and the beautiful lace panties you were wearing. The fear of getting caught was still pounding in your chest, but the way he touched you was too good to resist. You gave in, ready to pay the consequences. 

“I want you Arthur, “ You finally admitted, your lips stretching in a smirk, “ I want you,” You repeated, arching your back and spreading your legs  to show how eager you were to feel him inside you, “Only you.” You had uttered the last two words with such tenderness, such a comforting tone, that you felt him smile against your neck. His mustache was tickling you at each word, each movement, which only contributed to the hurricane of sensations and feelings he provoked within your soul.  Right next to you, the teapot had started to let out a faint and continuous whistle as the water boiled inside. At one point you were convinced it was not the kettle, but your scorching desire that made such a sound.  

With one skillful movement, Arthur’s fingers shifted your soaked panties to the side and he unbuckled his belt with his other hand.

“Please…” You bent over the counter and begged, for the clothes that separated your bodies had become a far too heavy burden to bear. The only moment you felt a twinge of satisfaction was when his hard shaft pressed against your dripping pussy. 

“Bloody hell, woman.” He grunted, his voice raspier than it usually was, as your delightful warmth and wetness welcomed him. 

Arthur grabbed your hips fiercely and, unable to wait any longer, sunk into you in one slow but determined trust. A gravel moan, far from being discreet, echoed in the kitchen at the dizzying sensation of your warmth swallowing him. Struck by a moment of clarity, you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your whimpers of pleasure.  Stars dangled behind your closed eyelids, along with the melody of beating hearts and snapping flesh. In that risky situation, you were both well aware it was not time for a languid and intimate moment, but rather for a quick and torrid fuck. Hence, Arthur started to pound you with a fierce and quick pace as soon as you had adjusted to his size.  Your legs quivered even more for his cock was thick, so thick your walls were stretched all around him. 

“So… Tight…” He stuttered, breathless.

“Oh my — Arthur, Arthur!” You chanted, as a poor sinful soul chanting for God to set her free. The way his name melt on your tongue only made his thrusts rougher, for he loved how it sounded in your mouth. Especially with that adorable French accent of yours. There, with his cock buried deep in your heavenly cunt, he felt like a proud man — not some kind of rabid animal, or a lonely lunatic anymore.  He just felt like a good man, giving pleasure to his good and beautiful little wife.

His pulse quickened. His pupils dilated, and you felt him going faster. Muffling your screams, you lost yourself in a fire of lust. You were not you anymore, but a wet mess of desire.

The pleasure you were giving him sent a shot of dopamine through his brain. Arthur threw his head back, grunting louder, and let his whole being sink in the high you were causing him “So — good. Yer so good, Angel. Keep pleasing your ol’ Arthur, will ye?”  His hips jerked for he felt his climax coming. Yet, Arthur put his own pleasure on the back burner, refusing to come if you did not. He kept fucking you on the counter and slipped one of his hands between your legs to rub his fingers against your swollen clit. This time it was too much to handle: your walls clenched around him and you froze, all your muscles tensing at once. A cry of release would have echoed in the kitchen if you had not choked it with your hand. A tsunami of pleasure crashed against your bones, leaving you panting and shaking like a leaf, still bent over the kitchen counter with your dress lift and Arthur deep inside you.  

As you cum, your glistening love juice dripping along his shaft, Arthur allowed his own pleasure to overflow. He slammed his hips one last time against yours -- his cock throbbed, at the edge of climax. But as much as he wanted to fill you with his semen, he still gathered all his remaining will to pull out in extremis.

You sighed with ecstasy when warm and milky ropes of cum rained down on your ass.

“Aah yes, love.” Arthur’s hoarse moan echoed in the kitchen. How long did you stay there? You could not tell, for you were still dizzy with the orgasm he had just given you. Arthur slowly came back to his senses, the fog of pleasure in his brain evaporating. 

"We should get back to the living room, eh."

That was at this moment of intense relaxation, the two of you catching your breath and sharing post-sex smiles, that the door slammed open.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Your heart missed a beat. In one movement, Arthur pulled up his pants while you strengthened up and smoothed the folds of your dress before turning to the newcomer.

“Fuck off Tommy. Can’t you knock?!” 

“This is no bedroom. I don’t need to knock because I am not supposed to find anyone having sex here.” A freezing and quiet voice, also blessed with a seductive and hoarse tone, retorted.

The infamous Thomas Shelby stood in front of you, arms crossed in his back and cold blue eyes staring at you.  If you had the ability to disappear right on the spot you would have used it without hesitation. Yet, you remained silent, slightly hidden behind Arthur who ran his hands through his hair to slick back the rebel strands that had fallen on each side of his face. The older Shelby quickly moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue before talking.

“Erm, can I help ya Tommy?” He asked, still panting from your quick but intense fuck. You took advantage of their conversation to wipe the sweat from your forehead and briefly redo your hair.

“I am afraid you can’t, brother. However, I am pretty sure you charming woman can. I’d like to talk to her if she allows me to.” 

You frowned. Why the hell did he want to talk to you in private?

Arthur nodded and wrapped your shoulders with one protective arm, his surprised expression turning into a smile. He could not wait to introduce you to his little brother, filled with pride at the idea of showing him his magnificent woman. It was important to him — even though he would have preferred him not to meet her in these conditions — “Of course, I've been waiting to…”

“Without you.” Tommy cut him off, and his words broke Arthur’s dawning grin.  Despite the rollercoaster of emotions you just had, you could not help but open your mouth.

“He’s your older brother. He has every right to remain here while we talk, hasn’t he?” You argued, unhappy with the way Thomas Shelby acted. Arthur had waited the whole afternoon for Tommy to come so that he could introduce you to him, and when his little brother finally ought to show up he sent him off. That was painful to watch, “or if you really want to talk to me in private I think you might ask politely.” 

A heavy silence fell in the room. How dare you speak to him with that arrogant tone? He thought. Tommy inhaled through his nose slowly, and moistened his lips, “Well, Arthur would you please leave me and your charming lady alone for two minutes?” He reiterated with a more polite phrasing. In spite of his unshaken placidity, his bleak winter eyes were looking daggers at you. He had certainly killed you at least three times in his mind. Slightly confused, Arthur looked at you, then at Tommy, before nodding, “Right,” he mumbled, his eyes fleeing his brothers’. He kissed your cheek and reluctantly left the kitchen, already aching from your absence. 

You sighed, wondering what was going to happen now that you were all alone with the fearless Peaky Blinders’ boss everyone was talking about. Rather than starting the conversation, you took a cigarette from the small silver case that was on the counter and slipped it between your full lips, still swollen from the countless times you had bit them when you and Arthur had sex. Thomas Shelby remained silent too— all he did was walk to you, his soles hammering the floor, and lit up your cigarette with his zippo. But you were not fooled by his gentlemanly appearance nor by his undeniable charm. You took a puff from your cigarette until the tip ignited, and you stepped back from him as quickly as you could. Contrary to what people could think when watching Arthur and you, you did not like people entering your personal space without an invitation.

“I’ll go straight to the point, Miss Lavey. How much do you want?” He asked, his low and quiet voice undisrupted by the slightest emotions. While Arthur was made of fire, Thomas Shelby was surely made of ice. 

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, brows furrowed , for you had not understand what he meant.

“How much money do you want to leave my brother?”

His words were so violent, so unexpected, that you were unsure if he had just slapped you across the face or not. Your mind started to buzz, its gears creaking and tinting as you tried not to burst out in anger at such an indecent suggestion. Against all his expectations, your innocent pout turned to the most freezing expression he had ever seen on a woman.

“To Hell with your money. I don’t know what you're trying to do but I won’t leave him. Why would I, eh?”

“Because I don’t trust you.” He retorted as soon as you had finished your sentence. Thomas quickly rubbed his cigarette on his lower lip and lit it. White smoke came out from his nostrils as he stared at you, like an angry dragon gazing upon the last breath of his future meal. “When I learned for you and Arthur I decided to send some of my guys to investigate on you. They told me every bloody thing,” He emphasized each syllable, almost baring his teeth doing so for you to understand he was not joking — in case you doubt it, “ I know you come from that small town in the French Alps. I know about the witch hunt that took place there and all the women who have been tortured and burned. But more than that, I know that you managed to escape right before they tied you to the pyre. And I also know about the story of the five poor villagers who have been hunted and killed like animals — it was you, right?” Tommy exhaled another cloud of smoke, his eyes never losing their focus on you.

“— And?”  You gritted through your teeth, hatred blooming in your heart at the mention of these traumatizing memories. However, you did not let it show, for you knew it would please him. Thomas Shelby was well aware of the threatening aura that emanated from him, and how to use it for his own benefit. If you displayed any sign of fear or anger, it would be over and he would win. And somehow you were not particularly afraid of him.

He might had blood on his hands but you did too.

“And I will not tolerate a witch and a murderer around this family, nor will I let you take advantage of Arthur and ruin him.” 

“Now you’re worried for Arthur. Isn’t it a bit too late?” You said, all the traits of your doll-like face suddenly devoid of any emotion, except a slight shade of unsettling arrogance, “You throw away his meds, you send him off when he asks you for help — when he tells you he’s desperate.” You stubbed your cigarette out in the nearest ashtray, “You didn’t even help him when he was ruining himself with cocaine. But that’s not it.” You walk toward Tommy, reducing the distance between you and him with unstoppable steps until you were standing a few inches from him. You raised your head to look at his arctic blue eyes, “He tried to kill himself and all you did was wave it off at best and treat him like a child at worst. Now let me ask you something, Thomas Shelby. Who’s the one who uses his own brother as his combat dog? And who’s the one who closes his eyes on his problems until they are insufferable enough for him to attempt suicide?” 

