#ruin wrecking challenge

[autemka]

WRECKING(NO) RUIN ECLIPSE TURN

SO. As I see from DOZENS of comments and requests to get Ruin next. I heard ya all. I will do it. But as he is new in our family i give you a NICE WARNING. How to treat him. So you be better be good uh huh?~ he has his own special boundaries, so please respect. If you good with that, PURRFECT! Go fun with him and enjoy ^^

Ruin Eclipse or RURU information:

Ruru is a shy big Child who cannot live without physical contact and affection. He is shy to ask for it but eventually he enjoys it so much especially the tickles. He loves to feel happy and laugh to have fun with his cousins and little sister(autem). Why he is a COUSIN? Because he is from another universe, the combination of Sun and Moon and being ONE as a daycare attendant. So in my MAIN AU he counts as a Second Brother.

Relationships with Others made him feel more complete mentally and not be so lonely anymore. With SUN he enjoys mostly to talk about different stuff especially about kids and what do they all enjoy, plus SUN is being a perfect cheer up support for him not to stop smile any time soon. MOON is perfect snuggle up buddy for Ruin and always bunch of yappers to talk about stars and Fairy tales for kids. AUTEM, I only can describe her as a combination of SUN and MOON together but like a COMFORT TINY and support XD. ECLIPSE is being a huge gentle tease for Ruin as Eclipse thinks he is a tiny version of him and just a baby who needs to be “melted and ruined with love”

[ohmygourd7]

Thank you for that link, this article broke my heart. I had a collection of quotes that spoke to my experiences in the tags, but this section was too large and just… needed to be highlighted. Leaving this here on my blog forever, where it belongs.

OOF 

(original text from article by devon price)

[wp100]

watched Christine, the haunted car movie, and my god, I'm impressed with how they showed the car regenerating itself. very, very well-done for its time.

[rottenfyre]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ SWEET GIRL 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Do They Eat That Kitty?

☆⁠ NOTE : Minors DNI. Damian is an adult. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

⎯ Bruce Wayne

Bruce eats pussy like it’s a goddamn art form—he’s precise, calculated, and maddeningly patient. He starts slow, always. Those big hands spread you open, thumbs keeping you vulnerable as he just looks at you, like you’re a meal he’s been starving for. Then, his tongue starts, slow and flat, dragging up from your entrance to your clit in one smooth stroke that has your breath catching. He doesn’t rush, not at first—he builds you up so slowly that you’re practically begging him to stop teasing. When he gets serious? Oh, you’re fucked. Bruce focuses entirely on your clit, his tongue pressing firm and circling in ways that have your thighs trembling. He slides two fingers inside you, curving them just right to hit that spot, and he watches you. His dark eyes stay locked on your face, reading every reaction like he’s solving some complex puzzle. And god, he loves control. If you try to squirm or close your legs, he growls, low and dangerous, “Stay still, or I’ll stop.” Spoiler: he never actually stops, but the threat alone keeps you in place. When you cum, he doesn’t let up. His tongue keeps working you, dragging you through wave after wave until you’re crying out his name, completely wrecked.

⎯ Dick Grayson

Dick? He’s a pussy-eating legend. You know how some people enjoy it? Dick fucking loves it. He dives in like it’s his favorite thing in the world, his hands gripping your thighs to pull you closer, his face buried between your legs as he moans like a man possessed. He’s messy about it, too—his tongue is everywhere, licking and sucking on your clit like he’s trying to ruin you. But Dick knows exactly how to build you up. He’ll start with long, teasing licks, making you squirm and whimper, and then he focuses entirely on your clit. His tongue moves in quick, flicking motions, switching it up with soft sucks that send shocks through your entire body. And he’s loud. He moans into you, murmuring things like, “You taste so fucking good,” and “I could stay down here all night.” His fingers? Fucking perfect. He slips two inside you effortlessly, curling them up in time with his tongue until you’re sobbing from the intensity. And Dick doesn’t stop when you cum. Nope. He keeps going, even as you’re begging him for mercy, his grin widening against your skin because he knows he’s got you falling apart.

⎯ Jason Todd

Jason eats pussy like he’s got something to prove. There’s nothing soft or sweet about it—it’s raw, filthy, and absolutely fucking primal. He doesn’t even bother teasing you. The second your legs are open, his face is buried between them, his tongue lapping at you like he’s starving. His grip on your thighs is bruising—he keeps you pinned in place no matter how much you try to squirm. His tongue is relentless, focusing on your clit with harsh flicks and sucks that have you seeing stars in seconds. Jason’s all about intensity—he groans against you, low and rough, sending vibrations through your body. And when he slides his fingers inside you, It’s game over. He pumps them hard and fast, curling them to hit that sweet spot over and over until you’re screaming his name. Jason loves watching you lose control. He’ll pull back just enough to smirk at you, his lips and chin soaked, and growl, “C’mon, baby. Let me hear you.” And when you finally cum? He doesn’t stop. He forces you to take every second of it, holding you down as he works you through the aftershocks, leaving you completely wrecked.

⎯ Damian Wayne

Damian is precise. He approaches eating pussy like a challenge, determined to reduce you to nothing but gasps and moans. He starts slow, dragging his tongue through your folds with maddening patience, watching your every reaction. His hands hold your thighs apart, firm but not rough, keeping you exactly where he wants you. Once he finds what works, Damian locks in like a man on a mission. His tongue circles your clit in perfect, rhythmic motions, alternating with soft flicks that have your back arching off the bed. He doesn’t get messy—everything he does is intentional, calculated, and devastatingly effective. His fingers join the party soon enough, sliding inside you with ease, curling up to hit your G-spot with every stroke. Damian’s all about control. If you try to move, he tightens his grip, growling, “Stay still. I’m not done with you yet.” He’s also vocal in a way that’s almost mocking. “Look at you. Falling apart for me already.” And when you cum? Damian doesn’t stop. He keeps going, overstimulating you until you’re trembling, tears streaming down your face as you beg him to let you breathe. He’ll finally pull back, wiping his mouth with a smug smirk, because he knows no one else can make you feel like that.

ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ: ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[holylulusworld]

BFG (5)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: size kink, flirty reader, objectification of Reacher, language, oral (fem rec), light fingering, dirty talk, smut, unprotected sex

A/N: Please consider that I do not follow the exact storyline of season one. Some characters known from the show may appear.

