#so it's bigger than a typical poster

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

It only took me

*quickly googles when it came out*

Eight years to finally get a frame and hang my Rogue One poster that I procured from the local theatre when they finished playing the movie way back when 🥲

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Way That You Were

Pairing: fratboy!Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis: you and Peter reunite at a college party and discover he is no longer the sweet nerd you knew in high school

Masterlist

“I’m gonna pee.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Your friend asked you over the sound of the music of the party.

“I’ll be fine. But hold my drink, please.” You kindly requested and handed her your red solo cup.

“Have fun.” She called after you as you left for the bathroom. You adjusted your dress and leaned against the wall as you waited on the bathroom line. You looked around the frat house you were in and decided the walls were not actually something you wanted to lean against.

“God damn. If your ass blew me away I cannot wait to see your face.” A voice suddenly came from behind you. You scrunched your face in disgust and turned around to see who the voice belonged to. Your eyes met a boy in a backwards hat with curls spilling out of it on either side. But what made you lose your breath was the fact that you recognized the eyes staring back at you. The smug grin on the boys face instantly dropped when he recognized you as well.

“Peter? Peter Parker?” You asked and felt your heart ache just a little. You both slowly processed what he had just said and he turned a bright red.

“Y/n?” He asked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“My friend invited me. What were you saying about my face?” You asked and folded your arms.

“Nothing. Something stupid.” He said quickly before breaking into a smile. He suddenly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You blinked in surprise and hesitantly patted his back.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He said into your ear.

“Neither can I.” You laughed dryly as you pulled out of the hug. You stepped back and took a moment to take him in. His arms were much bigger than you remembered from back in high school and you had a full view of them in his white cut off tank top. Everything about his outfit was different from his typical style, down to the shoes he was wearing. You would’ve thought he was wearing a costume if he didn’t look so natural.

“God, look at you.” He sighed as he looked you up and down. A dopey smile remained on his face and he shook his head as if he trying to shake a thought out of his mind.

“Me? Look at you. You look so different. What are you doing at a party like this?” You wondered.

“Oh, this is my frat house. We throw parties like this every weekend.” He replied and you laughed. He didn’t laugh with you and you realized he wasn’t joking.

“You live here?“ You asked as your eyes darted to the poster of a girl in a bikini riding a beer can barely covering a hole in the wall.

“That’s not mine.” Peter said quickly.

“The hole or the poster?”

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked to change the subject.

“I’m kinda waiting for something.” You laughed awkwardly and nodded towards the bathroom door.

“After? I’ll wait.” He offered. He seemed very eager to talk to you and you couldn’t deny that you had been desperate to talk to him ever since you graduated high school.

“Okay.” You agreed. “Sure.”

“Wait, don’t use that bathroom. It’s probably disgusting. It’s actually most definitely disgusting. I have a bathroom in my room. It’s much cleaner. Come on.” He said and nodded towards the stairs.

“Oh. Okay.” You looked around at who was watching before following him up the stairs. You stayed close behind him until the two of you reached his bedroom. You would never normally follow a guy up to his bedroom at a party without telling anyone where you were going but you grew up with Peter so you trusted him. You entered his bedroom and you discreetly took a look around. You’d been to his apartment in high school and were saddened to see his posters of the periodic table and Star Wars were replaced with patched up holes in the wall and a poster of Goodfellas next to a tapestry that said “Saturdays are for boys” over an American flag.

“I’ll guard the door.” Peter told you as he showed you where the bathroom was.

“Thank you.” You shot him a smile before going inside. Peter’s bathroom was much more akin to the Peter you once knew. You smiled at the miscellaneous artifacts on his bathroom counter and did what you came to do before leaving.

“Hey.” You smiled awkwardly at him when you left the bathroom.

“Hey.” He smiled back. “I kinda can’t believe you just used my bathroom.”

“I kinda can’t believe you have pink hand towels and Darth Vader shampoo.”

“Hey, hey, hey. That’s not Darth Vader. It’s the Mandelorian.” He corrected. “And they’re only pink because I washed them with my Chiefs jersey.”

“You own a jersey?” You raised at eyebrow at him.

“I do now that Taylor Swift said it’s okay to watch football.”

“You still listen to Taylor?” You smiled in surprise.

“Obviously. I was listening to Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus while I pregamed for this party.”

“Jesus.” You chuckled. “Who hurt you?”

“I just like the line about wondering.” He laughed as well but didn’t meet your eyes.

“So do I.” You admitted and he finally looked at you. You shared a moment of lingering eye contact accompanied by a comfortable silence. He looked different, and not just because of his outfit. He looked older. His baby face had hardened and he looked more like a man now and not the boy you once knew. But as different as he was, his eyes were the same. So was his laugh. And despite the years that had gone by without you seeing each other, you slipped right back into your friendship.

“Can I make you that drink now?” Peter asked after a beat.

“Okay.” You smiled and he slung his arm around your shoulders.

“Stay close to me. The people that come to these parties haven’t had all their vaccines.” He whispered in your ear as he led you back downstairs.

“I will.” You laughed and felt relieved his sense of humor was still in tact. A few people from Peter’s school turned to look at the two of you as you made your way to the kitchen but Peter didn’t seem to notice.

“This is the kitchen. All the healthy cereals are mine.” Peter said proudly and pointed to a box of Mini Wheats on top of the refrigerator.

“By healthy do you mean the frosted strawberry Mini Wheats?”

“Those really hit after a nightmare.” He insisted. “Plus, strawberry is a fruit and wheat is good for you. God, what do they teach girls in school?”

“Not the important stuff, apparently.” You laughed and he smiled as he caught your eyes. He pulled out a fresh red solo cup and got some ice.

“Do you still like Shirley temples?” He asked you.

“Yeah. You remember that?”

“Of course I do. I remember making makeshift ones out of sprite and strawberry syrup at Ned’s Halloween party Junior year because you told me they were your favorite.”

“Those were not bad.” You recalled. “Or maybe they just tasted better because I was 17 and drunk for the first time.”

“That was my first time drinking too. White Claw does not taste as good on the way out as it does the way in.” Peter grimaced and grabbed a beer from the ice bucket on the counter. You watched him crack it open with ease and felt an ache of nostalgia for those few nights of getting drunk as teenagers off alcohol from 7/11 that someone’s older brother bought.

“But I see you’ve outgrown White Claw.”

“Yeah. My friends and I pretty much only drink beer.” Peter nodded and took a swig of it.

“Don’t you worry about getting a…” You trailed off when Peter lifted his shirt to wipe his mouth with, giving you a full view of his abdomen. Peter’s sweaters and nerdy t shirts never let on that he was carved by the gods underneath his clothing.

“Beer gut.” You barely got the words out and blinked a few times to get back into reality.

“I seriously can’t believe you’re here. I always wondered what happened to you after high school.” Peter admitted as he made your drink for you.

“I know. I dropped my phone on the subway tracks a few years back and got a new number. But I always wondered about you too.” You told him.

“You did?” He smiled in relief.

“Of course I did. I tried to find you on social media but I couldn’t find anything.

“Yeah. I never really got the hang of it. I did try to find you in a phone book once. But the librarian called me a nerd and told me to go back to the 90s.” Peter replied, making you laugh.

“Well that wasn’t very nice of them.” You said.

“No it was not. So I am very pleased that I find you in my house tonight. That’s why I made you the most delicious Shirley Temple in the world.” Peter said and proudly held out the red solo cup.

“Oh, my. Thank you.” You giggled and accepted the cup from him. You took a sip and felt your eyes water.

“Jesus Christ. Is there any Sprite in here or just vodka?” You said through a cough.

“Sorry. That was out of habit. My boys and I are heavy pourers.” Peter sound genuinely apologized and added more Sprite to your cup to make it less strong.

“It’s all right.” You shrugged. “So I have to ask you, how come you’re no longer at MIT?”

Peter looked a little frightened when you mentioned MIT and quickly looked over his shoulder. He stepped closer to you and looked around again.

“I wasn’t happy there so I transferred last semester.” He said in a quiet voice.

“Why are we whispering?” You whispered back through a light laugh.

“People here don’t really know that I was like that.” He admitted and looked a little disappointed to even be saying it.

“Like what? Smart?” You asked at full volume. He looked around again and waved his hand in dismissal.

“I’m still smart. I just don’t let my boys know that.” He told you, making you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Your boys?” You laughed dryly.

“You know. My frat brothers.” He explained and gestured to the party.

“Right, right. I think I met a few tonight when I walked in on their farting contest and they asked me to join. Do you still talk to Ned?”

“Oh, no.” Peter shook his head. “We kept in touch for a while after high school but we kinda fell off somewhere after I transferred here.”

“Wow, really? You guys were so close. I thought you’d be friends forever.”

“Yeah. I guess I did too.” Peter realized and stared down the barrel of his beer bottle.

“Are you still studying biochemistry?” You asked him. “It was biochemistry, right?”

“It was. But now I’m undeclared. I’m not really sure what I want to do anymore.”

“Really? But you’re so smart. You were the smartest guy I ever met. You still are.”

“I’m not that smart.” He laughed and shyly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yes you are.” You insisted. “You always knew the answer to every question before I even processed what was being asked.”

“You’re smart too. In an original way that I still think about.” He replied, catching you by surprise. You took a sip to your cup for a little bravery and looked into his eyes.