Thomas clenched his jaws, his gaze hardening. He had to admit you had guts for a frail creature he could have broken in half with his bare hands. You were such a small yet fierce woman, it almost unsettled him. Moreover, you were smart, and smart was dangerous.

“So, don’t ever say I am the one who will manipulate and ruin Arthur when you do it on a daily basis. I love your brother, and whether you like it or not I’ll stay by his side.”

He rolled his eyes. The conversation was slowly but surely getting on his nerves, “Listen, I don’t need another Linda. She almost turned him into her dog and yet he was barely half in love with her compared to what he feels for you. Look at him! Look at fucking Arthur Shelby! He would throw himself out of London Bridge if you’d ask him to do so. She already tried to change him and took him away from this family, so don’t think I am naive enough to believe in your so-called love and kindness.”

“I ain’t gonna change shit. I am well aware of his demons, well aware of what he is but that's okay, I accept him the way he is. All I want is to see him healed and happy. No matter if he wants to keep killing people for your business. Sky could break loose I won’t give a damn as long as he feels better.”

Another silence. Thomas was trying hard to decipher your intentions but he could not probe your far-too-unique eyes. His brows furrowed; it was the first instance of emotions you had seen on his face since the beginning of your not-so-cordial conversation. 

“You’re a bad omen, Heaven. I can feel it.”

“Why dear?  Do you see a sapphire in my eyes?” 

A rush of thunderous rage ran through his veins — how could you mention Grace's death? A gleam of violence ignited Thomas's eyes, who suddenly grabbed your throat without any warning sign. His strong and large hand tightened around your fragile neck and pressed against your windpipe enough for you to give you trouble breathing. You tried to talk but nothing came out, words choked under his palm. The pressure was not enough to really choke you, but it was still painful. With eyes wide opened in surprise, you wrapped your own fingers around his wrist and clawed his flesh in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grip, but Thomas did not falter. Quite the contrary, the more you struggled the more he closed his fist around you.

“Don’t ever disrespect Grace anymore!” He gritted through his teeth, “You want to stay by Arthur’s side? Fine. So here's the plan: you’re going to be a good little wife for him and you won’t cause any trouble, nor interfere with my business. You’re going to do the best you could to make him happy and you’ll take care of him. You'll want him even when he’ll go back home wasted, yelling at you and breaking things because he will ultimately do it,” He paused, his eyes falling on the pale flesh of your throat he was still holding. The expression on his face changed for one brief second as he started to caress your neck with his thumb, almost too tenderly to be completely devoided of any kind of attraction, “but let me set this straight: if you ever try to leave him, if you become an inconvenience or if any member of my family is hurt because of your cursed being… I’ll burn you in a field like the witch you are.” 

He finally released your throat and looked at the scratches you inflicted on his wrist. As you inhaled loudly, Thomas rolled down the sleeve of his shirt to hide the red and thin cuts your nails had left on his skin. He did not even bother checking on you.

“Let’s go back to the living room. And wear your most beautiful smile.” He stated with his usual cold demeanor, watching you rub your sore throat. Then, he offered you his arm to keep up appearances. You reluctantly accepted and followed him out of the kitchen, still shaken by the conversation — 

The whole family, freshly joined by Michael Gray, was chatting together, all scattered here and there in the living room. Arthur, a hip flask filled with whisky in one hand, got up from his chair as soon as he saw you. At first, you thought he suspected something but the truth was that Thomas was insanely clever and he took care not to leave any bruise on your delicate skin.  And when it came to hiding things, he was certainly the best. Even better than you. Tommy finally released you from his grip so that you could come back to his older brother, then he poured some whisky into a glass for him.

“Well Arthur, congratulations. You’ve brought a stunning and lovely lady into that house. I guess we could welcome her in the family, since she made our good ol’ Arthur happy, eh.”

He rose his glass to you, his threatening blue eyes staring right at your soul. 

“Welcome, Heaven. Hope you'll stay with us for a while.” He said, pretending nothing had happened.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivated me, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Also, the third first parts of this series can be read as stand-alone but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interest: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid

[protectingtulpas]

So I just got sent that pretty iconic "anti-tulpa" document and I think it's pretty damn funny that a lot of those sources, if you actually READ them, are neutral or even supportive lmfao.

Like for this one? This is straight up pro-, and is just explaining that "tulpamancy" isn't the original concept and that it's based on other practices. Congrats, you're making our fucking point for us!

This next one is pretty interesting also. I wanna highlight some stuff from it, from both the op and comments.

Let's talk about my existence in contrast to some of these statements. The first one is "The biggest, most dangerous form of evil in Buddhist thought is "ego" or self-grasping. If ANY mental phenomena increases your self-cherishing attitudes (self importance, grandiosity, jealousness, craving, hatred, self-loathing, self-absorption etc) it's evil. IF a mental phenomena causes greater flexibility, less attachment, more tranquil emotions, less mental chatter/discursive thinking, increased generosity and compassion toward others, higher mental clarity etc.--that's good." And the second one is "If it increases negative emotions, it's not Dharma. If it decreases negative emotions, it's Dharma." So these are great for some people, but that mentality of not allowing "self-cherishing attitudes" can be EXTREMELY HARMFUL FOR SYSTEMS and ANYONE with self worth issues. A lot of this is contradictory for a lot of people. Something can both decrease negative emotions and make you feel connected to yourself. Nobody has the right to make us feel any less like ourselves - normally you can believe whatever you want for yourself, obviously, but pushing it onto other ppls' lives aint cool. The implication that we're straight up DANGEROUS just for existing is insulting to created systems regardless of whether you're using the word tulpa or not.

The reply to that by @/eeveecraft is great, and this part describes how weird that is in the context of headmates' identities here. "Furthermore, really don't like how you downplayed tulpas as property there, buddy. Tulpas are not property, they are people in every sense of the word, and I don't [give a] flying fuck about whatever complications that for your beliefs. My systemmates are people, full stop. I was already able to tell since you refer to your own systemmates as "imaginary friends," which a lot of tulpas aren't okay with being called that because that implies that they're fake. They are NOT lesser because they're not created by ancient monks or whatever.

"Like, seriously: "They would be considered "as real as you and me," with their own likes and dislikes etc," because apparently, modern tulpas don't have likes and dislikes and their hosts just see them as delusions? Say that to my tulpa, Arcanus who adores coffee while the smell makes me nauseous, say that to my systemmates who switch with me and have their own hobbies. Also, tulpas are more than just personalities. They have their own experiences, skills, preferences, dreams, memories, thoughts, a person is more than just their personality, and I thought a "licensed psychotherapist" would know that, especially if they have systemmates of their own." Make sure to read the full comment tho cuz it's a good takedown, it's not just about that it goes thru the entire thing.

SO! If anybody actually wants a well-studied paper outlining everything, check out Tracking the Tulpa: Exploring the "Tibetan" Origins of a Contemporary Paranormal Idea by Natasha L. Mikles and Joseph P. Laycock. It goes into a lot more of an accurate and in-depth history on the subject, and the bibliography ACTUALLY shows where things come from.

All that document showed us was that Buddhists are a wide community with a variety of different people with different skill levels, understandings, and opinions. And that we need to ditch the fantastical, impossible representation of the tulpa in supernatural media because that's ACTIVELY harming people. Which is what we want to show people! So congrats!

[hisokamywaifu]

Hisoka relationship hcs (sfw)

Somehow I haven't really written hcs before but here we go

Also first non smut post wtf am I doing with my life??

