#so I like to mull about these things a lot in my mind because they are core pillars to the character she is now even if it reflects in

[ittybittybumblebee]

Not trying to armchair psychology you, just speaking from personal experience- it's really, really common to have autism, especially autism that is coupled with ADHD and OCD, be misdiagnosed as BPD for young people. This is most common with verbal autistic people who also suffer from abuse as a minor. The constant mental pressure often manifests as erratic thought and behavior, "strange" patterns of belief and groupings, and just a general feeling of feeling like you are Not The Same and don't know what's wrong but that Something is Wrong. Extreme stress for all of those problems can easily be exasperated into psychosis unfortunately, so a good approach involves being able to ground yourself with knowing how your mind is different, and that it is not broken. Whatever you find out, best of luck man.

thnx means a lot that u typed this out to me anon <3 i think ur def on the right track on what i could b dealing with but at the same time there has been a point where i was quite sure i must be autistic but felt i never had or experienced the same wide or specific and unique variety of stimming/stimulation issues like most autistics do and kindof let that thought slide a bit. because what sources i read had all listed those as being one of the important diagnostic criteria so that is what i understand.

having said that it could be my perception of how stimulation issues present themselves Personally has me feeling like i dont suffer them when i could still be affected in different ways that im not registering as possibly being That

[alun-ura]

Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do? and What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it? (Alun)

Big Ol’ Honkin’ OC Question List

Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do?

I wouldn't say Alun gets jealous per se, instead what she feels is something more akin to protectiveness and spite to some extent - the way and the intensity of it varying of course depending on the person. In that regard Alun is usually very calm, she doesn't carry a sense of possessiveness over people for multiple reasons; one being that I hardly imagine Alun being a monogamous person, but going deeper into it would be that because of her lifestyle and past experiences, she wouldn't want to be heavily romantically invested to someone so she nips it at the bud before it can even get to the point of bubbling such a feeling.

Specifying a bit HOW she feels, when it comes to being protective of someone she does care about - Alun isn't exactly bothered about them being with someone else. Still, it is a lingering feeling of 'Is this person good enough for you?, Are they able to keep you safe? Will they hurt you?' that can make her somewhat hostile to this other party, or even seem jealous. When it comes to spite, it is usually aimed at partners she doesn't care as much about - people that tend to be more physical with her and, ironically enough, people that try to make her jealous. Most times, people with this kind of dynamic already have a nasty attitude coming from Alun, of overall being a prick and not pleasant - she'd often describe such people as her leftovers, if the other party wants that then she is more than fine with it. It's usually in a degrading way to both people, which can also seem like spiteful jealousy.

Alun neither feels bad nor regrets either situation, she feels entitled to both feelings in the way that A) She is seeking the best for that person when being protective to the point of being horrible to them, and B) She was never in an emotional tie to care about being spiteful to someone, often lacing it with the fact that she would have most likely warned them that things would be like that. Both are not exactly good, both her behaviors and her reasoning for them are rooted in deeper issues within herself that just flower up in such a way.

What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?

I think the main thing that comes to mind is her inability to emotionally connect or rely on people, though I realize Alun has many varying obstacles in all categories (go girl!) so for this I'd just go down the list.

Emotional; to explain this better I'll dip toes a bit into some past stuff as Alun has been on an emotional rollercoaster since she left the Steppes - which was the exact opposite of what she used to be like, in quite the opposite, she had experienced little and none during her time living there, to the point of getting into a 'stunted' personality and emotional. There was far too much to address and to live once she left, and hardly any care for it at the time as if one decided to eat a huge hearty meal after being starved for weeks. As expected, it didn't go too well which leaves the current times not too different from what she used to be - there was a myriad of situations and feelings she had never properly experienced truly, and the main and lingering one at the current times is love and grief. What slingshot Alun into the current person she is, how she behaves, and how she emotionally responds to things and people is the loss of a loved one caused by herself, perhaps the only one she deemed true in her life despite never truly allowing room for another after that accident happened. 

It is one of the biggest themes when it comes to Alun as a person in a deeper sense of her character (and something plastered all over her aesthetic tag) but particularly this encompasses the feeling well.

"my death will forever cling to you, leaving behind a slimy trail and a metallic taste in your mouth. my soul will forever drag you down like the heavy corpse of a long-dead god, who somehow still grants wishes. you can't tell which one of us is the one not letting go. you know not even your own death will end this." 

This branches out in other aspects of her obstacles per se but I believe it to be the biggest of them, realistically she should get over it - but the damage made by her and to her due to such feeling is the one thing that I find it incredibly hard to see Alun surpass as it grew into an enormous knot between emotion, physical and social all. She is constantly haunted by it, in her dreams and losing sleep over it, it follows her in a personality adopted by herself and traits that did not belong to her, she sees them in shadows and the corners of her eyes during medication, the crystal necklace being the only thing she has from them - that sometimes seems to talk to her with that same voice. And she has questioned her sanity before due to it all, even when she is doing good or when she is completely awake it is there as a constant ringing of what happened will be shackled to her. So it ends up reflecting an unfulfilled bond, in guilt and fear that she has to surpass to truly, emotionally connect with someone. I don't think she needs to get over ALL of these to make it happen personally, but because of the type of person she is, it is very easy for the other side to fuck up in the way and have Alun retract from any progress made.

Alun is bitterly aware of it, it has come into the topic before and she recognizes it as the issue it is when she began questioning her own sanity due to it, but she isn't trying to overcome it in any way. She has, as a character, gone full circle where she hated the lack of motion her life had brought her, only to willingly walk back into it herself - Alun is 'comfortable' in the stillness of carrying her life as it is until she dies and hopefully can meet them again. 

Physical; I think this can be addressed both in a bodily manner and a physical interaction way so I'll ramble about both. Going deeper into that, due to the scarring that such a loss left on her, the regards for her wellbeing were knocked away as well and this turned into a couple issues with her current days. She has sustained a couple injuries over the years, the worst being over her ribcage as I mentioned somewhere here before - the wound clearly affects her breathing if one has a keen eye for it. She also puts too much attention into defending that side, enough to leave room for other crucial parts of her body open as a target. Because of her behavior regarding her own body, she doesn't go through too much trouble in defending it, though of course she won't take blows if she can avoid it - but the scarrings over her are clear enough. To this point, she doesn't exactly have too many issues besides that which brings the actual bodily obstacle; her dependency on medication. Her body is usually aching, due to exertion, injuries, and the chemical response to the constant cocktail that goes inside her - usually all deafened by it. It has got to the point where she doesn't heal properly due to it, her response to a magickal approach isn't good too in both the body and mind, and on top of it, it has been affecting her inhibition and cognition to some extent. Her necklace takes part in how her body takes all of this in, but her addiction is by far her worst physical obstacle - and yet again, she is aware of it but she doesn't see it as a problem that has any other solution to it because she doesn't see the dependency as the problem, but how her body & health currently are now. 

The other facet of a physical obstacle is how she physically connects to people since the emotional option is usually out of the picture. This is the way that Alun will gladly invest herself into, though yet again it is in a destructive way as I mentioned above regarding her wellbeing. It is the easiest way to connect to her, and also the easiest way to completely shatter any opportunity to get anywhere 'closer' to her - and also what she WILL offer in most scenarios if the chance is given. This doesn't have to be romantically or sexually exclusive, and goes as far as offering herself physically to a foe [ in a fight right? :) ], ultimately, she gets the same satisfaction of being beside someone either as a partner or as an enemy. And this can go in any way, be together in combat or opposing, sharing a respite together, or in bed. With this, she is steadily building wall after wall that, as closely as it gets with the other person, she is putting her actual self further and further away while getting that high of a company she desperately wants, not that person's company but just A company. In a physically social way, I think this is the biggest obstacle and something Alun is actually not aware of - she is lonely and starved for different aspects of comfort, and she seeks all of these with the company of strangers regardless of if they are hostile or not.

Social; I think all of the above builds into her social issues and the knot I mentioned within all of these, that builds into her biggest social struggle that's her fear of getting close, her emotional distance while being physically close, how her medication aids in hindering her personality to an extent - all of these builds into Alun being a tricky individual to get close to because she is constantly shifting from cold and hot. It flickers back and forth, from friendly teasing to cruel remarks, of interest to silence, toothy grins that follow that perpetual monotone voice. Though the reason for it is an amalgam of all of the above, she has adopted many traits of the people that she knew, people that she lost, and built who she currently is as a walking monument for those. In a way, it is one of the reasons why she won't take the approach of just choosing to die - I know I posted this quote of hers here before but this is the best take I have of the creature herself about it. 

 “All that I am now, every memory, everything that I know, every thing that I did, every single fucking step of the way– I would give it all back t'him if it meant getting him back.” 

All that she currently is is pieces put together of those that she affected somehow, that Alun blames herself for - and this shows in her very personality, in an adopted form of speech, or her preference for certain drinks, down to the very fidgeting habits she has. She does this in a conscious way while seeing that both as the person she is and someone she also won't always be - which can make it difficult if someone is after knowing Alun in a deep sense, of who she is, or keeping up with her behavior.

[fairy-writes]

Hi!! I saw that you write for Arcane and had a really cute idea for Vander. I don’t really see a lot of fics where you get to see Vander’s reactions to the reader either playing with the kids or comforting them, so I thought a fic centered around that might be cute? (I think also having a bit of slow burn would be sweet, like both Vander and the reader like each other but don’t do anything about it until getting a little push from the kids because they ship).

ONE LITTLE PUSH

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Bit of a Slowburn, Fluff, Getting Together, Reader is Smaller than Vander (but who isn’t?), Sibling Bickering

Notes: VANDER MY FAVORITE

(No, but seriously, contrary to popular belief, he’s my 1st favorite over Viktor)

JUST IN TIME (kind of) FOR SEASON TWO, LETS GOOOOO

__________________________________________________________________________

Vander wasn’t quite sure why you stuck around for so long. 

In fact, he wasn’t sure why you stuck around in the first place. 

But… As Vander watches you with the kids. His kids. He begins to understand why. 

You were kind, unyieldingly so. Even as Mylo grew to start picking on Powder, even as they fought, you were kind and patient and offered them the unending gentle love they all so craved. 

The love he couldn’t afford to give them because who could be gentle in the Undercity? Especially in the depths of the Lanes?

You could. 

Vander was in the middle of pouring a drink when Powder tumbled into The Last Drop. She was covered in bruises and dust from something. Or someone. She barely met his gaze as she clambered to her feet and all but sprinted into the back where they all slept. Vander looked through the multitude of customers and spotted you. 

You had obviously seen Powder go bolting, worry twisting your face as you glanced toward the bar and met his stare. You arched an eyebrow, and he shrugged. You rolled your eyes and sighed before smiling in jest and getting up from where you had been tinkering with the jukebox. 

Vander finally manages to get away from his chatty clients and makes his way back into the back room nearly fifteen minutes later. 

Only to pause by the door. 

“—ylo hates me! He does, I swear!” Powder cries, and you hush her gently, dabbing what looks to be some of the antiseptic you have lying around on her cuts and bruises. Disinfectant was hard to come by, especially in the Lanes, but you were seemingly magic in the sense that you always knew who to talk to to get some. It seems you had worked your magic yet again. 

“Did Mylo say that he hates you?” You ask gently, whispering a quiet “sorry” under your breath as she flinched with the sting of the antiseptic. 

Powder pauses, thinking what had to be her earlier conversation over, 

“Well… No…” She mumbles, and you hum, 

“Can I give you my honest opinion?” You ask, and she stills, looking up at you with wide eyes before nodding. 

“Aren’t you always honest with us?” She asks. You chuckle at that. 

“I suppose I am. But I don’t think Mylo hates you. Does he find you a bit annoying? Maybe. But every big brother thinks that about their younger siblings. I know mine did.” You say, and Powder mulls your words over and over and over in her mind. 

She always did overthink things. 

“I didn't know you had a big brother.” She says eventually, and you let out a loud laugh at that. 

“You are a silly girl for focusing on that. But yes, I came from a big family. And guess what? I was the baby of the family. Just. Like. You.” You say, emphasizing your words with a pinch to her side. Powder squeals with laughter and wriggles away to escape your dastardly tickling. 

Vander hangs his head with a huff and a smile before turning to head back to the bar counter. He can hear your conversation continue as Powder escapes your grasp.

“Now, where did you get all these bruises from?”

“Um… Vi taught me parkour from Topside down…”

“Powder! You’re like seven!”

“Seven and a half! And she said I was ready!”

Ever since you began to stick around, you had become something of a parent figure to the four little children Vander had come into care for. 

To Vi and Powder especially. 

So when Mylo burst into The Last Drop with the words of a fistfight on his tongue, you were the first one out the door. 

Vander was close behind. 

Mylo led you and Vander deep into the Undercity. In fact, it was so far into the Undercity that Vander was worried they were getting into some dark territory. 

Like… Really dark territory. 

But soon enough, the sounds of a fight were heard, and soon after, you were deep in the throng of a multi-person fistfight. Everyone paused for a second when they saw you and then stopped altogether when they spotted Vander not far behind. 

You began to pull people off and shoved them out of the way. You did this again and again, ducking under a few stray punches until you managed to unearth Vi. 

She wasn’t looking too hot. 

Her face was bruised and swollen, and the fifteen-year-old spat out a wad of blood as she bared her bloody teeth and prepared to fight again. 

At least until she saw you. 

It was as if the tension had been released from her shoulders. 

She all but slumped into your grasp, and you stumbled back a step with the sudden weight. Vander yanked the last person away from you both and scooped up his adoptive daughter. She leaned her head into the crook of his neck and was obviously fighting back tears. 

Mylo was hunched over, hands on his knees, and wheezed from all the sprinting. 

“Vi? Violet, can you hear me?” You said as soon as you all returned to The Last Drop, and Vander set her down on the couch. Powder and Claggor had been found a block away, fighting off more thugs from whoever sent them after the literal children. 