“You still think about me?” You asked him with a coy smile.

“I do. All the time.” He answered without breaking eye contact. You sucked in a sharp breath and he smirked before moving same hair off your forehead. His hand stayed on your face and you felt your heart rate start to pick up. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to kiss him, it was that you had always wanted to kiss him. Now that he was standing in front of you and it might actually happen, you felt too nervous.

“Where are your glasses?” You blurted and ruined the moment. Before Peter could respond, me of his frat brothers walked in and clapped Peter’s on the back.

“Glasses? What’s this bird talking about, Parker?” He asked as he slung an arm around Peter and roughed him up a little.

“Shut up, Flash. She’s not a bird. She’s my friend from high school.” Peter defended you angrily and pushed the boy off.

“Oh shit. This isn’t the chick you were in love with, is it?” Flash gasped and looked at you.

“Who were you in love with?” You immediately asked Peter and felt a little jealous bubble up inside you.

“No, dumb ass. That was a different girl. This is Y/n. Don’t call her a chick either. Thats just another kind of bird.” Peter grumbled. Flash gave you an unapologetic once over before smirking.

“Nice to meet you, sweetie. I’m Flash. I hope you’re enjoying the party. But I do have to ask that you keep it down later because my room is right next to his and I have an 8 am class tomorrow.”

“Don’t, man.” Peter warned.

“Keep what down?” You wondered.

“Well, you know. Parker has girls in there so often I had to start charging them rent. Especially because they drink all the orange juice in the morning. And they tend to keep me up all night due to all the bed squeaking, so I ask that you’re considerate of the class I have tomorrow.” Flash said to you. You gulped and looked to Peter for an explanation, but Peter was busy glaring at Flash.

“Shut the fuck up, okay? Like you even go to class.” Peter scoffed. “Get out of here. Go drink some water. And take a bath. You stink.”

“All right. Just go easy on her, okay Parker? She seems like a nice girl. She deserves to be able to walk out of here in the morning.” Flash clapped him on the back again and you let out a shocked laugh.

“Fuck off. Now.” Peter demanded. Flash held up his hands and shot you a wink before walking away. You looked to Peter for an explanation for what just occurred. You have never heard him swear before and definitely never heard him get angry with someone like that. You also couldn’t help but wonder if there was any truth to what Flash had said about all the girls Peter slept with. You knew it shouldn’t bother you, but the Peter you knew had never even had his first kiss. Something about the guy you’d always pined after going from never being kissed to a guy with a long line of girls leaving his bedroom made your tummy hurt.

“I’m sorry about him. He’s such a dick sometimes.” Peter apologized to you.

“Yeah. I picked up on that.” You laughed nervously.

“Why’d don’t we get out of here? It’s too loud.” Peter’s said and gestured to the rest of the part. You sucked in a sharp breath and thought back to what Flash had just said. As much as you’d wondered about Peter, you were not ready to “get out of here” with him.

“I should probably get back to my friend.” You answered. Peter smiled politely and nodded in understanding but felt disappointed that your time together was ending.

“I’ll help you find her.” He offered and you agreed. You brought him to where you last saw her and found her making out with someone on the couch.

“Oh!” You said in surprise but your friend didn’t come up for sit.

“I think she’s okay for now.” Peter joked.

“I guess she is.” You agreed.

“Do you want to take a walk?” He asked and you felt relieved that he wasn’t asking to go back upstairs.

“Sure. I could use some air.” You agreed and followed him outside. The two of you walked down the sidewalk together and Peter stayed on the side facing the street to keep you from stumbling into it on accident. It felt easy to talk to him despite the years of being apart from each other and the longer you talked, the more you realized he hadn’t changed all that much. Sure, he swore a lot more now and made some dumb jokes, but his character was the same.

“Are you cold?” He asked you at one point.

“No. I’m okay. The fresh air feels good.”

“Good. Because I don’t have a jacket to offer you. But I would give you my jacket if I had one.”

“I appreciate that.” You laughed and looked over at him.

“So how long are you visiting your friend for?” He asked you.

“I go back to school on Tuesday.”

“So soon?” He stopped walking and frowned.

“Yeah. I’m just here for the long weekend.”

“Oh, shit, really? I was hoping we’d have more time together. I’d really love to see you again. Maybe we can get dinner tomorrow or something.”

“I don’t know.” You laughed nervously and folded your arms out of self consciousness.

“Why not?” He asked, sounding a little hurt.

“It was really good to see you again tonight. But I don’t think we have anything in common anymore, Pete.” You admitted without looking at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Look at us. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. I don’t know if we’d get along anymore. Not like we did in high school, anyway.”

“Just because it’s been a long time doesn’t mean we won’t get along. We have history together. I’m still the guy you competed with in the decathlon.” He insisted. You looked up at him and stared at him under the light of the streetlight. He sounded like the guy you once knew, but he looked and acted so different now.

“Are you?” You asked quietly. Peter blinked a few times and smiled sadly.

“You don’t think so?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great and you seem happy with where you are now.”

“But?” He asked, sensing there was more. You smiled sympathetically because there was in fact more and it wasn’t exactly nice.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little surprised to see you tonight. I always wondered about you and assumed you were halfway to becoming a scientist or Nobel prize winner by now. I never expected all this.”

“All what?” He asked, sounding a little annoyed now.

“You know. Frat boy. Undeclared. Chugging beer. Long line of girls coming out of your room…” You trailed off and looked down at the ground again.

“Flash was joking about that. The only time I’ve had a girl in my room was when we had to get a maid after the New Year’s party because there was an unidentified goo on the floors. I’m still me.” He insisted and stepped closer to you. You still didn’t look up at him because you didn’t want to say what you were about to say.

“You commented on my ass.” You said quietly. You didn’t see it, but Peter’s face dropped. He had felt annoyed that you were judging him until he remembered his opening line to you tonight was about your body. He felt guilty for reducing a girl he knew so well to an object for him to comment on.

“I’m sorry about that. I really am.” He apologized. “I’m way drunk right now and not using my head.

“The guy I knew in high school was not the kind of guy who says things like that to girls.” You said and finally looked into his eyes. To your surprise, he looked genuinely apologetic.

“I know. I’m not like those guys. I swear, I never normally say things like that. I’m drunk and a fucking idiot. I’ve made a total ass of myself all night. What can I do?”

“Peter, it’s fine. I’m not here to judge you. And you don’t owe me anything. I’m being stupid anyway. I’m not the same person I was in high school so I don’t know why I expected you to be. Thats not fair to you. I guess I’m just little drunk and upset I never got to see my Peter again.”

“Your Peter?” Peter asked with a sad smile.

“Come on, Peter. I was crazy about you back then. The whole school knew. By senior year, everyone had figured it out but you. And I always regretted not telling you. So I’d fantasize about all the cool things you were doing in college. This just isn’t what thought it would be like when we found each other again.”

“For me either.” He admitted as he stared at you starry eyed.

“No?”

“I liked you too. You were the girl Flash was talking about. I was in love with you in high school.” He confessed. You knew you should be happy to hear that but all you could think of was the wasted potential of a relationship that never got to happen.

“You never told me.” You said softly.

“How could I?“ He laughed. “You were so beautiful I could barely get an intelligent word out when you were around. You still are. And I still can’t.”

“I wish I knew. Now I’m always gonna wonder what would have happened if I had just told you how I felt.” You smiled sadly.

“So will I.” He said as his eyes filled with sadness. You stared at each other for a moment with the quiet understanding that at one point you wanted the same thing at the same time.

“Maybe we don’t have to wonder.” Peter said after a beat.

“What do you mean?” You asked him. Peter stepped closer suddenly and tilted your chin up with his pinky.

“Please.” He pleaded. “Just give me one night. I’ll take you to dinner and prove I’m still me.”

“And suppose you do.” You shrugged. “I’m only here for the weekend. What does it matter anyway?”

“It matters to me. Because I’ve always wanted you. Even if I just get one night.”

“Peter, I’m not trying to be one of your girls.” You shook your head and stepped away from him.

“I told you. There are no girls. You are the only girl who has ever taken my breath away. I never stopped thinking about you after high school. Just give me one chance.” He asked and pulled you back into his arms. You stared into his eyes for a moment and found yourself unable to say no.

“Please.” He whispered and sounded irresistibly desperate. You could see his gaze dropping to your lips and felt your heartbeat pick up again. But this time, you didn’t feel nervous.

“I shouldn’t.” You said quietly.

“But don’t you want to stop wondering and know for certain?” He asked, and you nodded. Your eyes fluttered shut and just as you were expecting his lips to meet yours, he cupped your face and kissed your cheek.

“I’m not going to kiss you tonight. Because I’m drunk. And you’re not.” He said when you looked at him in confusion. You were disappointed to not be kissed but smiled knowing he made the responsible decision.

“Oh. Yeah. Good call.” You cleared your throat and stepped out of his embrace.

“But I will be on my best behavior tomorrow for our date.” He assured you.

“I never actually agreed to a date.” You smiled coyly. Peter grinned and pulled you back into his arms and let his hands rest on your hips.

“You agreed when you closed your eyes to kiss me.” He said with his face close to yours. You gulped again but never broke eye contact with him.

“You’re kinda an asshole now.” You teased him.

“Yeah, but in a good way.” He shrugged, making you laugh.

“We’ll see.” You said pointedly. Peter pulled put his phone and handed it to you.