Warnings: probably cursing but idrk, no outright smut but a couple sexual phrases i guess, Hisoka is a warning in and of himself

~~~

This man

idk how to start this but

You'd definitely have a cat together (sorry if you're allergic 😐)

He's such a cat person, and I feel like when you're chilling at home he'll just look at it 👀 for like hours until it gets a little freaked out and hides from him

he might challenge it to a fight...since that's how he is (you'll have to make sure he doesn't get bored and kill it 😬)

But he'll be great at playing w it tho, he'll set up elaborate hunts and things for it so it's never bored

The poor creature will be a lil bit traumatized but at least it'll get its exercise in 💀

anyway, away from the subject of cats

Unlike what many people believe, I don't think you have to be op and a amazing fighter to get him to be attracted to you

Actually I think he's even more intrigued when he notices someone for reasons other than their fighting abilities

He wants to know more

He's definitely very physical, he's always finding one way or another to be touching you, whether in public or alone

And this is the kind of relationship that is mutually yandere

He will not hesitate to kill anyone he deems as 'too close' to you, and if you do the same, it's a major turn on for him

He's always with you, 24/7 (but if you need some space he's fine with roaming for a while, he might disappear for a few weeks but he doesn't get offended that you need your space)

OH AND THIS MAN

Whenever he wants your attention, or he wants to be closer to you

h-he

he will

p-pull you towards him with his bungee gum 🤭

And don't let him find out you're into it or else he'll start doing it ALL. THE . TimE.

Oh, and when he's fighting? He KNOWS when you're watching. He'll make sure to save the dramatic finish for when you're paying attention.

And then he winks or bows or something at the end to make you laugh which makes his grin widen

this guy

everyone thinks you're insane for dating him but the insanity is what makes you a perfect match for him

Also, he would be into all different kinds of music

so whatever you like, he enjoys too

You can bop with him to all your favorite songs, and just have the best time fooling around with him

You probably don't spend much time in each place, due to Hisoka's...lifestyle? So there may be a lot of moving involved

But anything you wanna try w him in cool new locations, he's willing and eager to do it all with you

He takes you out for manicures and gets matching nails with you every so often

Pull his hair. Trust me. Just do it.

Sometimes he makes you mad on purpose to get you to scold him because thats just the hottest thing ever to him

Since he's so clingy and touch starved he will force you to cuddle with him

But it's okay because he's weirdly comfortable

He will flex in front of you just to see you drool over his muscles

and he's flexible, so he stretches and watches your reaction too

lmao and cooking

This could go either way

He's either the best cook ever without trying, or he has never tried and never will

And this guy is the sassiest bitch ever

He is always snarking at the worst times

And if you guys are across the room from each other you have silent conversations with your eyes just knowing exactly what the other is thinking

No matter how far into this relationship you are, he will never stop flirting with you shamelessly

He switches between big spoon and little spoon, but is always so cuddly and cozy

And if you're even half the amount of clingy that he is, he's over the moon

He absolutely loves whenever you initiate contact

OOOO and carnival dates (I have to lean into the aesthetic here) but he's the best bf for those ever

Overall, he's just the most amazing person ever

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Woah first non smut piece of writing eVeR

I love Hisoka so fucking much. He's probably my favorite of my 100+ anime boyfies (I have a list)

Anyway, if you liked these hcs, feel free to request other ones! I'm taking a break from full fics for a while because writers block is a bitch, but I'm gonna try out headcannons for a while

[yuripides]

Augh fuck ok so, I was just listening to Want You Gone and I realized something. There’s a very real possibility that GLaDOS isn’t in denial about liking Chell and caring about her and her act of sending Chell away could be out of that very care.

So throughout the song GLaDOS does say stuff like “go make some new disaster, you’re someone else’s problem now” and of course “now I only want you gone” and all this time we’ve been quite logically reading “I used to want you dead but now I only want you gone” as an “I don’t hate you as much anymore and killing you is basically impossible and you cause too much trouble for me to try anymore” but… GLaDOS still pulls back Chell at the end of Portal 2. She doesn’t let Chell die. Sure we can say that that was Caroline because the facility deletes Caroline later, but in the ending song GLaDOS says “now little Caroline lives in me too”, so she’s clearly still in there somewhere and makes up a fundamental part of who GLaDOS is.

Now I mentioned all that to segue into this next part. Do you think if GLaDOS just “hated Chell less” she would have organized an entire choir and orchestra out of turrets for her to listen to as she left the facility? Do you think she would have given her a companion cube, the thing that’s been a symbol for the human emotion of caring throughout the series with even players being attached to it sometimes?

Let that sit on your mind for a second.

Portal 2 has a second story-driven gamemode. The co-op. In the co-op you play as Atlas and P-body, two robots who GLaDOS put in place for testing in the absence of Chell. Now we see that these robots can’t really die, possibly in-canon as they respawn in the co-op as long as one of them is still alive. Unlike humans, these robots can’t come to permanent harm.

At the end of the coop, the two robots find the room where the crow’s made a nest. They manage to get the crow out of the facility, but find the eggs it’s laid. At first GLaDOS is horrified but then decides to take the eggs and raise the chicks herself. Of course she does this in her own way of trying to see them as dangerous “killing machines” but before she switches to that, she even names two of them “Marshmallow” and “Mr. Chubbybeak”. As dangerous as she is GLaDOS has a heart and some kind of caring instinct.

That’s not the only thing those two find at the end of the coop. They also find an entire untouched wing full of humans in cryosleep. GLaDOS wakes them up, puts them to testing.. and “depletes” the entire test subject supply in a few days.

Now, as we know by this point this isn’t exactly her fault. It’s the facility that instills “the itch”, the drive to test and experiment regardless of the consequences, as long as the facility itself is intact. And she knows that very well.

And in the end, I think that’s why she sends Chell away. Not out of hate, but out of care and love. In that brief time of freedom from the facility and the itch she gets, she realizes she does care. “I used to want you dead but now I only want you gone.” GLaDOS wants Chell gone because she knows that despite how much she wants Chell to stay with her, Chell will be happier in the outside world, and if she stays in the facility she will eventually come to harm.

“Want You Gone” is GLaDOS trying to intentionally deny that she cares so she doesn’t get hurt. In her own words,

“Goodbye my only friend…

Oh did you think I meant you?

That would be funny,

If it weren’t so sad.

Well, you have been replaced.

I don’t need anyone now!

When I delete you

Maybe I’ll stop feeling so bad…”

[ineffectualdemon]

Binghe coughs up one mouthful of blood at the beginning of his first fight with Tianlang-Jun in the Mausoleum and Shen Qingqiu is SO mad

Quote:

Wasn't! It! Laid! Down! In! Law! That! The! Protagonist! Has! OP! Plot! Armor?! Have we switched to screwing over the protagonist now that we're done screwing with the reader?!

SVSSS Vol 3 p 49

How dare the System let anyone hurt his Binghe!

It's one hit that confuses Binghe more than it hurts and Shen Qingqiu is so livid it's hilarious and sweet at the same time

[the-moth-from-elsewhere]

The Epic Amazing Absolutely Insane TAOCC Song Post

Aka: Elsie assigns random songs to random characters for random reasons, vaguely organized by mod. These are almost entirely vibes and randomness so get ready to be utterly confused. Don’t expect any of these to fit too well, I went more based on the sound and random stuff than the actual accuracy. Also i’m kinda brain-broken from overthinking all this music lol. No, I didn’t add links, just because this took so many hours. Maybe tomorrow, I just wanna get this done.

Feiar’s characters.

Nymn

“Dento takes the Stairs” by Gooseworx

I told you these would make no sense. Idk the amount of nymn just being vibes/silly/lighthearted makes me think of how this song is a break from the chaos of the Elain series.

Jessy

“Metamodernity” by Vansire

Okay, I have a really specific animatic in my head for this song in which we flash between the TAOCC characters as they are in the circus, and then a cool transition, and then it’s them pre-circus. My best example is Dusk and Jessy sitting on a bench. A train passes by, and now it’s human Jessy sitting alone on a bench. Because Dusk is AI. And that very specific part of the animatic in my head tends to stick with me, especially seeing as Jessy is very “just go with stuff” and so I can kinda hear him singing this in my head.

”Apocalypse Now” by PinnoccioP

The first appearance of many of my favorite music artist lol. The song is about enjoying existence even if everything is a violent wreck, and it just kinda fits to me lol.

“World’s Smallest Violin” - AJR

yeah just gonna drop this one here and run

“Sweet Tooth” - Scott Helman

Blame Fei.

Clara

”Drosselmeyer’s theme - Kurumi Wari Ningyo (Nutcracker No. 2 March) - The Princess Tutu Soundtrack

Okay, for starters, you should watch Princess Tutu. Like right now. It’s amazing, and the title does NOT do it Justice. Back on track, it…it’s the nutcracker! Come on, this one was basically handed to me.

Tutu vs Kraehe (Swan Lake Act 1 Op. 20 No. 2)

Fight theme.

Lance

”I Don’t Have a Name For It” - Steam Powered Giraffe

I…I’m sorry I don’t have an explanation for this it just works. Lancia sweep.

Raina

”Nightcall” - Kavinsky

…Once again, very flimsy. But like…switch the gender. I’m sorry but it’s giving “they’re talking about my death but I’m still here.” The miku version works better here in my opinion :3

The pirates

“He’s a pirate” - F-777

“The 7 Seas” - F-777

idk man techno piracy go vrrrrrrrr I unironically blasted these during like the entirety of the pirates plotline frick you this is my rant I do what I want /silly

Star’s Characters

Icia

”Long Live” - Taylor Swift

I swear I have reasons for this just hear me out okay- First off, I can see the voice fitting, second off, I imagine her singing this either for Lance or Starro or both after we finally finally finally throw Hexe off a cliff.

“Santa Salvacion” - Magia Record OST

epic fight theme for fighting the terrifying ice lady. I blasted this while writing the fight scene with The Dark Queen Icia.

Dunite

”Postmeridae” - Madoka Magica OST

Cutesy upbeat theme for making merengues to. No notes.

“Witches Dance” - Magia Record OST

Idk, feels like her fight theme

”Roki” - Mikito P

…Vibes. Entirely vibes. Dunite should start a band /hj.

Starro

“Please Never Fall In Love Again” - Ollie MN

I just…him. Singing this. About Conny. I swear to cheese.

Vaga and Nova