He would've pummeled them to a pulp if Vander hadn’t hung up his gauntlets years before. 

Vi’s head lolled from side to side, and you shone a pocket flashlight into her eyes, watching as her pupils dilated and contracted. You were experienced at this, taking care of people, even more so than he thought. 

Were you a doctor deep in your past? 

As Vander thought about it, he realized he didn’t know practically anything about you. Your past, your likes, dislikes, he knew you were good with machines and medicine and that you came from a big family. But that was it. 

And that hurt his heart. 

You ended up ushering everyone out of the room while you worked on caring for Vi. Vander closed the bar early and was in the middle of putting chairs on tables when you emerged. Powder, Mylo, and Claggor dropped what they were doing. They scampered to your side, a chorus of “How’s Vi?” erupting from the kids. You offered them a tired smile and patted their heads. 

“She’ll be okay. She’s resting right now. You can go in and see her if you’re quiet.”

And then it was the two of you. 

Vander set the final chair on top of the table and meandered his way over where you were sitting at the bar, head in your hands. 

You looked tired. 

“Is she really okay?” He asked, and you grunted, rubbing at your temples. 

“She has a broken nose, fractured left arm, some bruised ribs, and a concussion. Which, all things considered, she’s very lucky. It could’ve been a lot worse.” You say, and he sighs, 

“Did she say why she got into the fight?” He replied, and you shrug, 

“She was protecting Powder. Then, more people started showing up until it was an all-out brawl. That’s when we stepped in.” You say, and his shoulders sag. 

Vi was going to be okay. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever said it. But thank you. For everything you’ve done. Taking care of them and all that.” He says, and you just hum. 

“You guys gave me a home after everything. I’m just repaying my debt. Well… that and I love those kids.” You say, and he arches an eyebrow,

“After everything?” He inquires, and you glance up sharply as if not realizing what you had said. 

Eventually, your gaze casts downward, and you run a hand over your head and through your hair. 

“I was a doctor in Piltover before the rebellion. I was caught trying to help the Undercity before they were officially citizens and cast out.” You say, and his arched eyebrow raises even higher. 

“A doctor? Were you any good?” You bark out a dry laugh at that,

“One of the best!” Your voice cracks as you speak, and he feels his heart splinter into pieces. 

Vander should’ve known that Claggor and Mylo were up to something when they came in with sneaky grins on their faces. 

The Last Drop was all but desolate. It was the wee hours of the morning before the people of the Undercity awoke to begin their day. But the door was unlocked, and the kids were allowed to run in and out as they pleased. 

Which they had been doing a lot in the last hour or so. 

“Vander!” Mylor clamored for his adopted father’s attention, waving an excited hand as he scampered up to the counter. Claggor hung behind, ever the stoic young man. But there was mischief in their eyes and curling the corners of their mouths. 

Vander slung the rag he used to wipe the counters down over his shoulder and leaned on the bar counter. 

“What did you do now?” He teased, and Mylo all but squawked. 

“When have I ever done anything?!” Vander just stared, 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” He asked, and Claggor snickered at Mylo’s deflated expression. Mylo quickly spun on a heel and jabbed a finger at his adopted brother, 

“Not a word outta you, Claggor!” He snapped before spinning back as something dawned on him.

“You gotta come with us!” He demanded, and Vander glanced between the two of them. 

“Why?” He asked, and Mylo let out an exaggerated groan.

“No questions! Just come on!” He grabbed Vander’s hand and tried tugging him around the counter and toward the front door. 

Vander relented, locking the door behind him as he followed the two boys. 

Only to realize very quickly what was actually going on. 

His first tip-off was hearing Powder and Vi’s voices, yours mixed in as you asked where you were going, why they were taking you, and what they were doing. 

Vi answered no questions. Powder just chirped excitedly. “You’ll see! You’ll see!”

The six of you met in the middle of the street, Powder dragging you by your hand as you followed behind patiently. You glanced up from listening to Powder, and your gazes met. Vander felt his heart skip a beat as he took in your appearance. There wasn’t anything particularly new, but you looked like you had cleaned up some. Your hair was pinned neatly back, and your clothes looked ironed. 

You looked… Really nice.

“Vander? What’s going on?” You asked, and Vi nudged you with her good arm. Her fractured left one was still healing carefully under your care. 

“We’re setting you two up.” She teased, and you stared dumbly. 

“Setting us up how?” You asked, and now it was Powder’s turn to blurt out an answer, 

“On a date!” 

Before the two of you could react, all four kids all but disappeared around the corner in a cloud of dust. Leaving you facing Vander and utterly alone. 

It was safe to say he was panicking just a little bit. 

“Vander? Do you have any idea what they meant?” You asked gently, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. 

“My guess is they want us to go on a date.” He said, fully prepared to hear rejection. Because who would want to go on a date with him? A middle-aged man with a stained past. His lungs twisted as he heard you take a step closer. 

A smaller hand slipped into his, and he looked down from where he had been staring at Topside. 

Your eyes were lit up, not with disgust at the proposition he was proposing. 

But they were filled with hope for the future this relationship would bring. 

[realcube]

dilf december

day eleven ⭑ ushijima wakatoshi ⭑ time for christmas kids?

tw: nsfw minors dni, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, riding, squirting, size kink and cervix bruising

to everyone's surprise, ushijima was strangely receptive and understanding when his contract with the swedish adlers expired and they didn't renew it for the next season; telling him they didn't make the decision out of ill-intent, they just think it's time for him to retire.

there was nothing stopping ushijima from simply trying out for another team. he'd likely have no problem finding another one that would except him, despite him being thirty-five, since he is still fit and healthy.

however, shockingly, ushijima took the adler's advice.

this was unlike him as all throughout his career, he has vehemently protested whenever anyone even alludes to his retirement, insisting that he will remain on the volleyball court until his legs give out from under him.

and although that is true to some extent, because he often visits the court and plays games recreationally while in retirement, it still puzzled you as to why he switched tempo so suddenly.

although, you weren't going to complain, as since leaving the swedish adlers you've been able to spend a lot more time with him than you usually did, which is always nice, especially around the holiday season. you almost felt greedy having him all to yourself: no useless teammates blowing up his phone and no whiny managers asking to meet with him. just love and peace on earth!

that is, until you remembered a conversation you've been having with him ever since the beginning of your marriage.

"when are we going to have kids, toshi?" you would look up at him with boiling anticipation in your eyes.

and though he'd appreciate your eagerness, he'd frown and reply sternly, "i don't have the time to raise kids, currently. i don't think i will ever have the time while i am employed as an athlete. we should have this discussion once i retire."

you grumbled, "but you literally always say that you're never going to retire?"

"that's true, though i might fall into unexpected circumstances. say, if i am hit by a train."

"or my car." you'd comment with a titter.

it was funny and light-hearted dialogue back then, but now that you had both matured and grown in your relationship, you find that particular topic of disucssion to be more pressing. especially as you have fallen into what ushijima may describe as "unexpected circumstances" where he now has all the time in the world to help you raise a child.

so, you decide to bring this point to his attention one night, before bed.

the outside is consumed with darkness and your back windows are virtually blackened; it reflects the flickering light of the festive scented candles placed around the room. wafting the smell of freshly baked cookies through the space, pleasing your nose like a warm hug, while your focus constantly shifts between the tv screen and your husband, who is sat beside you on the couch with his eyes drilled into a book while you lounged in your fluffy robe.

you weren't paying attention to the show currently playing at all. no, it was simply background noise to the chorus of worries and perpetual screaming in your mind, as you mulled over whether or not now was a good time to bring up the topic you so desperately wanted to discuss. the last thing you'd want to do is disturb the peaceful night you were sharing and cause tension in the household.

but if you can't talk to your husband about something that is important to you, what is the point of getting married?

you swallow your pride and inhibitions with an audible gulp, then croak, "wakatoshi?"

"yes, dear." he replies in his usual blunt manner, not glancing up from the pages.

"do you remember a while ago when we talked about having kids?" you said timidly, so quiet that ushijima could barely hear you over the noise of the tv. so he pauses the show, and replies,

"yes, i think i do remember."

hsi face is so stern and unwavering; it's hard to tell if that is due to his natural stoic nature, or if he truly does not care for what you are saying. for the sake of your self-esteem, you assume its the first one, and continue talking.

or, at least, you try to. it's quite hard when your heart is pounding so harshly in your chest that you feel it could leap out of your throat at any given moment. "you said we should talk about it when you retire. so, have you given it any thought?"

he furrows his eyebrows together, and stares into the distance. a couple seconds pass, and he closes his book too, placing it to the side in order to focus on pondering your question.

it takes a minute, but he finally responds, "yes, i have."

you blink, expecting him to continue, so when he doesn't, you urge him to do so, "and?"

"and i think it's a great idea. now is the perfect time to have child." he says it in such a dry manner that any onlooker would think he was being sarcastic, but you know your husband all too well, and you can pick up on the subtle signs of sincerity in his cadence.

your whole face lights up, and you perk up in your seat, "really? that's amazing news, toshi!" you squeal, lunging forward and throwing yourself into his arms. and as always, he's ready to catch you in his strong arms and hold you close for however long you need.

as your melting into the hug, wakatoshi uses his gentle grip on your waist to pull you onto his lap, only so you could be even closer together. he peppers kisses up your neck and across your shoulderblade, while his hand sneaks behind your thigh.

at first you think nothing of it, as you know your husband enjoys a sneaky little grab at your ass sometimes. however, when his squishing slowly turns into rubbing, and his target moves from your perky ass to in-between your thighs, you gasp at the realisation and stagger, "oh, you meant like.. right now?"

you jerk away from him, and he meets your shocked expression with an entirely blank look on his face, "of course."

you blink, and so does he. considering it for a moment, it only takes you a couple seconds to land on the conclusion that there is no time like the present.

thus, you slip your arms around his broad shoulders again and pull him in for a passionate kiss; lips sensually weaving together, as you bounce on his lap a little, prompting him to continue his risky endeavours.

originally, both hands are fixed on your waist. however, he slips one down under your robe in order to rub your clit. he was expecting you to be wearing undergarments underneath the robe, but he was in for a pleasant surprise when his palm made direct contact with your damp folds, and you feel him smirk into the kiss slightly, causing you to titter.

meanwhile, his other hand swiftly got to work on pulling down the elastic of his sweats and whipping out his hardened length. while the two of you were still engaged in a heated make-out session, and his fingers were still working at your clit, he stroked himself a lazily, in an attempt to temporarily satiate his desperate hunger, but his mere hand couldn't even come close to the homey grip of your pussy. he needed to be encased in your walls urgently.

soon though, after a couple more minutes of harsh action on your clit, he reckoned you would be wet enough to take him by now. and he tested this hypothesis by dipping two meaty fingers into your pussy, stretching it out and causing you to arch your back as waves of unexpected stimulation shoot through you.

your whiney moans vibrate against his tongue, as you are still locked in an intimate kiss, and he furrows his brows in thought, prodding and stirring his fingers around your insides to assess whether your hole was lubricated enough for him to enter. and with each poke at your gummy walls, he sends another lewd moan winding down to your lips.

he yanks his fingers out, deciding that however wet you were right now would have to do because he wasn't able to wait any longer.

with that, he uses the same hand to manoeuvre his cock so it was hovering right by your dripping enterance, allowing this tip to be greased with your arousal. in doing so, you are pushed back a bit, forcing you to break free from the intense kiss with a dramatic gasp. you look at him, with your pretty chest floating up and down with each shallow breath.

he looks you in the eye sternly, with a kind glint his iris, waiting for your approval.

you nod slightly, but before you are even able to processs your own response, he's already pushed you down around his girthy length, forcing your tight pussy to suck it all up, somehow.

your eyes rolled back into your head as he did so, and an obscene, pornographic whine was pried from your throat. ushijima basked in it for only a moment before he made you ride his cock by using his grip on your waist. he set a relatively slow pace to begin with, allowing your gracious hole some time to adjust to his length, but it wasn't nearly enough.

despite that, he hastily quickened his pace, bucking his hips slightly into you with every bounce, meaning he would brush your cervix with his tip, which caused you to grunt and mewl each time. you appreciated he was trying to be thorough and having him so deep inside you might increase the chances of fertility, but you weren't entirely sure if it was worth having your cervix brusied for.

the veins on his length rubbed the most delicious parts inside you, it was like he was scratching an itch you weren't even aware of until now. your cheeks and the tips of your ear heated up with pure pleasure, and you could feel him getting warmer under your touch as well. meanwhile the molten coil inside you was only growing more rigid by the second, threatening to crumble at any moment.

his dick rammed into your hole repeatedly, at an increasingly feverish pace, eliciting a short moan or grunt from you each time, and your whole body shook. therefore, ushijima had no idea where to look — he was spoiled for choice — although he revelled in watching your tits bounce wildly around and threaten to escape the confines of your robe, he was also partially mesmerised by the way your perfect cunt consumed him so nicely.

"tight.." was all he was able to grit.

you nod, but you're too fucked out to even muster up a coherent response; your mind was almost as scrambled as your insides.

with how his dick was ploughing into your poor pussy, it wasn't long until the coil inside you snapped and you found yourself suddenly shaking and tremoring while you squirted around him, unleashing a dam of crystalline fluid over his sweats and the couch.

and the harsh squeeze of your pussy around his cock was enough to tip him over the edge of a climax too, and he groaned lowly with his eyes shut as he deposited his first load into your hole. thick warmth flooding your insides in an instant, sticking to your walls and leaving you conjested.

he stayed there for a moment, to allow you both to catch your breathes, and he pried one of his eyes open to look at your beautifully dishevelled state, "thank you, (y/n)."

you chuckle, and rest your weary head on his shoulder, "thank you, toshi."