Catch up here: BFG (4)

BFG masterlist

“Reacher,” you helplessly press the palms of your hands against the shower wall. Reacher is still holding your body in a tight grip while his tongue swirls around your clit. He’s driving you crazy, always pushing you toward the edge, but refusing to let you topple over. “Fuck.”

“Shh…sweet peach pie. This is a special peach and I want to enjoy eating it,” he undoubtedly smirks against your overstimulated flesh while he murmurs the words. All you want is to cum all over his face, or fingers, or anything he offers to you but he won’t let you. “So pretty when you are in my arms.”

“Please-“ you blindly grasp for his short strands, tugging hard. “I want…your fingers.” As much as you love his mouth on you, his fingers are thick and long and you want nothing more than to feel Reacher explore your dripping cunt with his fingers. “Please…”

He looks up at you, eyes softening as you look back at him with need in your eyes, mirroring his own. It’s been a long time since he felt someone touch him gently. The only physical contact he had was during fights.

“Come here.” Again, you're shocked at how fast a man his size can move. You end up in his arms, your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waistline. 

One of his thick arms holds you against his body as he lifts his hand to show you his fingers. You bite your lower lip, desperate to hold back another moan. “Fingers or something bigger?”

“Fingers…” You try not to sound like a desperate and wounded animal when you whisper your answer. “I imagine having them inside of me…”

“I imagined putting my hands on you for being so cocky and flirty. You distracted me, peach pie.” Reacher dips his head to nip at your neck. “Do you know what you get yourself into when you let me have my way with you?”

“I hope to get you inside of me,” you challenge. “At least your fingers, big boy.”

“I’m not a boy, Y/N.” He warns. “If you want me, you’ll take all of me. Even if it’s too much. I won’t stop until you have all of me inside of your sweet peach pie.”

Your eyes round at his words. Who would’ve thought Reacher likes to talk dirty? “Do it, then. Ruin me, you beast of a man.”

“All for you,” he smirks. “Let go, I need to put you on your feet to play with your juicy peach.” 

He hums as you let go to allow him to place you on wobbling legs, admiring your wrecked state. He dips his head to look you up and down, making you feel self-conscious again.

The moment you try to cover yourself he’s back on you. “No, no. I want to see and have all of you.” You squeak as he hoists you back up to press you against the tile wall. “I have to have you, peach pie. I can’t wait any longer.”

His lips claim yours in a passionate kiss while his big hand moves between your legs. Reacher eagerly kisses you to distract you from his thick fingers slipping inside your slit. 

“Fuck,” you curse against his lips. “So…thick…”

“Yeah, peach pie,” Reacher nips at your lips, tongue forcing its way inside your mouth. He moans against you while curling his thick fingers. He slowly fucks you with his digits, smirking against your lips as you try to rock your hips. “Not yet, Y/N. You’ll cum on my cock only.”

“No—I,” you whine as he slips his fingers back out. He’s holding your body with one arm while moving his free hand to his cock. “Please.”

“I’ve been waiting to have you like this far too long,” he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. “Open up to me, pretty peach pie. I want to feel it.”

You sling your arms tighter around his neck the moment Reacher pushes slowly into you. He’s thick, and you can barely hold still feeling this monster of a cock spear you open. 

You want to squirm and rock your hips but Reacher is so much stronger. He holds you against the wall and presses into you, slow but determined to fill you.

Your legs wrap tighter around his waistline, to hold tight onto him. You’re not used to a man who can hold you against a wall for such a long time and fear he’ll drop you if you get careless.

“Re-acher,” you wish you could see his cock, but it feels like you’re fuller than ever before when he finally bottoms out. “Fuck.”

“You’re doing so well for me,” his praise goes straight to your core. “So…so good, peach pie.” Reacher kisses you again while holding himself back to not rut into you like an animal. 

“You’re doing so well for me, big boy,” you grin. This godlike giant feels too good inside of your body to not be over the moon. “How about you move those perfect hips and make a girl cum.”

Reacher likes a challenge. He’s kissing you like he wants to devour you. You kiss him back, as eager as the man holding your body in his arms. 

He’s slowly grinding into you. His thick cock hits all the right spots, but having him pressed against you, feels even better. Both of you touch-starved, and lonely you get lost in the feel of each other. You cling to him, desperate for more than an orgasm. 

“Reacher,” you whisper against his lips. “I’m gonna…”

“Let go, sweet peach pie,” he nips at your lips. “I’ve got you.” His voice alone pushes you over the edge. You curse his name like a prayer as he stills his hips. He buries his face in your neck, your name on his lips when he comes.

“This bed is much bigger.” 

You giggle at Reacher’s comment. You left the bathroom for round two. Now you lie on your queen-sized bed, to come down from another high and to feel your legs again.

“You like it because it’s big enough for you,” you grin as he stretches his long legs out. “Can I ask you a question?”

Reacher rolls to his side to look at you. “You can ask me anything, Y/N.”

“Did you ever have sex in the backseat of a car,” you smirk at Reacher. “I mean, can you even have sex in a car? You’re huge.”

He laughs loudly and rolls onto his back. Reacher pats his chest, inviting you to rest your head on it. You yawn and follow his invitation to get a few hours of sleep before you go to the diner.

Sally Ann sniffles silently. She almost got hit by one of the bricks destroying all of your windows at the diner. “I’m sorry I didn’t see them. I was so scared and hid behind the counter.”

“Honey, you did the right thing,” you gently pat her shoulder. “I called the cops, okay. It’s not your fault some kids got bored and decided to destroy all of my windows.”

“What happened here?” Reacher came by to see you and have a slice of your pie. “Who did this?” He looks around the diner, frowning deeply when his eyes land on a brick, wrapped in a piece of paper. He picks the brick up and squares his jaw.

“I already called the cops,” you try to stop him, but Reacher is halfway out of the diner. “Reacher, don’t. He’s not worth it.”

You sigh, and chase after Reacher. He’s still holding the brick in his hands when he walks along the sidewalk to find KJ’s car parked outside the restaurant across the street. 

“Reacher!” You try to stop him again. “You’ll get in trouble!”

He stops in his tracks to look at the brick in his hands. He rereads the words written on the piece of paper wrapped around the brick again.

“He destroyed all of your windows and called you a slut. I won’t let him get away with it.”

“KJ is not the smartest, and he believes every woman must fall for him. His ego can’t take my rejection. It’s unbelievable to him that the chubby owner of the diner rejected him.”

“I want you to go home and let me handle this,” Reacher softly speaks to you. “You can’t work today, or until the windows are fixed. Sally Ann was scared to hell and back. They could’ve hit her.”