“Class Dance - Rensho Kyoku I” - Princess Tutu OST

…Vibes.

Odette

”Vocalise Op. 34 No. 14” - Madoka Magica OST

Vibes. Piano. Sad string accompaniment. Must I say more?

Achilles

“Doubt #2” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

Starting to notice a pattern with the kingdom characters lol?

Joofie’s Characters

Cardlan

“Main Character” - Will Wood

Ego. So, so much Ego.

“Sayo-Nara” - DDLC OST

I have my reasons.

Minimi

“Not Yet (Epilogue)” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

Accordion and a little bit of ominousness. Vibes.

Xeyshattersiltav1a’s Characters

Sun

“Cowboy Dan” - Modest Mouse

Yee-haw sun. Do not give that woman a truck. Wow, these descriptions are getting terrible lol.

”Popular” - Wicked Soundtrack

Wicked but it’s sun and Dusk lives in my head rent free okay

“Alright” - Mother Mother

please help me I keep making up sun animatics with this song in class

Mix

“Something, Everything is Wrong” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

This song is the reason I associate Mix with the accordion. Also, I imagine Dusk meeting him/his first real introduction in TAOCC’s background music as this song.

“Intertwined” - CMYK, CircusP.

Rip this man’s love life

“Love is War” - Ryo/Supercell feat. Hatsune Miku

Love is still Vehicular Manslaughter /ref

Dialtone

“Cats!” - waterflame

Does the song fit him? Not at all! It is way too techy and upbeat, and would probably better suit someone like Switch. But like….cats. He’d listen to a song called “cats!”. You can’t convince me otherwise.

“Want You Gone” - The Portal OST

Dialtone is GLaDOS coded to me.

“Killer Spider” - PinnoccioP

vibes and vibes alone.

Soup’s Characters

Silhouette

“Scared of you” - Brandon Hesslau

“Whoops, sorry for kinda almost killing you.”

”What Gave It Away” - Riproducer

evil.

”Burial Ground” - Low Roar

sad backstory.mp3.

Clown

“I’m Number One” - Muppets Most Wanted Soundtrack

Look man he’s silly and egotistical and it’s funny. He’s definitely singing this with carbine.

Autumn’s Characters

Pyxel

”Magical Doctor” - MARETU

once again, more vibes than lyrics and the gender’s wrong but, like, the vibes, man

Neb

“Lonely UFO” - PinnoccioP

…it doesn’t fit. The lyrics, as far as I can tell, do NOT fit. BUT LOOK AT THE OUTFIT, THE BLUE HAIR AND VOID SKIN AND MURDER TEETH AND TELL ME THAT DOESN’T LOOK LIKE NEB, OKAY?!

“Finding Sanctuary” - Stellaris OST

Silly space song for silly space person.

Lily’s Characters

The bookend siblings, and I mean all of them as a group, Katrina included for brevity’s sake

“Magical Girl and Chocolate” - PinnoccioP

Okay, I have actual reasoning for this one. Each of the siblings is someone’s “magical girl”, whether metaphorically or literally. They’re each fighting to protect and support someone. And they each strain and struggle to cope with a role too demanding for them. This song works for each of them in a different form and context.

Octavia and Steven/Sign

“Isn’t it “A”” - PinnoccioP

The arguments of all time

Honse- I mean Sophro

“Puzzle” - CMYK, CircusP

He’s just here to help. No notes.

Miscellaneous Others/Not big enough for their own section

Lantern

“Lantern” - Undertale OST

…self explanatory. The song’s vibes fit, too, I imagine this plays in his scenes.

“The Other One Left” - VaneLily

Half due to the “I just want a loving father” line. Gender’s wrong, again, but otherwise the lyrics fit.

Seer

“Seer’s Theme” - Cindy

I literally cannot outdo her own theme. It’s just too good. I listen to it randomly just because I like it so much /gen.

Sigil

“I’m Just Ken” - Barbie Movie Soundtrack

this is mostly a joke but come ON you think that guy doesn’t feel a little overshadowed by his GODDESS FIANCÉE?!

“Business Man” - Tom Cardy

Okay so this one takes some explaining because I imagine sigil walking into Dialtone’s place to spy and Insanity ruining everything and shooting everyone. It makes absolutely no sense but it’s funny in my head so here we are.

My Characters, yes this is gonna be last

Dusk

“Ultimate Senpai” - PinocchioP

A song about being overly pressured and stuff? Yeaaaaah.

“Sis Puella Magia!” - Madoka Magica Soundtrack

….Pretty. That’s it.

Aoki

“Decretum” - Madoka Magica Soundtrack

The reason I gave him a violin.

Alpenglow

“Yume Yume” - DECO*27

I have an ENTIRE ANIMATIC for chip and alpen with this song in my head

Lemonade

“Viva La Vida” - Coldplay

lore. Hehe.

Yume

“What are Children Made Of?” - PinnoccioP

This kid’s childhood has been ruined and boy is processing that hard.

”Everything about Animals” - PinocchioP

an absolute fever dream of a song that she would absolutely sing about animals. And how cool they are. And ohhhh look commentary on the state of humanity

Switchboard

“Kom Susser Tod” - Astrophysics

Idk it doesn’t fit all too well but the mix of utter hopelessness and eurobeat techno is just hercore

TAOCC as a whole

“Something Rotten!/Make an Omelette” - Something Rotten Soundtrack

WHEN I TELL YOU I HAVE AN ENTIRE. FREAKING. ANIMATIC-

”Your Silver Garden” - Madoka Magica OST

I do not know the lyrics literally at all but I could see an OP for TAOCC with this song

[take-everything-you-can]

Yours Or Mine

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: So first let me just say it has been years since I've been inspired to write smut, but alas Eddie Munson has opened the floodgates. This will be the first installment of many to come as a sort of kink exploration series for Eddie and Reader. I just felt like the year anniversary of all of us loving this man would be the perfect time to post this!

I was so nervous to post this but I've had some amazing people in my corner. @astragreenwoode Thank you so much for everything that you do in editing my stories helping them flow effortlessly. I'm blessed to have you.

To the ever-so-lovely ladies @big-ope-vibes, @bimbobaggins69, and @munsonswife for beta reading and making me feel like posting this wasn't going to be the worst idea on the planet and letting me talk through my anxieties and slutty little Eddie thots.

also can't get over this amazing divider by @newlips

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem Reader ( Established relationship)

Word count: 3.9K

Tw: 18+ mdni (if you are underage gtfo this post .... seriously get lost) crude language, f receiving, m receiving, p in v sex unprotected ( pls use protection my people), subby switch if you squint, shower sex, needy Eddie I suppose, slight ball play, some soft dom Eddie

 

College ended up being harsher than you expected, but the full ride for the Cheerleading scholarship the school had given you was more than worth all the trouble you had to keep your grades up. You proudly proved to everyone that the whole ‘all cheerleaders are dumb’ stereotype was just that; an unfounded myth meant to diminish all those involved. After working your ass off throughout High School, you ended up picking one not too far from home. Having to care for your other six siblings alone was enough to drive your parents insane, so the fact that you were willing to make the commute made you an angel in their eyes.

Today ended up being especially exciting for two reasons; cheer practice would be held at your old high school, which also meant you were able to spend time with your beloved metalhead of a boyfriend. Your coach ended up dragging out practice to be longer and harsher than usual with seemingly endless drills and unnecessarily cruel critiques of your performance. It was a punishment for being late. 

Usually, that was something that would’ve set you off, but if you were being totally honest, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You welcomed it as a distraction for why exactly you came to practice so late. It was for a good reason, you swear; Eddie decided to take you on a ‘Side Quest,’ as he put it.

He took you on a small detour; pulling you into the nearest supply closet, out of the crowded hallway, and getting his hands on you as soon as possible. Almost as soon as he closed the door behind you, he used all his strength to pin you against the wood of the door. You giggled as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, leaving a torturously slow trail of pecks and nips up your jaw. He hungrily stopped at your lips, gently tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Eddie. . .” you breathed out, trying your best to compose yourself as he dragged his hand from your cheek to the curve of your cleavage rising and falling with your heartbeat beneath your uniform. “We. . .we can’t do this right now, baby. I’m gonna be late. You’re gonna be late.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as the cold contrast of his rings on your bare cleavage made your body break out in goosebumps. His deep brown orbs started to darken as they threatened to pull you in and never let you go. As much as you wanted to just lean in and forget about the rest of the world outside this closet, you mustered all your strength to stop him from going forward. You giggled as you placed a hand on either side of his face, bringing his head up to make your lips touch.

“Later, Sweet Boy. I’ll still be here after practice, okay?” you whispered.

A small groan sounded from the back of Eddie’s throat; an incredibly needy sound as he pressed his forehead against yours. Even as he held onto you and batted his doe-like eyes to hypnotize you into staying, he didn’t go any further. He may be relentless, but he respects you.

“Ya promise?” he whined against your mouth.

You hummed in agreement, blindly dragging your hand around to find him as you hooked your pinkies together. He savored the kiss as long as you let him before you left the small room, wanting to imprint it in your minds to give both of you something to look forward to after you were finished with practice.

Around the time your team finished and made their way to the girl’s locker room, Eddie was fresh out of his latest session with the boys from Hellfire. You were the last one to take a shower as the other girls left, planning on meeting up with Eddie where he usually parked his van just like you did every Friday. But he had other plans today, ones that couldn’t wait any longer. As he watched the remaining members of Hellfire and the other members of your team leave the school parking lot, Eddie snuck back into the building to make sure you kept your earlier promise.

The Dungeon Master shamelessly walked into the girl’s locker room and his eyes locked on you as you were just peeling off the sweat-soaked cheer uniform. Every inch of you was flushed in tone; the bottom of your hair damp and your body was covered in a thin layer of sweat as you let your top fall to the floor. You let out a soft moan as you freed your sticky breasts from the confines of your bra. It was familiar to him; the same one he had thrown into the corner of your bedroom as he relentlessly took you to your peak just a few nights ago.

He debated on just staying there, watching you clean your body, but the twitch in his pants he got just from the sight of you told him otherwise. Eddie craved to get a taste of your salty, flushed skin before you had the chance to wipe yourself clean. He was never able to hold out from touching you for long, no matter how hard he had tried in the past. You were just as magnetic as the day he met you. What was it that people said? ‘Opposites Attract?’

Eddie leaned himself against the set of lockers closest to the showers, crossing his arms against his chest as he cleared his throat to capture your attention.