“We will see.” He insisted. “Here. Put your new number in. And don’t drop it on the subway this time.”

“I won’t.” You playfully rolled your eyes and typed your number into his phone. When you handed it to him, your hands touched as he took it back.

“You better not.” He said and slipped his fingers into yours as he pocketed his phone. You stared into his big brown eyes and felt like you were right back in high school.

“You could kiss me, if you wanted to. I had a drink too.” You said in a soft voice.

“I do want to. But I’ll save it for when my lips don’t taste like cheap beer.” He said with a smirk. He leaned in and kissed your cheek one more time before walking you back to the house. You stepped inside the frat house and just as your friend was heading to the door.

“Hey. The guy I was making out with tried to explain the stock market to me and laughed when I said I’m an economics major. I’m over this party. Are you ready to head out?” She asked you as she slung her purse over her shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. We can go.” You replied and felt disappointed to leave Peter so soon.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He leaned down and whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Goodnight.” You said as you turned around to see him.

“Goodnight.” He replied and cupped your chin one more time.

Ten minutes after Peter said he would pick you up, he still wasn’t there. You checked your phone for the hundredth time as saw the minutes adding up. You should have known it was all too good to be true and he wasn’t the exception he claimed to be. He joined a frat and they poisoned the once sweet boy you knew. Just as you were about to go inside, Peter sped down your block and rolled down the window.

“I’m late. I’m sorry.” Peter called out the open window. Since he didn’t even bother to get out of the car, you got off the front steps you were sitting on and bent down to look at him through the window.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming.” You said and didn’t try to hide your annoyance.

“I’m sorry.” He said and pouted. “God damn. You look hot.”

You opened your mouth to scold him for objectifying you once again but he wasn’t done yet.

“I’m so sorry I was late. I bet you spent a long time getting ready dry. And I’m sure you’ve been waiting for a long time. I remember you saying you get ready with time to spare and sit by the door until the person picking you up gets there so they don’t have to wait outside for long. And I’m an asshole and came late.”

You had planned to walk away and go back inside to punish him for being late, but you just couldn’t. Him remembering that little detail about you combined with the way he looked in his jersey made you want to stay.

“Well maybe I’ve changed.” You said pointedly as you climbed into his car.

“You have. High school you didn’t wear rings or have sexy red nails. But I figured some things would stay the same. Hello.” He greeted and leaned in to kiss your cheek. You felt your face burning and turned away so he wouldn’t see your smile.

“I thought some things would stay the same too. Yet I met you last night with a backwards cap on. The Peter I knew wouldn’t never be caught dead in a hat. Let alone one representing a sports team.” You teased him.

“It’s not actually a sports team. Look.” Peter took his eyes off the road to reach into his backseat and get his hat. He handed it to you and your eyes widened.

“Oh my God.” You said as you turned over your old black hat you got at the Gap freshman year.

“You let me borrow that at the senior skip day at the beach because I forgot sunblock.” Peter recalled. “And when I tried to give it back to you, you said I could keep it since it looked better on me.”

“It did.” You smiled fondly at the memory.

“I wear it all the time now because I don’t know how to do my curly hair now that it’s longer.”

“I like it longer.” You told him. “But I also liked your short gelled look. With your cute little button downs and sweaters.”

“Yeah. I outgrew those.” He chuckled. “I started working out more and they looked silly on me once I got bigger. Then Flash showed me how to cut my shirts to show off my arms.”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine those arms in a little sweater.” You agreed.

“What about my arms?” He looked over at you with a smirk.

“Nothing.” You said coyly. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“It’s a surprise. But I’ll give you a hint. You wrote about it in your letter to your college self.”

“What?” You laughed in surprise. “Do you have a photographic memory of something? I don’t remember anything I wrote in that.”

“I told you. I was in love with you.” He said and looked over at you. You locked eyes and smiled until a car hocked at him for drifting into their lane.

“How come you’re so comfortable saying it now yet I had no idea back in high school?” You wondered. Then Peter got a text and pulled out his phone to read it. You eyed him but didn’t say anything as he replied to the text while driving. You’d never been in a car with him behind the wheel before and it was starting to make you a little nervous.

“I don’t know. You’re different too.” He answered finally. “I can tell from looking at you. So I guess I don’t feel like I’m telling the girl I was in love with how I feel because I don’t really know you anymore. It makes it less scary.”

“I didn’t think about it like that. You’re right. I guess we don’t know each other anymore.” You said with a sad smile.

“I want to, though. Because you seem like a cooler version of the girl I liked in high school. Who was already cool.” He said and looked over at you again. You smiled at his compliment and stopped worrying about hai driving for a moment.

“I have so many questions for you.” You to him.

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you leave MIT?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. I realized I was a big fish in a small pond back in high school. Everyone seemed so much smarter and more experienced than I was. I felt so alone all the time. So I drove home one night and never looked back.”

“Yeah. I get that. I was always told I was a smart kid growing up and then I just felt so burnt out in college. At least you know you got into MIT and gave it your all.

“Thank you for saying that. I like the way you see things. I’ve been missing your perspective in my life.” He told you and you felt your face heat up again.

“How’d you end up at your new school?” You said to distract him from how flustered he made you.

“They had offered me a full ride if I joined the academic decathlon team. Which I do in secret. Don’t tell my frat please.” He chuckled and looked at you to see if you’d keep his secret. You feigned a smile and internally missed the boy who was a proud captain of the decathlon team.

“How’d you end up in a frat anyway? That seems so opposite of your personality.”

“It kinda happened by accident. I was in a group project with Flash and he invited me to a party after I did his half of the work. And it wasn’t the worst once I had something to drink so I started going to more parties. And then I started drinking a lot. I made friends with a lot of frat guys that Flash knew I so ended up pledging.” He shrugged. You nodded your head but were less than impressed with his story. You and Peter had shared many conversations about not wanting to be at the parties you were never invited to anyway back in high school and now he was the one throwing them.

“I still can’t wrap my head around you being in a frat. I really never imagined you’d be into something like that.”

“How did you imagine me?” He asked with a coy smile.

“I imagined you’d be student teaching a biochemistry class and have a devoted fan base of nerdy students who hung on your every word like in Dead Poets Society. And you’d have circular glasses and wear ties and cardigans like Spencer Reid.

“Wow, Dead Poets Society. I totally forgot about that movie. I haven’t seen it in forever.”

“Really? I thought it was your favorite movie?”

“It used to be. I just watched this movie last week where Seth Rogan and one of the Franco brothers were smoking weed and then they witnessed this murder so they were worried the murder was gonna find them-“ Peter started laughing as he remembered the plot but stopped when he noticed you weren’t laughing along with him. The plot was far from the science fiction films he used to talk extensively about during lunch in an effort to convince you to watch them. It wasn’t much, just another reminder of how different he was from when you knew him.

“It was stupid. Anyways.” He changed the subject. “What have you been up to lately? How’s school?”

“School is good.” You shrugged. “I don’t know how I’ll ever work a job once I graduate because now having one class at 12 pm drains me for the remainder of the day, but I enjoy it. I like the freedom.”

“Good, good. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I like the freedom too. I can eat macaroni at any hour and no one can tell me otherwise. And your friends are nice?”

“Yeah. I’ve found a good group of girls. It was really lonely at first like you said but I eventually found my people. It’s been a lot better now.” You answered as your eyes watching his thumbs type something on his phone. You looked at him in confusion but he was too busy switching back and forth between watching the road and texting to notice.

“I totally get that. I ate alone so many times that I started it get used to it. But it gets better when you find a few good people to spend time with.” He said after a minute. You nodded your head and tried not to be bothered by how distracted he was.

“Are your frat brothers good people?”

“I know you probably have a million and one presuppositions about frat guys but I promise we’re not as bad as you’ve been told. Lots of frats are crazy and have those worst kind of guys in it but were not like that. We have a no bullshit policy.” He informed you.

“Oh yeah? What kind of bullshit do you not tolerate?”

“All sorts of bullshit. We just kicked a guy out last week because he cheated on his girlfriend. And we banned the girl from our parties because she knew he had a girlfriend and slept with him anyway. We do not tolerate that kind of bullshit. Plus, Flash told me they once found out a guy was a bully in high school so they took turns farting on his pillow and then he got severe pink eye and had to drop out of school for the semester. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“That’s nice to hear. Except for the fart stuff. That’s really gross. But not tolerating bullshit is cool. I guess I assumed all frat guys were Brads and Chads who chugged beers and creeped on girls. And I assumed that because a frat guy at my school had sex with a pumpkin and put it on his Snapchat story.”

“Ew, what?” Peter laughed. “Who uses Snapchat still?”

“That’s the part you found gross? Damn, how many pumpkins are you having sex with?” You teased him.

“A gentleman never tells.” Peter said poshly, making you laugh. He got another text and pulled out his phone to read it.

“Peter-“ You began.

“I can’t believe you’re in my car. Do you know how many times I tried to awkwardly ask you out in high school? But I was so vague you never realized? And now you’re just in my car and you smell amazing and I barely had to do anything.” He cut you off and grinned at you as he put his phone down. Every time you got annoyed with his behavior, he pulled you back in some compliment.

“Thank you. It’s my perfume.” You smiled and held your wrist out. Peter caught it with ease and held your wrist to his nose.