"no, thank you." he looks down at your stomach, and strokes it tenderly with his big hand, "i can't wait to see you carry our baby."

you pout, gazing up at his cute dumb face, illuminated only by the coloured tv light, which cast shadows over his strong features. you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, and sunk into his embrace, "i can't wait either. you'll be such a good dad." you muse, dreamily.

meanwhile, he slowly eases his cock out of your hole, provoking a small hiss from you at the change. but little did you know, he was kind enough to stick his three fingers in immediately afterwards, so none of his cum threatened to spill from your leaky pussy.

"and you will be a good mother." he assures you softly, snaking an arm behind your neck to cradle your head in arms.

then, to your surprise, he utilised this position in order to flip the two of you, so you were laying face up with your back against the couch, and he was kneeling between your legs, which he pushed spread-eagle by your knees.

it all happened so quickly, that you were already in the position before you were able to gasp, "huh?! what're you doing?"

"round two." he keeps his three fingers stuffed in your pussy while he uses his other hand to guide his erect dick towards your hole, "for the best chance of pregnancy."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Your gravity falls fanfics are so good!! :0 if you’re still taking requests could I request a one shot where Stan’s s/o is with him during the fight between him and ford and they get sucked into the portal instead of ford? I love your angst so much hehehe

Part two is right here

You had originally came with Stanley as support for when he confronts Ford after spending a long period of his life with no contact, no nothing to reassure his twin that he was fine and not dead in a ditch somewhere.

‘The nerve of him, living it up here and not so much as a word to his one brother, his twin no less.’ Stan muttered, his gip tightened on your hand as you both walked up to the lonely shack amidst the snowy forest, but there was something else there besides anger it was nervousness or perhaps worry that his brother didn’t contact him for one reason or another.

‘And here’s your chance to make yourself heard,’ you said as you squeezed his hand, hoping to comfort Stan during this difficult moment for him, ‘you’ve spent enough time to mull over what it is that you want to tell him, now is the time to let him know how much this has affected you and he will have to listen regardless.’

However you’ve came to realise that there was a lot more going on that Ford claims that you and Stanley weren’t aware of as his eyes shifted everywhere out of paranoia. You were still blinking your eyes after getting abruptly blinded by Ford upon first meeting, something about possession? You were certain this wasn’t how you thought you’d be meeting Stan’s twin -not in the slightest- but it was clear to you that Ford was afraid of something, what it was he wouldn’t tell only saying that he needed Stan to hide his journals, scatter them as far from each other which did nothing but annoy Stan.

You could see the clench in his jaw and his fists and were about to reach out and ground him but before you could blink, Stan and Ford were tussling over the journal across the lab as the portal thrummed with power, almost as if entertained by the fight between twins and you were left unable to do anything but watch.

‘Is that all you brought me here for! To help you hide your journals?! I bet I didn’t cross your mind not even once!’ Stanley shouted as he kept the journal close to his chest with his lighter as he managed to keep Ford where he wanted him.

‘You don’t understand Stanley! This is dangerous things you are holding in your hands!’ Ford replied, eyes firmly locked onto the journal and the flickering flame of his brother’s lighter that got too close to the journal’s pages for his liking. ‘Think about the potential threats-‘

‘Fuck that! I want my brother back!’ Stanley cuts his brother off as he grew frustrated at how his brother was - once again- not listening to him or what he had to say. ‘You could’ve called upon me any time! But you only call upon me when you want someone else to do your dirty work for you! What about what I want! My life is in ruins because of you!’ Ford lunged towards Stan and managed to knock the lighter out of his hand, grasping at the bottom half of the journal while Stanley tightened his grip on the upper half of the journal.

‘You ruined your own life and you’ll ruin y/n’s with the way that you are going!’ Ford retorts in a strained voice as he and Stanley tugged the journal in two different ways, just for Stanley to loose his grip, fall backwards and hurt himself on a hot surface that caused him to scream in pain. ‘Stanley!’ You and Ford yelled as you both went to rush to Stan’s aid, hoping he wasn’t too hurt, only for him to Punch Ford in the face and as Ford stumbled backwards he bumped into you. which then caused you to fall back into a lever of sorts; before soon finding yourself beginning to float and be drawn towards the portal with nothing to grab onto to prevent it from happening.

Freaking out you yelled, ‘STANLEY! HELP ME!’ You screamed as you found yourself getting closer and closer to the entrance of the portal, helplessly flailing out of pure panic and need to get away from it, not realising that your attempts to get away were fruitless. Your screams had dragged Ford and Stan from their fight as they could only watch in horror as half of your body was already in the portal.

‘Y/n! Baby! HOLD ON! JUST HOLD ON BABY IM COMING!’ Stanley yelled back as he frantically looked for anything he could use to rope you back to the ground, but grew frustrated when he couldn’t find not a single piece of rope or metal rod lying about, the lab was clean of any and all obstruction. ‘FORD HELP ME!’ He cried as he looked back at his twin, who was frantically looking himself for anything to get you away from the portal, just to face the same problem that frustrated Stanley. ‘I’m trying!’ He shouted over his shoulder as his guilt for bringing both you and Stan here began to weigh down on him heavily.

‘Well you’re not looking hard enough!’ Stanley barked as the fear of losing you was slowly crushing his chest, making it harder for him to breath as his mind raced with the thought of having to live a life without you, his anchor, his best friend and his beloved partner. He hated it, he didn’t want to envision it but here he was living the nightmare he swore would never come true, feeling helpless and useless as he was forced to hear your frightened sounds and not be able to do anything about it.

He didn’t even get to say the words ‘I love you’ yet as he was scared that you’d find someone better then him before he even mustered up the courage, but you never did. You stayed by his side, even if it mean moving from state to state almost every week because of him and Stanley knew he didn’t deserve you, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to loose you from his life either.

Stan and Ford tired their hardest but it wasn’t enough as by the time they looked back at you, your outstretched hand was the last thing the pair saw as the portal closed, leaving them to stare at the portal in denial of their failure to rescue you. ‘Baby?’ Sanely said as he stepped forward hesitantly. ‘BABY! THIS ISNT FUNNY! COME OUT PLEASE!’ He cried louder now when the realisation began to set for him as he ran towards the lever, pulling it and pushing it in desperation of re-opening the portal in hopes of seeing you rush out and right into his arms; where he would keep you for as long as you’d allow him to.

Only for neither of those things to happen, the portal remained shut and you remained lost to whatever was on the opposite side, scared, confused and alone.

‘WHY ISNT IT WORKING!’ Stan screamed as he pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled the lever so much that Ford had to physically drag him away from it before he broke it, thus making more work for them in getting you back. ‘Stop Stanley, it’s not working!’ Ford said as he managed to stand between his twin and the lever, ‘the portal is out of power, it won’t open up unless we get the necessary materials to open it again.’

‘Then what are we doing! Let’s go get it!’ Stanley said as he was about to leave the lab but was stoped by Ford’s hand on his arm, which he shrugged off violently. ‘It’s not so easily obtained Stanley,’ Ford said as he let his hand drop to his side as Stanley glared at him, ‘we need money to get the parts needed to power the portal up. I only had enough to open it once and that took a lot of time, even with Fiddleford’s help, and without him or the necessary materials…’ Ford trailed off which didn’t help Stanley’s mood as he grew angrier at his brother’s insinuation.

‘They’re trapped on the other side forever?!’ He yelled. ‘Bullshit! I don’t believe that! I want them back now!’ Stanley then grabs Ford by the collar and brings him so that they were eye to eye. ‘Give them back or I swear to fucking god Stanford-‘

‘I can’t bring them back without the necessary materials Stanley I told you.’ Ford reaffirmed as he started at his heartbroken twin as the first signs of tears left his eyes, Ford felt Stan’s grip loosened on him until they went completely slack at his side as he fell to his knees, chin dropping to his chest as he silently wept. ‘Bring them back.’ Stanley chanted softly, ‘being them back to me, I can’t loose them. You don’t understand. They’re everything to me and now I’m nothing without them.’ Stanley whispered to the air as if someone with the power to grant his wish will hear him, but instead elected to ignore him and his pleads.

Ford, heartbroken at seeing how distraught and lifeless his brother had became, slowly knelt in front of him in silence, not knowing how to comfort him correctly as he felt himself to blame for your disappearance into the portal. He had taken away the one person who cared for Stanley in the times where his family couldn’t be bothered, someone who loved him unconditionally regardless of what he did and Ford had taken you away from him seemingly forever, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley would hold a grudge against him for it.

However one thing was for certain, he’d help his brother get you back however he could, no matter how long it would take them, even if it took them thirty years to do so; it was a risk that Ford originally wasn’t willing to take but if it meant getting you back to Stanley then he’d do anything to see his brother happy again.

[val-made-a-mistake]

Currently imagining a scenario where you and Eddie have some sort of split custody arrangement for Venom, and you have some sort of NSFW dream about Eddie, and Venom sees the whole thing because of brain link or whatever, and then shares this exciting development with Eddie the next time he's bonded to Venom

venom is definitely not one to keep a secret, for sure 😭 thank you so much for your request, i hope you enjoy. :) smut-wise, it's a bit more focused on eddie than my previous fics where it was either symbiote-focused or an even split, hope that's okay. this was SO much fun to write!

warnings: brief smut, mentions of oral f receiving, mentions of "striking" the reader but it's totally a misunderstanding, loneliness, mentions of eating people/murder

word count: 3.3k

//////

It had been six days since Eddie had left for Seattle, and honestly, you hadn’t been expecting to fall into this loneliness so quickly. Venom might have been keeping you company by providing you with an endless stream of commentary in your inner conscience, and the chickens were constantly squawking and squabbling and wandering the length of the apartment as per usual, so it wasn’t like the space was totally silent, but still, Eddie’s absence was more saddening than you thought it would be. Over the course of the six days, you struggled to busy yourself. Of course you preferred Eddie having a job as to being without one, but one thing you particularly hated was how vague investigative jobs were, so as a result, you had no idea when he would come back or how long the work would take to be done.

For the time being, it looked like you were stuck here.

Before he’d left, Eddie had asked you to babysit Venom and his apartment, and now that you’d been here for an extended amount of time, you felt horribly restless.

Feeling the weight of the quiet apartment settling in, you cast a glance around the room. The hum of the refrigerator seemed to amplify in the sort-of silence, and you found yourself drawn to staring at Eddie's belongings scattered around.

Your gaze fell on a framed photograph on the shelf – Eddie with a carefree grin, arm slung around your shoulders. The memories flooded back, and a bittersweet smile touched your lips.

As if sensing your thoughts, Venom's voice rumbled in your mind.

EDDIE IS DEFINITELY MISSING OUT WITHOUT US AROUND.

The symbiote's attempt at comfort was appreciated, but it only deepened your sense of solitude.

Sighing you folded yourself into a ball on the couch, tucking your chin into your knees. The TV in front of you was off, and you had no intention to turn it on. For now, it was okay to mull in the quiet.

You mumbled into your knees, “What do you think he's up to in Seattle?" 

CATCHING BAD GUYS. KICKING BUTT. EATING SEATTLE FOOD. ZOOMING AROUND. ACTING PATHETIC WITHOUT US THERE.

“V, you and I don’t know anything about investigative journalism,” you put in gently.

Venom was, of course, offended.

I KNOW A LOT ABOUT EATING BAD GUYS!

“Yeah, but Eddie won’t let you eat bad guys in Seattle any more than he does here.”

It was at that moment that Venom popped out from your shoulder blade, miniature head scowling.

HE SHOULD!

“Wanna go get a bite to eat?” you interjected, effectively ending the conversation. “I’ll even let you drive, if you want.”

Venom grinned much too wide for his intentions to be anything but nefarious, so you quickly added, “No eating people.”

You turned fast and pointed to the pizza box sign in the kitchen. “Eddie might not be here, but that rule’s definitely still active while you’re in my body, okay?”

Venom, for lack of a better word with his gaping mouth full of super-sized fangs, pouted.

YOU ARE NO FUN!

I just don’t want to be involved in any murder, you wanted to say, but slimy, black, glittering goo was already wrapping and contorting around your middle. Venom was enveloping you, taking over.

It was a bit of an unpleasant sensation as Venom’s monstrous gooey head locked into place over where yours used to be, and rows of impressive fangs unfolded in your suddenly super-sized mouth. It felt like somebody had cracked an egg over your head and the yolk was dripping down your body. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it. You had no idea how Eddie put up with it.

For how quickly his annoyance started, Venom seemed to get over it pretty quickly. He grinned and licked his lips.

I WOULD LIKE TO GO TO MCDONALDS.

//////

The room was shrouded in the quiet stillness of the night. The dim glow of a bedside lamp cast a warm pool of light on the walls, creating a cozy haven within the four corners of Eddie’s bedroom. You were in bed. Venom, for the first time that day, was quiet.

Under the soft blanket, your eyelids were growing heavy with the weight of the day's endeavours. You still missed Eddie, a lot, so much that your nightly FaceTime call almost wasn’t enough. Seeing his face on your laptop screen was just a further reminder of how far two states away felt, and how binded you felt to him since you met him — he pulled at you without even realizing it, like you’d been sewn together with invisible thread.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be in Seattle for too much longer.

The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to synchronize with the slowing pace of your breath. As the minutes ticked away, you found yourself on the threshold of the dream world, caught between wakefulness and the gentle pull of slumber. Not even the distant murmur of passing cars was enough to distract you now.

Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the sensation of falling asleep, gently gliding down into the abyss of dreams. Eddie’s bedroom, once familiar and defined, now blurred at the edges, transforming into a surreal landscape of colours and shapes.

As you drifted further into the realms of slumber, a sensation of weightlessness enveloped you. It was as if you were floating on a sea of tranquility, carried away by the ebb and flow of your own breath. The boundaries between reality and imagination began to dissolve, and the world outside melted.