 You jumped in shock as you let out a quiet squeak. Instinctually, you used your arms to cover your chest as you turned around, not expecting anyone to be in here with you, especially not Eddie. But at the sight of him, you lowered your arms and sighed in relief but you rolled your eyes a bit. He was supposed to be cleaning out his van. He had told you it was trashed by the boys after a gig at The Hideout and said he would make sure the passenger side was clean before letting you ride in it this morning over the phone. He now stood before you, a gleam of awe in his eyes.

“See something you like, Munson?” you laughed out, turning so that you were innocently looking over your shoulder and gave him a little shake of your ass that made your cheer skirt follow.

The smirk on his face deepened and made his dimples stand more prominent on his face; it was a look he reserved just for you. He pushed himself off the lockers and slowly but surely made his way toward you.

“I sure do like what I see. But. . .you look like you could use a hand there, Sweetheart,” he purred, sticking his tongue out slightly between his teeth.

“Oh, really?” you teased, meandering your way over to meet him in the middle. He took your hand in his and allowed him to twirl you like you were waltzing, making the short little skirt that adorned your body send him into a trance. You watched his eyes size you up, trailing down from your head to your feet as you gripped the side of your skirt in frustration. How long was he going to take before holding you up on your promise?

“Yeah. . .what’s that old saying? ‘Reach out to lend a hand. . .not to bend the heart,’ or however the fuck it goes?” Eddie slithers his arms around your waist to pull your bare body flush against his clothed form, tilting his head as he gave your nose a small peck. He teasingly kissed either side of your mouth, before pulling you in to crash them against his.

“Fucking finally,” you thought to yourself; though, the heat in your belly only grew hotter now.

“Would you bend my heart, Eddie?” you whispered against his lips, almost as if telling him a secret.

“I wouldn’t dare, Princess. . .” he muttered back against you. As he made your heart flutter when his hands buried in the roots of your hair, Eddie twisted and turned your body around to bring your ass against his growing bulge. He pushed you against the shower's wall and made you arch your back, rough and gentle all at once.

“Now. . .bending you over, on the other hand. . .” he growled into your ear, sending a shiver straight down to your core as he lifted your skirt to reveal your pussy and ass practically swallowing your panties.

“That’s a whole ‘nother thing,” Eddie finished, giving your bare ass a tender slap that made you whine and jump.

The giggle that leaves you turns into a moan as he unwrapped his hand from your damp hair and tilted your head to mash his lips against yours once more. As he turns you around, the cold tile meets your back. Playing with the hem of his shirt before sliding your hand underneath it, you ghost over the trail of hair that led to the bulge in his pants now throbbing with desire. 

As you walk your fingers up his chest with a feather-light touch, you blindly trail over his tattoos engraved in your memory. You had spent many of your shared hours together tracing over the black lines etched into Eddie’s skin. On your laziest of days together, he used your body as a blank canvas to paint your skin a masterpiece of his own, purples and pinks staining your skin for days to come.

Smirking with mischief, you let your hand travel down to tease his cock by cupping him through his pants ever so slightly.

“. . .fuck,” Eddie stutters out, making you whine as he unlocks your lips. “I need to taste you... .now,” he spoke, his tone dangerously laced with need.

Eddie tugs you to sit on the small bench below the showerhead, lowering himself to his knees as he pulls your skirt and panties down. Gripping each thigh, he jerks you slightly forward to get a better angle before burying his face in between your legs. He kneads the soft meat of your thighs on either side, leaving small bruises in the shape of his fingertips and the tender marks of his teeth. Looking up at you with lust-blown eyes, he waits for your permission to continue, Once you give him the knowing nod of your head, he slows down as he notices just how drenched your pussy really is.

“Mmmm, such a pretty little pussy,” he mutters against you, torturously dragging his mouth everywhere but where you needed him to be.

“Tight, juicy, and all mine. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You gasp as you wait for him to touch you, frantically nodding. But that wasn’t enough; not for him.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs against the skin of your thigh. “I couldn’t hear you, Sweetheart. What did you just say?”

You simultaneously whined and groaned with frustration.

“Yes,” you gasped. “It’s yours, Eddie. It’s your pussy. Now, please, please just fuck me.”

“Such a desperate little slut. I’m right here, baby. ‘M not going anywhere. Not when I have such a tasty little snack on a silver platter right in front of me.”

You want nothing more at that moment than to tell him to shut the hell up and stop playing with his food. But before you can utter a word, he cuts you off by flattening his tongue against you. He licks up your arousal from the bottom of your opening to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves for a little while before wrapping his lips around it. You swear to God that Eddie’s trying to destroy you, to somehow devour your soul as he does the same to your pussy. Everything he does to you drives you crazy; severs your train of thought from its track. All that’s swirling around in your mind is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

The sound of his tongue lapping up your slick and sliding through your folds coaxed a moan out of you that echoes off the tiled walls of the locker room. It feeds Eddie’s ego full as he moans against your soaking mound, the vibrations of his hums igniting the fire in you and sending the flames higher and higher. As your legs quiver at the intensity and the coil in your stomach starts to loom, he pushes his hands against your thighs to keep you from slipping off the bench and against the wall. You dig your hands into the roots of his dark curls, earning another hum of appreciation before detaching his lips from you to circle his tongue around your clit again.

Eddie looks up at you with a coy smile and hazy eyes, the mixture of your arousal and his spit dripping down his chin as he latches his mouth around you again. He effortlessly slides his finger in and out of you. The sinful slurping sounds that fill the air send waves of phantom pleasure washing over you. It felt something akin to a dream; déjà vu. You gasp as Eddie slips a second finger into you, the cool metal of his rings bumping against your entrance making your pussy flutter around him at the unexpected contrast.

“Shhiiitt, you’re takin’ my fingers so well, Sweetheart. Can’t wait to have that tight little pussy wrapped around me,” he purred against your clit as he curled his fingers against your sweet spot. He can tell by your breath and the way you tremble beneath his mouth that you’re about to snap. It encouraged him to frantically pick up the pace of his fingers and playfully shake his head back against your clit, bringing you over the edge and sending your body into pure bliss. 

Eddie wasted no time drinking up all that released from you, licking up every drop from between the lips of your pussy to where it was caked on the inside of your thighs. It was ambrosia on his tongue, salty sweat and musk mixed with his spit and your release. He was so glad he decided to stop you from showering when he did; you wouldn’t have ended up tasting nearly as good as you did now.

The fog from your mind started to clear as you come back down to earth again, Your breathing returned to normal again after Eddie lowered your thighs back onto his shoulders. He snuggles himself into the embrace of your legs, leaning his cheek into your palm that traveled down from his hair.

 "Well I'd say you definitely lent a helping hand, but now it's my turn pretty boy." He laughs as he brings his fingers to your mouth, pressing them past your teeth and letting them settle, as you suck your arousal off of him. Moaning through closed eyes basking in the reminder of how Eddie made you feel on top of the world, you were gonna return the favor. 

He had always adored when you would get that look in your eyes after making you cum. Your eyes would get a bit glassy and your lids would draw almost as if fighting sleep. No, you weren't fighting to sleep, you were just turning the cogs trying to figure out how you were going to please your man. You had turned the shower on to the hottest it would go, never reaching past a lukewarm. If Hawkins was one thing it was never efficient.

“ I don’t think it’s very fair that I have to be naked and you get to be fully clothed. I think we need to fix that.” he took a tendril of hair that had fallen into your face and tucked it behind your ear.

“Well if you still have the ability to think straight I don't think I've done my job right princess.”  He pulls the shirt from the nape of his neck up and over his head and tosses it towards the pile you had started on the tile floor. Before he can reach for them you are already lowering yourself to your knees as your hands unbutton his jeans and slip his zipper down slowly looking up at him through your lashes. 

“ Fuck me, man.” It comes out breathy and hitched as you tug his jeans and boxers to his ankles. Watching as his dick springs from the second tug down, smacking his stomach as his precum leaves a mess making your mouth water, a reflex making you bite down so hard on your bottom lip you swear you can taste the metallic trickle of blood. He kicks his pants to the side as he takes a seat on the bench you were on not long ago.

The tile was biting into your knees but you had been through worse trying to suck Eddie off, Skull Rock had a particularly awful patch of prickly trees that Eddie just loves to stand beneath. Looking up at him now he had nothing but love for you in those eyes. 

His breathing hitches as you lick the mess off his stomach, mixing it on your tongue as you let a glob of drool drop to the tip of his dick as you take your hand and rub it along his shaft. The size of him always had your thighs clenching. He was length and girth in all the right places. The thought of him filling you had your arousal dripping onto the tile below you. You lowered your head taking Eddie into your mouth swirling your tongue around his tip and across his slit as he clutched a fist into your hair as you began to bob up and down a perfect rhythm you had found he fell for. 

“ Holy shit, Baby, Just like that, yes fuuuck,  Just like that .” His head was leaned back against the wall, eyes closed as the water from the shower mist  hit his chest rolling down his flexed stomach, cooling the heat that was rising within him. You could see a small thank you on his lips as he held out his breath feeling you take him to his hilt and hearing the sound of your throat gag against him, the vibrations of the moan sending a shiver down his spine. 

You had slipped off of his length and licked down to the sack underneath, hands working along as you found your way. A small whimper from Eddie as you took one of his balls into your mouth and sucked along the skin feeling the weight of his need making you moan and Eddie's grip on your hair tightened. He pulled up off of him with a wet pop, his balls were extremely sensitive. A lesson you learned on a rainy day in May as your boardroom hit rock bottom and Eddie had looked like a god coming out of the shower. Letting the spit fall as your hands continuously worked their way up and down his length. 