“Oh, wow. I like that.” He complimented. “Usually I wake up and walk into a cloud of axe body spray in every area of the house. You’re a nice relief from that.”

“Thank you. You smell good too.” You chuckled.

“Thanks. I stole Flash’s expensive cologne.”

“For me?” You gasped and touched your heart.

“Hell yeah.” He scoffed. “I’ve been waiting on this date since I was 14.”

“I never said this was a date.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.

“I’m pretty sure you did.” He said and dragged the word “pretty” out.

“You would have been on time if it was.” You teased him, making him look at you with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, yes, I was late.” He admitted. “But I had good reason.”

“And what was that reason?”

“I was setting something up.” He said simply.

“Really?” You smiled. “What is it?”

“You’ll see.” He said coyly.

“Okay. Weirdo.” You chuckled. “So, where are we eating?”

“I know this great burger place a few blocks from here. You’re gonna love it.” He replied. You nodded and head and smiled until he pulled out his phone again to answer another text. His car swerved into the other lane and he barely noticed, making you shoot him a look.

“Who are you texting?” You finally asked him.

“Nobody. One second.” He answered as his eyes flipped back and forth between his phone and the road. He started to drift again and a car honked at him as it passed by to get away.

“Peter, you really need to keep your eyes on the road.” You said as another car shouted something at him out their window.

“What was that?” Peter asked and looked up from his phone. You looked at him incredulously and let out a short laugh.

“If you have someone else you’d like to be talking to right now, maybe you should go be with them.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Babe, chill. I don’t have anyone else. I want to be here with you.” He insisted.

“Don’t call me “babe”. Its condescending. And you’re putting both our lives in danger because you’re so busy texting. And if you want to be with me, why are you so distracted by your phone?”

“I just needed to respond to something. Sorry. I won’t do it anymore.” He grumbled and put his phone away. His lack of an apology and heavy attitude in his voice was the final straw for you.

“Just pull over.” You told him.

“What? No. We’re almost there. I won’t text anymore.” He promised.

“Peter, pull over.” You said sternly. “I do not want to be in this car anymore.”

“I’m trying to take you on a nice date and you’re gonna bail because I answered a few texts?”

“Pull the damn car over.” You raised your voice. Peter rolled his eyes and pulled over to the side of the street.

“Before you get out-“ He began. Just then, his phone rang with a girls name on his screen and his face dropped. You raised your eyebrows at him and he smiled sheepishly.

“Answer it.” You dared him. Peter gulped and looked between you and the phone before picking it up.

“I’m sorry. One second.” He said and answered the phone. You scoffed in disbelief and glared at him as he took the call.

“Hello? No, I’m not doing anything. I can talk. What’s going on?” He asked into the phone. You had seen enough and got out of the car and started walking down the street. Peter watched you get out and opened his car door to talk to you.

“Where are you going?” He called after you.

“Peter, I’m not gonna sit here while you text other girls. I’m leaving.” You answered and continued down the street. He quickly explained his situation over the phone and hung up before running after you.

“Wait, please don’t leave. I’ll put my phone away.” He promised but you didn’t stop walking.

“You can text whoever you want. I don’t care. You’re just not gonna do it and think you can still take me on a date.” You told him before storming off. You turned the corner and started heading towards a nearby park.

“Wait.” Peter called after you so you walked even faster. He eventually caught up and caught you gently by the arm.

“Damn, you’re fast for a girl in heels.” He said as he caught his breath. You pulled your arm away from him and went into the park to get away from him. He caught onto you again and this time, you had tears in your eyes.

“Where are you going?” He asked. “What about our date?

“This was a mistake.” You shook your head and looked down.

“What? No it wasn’t.” He said, sounding genuinely hurt.

“Yes it was. Look at us, Peter. We don’t have anything in common anymore. I really liked you back then but you’re not that guy anymore. That guy wouldn’t show up late, call me “hot” and “babe”, text and drive, forget his favorite movie, stop talking to his best friend-“

“Oh. I get it.” He cut you off. “You’re disappointed because I’m not the same person I was when I was 17.”

“Yeah. Maybe I am.” You snapped and folded your arms when you heard his attitude return.

“Yeah, well. You’re different too.” He insisted. “The girl I knew in high school was not this judgmental.”

“I am not judgmental.” You scoffed.

“Yes you are. You’ve been judging me since the moment you turned around at the party. Just admit it.”

“Maybe because you commented on my ass like you were one of the dickhead boys you used to make fun of I’m high school. God, what happened to you?”

“I said I was sorry about that.”

“But you still did it.” You laughed sadly. “And then showed up late. And then remembered things about me from high school. And then texted other girls. And then kept the hat I gave you. I don’t understand you, Peter. I can’t read you anymore. This is too confusing. And it’s all for nothing because I still go back home on Tuesday and we’re never going to see each other again.“

“It doesn’t have to be like that.” He said and put his hands on your shoulders. You were surprised by how desperate for you to stay he sounded since it contradicted his behavior thus far.

“I think it does, Peter. Goodbye.” You shook your head and walked away again.

“Wait. There’s snakes out there.” He called after you.

“No there’s not.” You called back. You kept walking through the park until you came across a picnic blanket surrounded by fake candles. Surrounding the blanket were printed out caricatures of celebrities strung up and tapped to trees.

“What is this?” You asked when you heard Peter come up behind you.

“Oh thank God. No one stole it.” He sighed in relief and walked over to the picnic blanket.

“Wait, you set this up?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yeah. Ellen’s Stardust Dinner turns out to be insanely difficult to get into so I made us one.”

“Ellen’s Stardust Dinner?”

“In your letter. I remembered you said it was your dream to eat there one day.” He said with a sheepish smile. You couldn’t help but smile as well and started to walk around to look at all the photos he had printed. Peter lingered behind you and kept a comfortable distance since you were upset with him.

“Is this Joey Graceffa?” You laughed and pointed to one of the pictures.

“I took some creative liberties with the celebrities I chose to showcase once I ran out of ones I knew you liked. Do you still like Dylan O’Brien?”

“Do bears still shit in the woods? The answer is yes. Sorry. That wasn’t funny.” You quickly corrected yourself and Peter snorted.

“It was a little funny.” He admitted. “Not really, though.”

“I see the entire cast of Modern Family made it.” You chuckled and touched one of the photos he had tapped up to a tree.

“Of course they did. It’s the best show ever.”

“You’re not wrong.” You looked over at him with a smile. Peter took that smile as a sign you were forgiving him and stepped closer to you. You could feel his presence behind you and turned around to face him.

“You set all this up for me?”

“I did. That’s why I was late.” He explained. “I started early but then I ran out of magenta ink so obviously I couldn’t print the rest of my photos despite them having no magenta parts.”

“What about all the texting?” You asked him.

“My aunt is getting a mammogram today. Her mom had breast cancer so she was really nervous. I was checking in with her. But don’t worry, she’s okay. She just called to tell me. And that doesn’t excuse me texting while driving which I normally never do but she was anxious in the waiting room and I didn’t want her to be alone with her thoughts.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” You said softly and immediately felt guilty for snapping at him.

“You would’ve told me to go be with her.” He shrugged. “And I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see you before you left.”

“Well that’s very noble of you but it sounds like she needed you more than I did today.”

“Don’t worry. She insisted I come here instead. I would have just made her more nervous with my anxious pacing.”

You looked around at everything Peter had set up for you and all the details he had put in. You’d misread everything and judged him off of things you knew little about. You looked at him with guilt in your eyes and smiled sadly.

“I don’t know what to say.” You admitted. “You went through a lot today for me and I just threw a fit and stormed off.”

“I can’t say I didn’t give you good reason. I should have told you these things sooner. I’m just not good at this sort of thing. I wanted so badly to impress you that I ended up making you think I didn’t care.”

“Can we just start over then? And enjoy this set up you made?” You asked him.

“I would like that.” Peter smiled and sat down on the blanket. You sat down beside him and leaned into his side. Peter wasted no time in wrapping both arms around you, making you both fall backwards onto the blanket. You both laughed and stayed in each others arms as you rolled over to look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry I judged you.” You said and fixed his hair.

“It’s okay. I know I’m not what you thought I’d be.”

“You’re not. But you’re still you. You still have your heart and your humor. And those were always my favorite parts of you anyway. I don’t know why I got so hung up on the other things. Who cares what movies you watch or what you do with your free time now? None of that stuff matters.”

“Do you still like me? Even though I’m different?” He asked as he stared into your eyes.

“Look at what you did for me today. You’re not different. You just wear different clothes. I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you. It wasn’t fair. And I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay. Honestly, I miss who I was too. I miss Ned. And being around people who know what amino acids are. And I missed you. God, I missed you so much. In the years since high school, there have been so many times when I’ve come across something I wanted to show you or thought something I wanted to tell you. I missed hearing your laugh when I made a stupid joke or hearing your thoughts on the bad movies I’d beg you to watch. I never made a friend like you again. And after a while, I realized I never would.”

“I never found someone like you either. No one ever had me like you did. I’ve been dreaming about the day we met again since the day I last saw you.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He joked.

“Please. How could I be disappointed in this?” You playfully rolled your eyes and traced your fingertips up and down his arm. Peter reached forward and placed his hand on your face to stroke your cheek with his thumb.

“When do you leave on Tuesday?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“Late. My train is at 5.”

“Maybe we can get breakfast then.” He suggested without looking at you as he laced his fingers through yours.