“Reacher,” you grab his hand to hold it for a moment. You look up at him, eyes drifting toward his lips. “You better come home tonight. I don’t want to sleep alone.”

He cups your face with one large hand to press his lips to yours.

“Promised…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsterhunt: Wreck, Wrack, & Ruin

Artsource

Adventure Hook: The party are hired to put a stop to the undead rising from the old cemetary, and to determine whether it is some forboding sign or a curse brought down by some graverobber, as the town authorities are split on the matter. While investigating they will discover signs of dark rituals taking place, though they will have to be very clever to realize that the infact not at all humanoid.

Background: While most crows are content with petty mischief (and three occasional murder), these three arcane avians have no respect for mortal or godly law, and spend their days sowing curses and petty blasphemies wherever their dark wings take them.

The three carry with them an unrotting eye, the last remnant of a witch by the name of Hemani Lokryn, who used the birds as familiars for years and nurtured them to sentiance with a diet of dead men's brains. When the magehunters finally caught up to Hemani, the three were unable to save her from her cell or execution, so she commanded them to gore out her eye and carry it with them that her spirit might escape her body's fate.

Further Adventures:

When challenged or interrupted the crows make to scatter , as any one of them that survives an encounter and makes it back to where they've hidden Hemani's eye they'll be able to resummon the other two. Generally they always keep one in reserve, but this limits the force of magic they're able to bring to bear in any confrontation. If the party is clever, they'll poof two of the familiars to smoke and feathers and then track the straggler back to their roost.

If they weren't discovered in their earlier capers, the trio may try to bait the party into exploring some obviously haunted dungeon in the hopes of having them dig up some important artifact necessary for their latest scheme. This "bait" might come in the form of one of the crows pretending to be some kind of omen, or a barely legible letter pleading for help delivered in the dead of night. They might even try a breadcrumb trail of golden coins if they get desperate.

A girl has disapeared from her home after a series of strange occurrences, leaving her parents in a state of absolute panic and in need of the adventurers' aid. Always a little odd and shunned by other children for her morbid fancies, Cordelia was overjoyed when a trio of spooky birds decended on her usual sulking spot and told her that she had a great destiny ahead of her. Her new friends weren't exactly lying: Cordelia has a spark of sorcery about her, being the distant scion of the now forgotten Lokryn line after the family moved and changed their name to avoid their then infamous reputation. This makes her the perfect vessel for Hemani's resurrection ritual, as she aims to possess her descendant's body in a twisted "inheritence" ritual. The party will need to act fast to find Cordelia's motivations and trail, the crows have been gaining her trust for weeks with games and magic lessons, and now they lead her to a place of power where they'll take her eye and place their mistress's in its stead.

The story will not end should the party be too late and find the witch ascendant or completely gone. Hemani or "Cordelia Lokryn" as she now calls herself seeks to reclaim the power and influence she once wielded as not all of it fit into the childish body she's stolen. Vaults must be plundered, old servants called up from their resting places, a lair established, all of which may provide the party opportunities to challenge her once again and save Cordelia from her awful "destiny".

All this mucking about with eyes and resurrection has given Hemani a connection to the god of whispered secrets, who now drives the witch to seek out his own long-hidden eye of power. Cordelia's soul barely survived the first grisly grafting, and may be forever lost should she suffer another.

[quilna]

Damn, more TGS art, how did this happen?

When your alter ego takes over your body and wrecks your relationship out of spite. Jekyll probably has to watch it happen too.

...Imagine if Jekyll gets his body back immediately after ruining everything - finding himself standing in front of Lanyon, knowing that if he backpedals now then it would look suspicious and it wouldn't fix anything now anyway so, to protect his secret, he has to double down and just leave. Or maybe even say some cruel things of his own to keep up the disguise

Also, here is a Hyde doodle I did for a crazed-Hyde expression challenge with a friend

[fawnnpaws]

sub patrick… you and art free using him and making him fuck either one of your holes (or maybe all of them) when all he wants is to be filled up and he’s all sensitive and teary about it but you don’t let up and just use his body together like you don’t care about him… art would finally fuck him last when he’s so sensitive and worked up that it hurts and you’d hold him against your chest and kiss him while he’s getting pounded

hhghhhh patrick begging to be fucked - you’ve made him wait so long, he hasn’t been fucked in a week. he’s barely even been acknowledged, not allowed to touch himself, only allowed to take what you and art choose to give him. he starts off good, too prideful to ask for art’s dick even though he’s so desperate for it. despite him subbing for you and art, he’s still a fucking brat. he doesn’t want to crack, to do what you want him to do - to beg.

you and art revel in the challenge, though. you’ve been teasing him all week, touching and grabbing him to get him worked up then walking away, not letting him cum as often as you usually do, ruining his orgasms when you do let him cum. by the end of the week he’s almost wrecked, he just needs a little push. you throat his dick first - he’s minding his business on the couch, watching match footage, when you slide up beside him on your tummy, pull his shorts down, and say “don’t mind me, keep watching.” he huffs in response. he knows you know what he really wants but he still cums in minutes, never able to handle your tongue lapping at his balls while his cock hits the back of your throat for long - it feels too good and he knows you trained your gag reflex for him and art - it makes him weak.

within the hour, art is holding patrick in his lap and stroking him. he’s cruel about it, he knows what patrick wants too, so he grinds his hard clothed dick into patrick while he twists his fist up and down on with deliberate slowness. with every downstroke of his hand he humps his hips up into patrick’s bare ass, his shorts somewhere discarded across the room now. with every bounce art forces him into he’s getting closer, art can feel patrick’s dick throbbing and weeping pre all over his hand, so he keeps stroking until he knows he’s about to cum then stops short. patrick lets out a long drawn out whine as he spills all over himself with none of the stimulation he craves, just a ruined orgasm and an increasingly sensitive dick. art doesn’t let him up though, he keeps his hands locked on patrick’s hips and continues humping up against him. 

patrick is in agony - his dick is already starting to get hard again and all of a sudden he sees you in front of him in nothing but one of his tennis tshirts. you don’t say anything to him, you just climb into his lap and line his painfully sensitive dick up with your pussy so you can sink down on it. you reach your hand out and he thinks you’re going to stroke his cheek, but you let it pass his face and stroke art’s instead.