“ Come on honey Please.” you let out a giggle, one that made him grip your hair hard,  pulling back until you were face to face with him.

 “ Who's desperate now?” Instead of words, you knew he would make you pay for laughing at his plea. Standing fast as he bent you over again just as he did when you first started this little act except this time he brutally slammed his cock straight into you. A whine ripped through you gasping for air around his moans. They were muffled against your skin bending with you as you found a grip on the wall in front of you as the water made everything around you slick. 

Once your hold was solid his grip on your hips let you know his pace was about to be fast and rough. Slamming into you over and over the sounds of his balls slapping against the arousal that was dripping from you and echoing off the walls. The dirty thoughts of how anyone could walk in at any moment to check and make sure that someone was not in any harm, and would instead find you a moaning mess, getting railed in the best way by the freak of Hawkins High. A freak he was indeed. You look at your wrist and see the light bruises he had left not long ago from some handcuffs and his headboard. This then led you to another thought of how he had used those handcuffs in the hideout one night after a long show, a night where he had promised to lock up for the owner but instead, he had you cuffed to a wall and set up on his amp as he played riffs through your orgasms. He had recorded some little tapes for himself. The breathless gruff in his voice brought you back to now. 

“ You in that pretty little head baby? You keep squeezing the fuck out of me with that tight pussy of yours. What's got, you so bot-thered baby? Come on we got all weekend to fuck those thoughts out. Just let go, baby, just let go. Come on sweet thing.“ 

You can feel him closing in on his climax. The hitch in his pace is a telltale sign. You moan and mewl under him pushing back with more pressure as your own climax begins to build and hit that high. 

“ No words hunny? Dick just that good hmm?” you nod as the coil snaps for the second time. Throwing your head back into his shoulder as you ride out your high.

“ Yes Eddie! God Yes! Always so good to me. Always. So. good. To. Me.” as you gush around him he thrust into you a few more times as the ropes of his pleasure begin to paint your walls. The grunts and moans of his release could make you come again just by the way he grips onto you, making sure that you are glued to him. Every single drop of him sealed within you.

He falls flush to you slipping out with a hiss and turns you in his arms as you both stand wrapped into each other's arms. He kisses your shoulder and the crook of your neck. You squish your face against the flat of his chest and the thick of his arm as you let your eyelids drift closed just reveling in the moment as the water washes over you both. He nudges your ear with his nose as you turn your face up to him he catches your lips in a hungry yet slow kiss, letting his forehead fall to yours.

 “ You know I love you, pretty girl. You know that right?” you hum a satisfied tune into his mouth as you kiss him softly.

 “ I love you more handsome.” he lets out a low laugh.

” Not possible .” bringing your face back to his chest. 

“ Yes possible .”  Then everything goes Dark. You can feel Eddie but you can’t see him. You conclude that a janitor had turned off the lights, thinking everyone had gone home for the night. Not the first time that it had happened and it would probably not be the last.  But thankfully Eddie being Eddie knew exactly how to get you out, another time he would save you, your hero. Your freak, Your love.

[unsoundedcomic]

Have you progressed with Lies of P so far? How are you liking it?

I haven't had time to play in a few days. Last session I beat the White Lady in the opera district and figured out that backstabs are a little OP. A few flank rolls until the red slash shows up, and you're gonna do a giant chunk of damage every time.

Overall I think it's a really solid game. Some of the systems are a little underbaked and unnecessary (the cube, the blade grinding, the coin fruits? the P-organ is needlessly convoluted) but other systems like the weapon system and parrying to break weapons is really fun. Also the bosses do a great job of making you play around with different weapons and thrown items. Like I was having problems with the rabbits until I realised I needed something a little longer range than my ooga booga wrench. I switched it up and was golden.

Nothing else is really interesting me. Characters, story, music, eh. The localization is not Fromsoft quality. Fantastic environments, kinda like playing Bioshock Souls. I think this'll be a game I enjoy mostly for the mechanics, and that's why I predict I'll probably keep playing through it until I have all the cheevos.

My friend told me a poison swamp is coming. Ah, Souls <3

[rocket-sith]

I may or may not have been trying to use PokeGenie to take screenshots on P+ mobile. It didn't work, but it inspired this instead. I'm not sorry.

SEASON 1 & 2 STAR TREK PICARD CHARACTERS AS A POKEMON TEAM

The Meta team lead who makes a big mess with environmental hazards and then uses Baton Pass so everyone else has to deal with the fallout:

Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, of course. But how about the rest?

The counter-Meta pick with a moveset specifically designed to cover their own team's weaknesses while exploiting gaps in the opponent's defense. Can learn a wide variety of contact and non-contact TMs. Occasionally hurts self in own confusion:

The niche off-Meta sweeper with a bunch of left-field moves. Catches everyone off guard and lays absolute waste because nobody's ever seen one in battle before, nobody has one on their own team, and nobody knows how to counter any of this bullshit:

The Uber-tier revenge killer who's OP as fuck and everybody knows it, but is too much of a beloved icon for any of the Powers That Be to actually risk banning or nerfing, lest the entire fanbase ragequit and/or riot in the streets. Ends up getting a mega-evolution instead:

The unpredictable stall who won't decimate your team directly, but will drag shit out and make half your strategies backfire. Will lead you on a wild romp of increasingly furious button mashing by spamming status effects and using shit like Shell Smash and Follow Me for funsies. Can harm own teammates with recoil damage, but can also boost stats of allies in battle:

The seemingly-innocuous cute one who turns out to have a hidden ability and a rare item that activates when their HP gets low, and then all hell breaks loose:

GODDAMMIT HOW MANY DIFFERENT FORM CHANGES DO YOU FUCKING HAVE?!

The MF glitch from Cinnabar Island that somebody managed to sneak into the tournament when the refs weren't looking, and now your save file is screwed, your game is frozen, and the soundtrack is stuck on Lavender Town:

The obviously hacked 'mon with impossible moves, impossible stats, dubious typing, and no listing in the regional dex. Not allowed to enter the tournament and has to watch from the sidelines:

The Psychic-type Mythical hanging out in the background who gives you cool hints, potions, and sidequests:

Giovanni. Apparently somebody got bored selling Slowpoke tails and decided to switch up the inventory. Needs to fuck the entire hell off and take their mafia mad science lab with them. Probably doesn't have enough gym badges to capture their desired target anyway:

If you've got more, add 'em on! Gotta dex the whole region!

[autumn-foxfire]

Guess what episode I am up to? You guessed it! The kaishin flashback episode!!! Time to see the (technically) first meeting between these fated two!

Jii telling Kaito he would never be able to face Toichi if his son ever got in too much trouble, not knowing his father is the one that has set his son up to do his job for him... Just your daily reminder to say fuck you to Kaito's parents! Jii, adopt him.

I love we get to see a proper insight into Kaito's personality in the DC verse.

And we also get to see how bad Gosho's romance has always been with Aoko and Kaito. A different type of terrible but still terrible (Aoko you can't just rip up other people's belongings). And sadly this was just mild of them.

Akako, you will be missed. This is probably the only time that the DC universe will allow you to be in it's series.

Don't insult Saguru like that, Nakamouri! He's more competant than you are <.<

Kaito: This heist is too easy.

Shinichi: Don't worry, it won't be soon.

Kaito wondering who is helping out the police T-T Don't worry, that's your future husband!

Nakamouri why are you assaulting a poor man who is just helping you out.

Oh how thematic for him to shoot the ace of spades, the symbol used often to represent his future husband.

Megure... you really just let a teenager swipe a gun off you and shoot it.

Gosho really believes you meet your soulmate at the age of 4 T-T Well, he was right about something, Kaito did meet the love of his life at that clock tower, it's just not with the character he wants us all to believe he did :p

Also can I just point out, again, how much Kaito and Aoko look like siblings here?

I don't want anyone, especially canon enjoyers, to say anything about Kaishin ever again.

Huh, we were left with subtle hints about the switch with Kogoro at the start by showing how much he smokes and having each shot of him driving in the OP showing him smoking.

Kaito nearly killed someone.

Saguru!! It's nice to finally meet you in the DC universe too!

This is why you don't buy expensive cars, some weirdo will just blow them up.

You guys are all just feeding Kaito's ego here.

Hakuba: We won't be killed by him but he will prank us (speaking from experience here, love)

Kaito: Damn, all you detectives are assholes, aren't you.

It's interesting that Renya, who we all know to be the big bad of this series, was introduced in what is technically a KID episode, though I think Gosho's said that went it comes to their criminal organizations, neither Shinichi or Kaito will be involved in helping each other.

Alelele~

Renya is not as dead as he wants everyone to believe, old lady.

Saguru being the only one prepared for escaping the place, just in case XD The boy who is always prepared.

...Okay, I'm not sure if this is just the subs but did Kaito just call both Shinichi and Saguru his lovers (that he doesn't want to meet but whatever I'm ignoring that part). Welp, I'm just taking that as proof for my ship :p (I guess those who ship Saguru and Kaito can too <.<).

[chilope]

Curious: Is it chill-ope or chi-lopeh?

i think its the second one? but just in case we are pronouncing that differently, it is chill-oh-pay (it is a mispronounciation of chipotle, with the p and l switched and the t dropped, if that helps)

for background: i did team cooking competitions in highschool and one of the dishes we made had chipotles in it. my teammate for some reason could not for the life of him say chipotle, it would take 4 or 5 tries for him to get it out; instead he said chilopes. we all thought it was very funny so we started calling ourselves team chilope. and then when i made a tumblr account i couldnt think of a unique username so i went with chilope and it stuck :o)

[epitome-of-an-openbook]

op I read your steddie fic where post and specifically the part abt Steve being intelligent got my attention bc (and also youre so right abt the whole thing)

-what about the fics where Steve is visibly (?? idk englishs not my thing) autistic? Cause if you're neurodivergent and can actually follow his thought process along he's super smart (unconventionally smart my beloved) but for neurotypicals I'm told it makes him sound some variation of stupid/oblivious/dumb (when he's def not haha)