“I’d like that.” You smiled and started to lean in.

“I can cook it.” He added. “After we wake up in my room.”

“Don’t push it.” You chuckled and rubbed your nose against his as you got closer.

“I won’t.” He replied before closing the gap between you and kissing you. The kiss that was years in the making was worth every minute of the wait. His right hand found his way to your hip and he squeezed it.

“Maybe you can push it just a little bit.” You said against his lips. Peter took that as his chance to pull you by the waist on top of him and deepen the kiss.

“That’s how I know you’ve changed. Nice boys don’t kiss like that.” You said when you pulled away to catch your breath.

“Yes they fucking do.” Peter said against your lisp before pulling you back into a heated kiss. You weren’t sure how much time passed as you kissed him but you only stopped when you Peters stomach let out a loud growl. You pulled away and rolled onto your back as you both laughed.

“Sorry about that. We never actually got any food.” He realized.

“Oh yeah. Maybe we should go do that.” You said and rolled over to face him.

“Yeah. We probably should.”

Despite the agreement to get up and go get some food, neither of you moved. You just laid on the blanket and stared into each others eyes with a comfortable silence in the air.

“In a minute?” You suggested after a minute and Peter smiled before leaning in to kiss you again.

“In a minute.”

PSA: DON’T TEXT AND DRIVE. it’s never worth it. It takes one second to get in an accident. Any text can wait. Your life is more important

Tag List 🏷️

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[narwal-ed-in]

ARMY GLITTERATI - (Band of Brothers x Bimbo!Reader)

✨glitterati✨- /ˌɡlɪt̬.əˈrɑː.t̬i/ - 1940's slang for famous people, glamorous people, in the spotlight.

Summary: “You want to become a combat medic for the 101st?” “What, like it's hard?”

Warning: Period typical sexism, Fem reader, she/her pronouns, slight body shaming (not directed at reader). NO BETA READ. I WROTE THIS JUST NOW SO PLEASE DON'T EXPECT MUCH.

No disrespect to the real veterans of WW2, all my BoB fanfics are based on depictions by actors in the miniseries.

Borders by @plutism

BEFORE TACCOA

The war is raging and everyone is doing their part to help the men on the front.

For you, that mostly meant trying to look your best at all times, no matter how inconvenient the situation.

"Looking good is a ginormous part of the war effort, it's good for boosting troop morale. I saw it on a poster at the teaching hospital" You reasoned with your father after he complained about you buying another pair of shoes and some expensive vanishing creams.

"Darling, I think they meant that we should all keep our appearances up, not buy out our local department stores"

"Oh my god daddy, you're suffocating me! I'm just doing my part by looking nice..." you glare at your father in his work clothes and eye him with a grimace "...and clearly you're not"

When you get a telegram informing you that you've been selected to participate in a program that aims to send female medics into combat you jump on it.

This is going to be so much fun.

"I'm going to be the talk of the town when everyone finds out. Not even Reverend Smiths boring old story about dying for ten minutes in a car crash and seeing Jesus will be able to outdo this!"

Your supervisors at the hospital are shocked that you've been chosen, seeing as you're not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

You had once walked out of an operation because it was bloody and you were wearing white (all the nurse uniforms are white).

You hoped you wouldn't be assigned to the army or the airforce.

The army is too basic, and if you were stuck on an airbase somewhere then nobody would be able to see how fab you always were.

The navy was your goal, their uniforms were sooo cute, you were just dreaming of all the ways you could style it.

It's just your luck when you get assigned to airborne.

"THIS BLOWS! I'm in the two most unglamorous branches at the same time"

After your initial breakdown you realized it wasn't that bad. If you were jumping out of planes it just meant that your hotness would have a bigger audience since it would literally be raining down from the sky.

"When the Germans see all this falling from the sky, they're going to flip their friggin wigs! AHHHH"

CONNECTING WITH EASY

You're assigned to Easy company and meet the men a few months into their training at Camp Toccoa.

You show up randomly in the middle of the day.

Although the men had been told a woman would be joining them and they had been expecting you, they hadn't been expecting YOU.

You were a ditzy thing and looked like you’d jumped out of one of their pin up postcards. The brass surely couldn't expect them to put their lives in your hands.

"I'm sooo happy to meet everyone. You know, the other girls in the program are such massive liars, they said airborne was where all the uggos went, but that's so not true. After all, I'm here"

You always woke up an hour earlier than the rest of Easy so you would have time to put your face on.

It was one of your tenets to never be seen by anyone outside of family without makeup on, or with your curlers in.

Malarkey, Skip, Penkala, Shifty, Bull, Christenson, Lip and Winters had all been kind to you from the beginning, expecting nothing in return.

But some of the guys had other ideas.

George was one of the men that befriended you initially. And although he did have the ulterior motive of getting it on with you, he eventually stuck around because he actually liked you.

You guys have great play-flirting banter and you're both very entertaining people to be around, especially when you're drunk.

On the rare nights anyone gets passes they want to be around you and George because they know that's where the funs at.

You get sloppy drunk with George, flirt with men from Easy and other companies all night, then end up with your shoes off at 3am, sitting on the curb and crying about one of your ex boyfriends.

Perconte was one of your original detractors but when you found yourselves making the same brain dead comments about obvious things, you both decided to put your two half braincells together to form the singular braincell you share between yourselves.

Talbert was trying to get into your pants instantly. Nobody was surprised.

But just like George he grew to be genuinely fond of you.

What was surprising was Joe Toye taking you under his wing.

Toye could see that you were absolutely clueless and the worst part was, you had no idea.

Toye couldn't bear the agony of watching you skip around camp with your happy-go-lucky attitude, harping on about celebrity gossip nobody cared about.

"Y/N!" Toye yelled as you all got dressed to run Currahee "Why the hell is your PT shirt pink?!"

"Isn't it just the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen, Joe? I put a red handkerchief in with my laundry. Cosmo said carnation pink is the color of the summer"

Huffing and puffing, Toye took out one of his spare shirts and forced you to wear it.

"And when you give it back, it better not be fucking 'flamingo pink'" Toye said.

"Oh honey, this isn't 1939, flamingo pink is so over. I wouldn't be caught dead in that. You know, Joe, sometimes I feel like you don't care about fashion at all" You scoff at his cluelessness as you walk out.

Joe Toye is secretly your best friend in the company.

Toye taking you in meant Gaurnere and Johnny Martin had to be around you, much to their chagrin.

They didn't want some girl hanging off of them.

You win Gaurnere's respect when you coach him on what to write to his girlfriend back home to assure her that he's serious about their relationship when she began doubting his intentions.

And you win Johnny's respect when you help him find the most romantic gift for his wife for valentines day.

"Y'know, back home they call me the love doctor...Well, they used to, before I told Betsy Kline that Rob Jones was her soulmate but then he left her at the altar to elope with his housekeeper"

Sobel despised you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

Not wearing your red lipstick everyday was torture, but you had to stick to natural colours so Sobel wouldn't be able to tell what you had on.

He tried with everything in his power to get you kicked out, but much to everyones surprise, you kept up extrordinarily well with the men when it came to physical training.

"I do a lot of Pilates. It's really good for flexibility and helps you keep a positive outlook so you're not be such a 'negative nancy' all the time. Some of you could really use it. Some more than others..." you said as you side-eyed Skinny who just looked around incredulously

Eventually most of the men come to consider you a friend and a confidante since you give remarkably sound relationship advice.

"It's like sooo hard being the smartest person and the hottest catch in this camp at the same time"

The hardest nuts to crack in your immediate friend group end up being Leibgott, Cobb and Doc Roe, all for different reasons of course.

Leib was snide and arrogant and spoke to you like you were a silly little girl.

He didn't shy away from telling you how dumb he thought you were to your face.

Your relationship eventually becomes friendly but he will still be mean occasionally.

He always ends up apologising though and feels really bad when he makes you cry (the other guys nearly bite his head off whenever this happens).

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, stop being a baby already. I said I was sorry" Lieb said to you as you cried into your pillow.

"You can say sorry to me, Joey, but how are you going to tell Rita Hayworth you're sorry for saying nobody cares about her nighttime face washing routine?" You spoke inbetween sobs.

"I ain't saying sorry to Rita because I ain't sorry I said it. I stand by what I said. Nobody cares how some broad washes up at night"

"You take that back! That routine saved my life" You jumped up, pointing an accusing finger at the man.

"How the fu-"

"You're a horrible, horrible man Joseph Leibgott"

"Oh put a sock in it" Leib rolled his eyes, making you cry even harder.

Toye, ever protective of you, had enough "I swear to god Leibgott, leave that girl alone!"

Cobb was just straight up cruel to you and made sure you always knew "your place".

Roe didn't seem particularly close to anyone.

But as you all of you went into the more specialised aspects of your training and you and Roe spent more time together, he found himself looking out for you.

You were sitting alone on the grass after everyone had groaned and walked off the moment you started talking about an article you read in a magazine.

You sigh sadly, pulling at the grass when a shadow falls over you.

Bringing up a hand to block the sun you finally recognize who it is. It's Eugene Roe.

"I, uh, I was wondering if I could sit with you?" he asked.

You nodded excitedly and he took a seat beside you in the grass.

"What was it you were telling the others?"

You gasped "You really want to know?"