“how was your day, baby?” you ask him, deliberately ignoring patrick in between the two of you.

art lets out a soft moan, partly at how fucking hot you are when you’re this mean and partly because the weight of you in patrick’s lap added to the pressure on his dick, “‘s good - not much - fuck - happened at practice - just the usual - ah - h-hit some good backhands though.”

you’re rolling your hips as he speaks, it almost scares both him and patrick how easily you keep yourself from reacting to the stretch of patrick’s dick inside you as you speed up, “that’s great, i’m so proud of you, honey.”

below you, patrick is trembling. his mouth is dropped open so wide around a moan you’re able to shove your fingers all the way to the back of his throat with ease. you keep your fingers there for a moment, just to hear him gag, before you hook them behind his bottom teeth and move his head out of the way so you can press your lips to art’s. watching you and art kiss ferociously, as if he’s not even there, is what makes him cum a third time. he’s not even sure anything actually comes out of his dick, but his whole body shakes and he moans so loud around your fingers it feels like he’s screaming. you slow your hips down and finally look at him, ��he’s been so good, art, think he still wants your dick?”

patrick’s eyes well up with tears, he’s not even sure why. it’s either relief or overstimulation or some combination of both. he nods his head and tries to speak with your fingers still hooked on his jaw, “pleasthe - fffuck - wan’it so bad. fuck me - fill me - needitneeditneedit -”

“aw, even when you’re this sensitive you’re still a greedy little slut.” you hop off his lap and reposition yourself so you’re laying against the arm of the couch, then you guide patrick onto his tummy with his chest to yours and art behind him. you stroke his face with your fingers, still wet with his spit. “you took everything we gave you so well, sweetheart. don’t worry, art’s gonna take good care of that perfect little hole.”

with all the touching, teasing, and grinding art has next to no patience to prep patrick, so the sting is intense when he finally starts sliding his cock in, but patrick loves the stretch - the pain. you cradle his face in your hands and press a soft his to the tip of his nose. tears finally start to fall as art sets a brutal pace, chasing his own pent up pleasure and sending shockwaves through patrick that make him feel like he’s being electrocuted. his body is like a live wire, so sensitive from cumming three times in such a short span and already nearing a fourth. art’s grip on his hips is bruising and a stark contrast to your soft fingers petting his cheeks.

“fucking perfect ass - jesus - don’t know how you convinced me to stay away for this long.” art grunts over the lewd slap slap slap of his balls against patrick’s.

“pat just needed to be taught a lesson. didn’t you, baby? good boys ask for what they want.” you grin. “and you’re gonna be a good boy now, aren’t you?”

“‘m gonna be a good boy - shit - ‘m your good boy - please please - fill me, fuck, wanna feel you - cum inside.”

“oh fuck patrick -“ art hunches forward, humping his dick into patrick like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to. his breathing is ragged and his hips start to stutter as he cums with a loud, whiny moan. he fucks himself through it, pumping hot cum deep inside and fucking it deeper still. patrick cums with him and this time he knows he’s shooting blanks. all he feels is white hot pleasure-pain rip through his body and the next thing he knows he’s smushed between you and art. you’re both cooing at him, petting his hair and pressing soft kisses into his skin. he’s warm, he’s safe, and maybe he’ll start to ask for what he wants if this is what it’ll get him.

[lunar-years]

Peanut gallery social media commentary on Challengers is sooo funny to me.

“Art was the victim!” Did you miss the part where he started stirring shit up between his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend in the hopes they’d break up and he could get with her instead? Or how he chose to cut off his best friend entirely to side with Tashi because Tashi blamed said best friend for her injury (literally he doesn’t even talk to Patrick about the argument? Ever? Just kicks him out of his life because Tashi wants them to LMAO)?

“Patrick was the victim!” Did you miss the part where Patrick spends like 13 years willfully reinserting himself back into a relationship he no longer gets to be a part of all because he’d rather ruin them and come between them and repeatedly hurt them if it means he knows they still think about him, rather than taking ownership of his actions and coming to terms with the fact that they no longer think about him at all? Did you miss the fact that he’s a giant flop on top of being a giant asshole?

“Tashi is an evil cold manipulative bitch who doesn’t care about anything but tennis and comes between them!” Okay what we’re not going to do is 1) act like those two losers weren’t active participants in the vast majority of what was happening to them so that we can blame everything on the woman 2) forget that Tashi spends the entire movie both being incredibly horny for yes tennis, but tennis very much including Art and Patrick specifically, as well as bringing a wrecking ball down on her own life repeatedly because she physically cannot go on without having all three of them in her life.

“The three of them are ALL terrible, bad people!” Are they or they neither good nor bad but a secret third thing (messed up, regular people)? Are they or they all three simultaneously the one’s holding the gun and falling into the graves they’ve dug for themselves?

“The movie promised me a throuple and then didn’t even deliver!/it was just a regular boring old love triangle” Did you miss the part where Patrick was the person who taught Art to jerk off? Did you miss the part where Tashi encourages them to neck her until they’re close enough for her to back away and leave them kissing each other as she watches with horny amusement? Did you miss the fact that they’re both playing for her number? Did you miss Art molding himself into the person who could obtain the glory that Tashi was denied? Or how he saw his fiance/wife kissing her ex boyfriend who also happens to be his ex best friend in Atlanta and then spends like 10 more years doing absolutely nothing about it? Did you miss “Don’t I matter?” “Not to the most obsessive tennis fan in the world” “I’m not talking about tennis” followed by an Art who has stopped caring whether he wins or loses caring, by the end of the match, more than he’s ever cared before, because Patrick DOES matter and because he’s STILL playing for Tashi’s number? Did you miss the part where for about 15 seconds there they were actually playing tennis and they understood each other completely and so did everyone watching and it was a bit like they were in love or like they didn’t exist and they went somewhere really beautiful together? HUH?

“They’re incredibly toxic!” Well, yes! but you see, that’s part of the fun!

[veryace-ficrecs]

can I request some more zosan recs?

Absolutely you can!!

More Zosan Fic Recs

For my other Zosan lists, look here!

Zosan Fic Recs, Zosan Modern Au Fic Recs, Zosan Outsider POV Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

the blood of the covenant by glassedplanets - Rated E

In the North Blue, there is a roaming kingdom of no land, just a fleet of ships ruled by a king. The kingdom is nothing more than a mercenary force cloned and bred to be expendable and the king is a madman of a scientist. He had a daughter and he turned her into a monster. He had four more sons and three of them ended up becoming machines worse than the monster. And the last didn’t become anything at all until a pirate in a straw hat nearly ruined a restaurant.