//////

Sometime between now and then, you’d ended up bent over in Eddie’s lap, on a couch that felt just like his couch, but was ambiguous enough that it could’ve been anywhere. Things were slightly blurry around the edges, surreal enough to have you breathless, but real enough that you weren’t questioning your surroundings.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed as he tilted his head, carefully examining the swelling ass on his lap. Your pussy was dripping, there was a dribble of arousal forming, but in all honesty, he was a little scared to touch you, he didn’t want to hurt you. “I don’t think I’m getting a finger in there, girl. Wow.”

“Luckily, I’m not that fragile,” you responded playfully as you arched your back for him. Eddie bit his lip as this only accentuated the curve of your ass.

“God,” he whispered as he ran a hand up your thigh: he was able to break them apart easily, and he pulled one leg over his lap, wedging you firmly between his legs.

Even though you were already soaking wet, Eddie’s fingers ran over your dripping slit for a moment, as if he were admiring the way your pussy fluttered at his touch in front of him.

God, you could just feel how wet you were, and you bit your lip, anticipating for Eddie to lean forward, and—

Y/N!!!

In an instant you’d jumped awake: you’d sprang to attention without really realizing how you’d done it, scrambling for the lamp. “What’s going on?”

Venom was protruding from your shoulderblade again, bouncing even more than normal, very clearly in extreme distress.

SWEET GIRL. WE ARE RECEIVING VISIONS.

You stifled your yawn with your hand. “V, do you mean, like - like a dream?”

WE ARE RECEIVING VISIONS! RECEIVING VISIONS OF EDDIE EATING YOU! THIS IS VERY SERIOUS! WE NEED TO KEEP YOU SAFE!

Your cheeks instantly warmed, and you froze, scrambling for something to say. “Oh - oh, shit, Venom - that - I’m so sorry, but I really don’t think that was what you think it was.”

HE WAS STRIKING YOU! Venom snapped.

Oh my god. He really saw all of that.

You reached for the water bottle on your nightstand. “V, you seriously don’t need to worry about this. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. Nothing bad will come from it."

Venom was, of course, still hysterical.

IT WAS A PROPHECY! THIS IS BAD!

I wouldn’t mind if it was a prophecy, you thought selfishly before you could stop yourself, but you shoved it down. “Everything’s alright, Venom. Okay? Everything's fine. Let’s just go back to bed.”

I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE FOR CARING ABOUT YOU, Y/N.

You were already sliding back under the blanket. “I’m not asking you to, V. I appreciate it.”

You hesitated.

“Just, uh, next time you’re bonded to Eddie, please don’t tell him about this, okay? It could make him - I don't know, uncomfortable. You know, I - I don’t know how he’d react to the prophecy of him supposedly hurting me, that’s all. I don’t want to worry him.”

(You were hoping wildly that he would accept, and you and Venom would never talk about this again.)

In a move you’d never seen before, Venom raised one gloopy, black tentacle towards you, and recognizing the movement, you extended your pinky towards him. Your pinky and the black goo linked together for a moment, signifying your trust.

Venom grinned, now bouncing significantly less.

I NEVER BREAK A PINKY PROMISE, SWEET GIRL.

You raised your eyebrow.

I TRY NOT TO.

You were much too tired for any of this, you simply turned over to switch off the lamp and finally return to whatever remnants of that dream was left. “Okay then. Goodnight, V.”

//////

It was satisfying to have everything fall back into the natural order once Eddie returned home from Seattle. You returned to your own apartment on the opposite side of town, but of course visited frequently, and Eddie was grateful to be back in a low-stakes environment once more, with a snarky symbiote that would terrify anyone who would try to harm him. Seattle had been thrilling, and he'd recounted the adventure to you several times, but now he was back to something familiar.

The job was done. He was covered for the time being. Freelancing was difficult, but for now, everything would be okay.

In the intervening time, Venom talked about you, a lot. Ever since he met you, he’d taken to mentioning you. But ever since you’d agreed to split custody of the symbiote, and especially since Eddie had disappeared for Seattle, he was talking about you even more.

I AM WORRIED ABOUT Y/N, he said one day.

Eddie was idly clicking through TV channels, watching everything from the news to a police drama to a basketball game zoom past, finding none of them interesting. “Why?”

I DO NOT WANT ANY BAD OMENS TO BE FOLLOWING HER. WE NEED TO KEEP HER SAFE.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, a bit confused.

Venom suddenly popped out of his shoulder, howling.

SHE - SHE HAS -

Before Venom could get any actual words out, Eddie was lifted from the couch as the symbiote rose and slammed his head into the ceiling, denting it severely and sending bits of drywall raining down from the heavens like it was a form of self-punishment.

As quickly as it started, Eddie had been dropped on the couch, red in the face and gasping for air.

Venom hardly noticed: he seemed to be in extreme distress.

I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO TELL!

Eddie put a hand to his throat, still sweaty and gasping, forcing an inhale. “V - what?”

Venom was beside himself, now.

Y/N IS RECEIVING VISIONS! VISIONS OF YOU!

"Visions? What do you mean, visions of me?" Eddie asked, his concern deepening. Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling half-strangled anymore. His mind was racing, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and worry. "What kind of visions? Is she in danger?" 

He couldn't fathom what could be causing you to have distressing dreams about him.

Right after Seattle? Right after he thought the work was finished?

I DO NOT KNOW. BUT WE MUST PROTECT HER.

Without waiting for further response, Venom oozed off Eddie's shoulder and began slithering around the room, agitated.

Eddie remained on the couch, trying to process this information. "If something's going on, then we need to talk to her, right? Figure out what's happening."

I AGREE. SHE IS PART OF US, AND WE WILL NOT LET ANY HARM BEFALL HER.

He paused, awkwardly.

BUT PLEASE LET HER KNOW I AM SORRY. I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU, EDDIE. SHE SAYS SHE DOES NOT WANT TO WORRY YOU. SHE DOES NOT SHARE THE SAME CONCERN I HAVE.

It didn’t matter: Eddie was already grabbing his phone and dialling your number, fingers tapping nervously against his screen.

After a few tense rings, you picked up.

“Hey, Eddie!”

"Hey, we need to talk," Eddie said urgently, glancing at Venom, who was now wrapping himself around the coffee table, sticky and pulsating, in deep despair.

Concern filled your voice. "Is everything okay?"

“Oh, I mean, yeah, right now it is,” he responded wildly, vaguely aiming for nonchalant. “I was just talking to V, you know, and he said something, and - I just kinda wanted to call, y’know, see if you were alright-”

“Oh, I'm fine,” you confirmed, but you still sounded confused. “I don’t have anything going on today, so I’m just spending some time to myself. What did V tell you?”

Across from Eddie, Venom moaned in despair, a mere gooey black glob of depression on his sitting room floor.

SWEET GIRL, I AM SORRY!

“He said you were getting some disturbing visions, and not gonna lie, it kinda freaked me out a bit,” Eddie said sheepishly, hoping you hadn’t heard that. “I just wanted to call and see if you were okay, that’s all. I know this is random. Sorry. Just, with the nature of the last case, y’know, up in Seattle-”

It didn’t take long before he realized he was rambling again about the Seattle case, so he stopped. “Sorry.”

"No, it's okay."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a sigh.

Of course this was happening.

“Eddie, there’s been a misunderstanding,” you said. “Just, look - do you mind coming over? I’ll explain everything to you once you’re here. This might be better in person.”

Eddie was on his feet in an instant. “Sure, yeah.”

//////

Eddie rushed through the city streets, a mixture of worry and curiosity gnawing at him. Venom was bonded to him again, because he’d rather not think about the consequences of a depressed Venom lingering around the apartment while he was out, and the symbiote seemed to writhe within him with impatience. Or maybe that was just the motorbike rumbling underneath him. Whichever it was, he felt nauseous.

The symbiote had a tendency to jump to conclusions, but Eddie definitely couldn't shake the unease that settled in his gut.

Upon arriving at your apartment, Eddie knocked hastily.

To his surprise, you opened the door with a small smile.

"Hey," you greeted, ushering him inside. "Thanks for coming over."

Eddie nodded, glancing around your living room as if expecting something unusual. Venom, still on edge, clung within him like a sentient black backpack.

He didn’t want to come off as too eager, or too worried, so he just shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and hoped he looked casual despite the storm of questions brewing inside of him.

“So - what’s the deal?”

Deep inside of him, Venom was quivering with fright. As his gooey molecular form had to be closely intertwined with several of his most important organs right now, it was very hard not to notice the sensation.

You winced. “He’s just freaking out about nothing. There’s no bad omens or visions. I just had a dream, and you were in it. Simple stuff. Nothing to worry about.”

“It wasn’t a bad dream?” Eddie said, cautious.

You were definitely closer, now. “Actually, I’d say it was a pretty damn good dream.”

Eddie’s breath was caught in his throat. Out of everything that could’ve happened tonight, he definitely hadn’t been expecting…this.

He was a little confused, honestly. What was going on? The hairs on the back of his neck were raised, but he didn't feel as though he was in danger. On the contrary, he felt quite warm.

“Let me show you?” you offered.

"Okay," he bit out before he was conscious of making the decision, and you were stepping in front of him, and realizing, he closed his eyes on instinct--

The kiss that followed was absolutely dizzying.

There was something so particularly desperate about this: you were kissing, gasping against his mouth and pulling at his jacket, which made the two of you blindly scramble backwards into the apartment, messy and needy. The kiss quickly turned into a battle of control, with Eddie being the one to guide you forward, his hands on your hips. You bit his bottom lip in response, forcing him to open up and then the kiss was all about tongues, wet and sensitive.

You were on the couch when you finally broke apart, gasping.

"Baby," Eddie wheezed, his eyes darting across your face in disbelief, "I - what was that?"

"Is V with you?" you asked, instead of answering the question.

He was apprehensive now. "Yeah?"

"He needs to know I'm not in danger," you whispered, and you leaned forward to kiss him again.

It was much too chaste, and after you pulled away, Eddie was in mute astonishment for a moment.

His voice was scratchy when he spoke. "Disturbing visions, huh?"

You just smiled. "In my dream, we were on a couch, like this."

Eddie still couldn't believe this was happening. The anxiety in his gut on the way over had been completely forgotten now, blurring out of his memory, the future was an impossible thing, there was just this. This was all he had; this was all he wanted. "Were we, now?"

He didn't know what to do, but that didn't seem to matter, you were leading.

You nodded. "It was kinda hot."

"Kinda?" Eddie repeated dumbly, breathless. His voice sounded like a stranger's.

Before he could embarrass himself, Venom's voice rumbled within him, frustrated.

EDDIE, STOP BEING A PUSSY!

Wondering vaguely if this had been a trap all along, Eddie grabbed the nape of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. Your mouths roved together, and he took the opportunity to pull you over, closer to him. The curve of your bare spine was warm from under your sweater. He kept his hand there, roaming carelessly, drifting up to the clasp of your bra.

You seemed to get what he was going for, and then suddenly you were straddling him, and with you on top of him, he could no longer ignore how interested his dick was in the proceedings.

Slightly, just slightly, you rolled your hips against his clothed crotch, and Eddie choked out a moan.

Oh, fuck. He could feel the sweat materializing and running down his back. This was better than good.

(Venom was definitely going to tease him about this later.)

"What happened next?" Eddie mumbled, looking up at you, his eyes blown black.

You smiled, then crossed your arms and peeled off your sweater. Eddie shifted his grip, holding you by the hips again, and you tossed your sweater elsewhere.

Venom was going absolutely insane from inside him: it felt like he was rumbling somewhere around his large intestine.

DO NOT MESS THIS UP, EDDIE!

Meanwhile, you were, of course, oblivious to the commentary in Eddie's mind.

"I mean," you said, and your voice wasn't smoky like it had been before. It was just curious, with a note of teasing, like this was an everyday conversation. "You ate me out."

He pressed a light kiss to your throat. "Then flip over, baby."

Inside his head, Venom seemed to be having some kind of meltdown. Maybe he had just realized what the dream was. Maybe he was jealous. Either way, he was rambling in Eddie's mind.

SWEET GIRL - SO FRAGILE - SO SWEET - SO DELICIOUS - I NEED TO TASTE -

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery III

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Mami wants another one

Because of your superpower, Mami says that you make a lot of assumptions. She says it's because your brain makes lots of different connections that other people wouldn't. Sometimes you just assume things because of it.

You don't know what that means but you just nod and smile because Ingrid says that's what you need to do to get Mami to stop talking sometimes.

You're completely enamoured with the washing machine spinning when Ingrid swears. Or, you think she swears. Sometimes she says stuff in Norwegian that she tells you not to repeat because it's naughty so you assume those are swear words.

She doesn't swear a lot but you know to ignore it anyway, focussing on the way the washing machine spins. You'd tried to get in it once with Bagheera so you could both spin but Mami got angry at you and talked for ages for you smiled and nodded as your mind wandered to whether or not you could fit in Bagheera's cat tree.

"Cub," Ingrid groans and your name makes you turn.

She's holding one of your toy trucks. It's big and yellow and it's like the ones that the people building the apartments down the street use to move all their big rocks.

You smile toothily at Ingrid and reach your hand out for your toy.

"I asked you to clean up your mess a while ago, cub," She says, not giving your toy to you.

You frown. Ingrid did tell you to do that but you'd gotten distracted by Bagheera and then the rumble of the washing machine. You like the washing machine so you sat in front of it.

"My toy," You say.

"We need to clean up," Ingrid says," It's very messy."

You don't see the problem. Your things are strewn all over the room but you know where everything is so it shouldn't be a problem. But Ingrid likes things neat and tidy.

You think that's why Mami is dating her because Mami is messy and she needs someone to organise her things like how Ingrid helps you organise your thoughts.

You like Ingrid though and want to keep her happy because she's the boss in the house.

You get a bit distracted as you go to pick up your digger, making little engine noises with your mouth. You're not really sure how engine noises sound so you just mimic the sound of the washing machine instead.

You ram it into the wall a few times as Mami comes into the room.

She's holding Bagheera.

"Oh, please, Ingrid," Mami says," It won't be much trouble. Please, let's get another one."