"I guess…"

Doc had seen everyone walk away, and although he didn't care much for mindless conversation, he knew talking to people meant a lot to you and had come over to cheer you up.

Without missing a beat you began one of your famous tirades.

By the end of your first year in Toccoa you end up finding your place.

Thanks for reading! Please like, comment and reblog if you want❤️

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 1

Chapter Links: Chapter 1 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour! ---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–-- A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Arriving in Hell had been a difficult adjustment, but you figured that was likely by design and not some personal failing on your part.  You'd stumbled out of the gates of Hell right into the aftermath of what you now know was an extermination; alone and terrified amidst the burning rubble and mutilated corpses that littered the ground.  

You were lucky in a sense, even though it didn't feel like it at the time.  Everyone is usually pretty busy in the days immediately following an invasion from Heaven, too occupied looting bodies for valuables and deleting the newly deceased from their phone's contact list to give much attention to a new arrival.  The Gates of Hell were usually swarmed by traffickers looking for new merchandise and mid-level thugs looking to make an easy deal for a soul or two, so you were able to slip through the cracks and wander the outskirts of Pentagram city largely unnoticed while most of the sinners were either still in hiding or sleeping off their celebratory hangovers.  

Initially, you stuck out like a sore thumb, clad in the baggy dress that you'd been buried in; a garment that had likely been looted from your Grandmother's closet based on the large shoulder pads and unflattering mauve color.  You figured that your family had deemed all the dresses you actually owned and liked as too inappropriate for funeral garb, which aligned with how they usually regarded your fashion choices.  The fabric was uncomfortable, starched stiff and itchy against your skin, so you didn't feel any guilt about using your newly discovered claws to shred a slit into the back of the skirt to make room for your long and incredibly poofy tail.

Upon further examination in the cracked glass of an abandoned store front, you discovered that you also now possessed a set of rounded black ears atop your head and large, dark smudges around your eyes that made it look like you'd slept with mascara on for a week straight.  

The powers that be had, apparently, found it suitable for you to spend the rest of eternity living as a raccoon.  

And while you greatly preferred your animal form to many of the other, more intimidating body shapes prowling the streets of Pentagram City, looking what most people would consider adorable wasn't necessarily a desired trait in Hell.  Wide-eyed prey animals were quick to disappear, materializing weeks later on posters outside of strip clubs and porn theaters.  

You'd darted from the predatory glances of other sinners, spending your first nights in Hell sleeping curled up behind back alley dumpsters; tearing through the freshest smelling trash bags for scraps of food with a voracity that surely made your Raccoon forefathers shed tears of pride.  

Repeatedly choosing to wander down the least sinister looking streets had inevitably led you to the heart of Cannibal Town, an antiquated borough that looked like it had been lifted straight out of the background of a classic movie.  Naively, you had assumed that the more polished appearance of buildings and fixtures meant that the area was safer than the dilapidated city center you had wandered in from.  That notion had been quickly dispelled when you stumbled across a group of middle aged women sitting on a park bench, merrily chatting as they took turns ripping hunks of flesh from an obviously human leg with their sharpened teeth.  

Thankfully, the abundance of readily available, post Extermination sinner flesh kept the cannibals well satiated and dissuaded them from making you the victim du jour.  That, and the fact that more than one cannibal had gleefully admitted to you that they found raccoon meat too gamey for their liking. 

You'd managed to secure a job fairly easily, with numerous businesses looking to fill vacancies from recent employee murders.  In the end, you'd settled on working at a small butcher shop a couple blocks away from the main promenade.  You'd been unwillingly charmed by the store's on the nose name, ‘Time to Kill’, and the fact that it supplemented your meager paycheck by providing you with a small room above the storefront to live in.  

Hal, the owner of the store, was a heavy-set man with a bushy mustache that wouldn't look out of place attached to a broom handle.  He'd been admittedly skeptical about your potential as a butcher when they had to tuck a bucket into the back room for you to throw up in after the first half-dozen times you'd hurled when breaking down your first carcass.  

But you'd slowly grow accustomed to the grizzly task, focusing on the fact that you were cutting up meat and ignoring that it was likely human in origin.  Hal was pleased by your hard-working nature, but mostly he was thrilled by the fact that you didn't help yourself to a five-finger discount like the rest of his employees did.  

“Seriously,” Hal had said, his mustache twitching in displeasure .  “They're eatin’ all the fingers!”

Day after day passed without much distinction, working from sunup ‘til sundown hacking up bodies for pennies on the dollar.  It wasn't much of a living, but since technically you weren't even living at all, you did your best to be content with your lot in death.  

After all, it was your discontent in life that had landed you here in the first place.  

And if waking up in literal Hell wasn't a wake up call to turn over a new leaf you didn't know what was.  

You were coming up on the first anniversary of your arrival in Hell and the citizens of the Pride Ring were all in a tizzy trying to stock up on supplies to last through the impending Extermination.  Drug dealers were working double shifts to keep up with demand and the liquor stores had long since sold out of their top brands and had switched to selling bathtub gin to supply their customers with.

The line outside of Time to Kill was already wrapped around the block by the time you had flipped the deadbolts, barely managing to escape being crushed by the door as it crashed open; a densely packed group of cannibals rushing inside.  You'd fled from the crowd into the back workroom, taking up your post at a carving station with a cleaver in hand, ready to do your part to supply the hungry masses.

The hours bled together as you skinned and chopped, filleted and ground; so focused on the tasks before you that you didn't realize your coworker had been calling your name until they slapped their hand firmly down onto your shoulder.

“You okay?” They asked, glancing at your dewy face with concern.

“Oh- yeah, I'm alright,” you assured them, placing your cleaver down across the cutting board and wiping your bloody hands on a nearby towel.  “What's up?”

“It's your turn up front,” he said, gesturing towards the front of a store with his stubby thumb.  “Ms. Rosie is here.”

“Ms. Rosie?”

“Yeah, she's the Overlord here in Cannibal Town,” your coworker explained, elbowing you out of the way to take your place at the cutting station.  “Fresh Meat deals with the Overlords- shop rule.”

“Oh,” you murmured nervously, wandering over to the sink to wash your hands.

“Might want to hurry up, there!” one of the other workers called over her shoulder as she dropped a bunch of bone fragments into an awaiting bin.  “Your chance of survival decreases every minute you keep an Overlord waiting!”

You slammed the handle of the faucet to the off position and quickly took off to the front counter, your coworkers laughing raucously at your expense while you frantically wiped your hands dry on your blood-spattered apron.

The politics of Hell were still largely unfamiliar to you.  But even though you did your best to keep your head down and nose in your own business, you'd gleaned a little knowledge from snippets of overheard conversation in the butcher shop.  You weren't entirely sure what Overlords did exactly, but you knew that in order to become one you had to be powerful.

So it was with great trepidation that you stepped into the front of the store, doing your best to hide how absolutely terrified you were, but knowing your stiff legged gait and tight smile likely gave you away.  

The tall, elegant form of Ms. Rosie wasn't what you'd been expecting.  While dressing up was the norm in Cannibal Town, Rosie took it to a new level; looking as though she never let a fabric less expensive than silk grace her form.  But despite the absolutely enchanting picture her elegance painted, the aura of raw power she exuded prickled your skin and caused your tail to poof up in an instinctual, and utterly useless, bid for intimidation.  

“Well, look at you!” Rosie drawled, her dark eyes widening in delighted surprise as you approached the counter.  “It's been a while since we've gotten someone new in town.  Where've you been hiding, sweetheart?”

“Uh- my room, mostly,” you manage to stammer out, nervously smoothing down your ruffled tail fur.  

“That's a real shame, keeping a cute face like yours all cooped up!” Rosie cooed.  “How long ya’ been living in my part of the city?”

“Nearly a year now, Ma'am.”

“A whole year?” Rosie gasped.  “You weren't kidding ‘bout keeping to yourself, huh?”

Not really knowing what else to say, you opt to helplessly shrug before reaching for an order pad and pen.  

“So, uh- what can I get for you today, Ms. Rosie?”

“What's still available?”

“I won't lie, it's pretty slim pickings right now.  But I was just working on a pretty nice looking rack of ribs if you're interested.”

“Ribs it is then,” Rosie smiled, patiently waiting as you disappeared to the backroom and returned with multiple wrapped bundles of meat, all cinched together in a stack with fraying twine.  

“Thank you, darling,” she said, passing the stack of meat to one of the well-dressed attendants waiting beside her.  “Add it to my tab, will ya’?”

“Of course, Ma'am,” you agreed readily, sliding the sale record underneath the cash register tray for Hal to deal with later.  

“Oh, and sweetheart?” Rosie called out, catching your attention, as you moved to assist the next customer in line.  “If you make it through Extermination Day, make sure to swing by and visit me for tea sometime, will ya’?  I'd really like the chance to get to know ya’ better.”

And despite every neuron of common sense and self-preservation screaming at you to decline the invitation, you gritted your teeth and quickly nodded your assent; swallowing thickly when Rosie bared her teeth in a delighted, feral smile.  

You knew better to say ‘no’ to an Overlord.

[illubean]

omg you write for kaido.... would you be willing to write something with him liking a male reader and being conflicted about it? they're much taller than him but secretly like cute stuff (sanrio, cats, stuffed animals, etc.) & kaido doesn't find out until they invite him over to study/hang out one day 😼 if that's too complicated or you don't feel up to it, just anything with kaido would be amazing ! i <3 your writing!