A Study in Movement by camembri - Rated T

"Nami’s gaze pins him to the wall. Her brown eyes are narrowed, calculating. “What? You chicken or something? When Mihawk cuts you down – for real this time – are you gonna accept that it’s because you were too shy to ask for help? I refuse to believe that your dream is that superficial.” She’s baiting him, not even bothering to hide it. Still, Zoro’s hackles are raised. “I’m not shy.” “Then prove it. Go watch Sanji cook breakfast or something.”" Or: In the aftermath of Alabasta, Zoro finds himself to be the only person reasonably suspicious of the Strawhats' newest crew member. Should it all go to hell - as it is wont to do, with this particular crew - Zoro needs to train harder, get stronger. The problem lies in the fact that, despite his best efforts, he cannot replicate his ability to cut steel. Willing to go to extreme lengths to reach his goals, Zoro undertakes a new sort of training - the art of observation. Much to his despair, however, the cook seems to be the best candidate available. Zoro's never been one to back down from a challenge, but he wasn't expecting it to turn out like this.

To Brighter Futures by Cherry_Sundae - Rated T

“Well, it’s not Nami, obviously,” Sanji reasons out loud. “You two are like siblings. And as lovely as Robin-chan is, she cannot possibly be your type.” Zoro had phrased it in a way hinting at unrequited love, which means Hiyori’s out too – that woman was practically throwing herself at him every time they were in the same room. “Oh, what was that pink-haired darling’s name? Perona, no? She–” “Cook,” Zoro deadpans, eye narrowed. “If you want to guess sometime this century, you need to stop listing women.” ——— In which Sanji gets captured by pirate hunters, Zoro is in the right place at the right time, and one thing leads to another. You know how it is.

Craving For Your Fragrance To Cover Me by abydos - Rated G

Zoro notices Sanjis new perfume and fights with a realisation.

Desperados by bosephboestar - Rated T

Cowboy au. Need I say more?

Wreck my plans by goldenkiwee - Rated G

He noticed how Luffy immediately tensed up as well, as they watched a blonde, long-haired Marine cruelly step on fallen rice balls. Anger flaring, Sanji was ready to march over to the table. If there was one thing Sanji hated, it was wasting food. However, he watched instead with bated breath as the green-haired bounty hunter scooped the smashed rice ball up with his fingers and ate it. An alternate look at how different things would have been, if Sanji had met Luffy first.

The Printer Guy by LuckyNo3 - Rated G

Zoro knows how to do one thing and only one thing in the office, working the printer.

[codenamesazanka]

The new character is:

Young. They don't look any older than late teens.

Crying. Evident in the tears.

Restrained? Hard to tell what exactly is over the lower half of their face, but it does cover their mouth entirely, and that covering is reinforced by several cords(?). They seem to have used the scissors to cut away at the cords, but they stay dangling from the character's head.

Scared. They hold the scissors while their hands tremble. Scans are bad, but if you look closely, you can see the shaky white lines around the blades. They're unsure about doing this. Are they afraid to free themself?

Wearing a straitjacket? Hard to tell but the shirt they're wearing seems to have several places for strings to be tied together - and these are located at the back, running down all the way. Would be difficult and challenging for themself to undo. There also looks to be a cord of some sort wrapped around their arm. Does not seem to be straitjackets we've seen previously in the series.

Injured. The fingertips of their right hand is bloodied.

Tired/despirited. Body language in the hunched-over figure.

Coming out of a residential building? By the looks of it. Compared to the orphanages and clinics we see in the manga, this building is smaller, with a narrower doorway, and the gate positioned much closer. It just looks like someone's house.

Neglected? The ragged edges of their pants is probably not a fashion thing. As is the fact that it hangs one or two inches above their ankle. So they're wearing clothing that's gone through great wear and tear. Do they not have clothes to change into, to go outside? Do they not have shoes to wear? Especially when walking through wreckage?

Abandoned. They're young, they're alone in a wrecked house and street, injured and crying and scared. No one is here for them. They've been left behind in the ruins.

[nectardaddy]

iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer

cw/notes: feelings of inadequacy, depression, anxiety, implied self destructive behavior, probably ooc idc, I've written multiple fics based on this album alone so fuck they might be similar but it's a banger, title is funny for the bit, lots and lots of metaphors, she/her used, this was healing, not proofread

"I'll wreck you to pieces, Hajime."

A testament she told him often - a warning. A call to action, a challenge. It was dangerous, adrenaline coursing, and idiotic. Stupid to think a man, such as he, could take broken shards of a person and fuse them together - to make her whole again, to trust him.

The first time he told her he loved her she heaved in solitude. The weight of the emotion so dizzying and nausea inducing, mind reeling every second she thought too much of it. "What the fuck?" Thoughts wobbling before crashing down completely, cinder and dust wiped from a heart that thought it couldn't feel anymore.

Love isn't real. But the rush of the feeling was painful, making her ill to even mention. So she ignored it, shoving it down to the farthest crevices of her mind as to never see it again. Locking it away in depths even she couldn't reach; hoping it would never, ever, breech the surface again.

But the dreadful feeling of falling persisted. Dragging her, kicking and screaming, into her own horrors. Collapsing under a weight so foreign it made her stomach go to her throat. She knew the end before it even started - she would break him. Take the sudden feelings he so willingly offered within her palms and squeeze. Crack it, puncture it, kill it. Render it useless until he took it back, haunted and jinxed. Leave him in ruins, a mess of himself, dial and changing his thoughts until he would fear her own woes.

So when he said it a second time, despite her actions and regardless of her resolve, she told him he shouldn't. Holding a gun to the thought of being capable of love and pulling the trigger - but met with a misfire. Fuck.

She would leave him smoldering, extinguish any and all light he gave off in a instant if she were to placate to the feelings. Sucking the life out of him until he were nothing but a shell. But he didn't mind the sting of such a fiery heart. Taking the pain and sear of her heart on the chin, pushing past a heavy, morbid soul and cradling it. Caring for it, nurturing it, soothing every uncanny bump or groove before returning it - as it wasn't his to take. A soft smile in return, although set alight, that struck the match and lit the blaze. "Take your time - but I can take it."

She didn't stop the emotions that crept into her from the action, a heat that coursed through shallow veins. Singeing and crumbling her unlovable fate until it fell at her feet. Watched as he waited in the foreground, with a smile that didn't hide lies, with a resolve that didn't decay like her own. Waiting like a lovesick fool for the woman who swore she would never love again, white knuckling the grip he had on the feeling. Unwavering in his decision to not turn tail and run.