-what are your opinions about the fics where Steve is _pretending_ to be stupid? Like, plays into the jock bit, and makes people think he's slow to use it to his advantage? not necessarily in a "bad person" way (and especially if you can tell he's smart from the outside/his own pov)? >>>esp if he doesn't even realize he's doing it?

-how about Steve's concussions/neurodivergency affecting the more "conventionally smart" aspects of his brain? like, his memory is shit and he can't spell properly or he can't do complex math, but he knows everyone's expressions and holds a scary amount of talent in physical activities he's never done before type thing (insp after me who got complimented by the "hardass" coach after trying boxing simply because I watch and calculate and how that's easy for me to switch into my own movements)

-opinions on Steve "looking dumb" because he's simply...not American? Like, his English is plenty good but that's because he's been copying speech patterns for so long now, and the Harringtons are tied to some p important Italian families so he almost never speaks English there either, and I personally like the fics where he's frustrated simply because he can't understand (like the story about the Korean immigrant and the lovely teacher) and also the scene in modern family where Gloria says "I know what I meant to mean! do you know how smart I am in my own language?"

-thoughts on someone lifting their head up from nerd shit and realizing Steve's been making like many smart remarks that nobody listens to cause he doesn't know nerd lingo?

(also unrelated but trans!Steve MTF _or_ FTM is so important to me <3)

I've a whole "trope theory" about different types of intelligence groups tend to have, and simply put it goes

book smarts, street (survival) smarts, emotional smarts, social smarts

and how those mix and match to show through in characters that are disregarded as stupid and I personally believe Steve is very Socially _and_ emotionally smart but because he's arguably in line to be the most toxic masculine people by reputation (not personality but the past -both his and his dads- linger) people don't notice it.

I'd love to chat more both abt my theory and Steve in general <3

Hi anon, of course I want to talk about Steve's intelligence - because I am so so so tired of him being written off as the fool, and I am especially tired of people pretending like he is not the most emotionally intelligent person in the show other than potentially Will or Joyce. Also in advance, I totally go on a BUNCH of tirades and rants so I'm sorry if you lose the thread at all, I just have a lot of thoughts and they all FEEL important to me. So yeah, this is a long one.

-what about the fics where Steve is visibly (?? idk englishs not my thing) autistic? Cause if you're neurodivergent and can actually follow his thought process along he's super smart?

I haven't read many fics where Neurodivergent! Steve's divergence is specifically autism and personally I feel that other divergences fit him better such as OCD (see - his need to keep things tidy, instances of reduced impulse control, repetitive/ritualistic behaviors, hypervigilance, and agitation), ADHD (see - his need to be moving lots of pacing and bouncing, difficulty concentrating on the group discussions, impulsivity), Dyslexia/Dyscalculia (personal/popular headcanon), or something that would affect his audio processing (personal/unpopular headcanon; see- being unable to get past the music on the recording, difficulty following along with the group discussions, immediately losing track of the group in the Upside Down Wheeler's house when he thinks he hears Dustin)- but I definitely read him as someone whose brain works in a way that is non-typical which is something we ABSOLUTELY see in season 3 where he focuses in on the music and it seems like he literally can't focus on the Russian words until he knows what the music is.

But what it comes down to is that so many people read the fact that he didn't get into college (which is more indicative of a lack of testing skills than it is for actual intelligence) and his inability to follow along with group discussions about Upside Down stuff (which could point to issues with concentration or audio processing or just a lack of knowledge regarding the lingo being used) as a way to characterize him entirely as an idiot/fool. This of course isn't helped by the Duffers refusing to deepen his character beyond "he was bad but now he's good because now he's interacting with intelligent™ people". So to answer this question, I'm all for fics that explore Steve's intellect through a lens of "no he's not dumb, he just processes information in an atypical way".

-what are your opinions about the fics where Steve is _pretending_ to be stupid? Like, plays into the jock bit, and makes people think he's slow to use it to his advantage? not necessarily in a "bad person" way (and especially if you can tell he's smart from the outside/his own pov)?

I'm not 100% sure I'm interpreting this question correctly but I have some issues with fics where the character of interest is 'pretending' to be stupid so it entirely depends on what the motivation behind doing so is.

If the motivation is "I play dumb so that I can fit in better and not be bullied for being smart" I don't like it that much - I feel like in a lot of media, and American media especially, there is this perpetuation of Smart=Unpopular/Bullied/Unathletic and Dumb=Popular/Bully/Athletic and I don't like that because in my lived experience that really isn't the case - I have friends that were the Valedictorian's of their high schools by gpa that were also class president and soccer captian and genuinely good people and some of the meanest people I have ever met were stereotypical™ nerds. So if the motivation is that he pretends to be dumb specifically to fit in and not get bullied I don't really like it. HOWEVER, if the motivation is "I downplay my intelligence so that people underestimate me" that's different and I can get behind it to a degree - no one is perfect and Steve was not the best person at first so him having a little manipulation bit like this would make sense.

Also this leads into another thing I feel we don't talk about enough - Steve is a jock with a head for STRATEGY and you cannot tell me otherwise. The ability to strategize is something we like to take away from jocks all across media, but as a former athlete myself I can tell you that a LOT of thought goes into athletic strategy and it translates well to other aspects of life. We also see Steve make quick strategic decisions A LOT but we never mention them - some examples include when he leads the scoops troop through the crowded russian base w/o getting caught - some of this is simply poor writing/tracking and i will admit that but if we suspend our disbelief for a second it's Steve that looks at the set up takes in the information and says "Follow me, stay low and be quick" as they navigate that scene, we also see it in season two when him and Dustin get to the junkyard and he says "oh yeah this will do nicely" and then he proceeds to set the stage for catching Dart with a clearing to trap him, a reinforced fort for protection and surveillance and honestly the only reason this goes wrong is because there was more than one demodog. So yeah being good with strategy lends itself well to Steve using his intelligence as a manipulation for others to underestimate him. I personally would love for there to be a fic where one of the kids challenges Steve to a strategy game like chess or risk or something like that and for him to DECIMATE them because strategy is the thing he's good at.

-how about Steve's concussions/neurodivergency affecting the more "conventionally smart" aspects of his brain? like, his memory is shit and he can't spell properly or he can't do complex math, but he knows everyone's expressions and holds a scary amount of talent in physical activities he's never done before type thing

For one I would like to quickly put out there that Steve almost definitely got a TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) from the Russian Torture - and probably PCS (Post Concussion Syndrome) from the fight with Billy (I would also like to quickly mention that these are different things with different causes and potential future outcomes/side effects, I feel like they get confused a lot in this fandom which is totally fine but just a reminder that a concussion comes specifically from your brain impacting your skull and how he receives his head injuries from Jonathan and the Russians would indicate to me that he probably didn't have a concussion those times but when he crashes the car in season three he could have easily gotten a whiplash concussion which is something we don't talk about but does actually happen a lot and it's less likely to get treated because people don't realize you can get a concussion w/o hitting your head. Also I am so sorry about this head trauma info dump, it's just a subject I have lots of experience with/knowledge about).

ANYWAY, yeah TBIs and PCS can really mess with your head and are often the cause of things like memory loss - as well as vision and hearing impairment. Also TBIs have been studied a lot in American Football players and sometimes they can even cause shifts in personality. (Also @peter-pantomime has some really good discussions and headcanons regarding Steve's head traumas so I highly suggest their content both here and on tiktok.)

And yes, Steve consistently proves to be extremely socially intelligent. You do not get to the top of the high school food chain by simply being attractive or athletic, you have to be capable of understanding and manipulating certain social interactions - walking into a room and knowing who to talk to and who to avoid, popularity is often just a matter of networking and part of the reason Steve loses his popularity is because he abandons the network he built himself up through and switches it out for a group of people much lower on the social ladder. We also can tell he's incredibly emotionally intelligent through his interactions with others - scenes that really show this are Steve cleaning up the theater sign and going to apologize to Jonathan (some might say this is just emotional maturity but i would like to point out that he was emotionally intelligent enough to realize that it was Jonathan that deserved the apology instead of just Nancy) (s1), when Will comes home and we see him empathize with the worry of Joyce & Jonathan (s2), when he can seemingly tell that something happened between Nancy and Jonathan but instead of lashing out he supports her (also s2), when Robin comes out to him and also technically rejects him but he just treats her like normal (s3), like… every scene with him and Max in S4, and also when he tells Eddie that he needs to stop being so hard on himself when he keeps talking about how much of a coward he is (also S4).

-opinions on Steve "looking dumb" because he's simply...not American? Like, his English is plenty good but that's because he's been copying speech patterns for so long now, and the Harringtons are tied to some p important Italian families so he almost never speaks English there either, and I personally like the fics where he's frustrated simply because he can't understand (like the story about the Korean immigrant and the lovely teacher) and also the scene in modern family where Gloria says "I know what I meant to mean! do you know how smart I am in my own language?"