You wonder what Mami is talking about. You put your truck away and reach for your lion cub, making it purr like the washing machine as you get out your magic wiggles.

You mull over Mami's words. You don't go to nursery a lot (Ingrid says that they don't accommodate your add with an h somewhere well so you only go when you absolutely have to) but the last time you went, there was a little boy who said that his mum begged his papa for another baby and she got one.

If that's what Mami is talking about, you don't like it. You don't want a new baby because if Mami gets a new baby then maybe you won't be lion cub anymore because the baby will be younger than you so they'll get your nickname.

You don't want a new nickname because you're Mami and Ingrid's cub.

Your thoughts make your magic wiggles a bit worse than better, especially when Mami mentions your name.

"It'd be good for y/n," She says," You've always said it was good for you when you were younger."

Ingrid makes a face. "That's different and you know it. We had a bigger house when I was younger. There's not enough space here."

You're glad Ingrid is speaking up because adults don't always listen to little kids. You know this because sometimes the adults at nursery don't like you running around when you have the magic wiggles even though Ingrid tells you it's the best way to get them out.

You hope Mami listens to Ingrid because you definitely don't want the new baby that Mami must want.

"Please, Ingrid," Mami says," We can make room! y/n would love it! It could share her bed."

You freeze instantly. Your brain screeches to a halt as you work out what Mami's just said.

You're up on your feet, throwing your lion cub to the ground and screeching. It's very high pitched and it makes your ears ring a little bit. You stamp your foot.

"No!" You say," Not in my bed!"

You don't want to share your bed anymore than you want to share your Mami and your Ingrid.

"No! No! No!" You cry.

You couldn't get your magic wiggles out earlier but they're all coming out now as you scream and cry as much as your little body will allow.

"Why?" Mami asks," You let Bagheera sleep in bed with you."

"My Bagheera!" You say through your tears.

Mami tries to go to soothe you but you shriek again and hide behind Ingrid because she doesn't want this new baby either and she won't betray you like Mami is.

"Si," Mami says," Your Bagheera. But you love Bagheera a lot."

You nod.

"Don't you want to have another friend to play with?"

You shake your head. "No! No new baby! Just me!"

Mami looks at you strangely. "I know," She says," You're the only baby we'll have. We know that."

It's your turn to look strange at Mami now and you peek out from behind Ingrid's leg to look at her. You sniffle. "Why're you askin' for another one if you know it's just me?"

Mami laughs slightly, a smiling tugging at her lips. "I'm sorry, cub. I should have been more clear."

"Mapi," Ingrid says warningly," No."

"Oh come on, it'll be good for her. It'll teach her responsibility."

You frown. "What will?"

"I've been thinking." Mami eases down to your height. "You're a big girl now and you love Bagheera a lot but she's technically Mami's, right?"

You nod.

"Well, how about we get you a kitten for yourself? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Mapi!"

You nod quickly and Mami smiles.

"Well," She says," You just have to convince Ingrid. Because she's the boss, remember?"

[heliza24]

Thoughts about Domesticity, Carework, and the American Dream in episode 2.5 of Interview with the Vampire

I’ve been mulling over episode 2.5 a lot. There was so much to love in the episode (the incredible writing, the kitchen sink off Broadway play of it all, the chemistry between Luke, Jacob and Assad, the vulnerability in Eric’s performance). But my mind keeps circling a couple of themes, trying to piece them together. So as usual I’m here on tumblr to try to work it out. 

I keep coming back to the way that Armand was gendered in this episode. His big complaint to Louis was that he was “home picking lint off the sofa”. He arrives with “mop and misery” to clean up the mess. Louis insults him by calling him “the good nurse”. All those things are feminized. They’re also extremely of the era; these are Feminine Mystique, mid-century housewife type complaints. The wife’s job is to make the husband’s life smooth and never worry about her own happiness. Obviously in the 1970s we’re seeing this begin to change thanks to second wave feminism. We’re in the process of trying to ratify the ERA, Ms. magazine has just been founded, and things are shifting. The kind of cheery domestic American dream of the 1950s is definitely shifting, and we see this in the episode as well. Betty Hutton selling sewing machines competes with Spiro Agnew resigning on TV. The watergate scandal signified a loss of faith in American authority, a kind of parallel destruction of the country’s father figure (brought down by journalists, no less). The comfortable lie of domesticity, the “prison of empathy” that Armand has created around Louis is crumbling. Armand is boring but he’s also bored, like a housewife taking valium to get by. The whole episode is set in an apartment that reeks of divorce, according to Daniel, and we’re seeing it play out in real time. When Armand lashes out to hurt Louis, he does it not through direct violence, like Lestat, but by holding his failure as a father over him, telling him that Claudia  never loved him. That jab, in combination with the way he’s edited Louis’s memories (gaslighting, another time honored form of domestic abuse) is enough to get Louis to hurt himself. LIke a wife who is always outwardly obedient to her husband but spends her time exacting petty revenge against him for the way he takes her for granted, Armand’s methods are never violent. They are soft and subtle and targeted.

I have to thank @bluedalahorse for first alerting me to the way the crumbling domestic American dream is threaded through this episode. And after she mentioned it I saw it *everywhere*. 

Obviously there is a level of complexity here in the Loumand relationship that this metaphor cannot fully capture. For one thing, Armand is a man. He was turned in a time before modern understanding of gender and sexuality really solidified, so in some way it makes sense that he would be the most gender fluid of our main characters, but his position would be a lot different if he were a woman, even a woman vampire. And Armand is very powerful. His insecurities and crippling fear of being alone keep him from exercising this power and walking away in a way that would perhaps be healthier for both him and Louis. But he is not trapped economically or socially in the way a wife would have been in this era. (That being said, I get the sense that *something* about the way the fire happened in Paris has made Louis and Armand go to ground. Maybe there is an element of being “trapped together because of fear of exposure”. But even then, I think my point still stands.)

To drill down and become more specific, there’s an extra added layer to the way Armand is feminized in this episode. I’ve written a lot about disability in this show and also the way it approaches eugenics, and those things were very on my mind as I rewatched this episode. (To be fair, they are always on my mind when I watch anything. Being disabled will do that to you.) Anyway, the specific way that Armand casts himself in this episode is as a caregiver. He is a beleaguered, bitter caregiver to those weaker to him. I think you hear this especially when he describes to Louis what happened: “you said the worst things you ever said to me, and then you walked into the sun. And now you are a convalescent.” The absolute sneer on the word convalescent.  The absolute disdain for being put in this position again. The way he denies Louis the blood and keeps him out of his coffin for so long. The “final act of service” in calling Lestat. And then the tenderness laced with fear. Will he “be on suicide watch for the next 1000 years?”. 

Armand is fascinating to me because of the way he seems to instinctively reject people who remind him of his own past weaknesses. Those weaknesses are buried down deep in his characterization, but they’re there and they’re important. He was sick and wasting away when he was turned. And before that he was an abused sex worker. You can see the way he dismisses people in similar situations in the way he treats Daniel in this episode. He calls Daniel a “broken boy” when he’s talking to Louis. He casually rejects the idea that there might be any sort of truth captured in Daniel’s tapes. The interviews on those tapes are with a sex worker and gay veteran and his disabled refugee husband. All of these people are so close to Armand in so many ways. I even think this is why Armand comes down so hard on Claudia, and why he cannot abide the true empathy and love Louis has for her. Claudia was turned when her body was weak. Weaker and more disabled, so to speak, than Armand. But they are not dissimilar. But Louis loves Claudia anyway, and respects her strengths. No one ever shown the love Louis shows to Claudia to Armand. No one ever granted him true empathy. The only way he has been able to hold on to any love at all is to grovel, to manage, to care give. The only way he experiences care is to give it. Of course he’s broken, of course he’s bitter.

So now we come to Daniel. The broken boy who has suicidal ideation and a drug problem, things that make him imminently dismissable in Armand’s mind. But Daniel also has a drive, a passion for life, and a love for the people who slip through the cracks. Louis and Daniel definitely share this great affection for humanity, and it’s what allows them to connect in San Francisco and again in Dubai. And it’s what makes him inscrutable, and captivating, to Armand. Because there really is no greater act of service than telling somebody’s story. Daniel describes himself as a therapist ironically in Dubai, but what he’s doing is carework. It’s real empathy. And Armand doesn’t understand that. Armand doesn’t understand what someone is doing recording the stories of people who were just like him. A whole universe of possibilities opens in the moment when Armand almost starts telling Daniel his story. Out of all the ways Daniel tries to save himself, that little life line of empathy is what almost snags Armand. But then Armand clamps back down, realizes he’s staring into a “black hole”. He’s trying to insult Daniel when he says that, but to me it just sounds like he’s describing himself.

When Armand is lulling Daniel into death, the thing he chooses to describe to him is the American domestic fantasy. He describes it as a fate worse than death. He describes it as a boring trap. And he specifically casts Daniel in the masculine, straight role in that fantasy, with a wife “vacuuming on valium” who “counts down his thrusts”. In some ways Armand is painting his own relationship to Louis as the worst possible fate that Daniel could suffer. (And it makes me wonder– did Armand ever wonder if he would amount to anything? Does he think his life has any meaning at all, if you subtract the vampiric powers? Armand has never stopped to introspect like this, but I wonder what would happen if you forced him to.)

But Daniel is stubborn, and his desire to tell stories and empathize with people resists death. I love that he still defends himself, still claims that he’s “a bright young reporter with a point of view” and that that is worth something. Because it is.

When Louis asks Armand to save Daniel, Daniel unwittingly becomes a symbol of Louis and Armand’s continued marriage. He’s a wedding ring, a vows renewal. He’s emblematic of the continuation of failing vampiric domesticity. And when Louis tries to repair the damage Armand has wrought, he isn’t able to offer Daniel soothing words about his ability to find a spouse or raise children or understand love. Louis doesn’t understand those things, so how could he teach Daniel about them? But Louis has always understood stories and humanity, so he is able to gift Daniel his writing and his reporting back. 

I think you can interpret Daniel’s failed marriages and difficult relationship with his children in a lot of ways. We could say that he was always going to fail at these things, regardless of whether or not he met the vampires, because of the discontent that Armand sensed in him. Maybe the trauma that this aborted gay hookup with Louis created was enough to re-closet him, and send him down a dark road of unfulfilled straight relationships. Or maybe Armand’s words really did echo around in his head and pull him down as much as Louis’s lingered and sustained him over the years. Maybe we’ll get more answers about this as the show goes on, or maybe it will live in the ambiguous world of memory and manipulation the show so often plays in.

Regardless, I think this episode was a masterpiece, and the way it firmly established these themes about the failure of domesticity and the burden and joys of carework are going to really matter, I think, as we hit the brutal conclusion of the season. When emotions are at a breaking point, especially between Armand and Louis, they are going to resonate because they were grounded in this little claustrophobic wonder of an episode.

As a little postscript, I’m not quite sure where we’re going with Devil’s Minion after this episode, or if we’re even going there at all. If a DM timeline happened in the past, it would require additional editing of Daniel’s memory, and I’m not quite sure if that reveal would work structurally. (I would love to be proven wrong about this though, because I would love for young Daniel and Armand to have interacted more, for Assad and Luke’s chemistry if nothing else. They were so wonderful together.)  If it were to happen in Dubai, or to happen again Dubai, however… well that’s interesting. Because older Daniel is disabled. He’s even more firmly in this category of people that Armand is apt to dismiss. And if they were to get together, there would probably be some aspect of caregiving on Armand’s part. And there would also be some caregiving on Daniel’s part, in his ability to listen to Armand. So that has the potential to be really fascinating, and maybe mutually beneficial to both characters. But I think we have to cover a lot of ground before we would be able to get there.

[lumilasi]

Since I've been updating one of my bleach fics more recently, I felt the once-in-a-blue-moon urge to draw something from it.....decision I VERY MUCH regretted lmao, because what I picked was SUPER difficult to draw, and I had to take some creative liberty with these designs, lessening the detail in them (Didn't even have a proper ref for Oni-Ichigo to begin with...).

Still, I managed to finish this at least. Fanart isn't really my thing anymore that much so these will be rare, even if I am writing semi-regularly.

The scene this bases on from Jack of All Hollows:

(Context, this is a memory viewed by "main" Ichigo of the story, Oni-Ichigo is a separate person)

Grimmjow eventually shifts, now just sitting on the bridge ledge properly, dangling his bare feet over the water. His companion follows his example, though chooses to keep his legs towards the bridge instead, sitting the other way around. He was still glancing at Grimmjow, and Ichigo could tell that color on his demon doppleganger’s face wasn’t just alcohol. He looked like there was something he was trying to say, but was hesitating.

Ichigo knew what it was.

Clearly, Grimmjow was aware of his companion mulling over something, as the blunet eventually snorts and turns to look at Oni Ichigo annoyed.

"What? Spill it, I can literally hear yer overthinkin’ shit again.”

"You can share memories, not read minds.”

"The gears in your brain are so rusty they make shit ton of noise, Kurosaki. Hard not to hear all that.”

The ginger demon laughs at that, his reaction seemingly confusing his companion a little, the point he now grabs Oni Ichigo’s arm and threatens to throw him into the river if he didn’t explain what was so damn funny now. His companion eventually manages to stop laughing with a wheeze, now looking back at the pouty looking blunet, who was clearly still confused about his behavior.

"Yer way too drunk huh; never knew your stubborn ass was this lightweight.”

"Yeah, guess I am.”

Watching the pair, Ichigo felt uneasy now, suddenly having a feeling this wouldn’t end well for his twin. Obviously, this Ichigo had died, but beyond that…

Suddenly, his twin leans closer, clearly catching Grimmjow off-guard. The kiss doesn’t last long, and once his twin pulls back he had gone completely red, now averting his gaze and rubbing his neck sheepishly. Grimmjow had gone completely stiff, just like he’d done that night at that other bridge.

"S-sorry. I….uh.”