The third time he said he loved her, she said it back.

[freelancearsonist]

when the sun came up, you were looking at me

➔ Din Djarin x gn!Reader - 2.4k

➔ A bounty on your head and a bad ship wreck are just a few of the circumstances that have you questioning if you and Mando will ever be out of the woods.

➔ Rated PG-13 for curse words that are probably not canon in star wars, reader is generally able-bodied but otherwise is completely a blank slate, mando is probably ooc but we’re all a little delusional here, lots of blood, i don’t actually know how concussions work and we’re taking some broad liberties with injuries here.

➔ this is another submission to @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! (if you're reading this kel ily <3) this fic is non-linear so pls bare with me - the timeline will make more sense at the end!

You keep your head down and walk quickly, ignoring the frantic heartbeat of city noise surrounding you as your legs carry you down a dim street.

This is the last place you want to be right now. Even with your cloak’s hood drawn up around your head, you feel too exposed.

The apothecary is a very little hole-in-the-wall type place; you walk past it twice before you finally locate it. The facade looks like it’s about to crumble, and the single window is caked in a thick layer of dust. It looks like it’s been abandoned for decades, rotting with the telltale signs of neglect.

The storekeeper inside looks even worse. She’s a decrepit little woman, squat and skinny, white hair brittle and tangled. Just looking at her makes you want to slowly back away and apologize; say you have the wrong building and run away as quickly as you can.

This is the only shot you have, though; the only place that won’t immediately call the authorities when you step through the door. If you get picked up, everything is fucked.

With a deep breath, you swallow your nerves and summon Din to mind. You think of his easy, authoritative tone and you try to emulate the confidence that modulator always used to convey.

You hear the crash before it happens.

It’s unlike any sound you’ve ever heard before. A high pitched whistle in combination with the deep, metallic scrape of mechanisms working overtime.

And then you feel it. It shakes the very earth you stand on, sends tremors and shockwaves up your legs all the way to the crown of your head. Even after the ground has stopped trembling, your fingertips tingle with the sensation.

You grab a blaster and you run.

You know before you even find it that it’s Din’s ship. There’s a churning, nauseous wrench in your gut and you just know.

There’s so many thoughts swirling through your mind that it doesn’t feel like you’re thinking at all. Your body simply moves on autopilot, like you’re watching a holovid. You traipse bravely into debris and ruin, locating the crumpled remains of the cockpit.

All that beskar is a damned curse, because he blends right in amongst the crumpled and twisted metal of what used to be a functional ship. Stolen, sure, but functional all the same–and the only one either of you had. 

But you push aside your anger, because he isn’t responding. You’re calling his name and shaking his chest and he’s just laying there. Not joking about you smudging his armor, not breathing a little heavier at the sound of his name on your tongue like he always does. He just lays there, limp and unresponsive, and you’ve never been more terrified in your life.

There’s smoke and everything feels hot, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, adrenaline surges through your veins and you start dragging him. More than two hundred pounds of bulky man and armor but it doesn’t matter because if he dies like this you’ll never fucking forgive him, never fucking forgive yourself.

You drag him out of the wreckage and dump him unceremoniously on the grass, and then you get really scared. He hasn’t made a single noise, hasn’t even tried to help you with his weight.

You thump a little harder than you should on his chest, desperation outweighing any logical train of thought. “Din, wake the fuck up!”

It’s the slightest of movements–just a barely discernible turn of his helmeted head–but it’s enough. 

“Where are you hurt?” You beg, plead, cry. “You have to tell me where you’re hurt, I can help, but you have to tell me.”

His neck is just the littlest bit exposed, but it’s enough. You see scarlet red rivers tracing paths down corded muscle, and it makes your gut clench so hard you almost get sick right then and there.

“You have to take it off,” you whisper–your hand comes to rest at the side of his helmet, the only thing between living and dying at this point. “You have to take it off, Din, I can’t do it for you.”

His fingers twitch indecisively at his sides, and you realize with a gut-wrenching pang of fear that he might not be strong enough to do it himself. 

Or, even worse: that he might rather die than show you his face.

As soon as you’re back out the door, your body tremors with a sudden wave of previously repressed anxiety. You want to break out in tears, but you can’t yet. If there’s ever a time you have to be strong, it’s now.

You tuck the bag of supplies underneath your cloak and draw the fabric tightly around your torso as you walk back down the street the way you came.

You don’t think the storekeeper alerted anyone who shouldn’t know about your presence here, but you walk as quickly as you can anyway. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

The ship is old and barely functional, but it’s the best you could scrape up on short notice. It works well enough for these little in-system supply runs, even if it does shake a little more than is comfortable when you take off and land.

After what happened to Din, you swore you would never fly again. That promise went pretty short-lived.

“You’re late. Again.”

You’re used to the deep, gravelly tone of his modulated voice by now, but that doesn’t stop the shiver that works its way down your spine.

“I’m sorry,” you say, as meek as you can sound. You set a bundle of herbs and vegetables down on the counter, hoping the offering will appease him at least a little bit. “I found a garden and–”

“And you shouldn’t be going that far alone.” His voice is firm, there’s no room for negotiation.

“Din, I–”

“Don’t. Argue.” And there’s just something about that authoritative tone that makes your traitorous heart seize in a way it shouldn’t. “You are in danger. I brought you here to protect you but I can’t if you keep running away.”

“I wasn’t ‘running away’, I just wanted to be helpful.”

But he’s not budging–not on this one. “You can’t be helpful if you’re captured or killed.”

He stands towering next to you, so solid and imposing. He sets his hands on his hips and you hate the disapproval radiating from him. More specifically, you hate that you’ve disappointed him.

Your voice sounds small, meek–you hate it. “I didn’t do it, Din.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re a galactic fugitive with a bounty on your head.”

He’s not wrong, but it makes the hairs on the back of your neck prickle defensively anyway.

“You said we were safe here. You said we could lay low here until my name is cleared and no one would find me.”

“If you follow my orders,” he adds firmly. “You’re reckless and it’s going to get you killed.”

“I’m restless!” You correct, throwing your hands up in the air. “I hate being fucking… cooped up! I want to go out, and I want to do things, and I want to be able to take care of you the way you take care of me!”

There’s a heavy moment of silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. You know as soon as the words are out of your mouth that you’ve said too much, but you don’t know how to backtrack now.