I have never seen this done before, but I absolutely adore this concept, if you (or anyone else) has some fic recs with this trope 👀👀👀 please share.

-thoughts on someone lifting their head up from nerd shit and realizing Steve's been making like many smart remarks that nobody listens to cause he doesn't know nerd lingo?

Yes do it, caveat: I think it needs to be Robin, Eddie, or Will - I think everyone else is a little too in their own way of realizing Steve has consistently made good points.

For Robin, as a Queer Platonic Stobin truther, I feel like if anyone were to really get into Steve's brain it would be her.

For Eddie, I feel it comes from that same vein that we see people pointing out that Eddie is the only person who directly answer Steve's questions, so it would make sense for him to be the one to say "wait hey - Steve is actually asking incredibly relevant questions that lead to a point he wants to make."

For Will, I simply think that he's the most emotionally intelligent member of the original Party and also the one with the fewest interactions with Steve so if he were to be with Steve in a time of crisis he wouldn't ignore Steve's thoughts the way that sometimes happens and notice something about how he processes information or something and be like "why did you guys all tell me he was dumb, he's making extremely relevant points right now?"

(also unrelated but trans!Steve MTF _or_ FTM is so important to me <3)

<3 Trans!Steve 🤝 GenderFluid!Steve solidarity

I love fics where Steve explores gender identity or at least his relationship with gender presentation, I'm partial to GenderFluid!Steve but regardless I love this.

[cookinguptales]

I almost wrote a small essay in the tags of that "fanwork as content" post but realized that it would probably be better off as its own post. So now it's... a large, rambling essay. lmao

Like... to preface, AO3 is great, it's a great resource for fandom, it feels good to have a centralized location that works well. That said, there has been a steady decline in how I've felt treated as an author since we switched to an archive-only model of fic.

For people who are newer to fandom, pre-AO3 (and even in the early days of AO3), people often crossposted fic. Sometimes to websites, sometimes to journals (particularly LJ/DW), sometimes to communities, sometimes to kink memes...

AO3, while certainly one of the primary places you could upload stuff, wasn't necessarily where you would get most of your primary interaction about your fic. It was always designed to be an archive, not a social media site.

But since we moved to an archive model (and away from LJ/DW) I've noticed that fic gets almost no traction on sites that actually are intended for social interaction. I'm not saying it's easy for any creator in fandom, but god. The numbers on fic posts are just downright demoralizing.

I don't mean to sound arrogant here, but I think I'm a pretty good writer. People seem to really connect with my fic. In multiple fandoms, I've written fic that most people have read and enjoyed, to the point where people have just taken it for granted that if someone reads fic in the fandom, they've probably read something I've written.

All this is to say, I know I've written fics that people like. I know I've written fics that people connect with. And I know those posts still only get like 5 notes sometimes on Tumblr.

I'm proud of my work and I'm happy that it's gotten such a warm welcome on AO3!!! But there are times when I feel like all this means that I could write literally the best fic on earth and still no one would talk to me. People still wouldn't want to interact with me on social media sites.

I wrestled for... honestly, a long time with all this. I had a hard time putting into words why this felt so uh. Bad. Was I just self-conscious about my own writing? Yes, but that's a separate issue. Was I just jealous of others' popularity? Sort of, but it went deeper than that.

I had an issue with a fandom that I don't write in anymore. I got a lot of fanart based on my fic, which was great, which was amazing, there were even fan comics made. Visual media travels better on social media than fic. That's just a fact. And I had to watch as repeatedly, art based on the fic I wrote got thousands of notes while my fic got maybe 12. And I realized the power of social media vs. AO3 because it did get to audiences that weren't familiar with my fic and people started to give those artists credit for my ideas.

I remember watching the tags of those posts because it was occasionally the only way I'd hear feedback on what I'd written (imagine getting one comment and 5 notes on a fic, then seeing dozens of people in the tags of fanart saying that it was their favorite fic in the fandom! it was weird!) and seeing the tags gradually devolve into "oh, this is such a neat idea for an AU, artist OP" or "wow this dialogue is perfect [artist] I love it" and like

It's weird to feel so happy because so many people are enjoying your work in a transformative way but also so unhappy because you have been completely removed from the equation. No one... even knows you wrote those things anymore. You have been removed in favor of a more "marketable" version of your work.

It's uh. It's a bad feeling. I stopped writing in that fandom eventually.

So again, I felt like... idk, like there was no point in me even trying. Because I could write the best fic on earth and still somehow get erased as a person. People would want my "content," but they wouldn't want me.

I think that's what hurt my feelings so much.

What I've realized is this: what I miss is the sense of community. On LJ, you could post a fic, cross-post it to a community, and there would be comments that would become conversations that would become lasting friendships. Not always! But often. I still talk to some people daily who I met through fic on LJ over a decade ago.

In the archive model, there has almost become a death of the author. The me on social media and the me on AO3 are very different; more importantly, it's almost like it's viewed as the "me" is on social media, but the work is on AO3. I am absent. There is only the fic, not the person who created it.

And that's okay, but when you try to combine those two things on social media and it goes over like a lead balloon... idk. There's an odd sense of dehumanization. I don't mean it in like... I don't know, a dramatic human rights violation kind of way. More that I literally feel like less of a human person the way I interact with fandom these days. Like I'm no longer a person who writes fic as a way to connect with my fellow fans and more a "content creator" whose human side is separate from my creation and never the twain shall meet.

(And I'll admit it feels especially galling to be forced into the capitalistic "content creator" box when it's not even a thing I can make money off of, lmao. It's like the worst of both worlds. I feel like if I can't make money off fanfic, I should at least be exempt from capitalistic social trends during its creation.)

I'm not so much complaining about my current fandom; WWDITS has actually been one of the best fandoms for interaction I've been in since the birth of AO3. That's one of the reasons I keep writing stories for fellow fans to read -- many of those fans feel like my friends, and I want to make them happy.

I think that poster was right when they talked about how the pivot from fan to "content creator" has fucked up fandom. There is this sense that we should be treating fandom like a job, often a fast-paced one with no pay. There is this idea that we should be separated from our "content" like you might a worker from their product, and blah blah blah alienation of labor, Marx, I get it, but damn if that isn't a shitty thing to do to your fellow fans who are making art for the love of art.

There are so many things I do love about AO3. I like having a central, organized place to put my fic. I like not having to worry about my work being lost to the ages. I like having an organized comments section I can return to on bad days to cheer myself up.

But I don't like the way that fic has kind of been relegated to a portion of fandom where people aren't particularly social. I don't like the way that authors are separated from their writing. I hear people complain sometimes about A/Ns because god forbid an author leave any trace of their actual personality to distract you from their content.

I can't have DMs with someone on AO3. I can't add someone to my friends list. There are no "beloved mutuals." There is just my work and the people who are kind enough to comment on it, even if they never actually engage with me elsewhere.

It's... a weird feeling, to feel so loved and unloved at the same time. Like you keep writing trying to make something good enough that people will talk to you but like. That's really not how it works. lmao. The best fic in the world won't make you friends anymore. It won't make people see you as a fellow fan rather than a pen name under a title.

My fic is some of the most personal stuff in the entire world, but my personhood is stripped away from it. It's so fucking weird. People like my fic, but they don't like me. They remember my stories but not the person who told them. It's bizarre. It feels like having your life and experiences strip-mined for content, and then the rest of it is just... left behind.

Frankly... I work in the publishing industry IRL and I have had opportunities to write professionally. Real, tangible opportunities. But I turned them down because I've seen it, the way that trying to fit such an intensely personal art form into a capitalistic framework can be exhausting, dehumanizing, and stressful. I don't want that for my work. Fandom has always been an escape from that.

But now fandom is starting to conform to those exact same capitalistic frameworks (and ofc without any kind of capitalistic compensation) and I hate to see it. It's so stressful. I feel like we're losing a lot of what makes fandom fun for writers and we're getting pretty much nothing in return. I'm not surprised that so many writer friends I know in fandom have quit.

like damn, I just wanna have fun with a bunch of dumbshits who love to overanalyze vampires and cry over their dumbshit shenanigans, not take on a second job. one that, I reiterate, I am not being paid for.

(Note: I am not asking for payment, just that I not be treated like a worker. The tradeoff for treating someone like a worker is that they get compensated for it. If I'm not being compensated, no one gets to treat me like this is my fucking job.)

It's a weird thing, because for a lot of people, fandom has become their job. Fanartists at cons selling fanart, youtube essayists making money off videos, professional cosplayers with sponsorships, etc. And so fandom is becoming more corporate, more capitalistic, more marketable. It's frustrating for those who don't want to capitalize on our fannish output, and doubly frustrating for people who are legally unable to do so.

I'm realizing as I write this that I'm most upset about the nonconsensual capitalization of fandom, particularly when imposed on people who are unable to access the very meager benefits of capitalism. I didn't ask for any of this!

Feels like when I'd be forced to go to assemblies for the US military when I was in high school. Like I'm morally opposed to all this but I'm also not physically fit for "service" anyway, so it's doubly insulting. I feel like I've been opted into the, ah, corporatization of fandom when I'm not even eligible for employee benefits. None of this should even apply to me! ;;

Okay!! I'm all het up now so I'm gonna go eat lunch and go for a walk! No monetization of hobbies, only trees.