He seems to struggle for a moment to decide what to say, still avoiding the blue eyes staring at him. Grimmjow still hadn’t moved an inch, as if his brain had short circuited and he was struggling to process what just happened.

"….You know. You’re not as bad as I thought when we first met. And lately, I don’t know. I just….I like hanging out with you, when you’re not trying to kill me.”

Oni Ichigo chuckles sheepishly, still avoiding his gaze. Grimmjow now turns his head away, his face still unreadable, though the shock seemed to have faded. The atmosphere around the pair had shifted from the easygoing drunkedness to something much more tense and awkward, though Ichigo wasn’t sure if he was reading it that way, or if the emotion was attached to the memory itself.

"I’ve been thinking about that a lot. And….I-I don’t think its…”

Oni Ichigo swallows down hard now, finally daring to look up at Grimmjow. Seeing that uneasy look in his eyes, oh fuck he was scared too. It had clearly taken his twin a lot to bring this up, and so far, neither could tell what Grimmjow was thinking.

"I don’t think it’s friendly affection I’m feeling.”

Silence.

[wuucchoo]

Understanding Tsumiki and Megumi's relationship

Hey there! It's me, Megumi's defense attorney - here once more to defend my boy.

I've been seeing A LOT of people saying they cannot sympathize with Megumi's grief because they don't know Tsumiki that well. And although I would argue that you don't need to know the person who died for you to sympathize with the one who was left behind - I do understand what these people mean, i don't agree with them! But I understand why they think this. And yes, we dont know Tsumiki.

However, we first need to understand why gege chose to present Tsumiki this way. On a surface level, she can only be seen as 'the thing that would cause Megumi's downfall' - we dont know her thoughts, her ambitions, her real personality, anything really - except for what Megumi says about her. A 'textbook good person'.

And that's because she is a character that we were only able to see through someone else's eyes. We don't know Tsumiki, because Megumi doesn't know Tsumiki.

BUT WAIT!! What do I mean by that?

Before that though, I would like to say first! This doesn't mean that Megumi's love for her is diminished by this. Just because he doesn't know her doesn't mean he doesn't love her. Megumi cares about her more than anyone in his life, and that's a fact!

Now we can proceed! What does this mean? Let's look at this page from ch 56: origin of obedience:

This was a case that they have been investigating, and it is pretty damn close to Megumi's and Tsumiki's old school. And yet, the thought that Tsumiki might have went to the bridge with her classmates never crossed his mind. He doesnt know that Tsumiki is someone capable of breaking the rules, going against curfew, and joining her friends to go to a haunted bridge in the dead of night. This boy Megumi thinks his sister is a damn saint.

He put Tsumiki on a pedestal, and it resulted in her turning into nothing but the mold of a good person Megumi uses to judge other people. If a person is not Tsumiki-shaped, then they're not worth saving. ((Luckily for Yuuji, he IS Tsumiki-shaped lmao. But anyway!))

Truth be told, I used to think it sucks that we never knew Tsumiki outside of what Megumi says. I never felt bad when she died, I felt bad that Megumi's sister died. I felt bad FOR Megumi.

And now that I actually think on it, THAT was the exact point. We dont NEED to know Tsumiki, we only needed to see her through Megumi's eyes - and through that, understand that Megumi doesn't really know her that well.

It is something that Megumi have to mull over. Why did he keep Tsumiki at an arm's length despite how much he cares for her? Why is it so hard for him to let people in? Why is asking someone for help so difficult for him?

ITS BECAUSE OF THAT MFKER TOJI!!!! IM TELLING YA'LL!! /hj

Look at the face he was making in Toji's memory. That's a kid who shows his emotions outright. My boy is pouting (つ╥﹏╥)つ. But when Gojo met him, Megumi has become a total idgafker (at least on the outside). And thats not only because Gojo was a stranger - coz thats how he looks like when he talks to Tsumiki too. It's because he became that way when Toji left.

Anyway, my point is, due to Megumi's abandonment issues - he never let anyone in. EVER. Not even Tsumiki. Megumi put a wall between him and other people - for his own protection. The one who came a little bit close into breaking that wall is Yuuji (and we are yet to see how that goes).

And this is why, we as the readers are all detached from Tsumiki's character. Because we saw her through Megumi's eyes, who loves her and cares about her very, very much - yet despite that he never let her get too close. (っ- ‸ - ς)

If you read up to here, whats up! Thank you for reading! Feel free to counter it or anything, Im happy to discuss!

((also something to add: Megumi cares so much about Tsumiki because she's the first one who actively chose to stay - amidst all the people who left.

this was inspired by a great megumi character analysis i found on twitter:

read it if you have time! its really good!

[hgfictionwriter]

Scattered

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: ADHD can be a lot to navigate, but Jessie embraces you, your ADHD and everything that comes with it.

A/N: Based on this request. This came a little too easily lol. Renews my empathy for my wife LOL. Bless her haha. And bless Jessie cause I bet she'd be just as thoughtful.

You lifted your head as motion in your periphery caught your eye. You took out your earbuds when you saw Jessie giving a quick wave from the doorway.

"Don't forget - we have to leave for dinner in an hour," she reminded you patiently. "I'm not saying you have to get ready now, we just need to be out the door at 5:30."

You looked at the clock and then gave her a nod. "Thank you."

She knew you were hyperfocused on something and if you had to abruptly stop you'd be in a foul mood. You'd learned that it helped when you had a wind-down period, so to speak.

You mapped out the time, making a mental note of when to pack up when you thought better of it and set a timer on your phone instead.

Before you knew it, your alarm went off, pulling you out of your trance. You sighed inwardly - you were on a roll and you didn't want to lose momentum. And it's not like you didn't want to go to dinner - you loved Sinc and Janine, but it still took effort for you to compartmentalize and get a move on.

You emerged from the office and looked around the apartment you shared with Jessie. She was sitting on the couch reading, but was dressed for dinner and you noted she had her things neatly laid out by the front door. She gave you a small smile and a wave.

"How'd it go?"

"Good," you said, somewhat distracted as you were trying to determine what you needed to do and in what order. "Thank you." You stopped yourself and returned her smile, now giving her your attention. "How's your book?"

"It's good, baby," she said with a light laugh before gesturing with a nod. "Go on. Get ready."

Jessie knew you well. She recognized what you were trying to do, but also understood that you needed to get sorted and moving if you were going to stay on schedule. She didn't take offense.

"Thanks," you said with a look that was both grateful and a bit shy. "I'll ask you more about it in the car."

Opening your closet, you already knew what you wanted to wear tonight, but a heavy frown fell across your face as you realized the shirt you had in mind was still in the laundry. You swore it was clean.

You sighed as you examined your other options. You eventually narrowed it down to two, your eyes darting back and forth several times. Would that shirt go with the pants you picked? Where were you going again for dinner? What did Jessie wear? Was it cold out? Jessie was in a t-shirt. But she's always warm. It was warm earlier. But it was going to be night, so... You eventually just tossed the one shirt back, forcing yourself to make a decision.

You checked the time and rushed into the bathroom to finish getting ready. You were doing your hair when your mind wandered and you remembered that you told Jessie earlier that you'd update the grocery list. You mulled it over. What were you doing this week? That would affect the list. You went to check your calendar but when you opened your phone you saw an email notification from this store you wanted to get Jessie a gift from.

You were putting in your shipping information when a brief rush of alarm went through you as you heard Jessie getting up. You looked at the time. Oh shit. Wait - what were you supposed to be doing?

A flurry of activity ensued as you worked to finish getting ready. You had to backtrack a couple of times because you'd just left something laying out in your wake. On a second pass through, you had to make a point of stopping to pick it up and put it away.

Before you and Jess moved in together, your apartment could've been described as organized chaos. Clusters of items here and there, but you knew where things were. For the most part. Jessie, however, was very neat and orderly. And you loved her desperately, so you tried to be very mindful of how you tended to leave mess and clutter. It took a little extra effort on your part, but if it helped Jessie feel more at ease and didn't make her feel like she had to pick up after you, it was absolutely worth it.

You rushed up to Jessie who was casually putting on her shoes at the front door. You were slightly out of breath from your zig-zagging through the apartment and she smiled at you affectionately.

"Right on time," she said with a nod of approval, gesturing to her watch and giving you a wink.

You exhaled. "Chaos."

She laughed and held out your jacket for you, prompting you to weave your arms through.

"Thank you," you said and leaned in to give her a quick kiss.

"Anytime," she said as she grabbed her things. She paused as you started patting your pockets and looking around.

"Phone?" She asked knowingly. You looked to her with a frown of concern and nodded. She rolled her eyes with a soft laugh and reached over to the side table. Your phone was on the corner.

"Oh, there it is," you said brightly with a laugh of your own. She reached around and tucked the phone into your back pocket, giving you a smirk and kissed your cheek as she pulled back.

"Oh, one last thing," you said, holding up your index finger. "I need to write it down before I forget." You quickly grabbed the notebook and fancy pen Jessie bought you previously (stationery was a past fixation of yours) and jotted down something on your to-do list. You clicked the pen and put the notebook aside, turning to her.

"Ready to go?" She asked, a smile still lingering.

You gave her a cheesy 'OK' gesture with your hand and winked. "All set."

"And you call me a dork," she joked.

"You love me."

"I certainly do."

There were many ways you knew Jessie loved you, but the fact that Jessie - who herself was very put together - navigated and embraced your quirks with patience and affection, told you she loved and understood you. Sure, you frustrated her now and then, but chances are those were times you were even more frustrated with yourself. She always talked things out with you or tried her best to make things easier. You adored and appreciated her for it.

She was one of the very few people you let your walls down around. The flurry she'd just witnessed is something most people would never see. At work - and previously in school - your reviews always said you were diligent, organized, and composed. And you were - but it came at a cost. By the time you got home every day, you used up all of your mental faculties to stay on top of things at work or with acquaintances. Home was your reprieve; you could recharge, relax and just be yourself.

As Jessie drove you both downtown, you began flipping through songs. Short, fleeting bursts of music filled the car before cutting to the next piece. While your attention was fixed on the console screen, you felt Jessie's eyes on you. "Which song are you looking for?"

"I'll know it when I hear it," you answered, eyes still transfixed on the changing song titles.

Jessie sighed wearily, but you spied the burgeoning smirk on her lips when you glanced over.

At dinner, your knee bounced incessantly up and down as you listened to Sinc and Janine speak. You hardly realized what you were doing until Jessie reached out a hand and gently placed it on your leg. You held her hand and played with her ring instead.

At one point, Sinc was sharing a story and it sparked a thought far off in your mind. You intermittently sat forward and back, waiting to speak - trying very conscientiously to not cut her off by interjecting. When you got your opening, you literally sat on the edge of your seat and began talking, waving your hands animatedly as you did.

You ended up on a couple of tangents, pausing momentarily with a frown before speaking. "Where was I going with this? Right. You mentioned Vancouver, which made me think of real estate, which led me to appliances. So Jessie and I..."

Jessie just chuckled and idly rubbed small circles on your lower back.

At some point, Jessie herself told an uncharacteristically convoluted story. Janine and Sinc were frowning at her in confusion, but you followed her train of thought easily. You reiterated it for her.

"I'm with you.” You gave her a charming smile. She turned to her teammates with a small, satisfied grin.

"She always gets me."

After dinner, the four of you went to meet up with other teammates at a bar. You hung out for a couple of hours, but between the socialization and a long week of meetings and masking, you felt your social battery drain. You started disassociating as people talked and you were having trouble focusing.

Jessie came by, sitting next to you and leaning in to be heard over the din of the crowd.

"You about ready to leave? I'm just about at my limit," she said. You gave her a grateful look.

"Are you sure? We don’t have to leave on account of me,” you tried to assure her. She grasped your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“Babe. I’m ready to go, too. Another 10 minutes? Then say bye to everyone?” She asked.

You leaned your head on her shoulder. “Thank you. I’m sorry I can’t handle more.” You felt her turn her head towards you.

“Baby. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

You lifted your head up to look at her. You’d had this conversation before but you still got in your head about it all and it was hard to stop.

“I just want to be the best partner for you. But sometimes I just get overwhelmed. And then I can’t function or interact the way I want to. And I probably talked too much at dinner. And about god knows what. I hope I didn’t embarrass you-”

Jessie held up her hands, gently coaxing you to stop.

“Baby. Please.” She smiled affectionately at you. “You’re doing it again,” she said with a soft laugh. “You were great tonight. You always are. I could never be embarrassed by you. I’m always so proud to have you with me.”

She tucked your hair behind your ear and went on. “We’re both at our limit. So, let’s finish up here. Can we cuddle when we get home?" She asked.

"That sounds amazing.”

A/N: Okay, y'all. This next part has nothing to do with Jflem, I just have to share this personal anecdote that just happened. The timing is too perfect considering I was writing this ADHD fic.

*Wife calls me while I'm driving and it sounds like she's crying*

"Are you okay???"

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?" My concern immediately shifts to confusion.

"Do you have everything you need in order to be successful today?" She asks in a very measured way.

Realization hits me immediately. I turn to the passenger seat and instead of seeing my work bag, I only see a pair of shoes. Shoes that I made great mental note of that morning to bring with me to the office. But no sign of my work bag that I packed that morning, alongside the idle musing of, "Wow, it would be so bad if I forgot my laptop."

By now, my wife is cackling. She wasn't crying at all when she called, she was trying her hardest not to laugh.

I'm 25 minutes into a 30 minute drive.

"Can you make it work without your bag somehow?" My wife asks amongst her ongoing laughter.

"It has my laptop. My pass. My wallet. Everything. Guess I'm coming back home!"

We're killing ourselves laughing at this point.

"Okay, well, I'll see you soon. Don't get pulled over!"

ADHD struggles are real, folks lol.