“I can take care of both of us.” His voice is so much softer and gentler, you almost think you’ve misheard him. Surely you have, because it’s only been a few weeks since he rescued you from certain death–since he decided the price of the bounty on your head wasn’t more valuable than your innocence–and he’s been a stoic enigma the whole time. Always quiet, always imposing. You’ve never been able to get a good read of what’s going on behind that visor, so you’ve always assumed there wasn’t much.

Maybe you were wrong. You so desperately want to be wrong.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, stepping a little closer. Approaching him like a wounded animal, terrified of scaring him off. “I’ll be more careful.”

And you hear it–the hitch in his breath through the modulator at your proximity. You’re closer than you’ve ever been before by choice, and he knows it.

“Good.”

He turns on his heel and retreats into the back room of the little cottage you’ve commandeered and fixed into somewhere livable, and you can do nothing but slump in defeat.

He barely gets the helmet over his ears before he passes out, but it’s enough. Your hands catch the heavy beskar before it can slide back down over his face and you pull it the rest of the way off to toss it safely out of the way.

You’ve seen little peeks of his skin before–mostly his hands when he tugs off those heavy leather gloves–and you know right away he’s too pale. His face is completely drained for color, and again you feel that uncomfortably sharp twist in your gut. But you tell it to fuck off and your hands spring into action, desperately trying to find what’s wrong.

There’s a small yet jagged piece of metal sticking out of his neck, right under where the helmet's protection ends but above where the neck of his shirt would normally sit. Just the smallest strip of exposed skin, but it’s enough. Luck wasn’t on his side today.

You have to pull it out to get a better idea of just how deep it is, but your fingers are so slick with his blood that you can’t get a good grip on it. That’s when the frustration kicks in and your eyes well with tears; your blurry vision only makes you more frustrated, until you’re helpless and sobbing into his stomach.

But you feel it–the slow, unsteady rise and fall of his chest. He’s fighting, but he needs your help. You need to get it together because you’re the only chance he has.

You take a deep, unsteady breath and wipe the blood from your hands–and then you reach for that jagged piece of metal again.

You have to sit in the cockpit of your rusty, scavenged ship for a moment to catch your breath after you land safely and in one piece. You’re not even scared of crashing, you’re scared of dying and leaving Din alone. Din, who believed you when you said you didn’t commit the murder you were charged with. Din, who took you to the safety of this mostly uninhabited planet and assured you that no one would find you. Din, who swore that he would protect you.

Din, who has yet to wake up since he fainted lifelessly in your arms.

The metal wasn’t imbedded that deep, thank the Maker. He lost a fair amount of blood over it, but not so much that he couldn’t recover, and it didn’t knick anything too important that you couldn’t stitch back up even with your unskilled hands. 

It’s the concussion that worries you. You’re certain it’s not the first he’s had, but it’s definitely got to be the most severe. His skull must’ve bounced around in that damned helmet like a stray pinball. You’re able to take a small amount of comfort from the way his pupils retract when you lift his eyelids, at least, but that comfort wanes with each passing day that he doesn’t wake up.

This is your third time returning from that shady little apothecary on the next planet over, but it’s the first time his eyes have been open when you come through the door.

And for one horrible, gut-turning moment, you think he’s dead. He stares so blankly at the ceiling that you want to fall to the floor and die yourself.

But he hears you approaching, and his eyes flicker over to you. Those deep, chocolatey brown eyes that you’ve come to crave meet yours for the very first time and you start to sob with relief.

You push his back firmly against the mattress when he tries to get up, and you shake your head when his lips part around unspoken words. You just need to cry right now, so he lets you.

Everything comes up all at once–days of panic and fear, days of never knowing if you would ever hear the sound of his voice again, days of tears that you haven’t cried because you haven’t allowed yourself to. It all comes to a boiling point and spills over the edge of the pot, and poor Din just lays there and lets you cry into his chest because there’s nothing else he can do.

It takes longer than you wish it did for you to regain some composure, and when you finally pull away you’re feeling a little more than self-conscious about the very apparent display of emotion.

He must sense it, and even though his face is unreadable, he catches your hand before you can retreat too far.

“H-helmet?” He croaks, throat dry with misuse.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’ll go get it. I… I didn’t see your face, as far as this is concerned. You’re safe with me.”

But he doesn’t let go of your hand when you step to retrieve the helmet–if anything, he squeezes it tighter.

“S’okay,” he whispers hoarsely. “K-kinda… feels ni-ice.”

And it makes your heart flutter in a way it shouldn’t. That not only is he letting you see his handsome face, but he might even be enjoying it.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” you murmur as you start to remove the bandage from his neck. It’s healed down to a thin line now–the bacta’s run its course, and it’s faded to a simple scar. It could be years old if you didn’t know better. “I… I was so scared.”

“M’sorry.”

And you laugh, because it’s so ridiculous that he feels the need to apologize. It’s so ridiculous that he could think you’re upset at him for getting hurt when all you feel is pure, unadulterated relief.

He takes a deep breath and catches your hand again. “Saved me.”

“You saved me, too,” you murmur–before you can think about it, you ghost your lips in a feather-light kiss over his knuckles.

His eyes flutter shut from that minimal amount of contact, but it’s enough. He’s okay, you’re okay, and it’s enough.

➔ beta: @shakespeareanwannabe; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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[unaloid]

WOY au notes

this is my swap au, if you haven't seen it, you can look at #swap au on my blog 👍