Kaido Having a Crush on SecretSoftie!Male!Reader

Characters: Shun Kaido Type: Fluff, Headcanons, Male!reader

first tdlosk rq yaayy!

Warnings: none

ok not only is he already conflicted about the fact he likes boys

but you're also INTIMIDATING?

he is quaking in his boots what if you are a secret spy from dark reunion!?

no matter how nice you are to him it still comes off as scary because you're just...so much bigger than he is

maybe it's just because he's nervous and still accepting his feelings

and one day when you ask him to come over and help you study for an upcoming exam he take's it as a threat...

you were like "Hey Kaido, mind helping me study?" and what he heard was "YOU BETTER HELP ME STUDY OR I'LL KILL YOU"

and his response in typical Kaido fashion is very meek and cowardly so you're like ???

sooooooooo after class one day you lead him to your house and he's so nervous

1. because he likes you and 2. what if you beat him up and leave him for dead in some alleyway and the studying thing was just a ruse

when you guys get to your house and to your room door his anxiety is at an all time high

until you open the door that is.

your room was decorated with all kinds of plushies, cute posters, collectible figures like sonny angels and all that (this is just stuff i have in my room LMAO)

his jaw actually drops

"This is YOUR room?!?"

you get a little embarrassed and tell him you happen to have an affinity for cute things...

after learning this he's a lot less tense around you yayyy

after you guys get closer he uses it to tease you sometimes

but don't worry, he has a lot more embarrassing secrets

Kaido under no circumstances would ever confess first

because y'know...he's a coward

but if you ever ask him out he will turn bright red and trip over his words for a good minute or so before letting out a meek "yes"

he's got the best of both worlds, a strong intimidating bf to protect him but also someone soft on the inside

he has no idea how you ever got around to returning his feelings

but you do like cute things after all...<3

[lemoncrushh]

Fratboy Harry - Part 6

Summary: Harry Styles was a boy with a reputation, one that you couldn’t care less about. Yet one night at a frat party changed everything.

Warnings: Smut, drinking, angst, a very cocky Harry. 18+ ONLY!!

Part 6 Word Count: 1891

STORY PAGE

"Hey," Harry breathed, his chest falling.

You sucked in your lips, unable to utter a word.

"Did you just get here?" he asked. "I didn't hear you knock."

You swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, just got here."

Your voice was a bit shaky, but you prayed he didn't pick up on it. A smile slowly spread across his face, instantly melting away some of your fear.

"Come in," he said, stepping back to allow you space to enter.

Once inside, he shut the door behind you and offered you a beverage. This time you took him up on his beer offer, hoping it might help take the edge off. You knew it was none of your business, but whomever he'd been talking to on the phone had really set him off and it unnerved you.

You sat on the edge of Harry's sofa while you waited for him to return from the small kitchen. You spotted his phone on the coffee table, face up. You secretly wondered who the person was he'd spoken so harshly to, if it was male or female, and if they were a saved contact in his phone. You shook your head, cursing yourself for even caring. It didn't concern you.

Just as Harry rounded the counter of the kitchen, you heard a sound and saw his phone light up with a text in the corner of your eye. You didn't have time to read the name entirely before he handed you a beer, but you could have sworn it started with a J and ended in an ie. Jamie? Julie? Jennie?

"Oh, thanks," you muttered, accepting the bottle.

Harry walked around the coffee table and sat beside you, grabbing his phone.

"Shit," he commented under his breath, apparently perturbed about the text.

He shoved his phone in his pocket, his brows furrowed. Sipping on your beer, you decided to finally say something.

"You're angry," you said softly.

Harry rested his forearms on his knees and dropped his head with a sigh.

"Yeah," he admitted. Then he lifted his gaze. "You heard me."

You bit your bottom lip and nodded.

"Yeah...sorry."

Harry shook his head. "Don't be. I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't mean for you to hear that."

"Someone's harassing you?" you inquired.

Harry sighed again, loudly, as he ran a hand through his hair. "You could say that."

Just then you heard the text alert again and Harry pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth.

"Why don't you just block their number?" you asked before thinking. Realizing you'd let the words slip, you quickly apologized. "Sorry. It's none of my business."

"It's okay," he said, though he offered no further explanation. You decided then to drop it.

You sat back on the sofa, gazing around the room. It looked a bit different in the daylight than it had at 3AM, though to be honest you hadn't spent much time in the living room. There wasn't much to it. It was a tiny room, only slightly bigger than his bedroom, and the only items it housed other than the sofa and coffee table were the television and an old recliner that looked like it had seen better days. On the far end of the room next to the kitchen area was a circular table and two chairs. The only things that adorned the walls were a framed concert poster of The Who and a poster print of Edvard Munch's The Scream. Overall it was a pretty ordinary room, typical of a university student or single guy.

"So," you sounded before turning your head towards him, "what do you feel like doing?"

When Harry didn't reply, you broke your gaze from the painting and looked at him. He was staring at you with his cocky smirk, bringing the inevitable butterflies to your stomach and making you weak in the knees.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, though you couldn't help but giggle. "I suppose that was a stupid question."

"No," he continued to grin, shifting his position on the couch. "Not stupid."

Harry now sat two inches from you, his arm spread across the back of the sofa. Slipping his hand under your ear, you felt his breath brush across your face. His green eyes literally glowed as he leaned in.

"Just wanna kiss you right now," he murmured.

You let out a tiny sound before his lips met yours, kissing you tenderly. Your limbs felt like limp noodles as you tried your best to lift your arms to wrap around his neck. Deepening the kiss with his tongue, Harry pulled you closer, his other arm encircling your waist.

"Mmm," he sounded when your lips separated. "I really like kissing you."

As a smile spread across your face, you heard Harry's phone again. He huffed out a breath, though he didn't make any effort to look at it. Pressing his forehead against yours, he slid his hand down the side of your neck to your chest, cupping your breast. Even through your clothes, his touch was electric. He devoured your lips again as his thumb grazed across your nipple, sending almost a shock to your core. It was so intense you even let out a slight moan. Harry responded by gripping your hip with his other hand, nearly pinching you.

"Wanna go to the bedroom?" he whispered against your mouth.

There was no way you could refuse. You nodded as you gazed into his eyes. Rising from the sofa, Harry held his hand out to you which you took eagerly.

Following him to the bedroom, you closed the door behind you as Harry sat on the edge of the bed. As soon as you sat beside him, he guided you back to lie against the pillows, his lips immediately finding yours again.

In that moment, you realized something. The weight of his body against yours, his mouth claiming yours with fervor, was your favorite thing and you couldn't get enough. You still knew next to nothing about this boy, but it didn't matter. Even if all that ever came from this relationship was sex, you didn't care. You wanted him. You had to have him. How ever much he was willing to give, you'd take it.

It was you that made the next move, slipping your hands underneath his shirt, raking your fingernails back down his chest and stomach. Lifting his body slightly, Harry studied your face for a second before removing his shirt. When your fingertips encountered his skin once again, he growled low, his eyelids heavy.

"Baby..." he breathed before gripping the hem of your shirt. Understanding his intention, you sat up and allowed him to slip it over your head.

As he held you against him, his fingers in your hair, he whispered, "You do something to me, love. I can't seem to get enough of you."

You blushed and bit your lip. "I was just thinking the same thing."

With a grin, Harry laid you back down kissing your throat down to the hollow between your breasts. You felt his hand slide up your thigh as his hips pressed against you. You could already feel how hard he was, even through his jeans.

His fingers found their way underneath your bra, lifting it gently. When the pads of his fingers met your bare skin, you nearly came undone. He squeezed your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to moan out loud.

Harry lifted his head with a chuckle and reached behind your back to unhook your bra. After tossing it on the floor, he brought his lips to other nipple, giving it similar treatment with his tongue.

"Oh God..." you swallowed.

"You like that baby?" he asked before switching breasts.

Unable to form words, you merely nodded. His wet tongue made you insane as you bucked your hips against his. Harry sat up then, gazing down at you as he began to unbutton his jeans. When you reached your hand out to him, he took it and pressed it against his abs, sliding it down towards his exposed underwear. Just as you reached the waistband, you heard a loud noise.

"What the fuck!" Harry exclaimed.

The noise repeated, an ear-splitting banging and you realized it was coming from the front door.

"Shit!" Harry shouted, climbing off the bed. He swung open his bedroom door with a vengeance, quickly buttoning his jeans.

You laid on the bed in terror before sitting up and reaching for your shirt and bra. You heard the banging once more, this time echoed by a screeching voice yelling out Harry's name.

A girl.

Fuck.

Harry must have reached the front door before she finished banging on it again. You heard him curse again followed by a sound that resembled someone crying.

"Harry!"

"God dammit, Jamie, I told you!"

"Please, Harry, I have to talk to you!"

"I have nothing to say to you!" he argued.

"Please!" she begged. "Please don't end it like this!"

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. End it? He had a girlfriend? Shit!

"Just...let me in, please, so we can talk," Jamie sniffed.

"No," demanded Harry. "I told you it's over. In fact, it was never anything. We were never anything."

"Don't say that!" she cried.

Although you felt like you might hurl, you managed to rise from the bed and walk to the open doorway of the bedroom. Harry stood at the front door, his bare back blocking your view of the girl.

"It's not gonna happen, Jamie. Just leave me alone."