[nausicaaandhermouth]

Viktor Headcannons

accumulated over some time, and i wanted to fit these into my fic but alas not all of them can 😔 this is a mix of some that didn't make it and me just being unable to think about literally anything else

As far as he was concerned growing up, very few plants had tolerable smells, much less nice smells - so moving to topside and smelling lots of nice plants was a pleasant surprise. because of this, when he’d spend time outside or eat out, he’d sit by a bush with flowers, and also keeps mint on his desk.

He keeps replacing the mint because the lab doesn’t have enough sunlight for it, so it’s constantly overwatered and gets root rot, and he’d rather keep buying it over and over again than do without it, since he spends most of his time in the lab

After moving to topside, he started loving thunderstorms, specifically watching the lightning strike. one time it sent him down a rabbit hole of studying how and why it occurs.

He has a collection of well-worn books on various sciences, with handwritten notes filling the margins like commentary and having a conversation with the text. From in depth notes that expand on the text to just “???” or “what”

He has two kinds of handwriting: the 'assistant’ handwriting, where it’s more organised, legible, made specifically for others to read, made up when he started working for heimerdinger. the 2nd handwriting is more personal, careless, more scratches than ‘writing’, where he abbreviates commonly used words into symbols, so it has a tendency to look vaguely mathematical but also deranged

He dog-ears the academic papers and textbooks that he doesn’t like. If it’s particularly offending, he cuts them up and turns them into bookmarks to use for the textbooks and papers he does like.

When he finds his hand randomly doodling, more often than not it’s vaguely the shape of his mother’s face.

He has a favourite mug that he always uses for his coffee, believing it somehow makes the coffee taste better. If not that mug, then he’s willing to drink out of a paper cup, believing they have an “impartiality” to them.

He has a secret fondness for classical music, often listening to it while working to help him focus. Specifically the angry sounding ones, the full orchestral madness that denotes rage and chaos.

He doesn’t mind children, but just doesn't like when people ask a lot of questions and have little sense of boundaries, which he finds are often children. He likes the inquisitive ones, the silently-mulling-things-over-mentally kind of kids, and likes to think that if he had any then that would be the kind he’d raise.

He has a collection of vintage fountain pens he splurged that he swears he’ll use one day, but in truth he likes them too much to use them. He now knows an odd amount of information about fountain pens, kinds of ink, and how to make fountain pens.

He finds peace in the repetitive motion of polishing his inventions, often losing track of time while doing so. His arms have gotten slightly more muscly over the years because of this

His gaze lingers lovingly at the moles on his neck and arms, knowing he'd gotten some of them from his mother and that for as long as he lives, she will always be with him.

He enjoys the texture of different fabrics and often runs his fingers over various materials while deep in thought, so has a soft spot for quilted things and has bought a bunch of quilted blankets.

He has a habit of talking to his inventions as he works on them, as if encouraging them to function properly.

[angelsfuzzyslippers]

Rambles about portraits and Octavia

So I spent a lot of time staring at this shot while I was working on art

Especially the portraits (even though I didn't draw them) and there was one in particular that really caught my eye:

This is a bit long so I'll stick my thoughts under the cut:

This portrait fascinated me because I couldn't recall seeing one like it anywhere else. We rarely (maybe never? I'm not sure) get portraits of Stolas and Stella together without Octavia and this one stuck out to me because of the posing - Stella is full-on leaning into Stolas's space, and it's often tough for me to tell when Stella is genuinely smiling with her beak, but there's unmistakable joy on her face (and poor Stolas looking so uncomfortable). At first I almost wondered if this was meant to be an indication of Stolas trying harder to fit into a mold early in their marriage, be more like the type of Prince and husband Stella expected (and that might still be the case to a degree). But then I remembered we're actually in Octavia's mind/songscape, so these portraits more likely reflect how she sees her family. These could represent what she wants her family to be, but... I kinda wonder if instead they show what Octavia thought her family already was. We know from The Circus that Stella's mistreatment of Stolas was happening before he met Blitz. But I don't think Octavia knew. In Loo-Loo Land, Stella and Stolas are making no efforts to hide their dysfunctional marriage from her, but some of her statements later in the episode when she's having her heart-to-heart with Stolas ("Home doesn't even feel like home anymore, you ruined it." "When I was a kid and my parents didn't hate each other...") to me indicate that this dysfunction is somewhat new to her, a regular occurrence by that episode (as she doesn't bat an eye at the thrown plant), but not a long-term thing that she's accustomed to, and she immediately connects it with her father flirting with Blitz. I wonder if Stolas was actually doing a great job at hiding the cracks in his marriage - until Blitz came into the picture and suddenly he lost his grip on the facade. It would certainly help explain why Octavia repeatedly pins blame on Blitz, specifically, for their issues and why she's not as quick to place blame on her mother - from her perspective everything might've been fine until her father cheated, and her mothers aggression comes across as legitimate upset instead of long-term abuse. No idea how true any of this is, just some possibilities I was mulling over! Either way she and Stolas desperately need an honest conversation 😭

[firefly--bright]

winter sun.

jean kirstein x reader, modern au

summary ; wintery sunsets and a cold walk with jean, secrets being peeled apart. warnings ; none :) a/n ; hey divas im. dying there is so much work i found like a slither of time to write this </3 that being said requests are open even if i'll take time to write them. thank u @ppushable for enabling me to write this taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable , @candleohappiness

main masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿ requests are open!✿ listen to this while reading (shush.)

middle tile art creds ; @plutocisms on tumblr!

The apartment was surprisingly quiet. 

The rare occurrence where sasha’s voice didnt permeate through the thin door of your home, where connie’s protests to jean’s choices in music didnt make their way to your ears even as you were climbing the stairs, the surprising lack of marco’s voice trying to mediate the two while the smell of something deliciously preparing in the kitchen, no doubt being observed with careful precision and hawk-eyed vision of the guy. None of that. It almost sent a chill down your spine, the jingle of your keys being the only thing that could be heard on your floor - your neighbours were tired of complaining about you and your friends’ loudness - and you made sure to not make too much noise unlocking the door.

The curtains were drawn, the only sound coming carefully from your own room, a soft yellow hue from under your door. You put your things away, your socked feet still cold despite being covered, fingers frozen and buried deep in your pockets. 

You pushed the door to your bedroom open with your foot.

Jean sat in your bed - laid down, really, like it was his own. It might as well be, and his hair was set, absorbing the golden light from your bedside lamp, his phone his his hand. He was dressed in your favourite, almost a knowing, well-kept secret in your mind. How he became aware of it you had no idea, but his deeply forest green sweater flowed gently over him, hugging his arms. 

He looked up, his eyes shining, gleaming. “You’re back,” he says, sitting straight up, back no longer supported by the pillow behind him, the cushion only holding an impression of him that youd like to keep forever. A proof of sorts, but that wouldnt be necessary as long as he was infront of you. 

“Hey.” you said, warmly, because that’s what he made you be. You set your bag down at the foot of your bed, and jean gets up with a question on his mouth, his chapped lips spilling out the statement as if he’d been mulling it over for a time longer than himself. “Wanna go see the sunset?” he asked, lips twitching at the corner - another well kept secret in your mind, your favourite passing expression on his face. There were a lot of things you liked about him, in passing, in secret, truth kept hidden between you and your mouth. Kept close, kept quiet. 

You hummed as if you even had to think about the answer. Dramatically, you stretched your arms over you, faking a yawn. “I dont know, jean, im pretty tired,” 

His shoulder slumped in a way where he thought it wouldnt be noticeable - something you couldnt help but notice - and he said, “oh, okay. Some other day th- oh youre fucking with me. Oh, okay. Fuck you,” he says, a joking scowl on his face as he started to walk out your door, refusing to turn his back on you. You laugh in teasing, a small, conscious sound. “Im never going to ask you, now, and years later when im dead-” “-how many years are we talking?” “twenty thousand. Im going to outlive you. You’re going to regret ever doing this to me-” your laugh becomes just a little louder, a little less conscious, a little more comfortable against the sound of his voice, and he smiles wider knowing youre happy. “I’ll write it in my eulogy, then,” you say, following him to the hallway. “you better.” he leads you to where you kept your shoes, your welcome mat folding as he halted infront of it, removing your coat from the rack along with his. “here lies jean kirstein, died out of spite,” you wear your shoes and he holds out your coat to put your arms in. “youre joking about this but im pretty sure that would be the only reason i’d ever die.” he wears his own coat, and the door opens gently, with your laughter replacing the sound of the empty, dimly lit stairway.

There’s really not much of a sun to be seen set. Maybe it was all just an excuse jean made up to hear your voice that warmed him in the freezing cold, and maybe you already knew that, and hoped his hand would brush against yours to remind you of his grounding heat, walking beside you. Coats on your shoulder, you and jean walked around aimlessly in your neighbourhood, treetops barren with the branches cutting through the blueing sky, colouring jean’s stray hairs in their shade. Another well kept secret in your ever-growing list - jean’s hair was like a chameleon. Being light enough to catch the colour of the light shining on him without much protest, and in the mornings when he sat beside you in class, backlit against the closed window with the sun shining painfully through the planes of glass, his hair looked like a crown. A halo, summery and warm but diffusing in his hair like something that was only evidence of holiness, blending into his strands almost seamlessly.

The tip of his nose was red, cheeks and ears taking on the same tint. His breath created a small cloud in the air from his nose, disappearing in a millisecond. Youd keep it there forever, if you could, seeing as his breath warmed your face, every exhale holding a piece of his lungs and the fact that it was so close to you, an evidence of holiness, was more than what you’d asked for in your life. You were sure if you closed your lids you’d see the outline of his face etched in the same light of your bedroom nightlight, lulling you to sleep.

 

“How was your day?” he asks, his voice soft, turning his head towards you. His eyes reflect your figure and its the only way youd want to see yourself. 

“Alright. Oh! After my last class, i was just talking to some people in my class with the professor-” “-zoe?” “yeah!” your voice lilts upwards, a physical proof. He remembered your schedule for today. “And we were just, yknow, talking, and they started telling us about the one time they got into a barfight.” jean snorts. “Honestly, i wouldnt expect less form them.” “me too. It started out as them and the other guy arguing about some fact and the guy just refused to listen to them so they had to google it and, yknow, they were right, and the guy refused to believe it. Got punched in the face. And then they showed us a scar from the stitches on their chin after they fell down at the curb.” jean laughed. “I wish i still had their class.” he said, and your hands brushed just as predicted and hoped. Your boots crunched the ground below you, your footsteps in sync with his, and jean retracted his hand. “Jesus, youre cold.” he remarked, looking at you, and you shrugged. “What can you do?” you asked. A rhetoric, helpless question. 

But jean’s hand enveloped yours, your feet coming to a halt with his, standing face to face with both your hands held by jean's warm fingers, burning like a furnace, set ablaze like your heart, a hearth around your previously frozen closed digits. There was a breeze, somewhere, far away to you, and jean’s eyes looked at yours with gentleness and no secrets. His shoulders relaxed, as if holding your hands like this was something natural and unplanned and comfortable - it was - but it was new, and you’d always assumed that change set your heart racing because it was too much. But then this was change, too, and your heart was normal, only a little bigger, comfortable against your chest that seemed so close to his. Maybe it was only comfortable because of that fact.  

He breathed into your hand, his own creating a shell around yours to keep the heat locked in just as you had thought about. A piece of his lungs, disappearing in a moments notice, a moments silence, a moment too long, comfortably stretched out under your well-kept secrets that you werent sure were so well-kept anymore. 

“Pretty today.” he comments, his eyes anywhere but to you now, and you wonder if you heard him right, but his breath lies there, unapologetic, heard, content around you. A piece of his lungs wraps around you, sinking into your layers of clothes and skin until it hits your bones. Somewhere, distant and clouded, the sun sets slowly. “Thank you,” you say, wondering if you should spill your own secret. “I like you in green.” you say. It sounds stupid and embarrassing to admit, and now it’s your turn to avert your eyes and stare and your hands. Theyre warm now. Jean hasnt stopped holding them. 

“I know.” he says. “Thats why i wear it so often.” “it makes your eyes look warm.” you say, clearing your throat, “colour theory, i think,” you excuse. 

You feel him nodding slowly, and his hands tug on your gently, pulling your body closer to his. Your chin tilts up, just in time to catch his breath, again, so close to yours, disappearing not before mingling with your exhale, piece of your lungs, in the still air. “Colour theory.” he repeats, and its clear that the excuse didnt work on him, not because hes smirking the way he usually is when he spots your poorly concealed truth, but with a pinch between his brows, subtle enough to be almost hidden. You catch it anyway. 

“Is there…. any colour theory to… to support why you look so…pretty?” he asks, face scrunching at the end, cringing at his own question. You smile. He shakes his head, a strand of his hair slipping onto his forehead. The wind brushes it away and you allow it to because of your preoccupied hands. “Forget i said that,” “its the blue,” you breathe, providing him with a clearly fake statement, but its not a secret this time. It doesnt hide behind your teeth, freeing into the wind, wrapping around him unapologetically. 

His lips twitch, sacred secrets still in your hands but theyre in his warm ones now, so you suppose its okay. 

“The blue?” he asks, small smile on his slightly cracked, cold lips. Your reflection is in his eyes and youre close enough to see the blue that tints the corner of his pupils - colour theory. Whatever it was. “Yeah. the sky, i think.” 

“The sky makes you pretty?” he asks, and you copy his smile despite yourself. “Yeah. maybe.” 

He nods again, slowly. Your words soak into his skin, warming his muscles, relaxing his shoulders. “I like blue.”

“I like green,” you say.

You have matching smiles on your faces, and you lean your lips to his hands, placing a small kiss there, a proof of your secrets, the ability of them spilling out one day, the possibility of comfort that jean provided openly, without remorse, to you. The fog his breath was creating came to a halt. You looked back to him, and your nose bumped against his cold, pink one. “I… there’s no sun.” he said, almost desperately, holding himself together by flimsy reasoning, but you broke his resolve without even trying. “Its okay. Its there somewhere. Close your eyes, maybe you can see it.” 