back then, i wrote down my thoughts on the characters new personalities and dynamics. but i didn't end up posting since i just kept editing it. so here is what i wrote!

~~~~ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ~~~~

basically i aim to keep the core personalities of the characters the same, even if they swap roles they are still themselves inside wherever i can help it. find a similarity between the characters and lean into it!

DOMINATOR: dawdle, name change suggested by @/kradeiz. i love it so much.

she is not 1000 years old, she is not a legend. she is just some immature woman who stole a hat. because she likes to take things 💚 she was down on her luck after fleeing her old galaxy for hat crimes, so wander helped her and quickly realized someone needs to keep her out of trouble. wander worries a lot for her when she goes off on her own.

she is selfish and tends to "look out for number one". she doesn't understand being told "no" and thinks, well i want it, so its mine.

when you watch episode "the prisoner", you don't get the sense that wander is being cruel in the episode. but if dom did the same thing, she would be laughing at him. if hater confessed his love to her, she is still laughing her ass off. she is a force of chaos more than anything.

WANDER: even while taking og!sylvia's role as a "toughguy", he is still 1000s years old and "the legend". he is wander the travelling hero who has saved many planets from villains, and will always lend a helping hand to those in need.

he is small but a good fighter that can take down a big opponent with tricks. wander and dawdle travel on his motorcycle, with which he has beaten many villains by challenging them to a race. wander offers a defeated villain his mercy, he still reforms people, its a bit of tough love ^_^ on the bike, dom holds onto his back or later he gets her a sidecar.

wander doesn't like to leave dawdle alone, he is always thinking of worst case scenarios

SYLVIA: "lady haymaker"! but i will still call her sylvia.

watchdogs had a lightning on their hats to match hater, so sylvia's army have a feather on their helmets to match her! the knight theming came from this. plus she is like a big dragon, so knights seem thematically appropriate. all she needs is a princess. her army call her "milady" instead of sir, and dawdle might call her "lady".

she is similar to og!hater in that her rage gets the best of her, so she wrecks her own plans often. why does she want planets? i guess she deserves some respect after always being shoved down by her family.

lady sylvia is bigger than normal, so she is taller than both hater and dom while standing up!! she needs an extra power, too, so she has fire breath!

dawdle is super annoying, she needs to be stopped, and stop saying we are friends and stop trying to ride my back. but maybe we can harness her chaos and use it for evil.

HATER: "sir hater". sylvia's minions are little skeletons called boneheads, but hater gets to be second in command because he is the biggest and strongest. his incompetence ruins things just as often... i originally thought, "they are like pinky and the brain," where sylvia is more competent and its hater who brings her down. but really, its more fun if they are both failing in different ways.

hater is bossed around by sylvia because she is bigger than him. he takes great pride in representing the army, being the best at what he does and being told "good job". it hasn't occurred to him that he could get recognition elsewhere, he wouldn't even know where to begin as a solo villain.

yupppp he likes dom. how conflicting, he's battling a lot of emotions when he's assigned to go capture and destroy her. she can often just talk him out of it bugs bunny style, running mental laps around him. she treats him cruelly and just finds the whole thing very funny.

PEEPERS: lord peepers.. maybe he should have a cooler name but i like to keep it simple. it takes a lot for me to change names lol.

he made it to the top due to being smart and nerd brain. i have the least to say about him because... you get it right? you can look at him and understand everything. its peepers if he was successful as a solo villain like he always wanted to be.

his suit is a big robot that he pilots, and its the big reveal that he's just a little guy in there.

i said this before, but sylvia does not want him. plots from the show about hater wanting dominator, can be supplemented by dawdle trying to be his friend. she thinks he is sooo cute and doesn't understand why she can't do whatever she wants. that's why she goes into his ship in this version of "my fair hatey" and they have to rescue her

SIDE CHARACTERS?????

the way i did the main characters was by lining them up in order of screentime and shifting to the right. there needs to be an end of the list so that the last character can swap to the front. i like that no one "trades" with eachother one-for-one like most swap AUs do, it changes the dynamics between characters more dramatically!

so if i wanted to add side characters, i'd pick the next group of 5 (or more or less) by screentime and do the same thing. i'm not a big side characters girlie tho, i prefer to only focus on the main characters, so i was not rly concerned with this at all lol. but there is a "right" way to do it, and i don't rly want to calculate all dat

(the only side characters i really like are major threat and emperor awesome)

[lesbianelphie]

thinking abt marty mcfly. Who grew up in an unhappy family with a nonconfontational insecure doormat of a father, and ends up developing a reactive response to being called "chicken". The most prominent threats to his physical safety and happiness come from biff/the tannens, an archetype of the toxic masculine macho bully. He gets into fights when challenged or to defend other people - it would be safer to just walk away and reject the toxic masculine norms inflicted on him, but he's convinced he has something to prove - and wrecks his entire life after accepting a dare to street race.

he spends the entire trilogy working a car up to highway+ speeds to save himself and fight for his present/future (speeding the car out the mall parking lot and accidentally sending himself to the 50s in the process; half the plot of pt III is just them figuring out how to get the car to go fast enough) but in the end his saving grace and pivotal character development moment is his refusal to race even when challenged as "chicken".

Something about how our maladaptive habits which hurt us stemmed from adaptive things we used to have to do to survive, but healing and growth come from unlearning those things. The 88 miles per hour that saved marty in 1885 and at the twin pines mall would have ruined him if he'd continued to give in to peer pressure. By refusing to race his new truck at the speeds that were needed to power the now-destroyed delorean, he makes the measured choice that prioritizes his future, instead of the reactive habitual one that would have left him stuck in the past.

Tl;dr Marty getting repeatedly stuck in the literal past, defending his ego to the point of unnecessary self-endangerment, and having to speed in the delorean vs. Choosing not to street race in the end represents him growing past his past learned attitudes/behaviors guided by the insecurities and toxic masculinity inflicted by the men in his life, allowing him to focus on his future and break the pattern established by men like George, the tannens, needles, etc.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

15 Day Bl Challenge - Part 4

Day 58 - BL scene that made your imagination go wild

Another really creative one @pinkkop! I'm sure it's happened many more times than I can remember, but let's see what comes to mind...

The Sign - multiple scenes

Some things in The Sign didn't quite work for me, but there were a lot of moments that really did, particularly early on. There was something about the tension between Phaya and Tharn, before we knew any of the back story. The first moment was in the bathroom, when Phaya does something that would normally be quite creepy - only Tharn just melts. And that started a lot of thoughts around what might be in their pasts to make Tharn's automatic reaction such a sensual one.

There was also the push/pull of the tension as their need and attraction was growing, and how that carried into their fight scenes. Which sent my imagination down a path of a very sexy enemies to lovers possibility, even though I knew it wasn't the path this series was taking.

Laws of Attraction - Nawin intro

I have made no secret of my deep Nawin love, and thanks to this memorable intro (and his other scenes as well), I am currently writing my first ever (if I actually manage to finish it) fanfiction, about what happens to Nawin after the events of LOA, and the new partner he finds to unleash his unhinged form of love on. Yes, it's someone who is very straight-laced and law-abiding. Yes, Nawin is going to wreck him in the best way.

Revamp - Trailer

This is cheating a bit because we haven't gotten the series yet, but there is something about the Revamp trailer that looks so delightfully dark and broody. The vampire series so far have been ok, and I am looking forward to My Golden Blood as well, but this one has the potential to hit the sweet spot for those of us who watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer at a formative time in our lives. And with how much I love BounPrem, there is all sort of delicious possibilities. No expectations - it ruins the fun - but a healthy dose of "hmmm...what if?".