His eyes fluttered shut. In the darkness, he could see the outline your shape left under his lids. “Are you seeing it?” you ask, and your lips are so close together now its dizzying, and you wouldve collapsed if it werent for the way you held onto eachother’s hands. 

Jean nods. In the darkness, under his lids, he traces every line of your face, a piece of his heart. 

“Good. then we’re seeing the same sun.” you say. Jean opens his eyes to see your own closed, hands in his, growing warmer. He didnt remove his hands. 

“Yeah. we are.” he agrees, eyes glancing at your lips, waiting for your eyes to open.

When they do, you find a question in his. Warm, complimenting the colour of his sweater, gleaming in the blue of the sky. You inch closer to him with your own answer, your lips pushed slightly apart, waiting for your secrets to be unleashed into his own poorly concealed ones behind his usually clenched jaw. 

His lips are chapped. A little cold. So were your hands, but his touch warmed you, and you hoped your own lips warmed his, taking his breath - a piece of his lungs - into yours, and he pushed a little gently into you, chasing your own heart, tasting whatever was closest to the sun.

and then his lips are off of yours and the sun had set, but jean was still warm, a piece of his lungs stuck to your tongue and a piece of the sun stuck between his teeth. he'd keep it there.

[lu-is-not-ok]

This is just a dumb theory, but given what Xichun has said about the elders of their family seeking immortality of the mind and the ruthless competition they've got going between their grandkids, this might be the simplest and easiest explanation we have, so I'm probably wrong, but it's still a thought:

What if the elders are attempting some sort of Get Out style body hijacking scheme? Whoever the strongest, fittest, most ruthless of the kids is deemed worthy to have an elder live inside of them?

I've been mulling over how to respond to this because there's both a lot to say and not that much at the same time.

Because, on the one hand, yeah you are absolutely correct. The search for the Immortality of the mind is absolutely very likely going to lead to the exposure of new and inventive ways for the elders to exploit the younger members of the Jia Family.

This would be further corroberated by my Two in One/Daiyu-Baoyu theory, as it implies that the reason why Baoyu was so valuable to the Family and why the elders are now invested in getting him back is because the fact he was able to keep on living via a version of body hijacking could be exactly what they were looking for. And, well, if they can't achieve Immortality themselves, they still want to have their One Immortal back to force him into doing what they want.

However, I do feel like this isn't all there is to it.

My main point of contention is that I don't believe that the seeking of Immortality and the competition between siblings are inherently this closely connected. I think that, at the very least, they weren't at first.

The competition for the spot as the head of the Family feels like a kind of tradition that would go back for many generations, way before whatever kind of Immortality scheme the current elders are cooking.

After all, note the difference in how Xichun and Hong Lu talk about those two concepts. Neither of them ever really question the competition between siblings, they're fully expecting murder attempts as if they were normal facts of life. There is no judgement of it, it's as natural to them as gravity causing things to fall or plants needing water.

On the other hand, this kind of idea of normalcy is not afforded to the search for Immortality by them. In fact, they both seem to see it as kind of a bother. Xichun calls it an "old, tiresome thing", while Hong Lu is clearly not even really taking part in it, with his writing in the Rose Hunter log implying he believes it to be the beliefs of a select few specific people in his Family.

While it's implied that both concepts have been around for a long while, the normalization of the sibling competition and the lack thereof for the search for Immortality suggests that the former is an established tradition of the Family, while the latter is only a development as recent as the current elders being the ones in power.

But... there is a deeper, thematic way that the two ideas connect together, despite their in-universe connection not being as close as you posit.

Both the sibling competition and the search for Immortality, and even Baoyu being kept within the Jias' grasp - they all serve a single purpose.

To allow for the endless and cyclical perpetuation of the Jia Family and its legacy of abuse and violence.

The competition between siblings isn't just to find the strongest and most ruthless child to become the next head, it's specifically to find an heir whose personal values are the most like the values the Jia Family itself holds, and which thus can continue to perpetuate it.

The search for Immortality then is just another incarnation of this attempt to continue perpetuating the Jia Family, but in this case in a more "efficient" manner. Instead of relying on the random chance of hoping that the one heir who comes out on top will share the values of the elders, the elders can just ensure the Jia Family remains as it is by always being the ones in power. Its legacy can't die if its head never dies after all.

And then, of course, is the one Immortal in question - Baoyu. The Family likely "treasures" him so much because he's their one sure way to never let the Jia Family die. As long as they can keep him locked, as long as they can shape him into the kind of person who would blindly follow what they say, they can ensure he can keep the legacy alive forevermore.

It's... an interesting and kind of poignant smaller scale parallel to how Project Moon portrays the City itself.

Both the City and the Jia Family are, in a way, their own "living" beings independent of any of the people that are a part of it, and yet which can only continue to live on in perpetuity because those same people are the ones who perpetuate their systems of abuse.

It's not a single person's fault that they both continue to live on and cause harm. ...But there's also very few who aren't at least in part to blame for keeping them alive. Even those who are being actively exploited by those in power and have no choice but to perpetuate those cycles... well, they're still perpetuating them all the same.

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 17

This is the last chapter of this story. I do have the sequel halfway written and it will be most of the way, if not all the way done before I post the first chapter.

It's called "Everything I Ever Wanted" and will be four chapters, each based on a part of Steve's new life I wanted to highlight. Retirement, Steve's charity, the bonding and mating, and the birth of their first child and the fallout with his parents.

I will still keep the Glitters tag list for the sequel. I wouldn't normally, but it's such a little thing, it's just easier that way. If you want to be taken off the list for the sequel, let me know.

Here is Steve's happily ever after. As it should be.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

****

Steve hated his heats before, but he loathed them now. Now he had an alpha he wanted to share it with, only they weren’t allowed to.

It was only a mini heat to clear out a minor faux bond and would barely last twenty four hours, but they would be the most miserable twenty four hours of his life and that included the twenty four hours after he learned he was infertile.

But Robin was the best handler in the business for a reason. The second his body temperature spiked, Xander and her got Eddie out and into her apartment, still in rut as he was.

Then she rebuilt Steve’s nest from scratch to perfection with the minor edition of Eddie’s handkerchief under his pillow.

The handkerchief plus, Eddie’s scent still sending out waves toward Steve’s apartment would help mitigate the absolute misery he would be in, but he still hated it.

Once all traces of the heat were out of his system, and his temperature going back to normal was Steve allowed visitors. Not even Robin was allowed inside his bedroom during his heats.

Though that was mainly because the poor omega was so pitiful and crying that a lot of handlers would be emotional wrecks afterwards.

Robin had made the mistake once when a heat came a week early due to some stress that was happening in Steve’s life and she was a sobbing mess the whole time he was in heat.

No one knew why the sight of an omega in heat drove betas to such an extreme emotional response, but the prevailing theory was that it was an evolutionary throw back to the pre-historic era so that betas would be moved to not take advantage of the omega in their most vulnerable time.

He showered and stepped out to his front room and smiled. Robin and Eddie were on the sofa waiting for him.

“Hey, princess,” Eddie murmured. “How are you feeling?”

Steve groaned and flopped down on the seat between the two of them. “Like I’ve been run over. The mini heats are the worst. Because you can’t prepare for them.”

“Especially since that was his first mini heat,” Robin commented dryly, “that automatically makes it worse.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You don’t usually get mini heats?”

“Nope!” Steve said, popping the P. “Robin carefully curates my clients so that it’s never happened. I’ve experienced faux bonds before, the chemical bonding of scents instead of an actual bite bond. Those are common enough. But no, no mini heats for me.”

Eddie looked over at Robin who looked smug.

“Well that’s good then,” he said.

Steve nodded. He chewed on his lower lip and sighed. “I think we need to talk about the golden omega thing. It’s not possible, right?”

Robin and Eddie raised their eyebrows.

“Stevie,” Eddie said gently, “not only is it possible, it’s highly probable.”

Steve looked over at Robin and she nodded.

“Wait, what?”

“You don’t have to do anything about it now,” Robin said. “As long as you are a Starcourt escort you’ll spend your heats alone. And then if you want to get bonded to Eddie and have pups with him, walk away from the job and then mate.”

Steve went stock still as he mulled it over in his mind. Eddie and Robin exchanged concerned glances but stayed silent as Steve’s entire world view was shifted on its axis.

Starcourt had always treated Steve like he was special. It was one of the reasons his cherry popping was such a major event. His parents had sneered at the whole experience, but the agency had gone out of their way to make Steve feel safe in the process.

But to be a golden omega for real? And not just because Eddie wanted him to be special. Not that Eddie didn’t already think he was special, but this would cement how special Steve actually was.

He knew his parents would immediately come out of the woodwork to claim more money for being a golden omega, but it would also be the sweetest justice imaginable.

Because they could have gotten more from Steve’s omegahood and chose to throw him away like he didn’t matter. Only coming back when they needed more money.

“Explain it to me,” he whispered.

And they did. Robin leading the way with Eddie filling in spots where he thought Steve needed more clarity. When they were done Steve looked at Robin and said with tears in his eyes, “If I retire do I lose you?”

Robin’s lip quivered and she got up on her knees. She gently took Steve’s face in her hands. “No. Absolutely not. Yes, an omega escort has to be a handler’s top priority, but you are my best friend. My platonic soulmate, you’d have to murder me to get me to leave you. Do you understand?”

Steve nodded and then threw himself into her arms. Having to choose between the love of his life and his best friend would have been the hardest thing he would have ever had to do. But this made it easy.

They talked about it for a bit and ultimately it was decided Steve would retire when he turned thirty. It would give him a couple more years do a job he loved, but still give Eddie and him plenty of time to have pups.

“That’s a perfect solution,” Eddie agreed. “And I think the band will agree to a couple years break making music so we can all focus on our family lives.”

Steve’s omega chirped happily. Eddie chuckled and pulled him onto his lap. He nuzzled Steve’s scent gland and the omega chirped again.

“Look at you,” Robin said happily. “All content and comfortable. You just got every thing you could ever want, you lucky bastard.”

Steve grinned at her. “I am so blessed.”

Eddie blew a raspberry under Steve’s ear causing him to giggle.

“Eddie!” he protested, trying to push the alpha away, but Eddie did it again, this time on his cheek.

Soon they were wrestling and Steve ended up on the floor, looking up at a surprised Eddie.

“Rude,” Steve huffed as he got to his feet.

“Oops!”

Robin shook her head.

Eddie brought out Steve’s silly side and Steve let Eddie be himself. Apparently the universe knew what it was doing after all with these two.

****

The next three years passed by in a blur.

Chrissy had become the star Steve always knew she was. But of course, that meant her ex-boyfriend and her mother found out about her leaving the convent.

Steve was actually there to witness their faces, purple with rage showing up at some event she was at. The alpha actress she was with had to call security to get them removed.

Chrissy released a statement through the agency that spoke of her love of the job, the religious abuse her mother had put her through, and the love she thought was eternal with Jason turning to ash when she found out she couldn’t bear his children.

She spoke of the love that the sisters had shown her when her mother had dropped her off at the convent against the wishes of her father and her own. About how half of her cherry price went to those same sisters who had protected her from the wrath of her mother for years.

She spoke about how she found her people with Starcourt Services. How she had good friends, made good money, and how her father had supported her every step of the way. And how the other half of her cherry price would always be waiting for her if she ever wanted to leave. Something that after some serious soul searching she knew would not be for a long, long time.

Chrissy’s story burst open a scandal that had been the Church’s best kept secret, that a third of the omegas that came to them after learning they were infertile were brought there against their will by religious extremist parents not wanting their omega child to live their own lives.

Max and Lucas finally announced they were bonding after Lucas played his first game in the NBA as the first omega point guard for the Indiana Pacers, having won their law suit.

With Steve retiring, Robin was going to be Chrissy’s handler. Robin hadn’t lasted with Vickie due to them wanting different things out of life. Robin loved her job, but Vickie wanted more of her time to be focused just on her, something Robin wasn’t willing to do.

Tommy had been kicked out of the agency after he had a very public fight with his ex-girlfriend, Carol. He was supposed to be escorting Billy Hargrove but had found him in a bathroom with known omega starlet, Heather Holloway, his dick in her.

Carol had thrown it in his face that he couldn’t even get wandering Billy Hargrove to stay still long enough. Tommy had thrown hands and Starcourt had thrown him out.

Last Steve heard he was working as a pre-school teacher, barely making a tenth the amount he was at Starcourt. But he had found an alpha and they were happy together, satisfied for the first time in his life.

Jonathan was pregnant with Nancy and his second child. Steve was actually happy for them when they announced it.

Eddie’s band was topping the charts and had done a couple of tours. Steve had missed him, but with work keeping him busy, they were able to keep up a healthy communication.

Elinor and Gareth had decided to bond. Elinor knew that she would never reach the heights of Steve or Chrissy so when the last of her cherry price had been paid, she left the agency to be a rockstar’s wife.

Steve couldn’t wait to spend his first heat with Eddie. What was even better was the fact that Eddie’s rut had synced up with Steve’s heat and everyone knew to stay away for that week.

Their bonding and wedding ceremony was the talk of the town, Steve and Eddie surrounded by all their friends and loved ones. The whole Party was there.

Steve had taken preemptive measures against his parents, knowing that they would try and get more money from him, once Eddie and Steve announced that they had gotten pregnant.

He had a protective order ready to spring into affect the moment they tried anything. Lawyers on speed dial, and security on standby.

He had the life he had always dreamed of. A soulmate who would bond him and give him the pups he so desperately desired, who loved and cared for him like no one in his life could match. Robin came close. Because of course she did. Maybe not more or less than Eddie, but different.

And when that first little one came to loving and adoring parents, Steve knew that regardless if Dustin was omega, alpha, beta, or infertile Eddie and Steve would love him and support him no matter where he chose to go in life.

And that was the perfect ending to Steve’s story, he thought. Eddie couldn’t help but agree.

****

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