Harry's tone had calmed a bit, though his voice was still firm.

"Is...is there someone else?"

You saw Harry's shoulder rise and fall with a shrug.

"Maybe. But that's no concern of yours."

You heard a sob come from Jamie's throat as you caught sight of her blonde hair.

"I suggest you leave now before I call the cops," Harry added.

Jamie cried harder and you saw her head shake. She turned to leave just as Harry lowered his arm from the door frame. That was when you recognized her.

The girl from the party.

Harry closed the door, locking it with determination. Turning around, he spotted you in the doorway. His shoulders dropped apologetically, or maybe he was embarrassed. You didn't give him time to explain, however. Crossing the living room, you grabbed your keys from the coffee table where you'd left them when you'd arrived.

"Where are you going?" Harry raised his brows.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Seriously?"

"What? What happened?" he asked nervously.

"If I have to spell it out for, Harry, you're even more or a moron than I thought. Goodbye."

Pushing past him to the front door, you fumbled with the lock before finally opening it.

"Y/N, wait!" he begged, reaching for your arm.

"Don't touch me!" you shouted.

"She's nothing!" he exclaimed. "We weren't even dating!"

"Save it!" you held up your hand. "I don't give a shit."

With that, you stormed out the front door to your car. You just happened to see another car leaving the parking lot, and you knew it was her. Turning back, you saw Harry standing dumbfounded on the front porch. You shook your head in disgust.

You should have known.

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[seriouslysnape]

Soak and Scrub

Sirius Black x James Potter x Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Poly! Light smut.

Word Count: 2.6k

“You act like neither of us would jump at the chance if she had asked us.”

Sirius wasn’t typically a bath man. 

The idea of sitting in a bathtub for an extended period of time with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling didn’t exactly intrigue him. He didn’t like how he could only seem to get the water too hot or too cold. He didn’t like the way that the water sloshed all around the tub when making even the slightest movement — he hated the mess. He didn’t like the complete still and silence of the washroom. Sirius could count on one hand the amount of times he had willingly sat down in a tub for a proper soak and scrub. Baths just weren’t for him. He’d take a standing shower over a bathtub any day.

But it had been a long week. Sirius had taken hit after hit over the course of the five day school week. Between an unreasonably difficult Potions exam, a failure of a group project, and a week full of piles of homework — Sirius needed a different way to wind down. Sirius had been a bit absent in the past week. 

He had been unintentionally under the radar from being swamped with work. If he wasn’t in a classroom or The Great Hall, he was in his four-poster bed snoozing away. Sirius was more than overjoyed to see you come Friday afternoon. While your presence did bring a little pep back into his spirit, he was still visibly rundown. That was when you suggested that he take a load off in a way that was unconventional for him.

Sirius declined at first. He gently rejected your suggestion, simply because it wasn’t his thing. But you assured him that you’d make it extra special for him, and you’d even join him if he so wished. 

That was an offer that Sirius Black would never turn down. 

Sirius had followed you to the boys’ dorm (after making a quick pit stop at your own for “bath supplies”), watching you toy with the knobs on the tub until the water was to your liking. Sirius immediately began to notice that your bath time routine was much more extensive than his had ever been, because that was about where his would’ve ended. Oh, but you had a collection of soaps that varied from basic to seasonal scents. Sirius eyed a few of them, reading the labels with a quirked brow.

Lemon lavender, cinnamon vanilla, apple spice — all flavors and scents that Sirius could identify as not something he would pick himself.

“Which one would you like?” You had asked. 

Lemon lavender didn’t exactly cause him any excitement. Apple spice seemed a bit too Autumn-like for his taste. Cinnamon vanilla was his chosen winner, only because it seemed the most regular. He watched you pour an appropriate amount of the scented bubble soap into the rising pool of bath water. Clouds and poofs of suds began to appear and grow larger as the tub filled higher.

Sirius was caught by surprise when you swept his hair back momentarily to rub something behind his ears. Some kind of liquid that just barely had an oil consistency. He refrained from groaning when he identified the smell of eucalyptus. It was a routine trick that you used for yourself when you needed an extra boost in getting chilled out.

Sirius all of a sudden felt…girly. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He felt like he was surrendering his masculinity for this of all things. He could just as easily down a bottle of Firewhisky and pass out on one of the chairs in the Gryffindor common room. That was a sure way of relaxation. 

But as he felt his pupils grow a size bigger upon witnessing you strip your clothes off…

Yeah, he could sacrifice his man card for an hour or so.

Sirius followed suit, removing his own clothes before dipping his right foot into the tub first to make entry. Sirius had to admit, you managed to get the water temperature just right. He settled in first, leaning his back against the cold ceramic of the tub. You joined shortly after, lighting a few candles to give the dim room some better energy. You positioned between his legs, careful not to jostle him too much. Neither of you talked much at first. 

You were enjoying the quiet of the room. The washroom was about the only place that you couldn’t hear boisterous first year Gryffindors running around the halls or the general commotion of the common room. Much to his own surprise, Sirius wasn’t totally opposed to it either. He supposed that it was because he had someone else to focus on, and he wasn’t stuck in his own head. 

Sirius even managed to get comfortable enough to close his eyes, blocking out the minimal light from the candles burning safely at the opposite end of the tub. It didn’t take long, however, for Sirius to gripe about something.

“Stay still, puppy. Quit moving so much.” Sirius’ lips brushed against your ear as his voice rumbled.

“Sorry. Just trying to get comfortable.” You mumbled, and once again settled your back against Sirius’ chest.

Sirius closed his eyes once again, his second attempt at trying to get relaxed. A long sigh expelled from his chest, one that was thick with stress and exasperation. Sirius’ hadn’t meant for his words to come off as sharp as they had. His irritation had nothing to do with you. Besides, you were the one actively trying to mellow him out. He owed you one for this. 

There were a few more minutes of silence. The water was actively breaking down the tension in his muscles, the scent of cinnamon vanilla soap was actually quite nice, and he had you on display and all to himself. This wasn’t something he could ever complain about. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, his hands trailing up and down your thighs just under the surface of the tub. His fingertips were light as they trailed over the skin of your legs, following them up until the pads of his fingers made it to your sensitive spot.

“I knew that wouldn’t take long.” You grumbled, shifting again but for a different reason.

“You can’t blame me, pup. How often do I get to have you completely to myself?” He whined.

Sirius did have a point. All three of the boys had a shared complaint about not being able to spend enough one-on-one time with you. Sure, you and Sirius had Potions together while the other two were off in their own classes, but it wasn’t the same. As much as they valued time with all of you together, there was something special about having just you to themselves for a while. 

Sirius’ middle and ring finger began to move in slow, gentle circles. Not enough to get you anywhere, but just enough to make you squirm in an antsy way.

“Yeah, I know,” You nodded. “I feel like you’re not enjoying this.”

“Actually…it’s quite nice. Cinnamon vanilla isn’t so bad after all, Sirius admitted. “Do you do this often?”

“Take a bath?” You asked, your hips involuntarily rolling forward as a sign for him to speed up. 

Sirius hummed an affirmative answer as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, his rhythm remaining painfully slow.

“Not really. Only if I find the time,” You answered. “James does too sometimes.”

Sirius’ fingers stopped and his head snatched up with an open jaw. That was something he found hard to believe and/or imagine. 

“He does?” Sirius gawked.

“Yeah, but I think it’s more for Quidditch purposes. It’s good for the muscles.” 

Sirius made a definite mental note of that. He could use that to his advantage if the opportunity ever arose. 

“I never would’ve taken James to be a bath man.” Sirius remarked, his fingers resuming their pattern, causing you to jump.

“I don’t…I don’t think it’s like this,” You struggled to get the words out as he sped up. “More of a cold soak than anything.”

“Mm. No cinnamon vanilla soap?” Sirius grinned, knowing he already had you falling apart.

“Not likely, no.” 

Sirius used his free hand to grab your chin, suds and streams of water slipping down the length of his forearm as he turned your face to look at him. 

“He’s missing out then.” 

He kissed you without waiting for a response, and what was left of the week’s tribulations disappeared immediately. Nothing could make him feel better quite like you could. You were more than enough. His kiss grew deeper and needier as the time passed. Sex in the bathtub was a new one. 

Sirius knew the rules. This was breaking one of the major ones. But Sirius believed that every rule was meant to be broken, and if Remus or James had the guts to claim that they wouldn’t break it themselves, then Sirius was prepared to call their bluff. Here you were: soaking wet, turned on, and glistening with beauty as always. Sirius would be disappointed if they didn’t take that opportunity.

But history repeated itself, and it turned out that having you all to himself was too good to be true.

The serenity of the room was abruptly interrupted when the door to the washroom flung open, hitting the adjacent wall with a crash. A harsh stream of light ruined the ambiance of the candle-lit room, a tall shadow accompanying it. Sirius knew immediately who it was, and he let out an aggravated sigh. There was only one person that he knew that never knocked before entering.

“I knew it!” James exclaimed, standing tall in the open doorway. “I knew something weird was going on in here!”

“What does that even mean, Prongs? How long have you been here?” Sirius hissed.

“Like half an hour! I came in and thought it was weird that neither of you were here. And then the door was closed and I thought I heard talking,” He shrilled. “Since when are you a bath man?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, and you kept your laughter to yourself.

“Since now. Get out.” Sirius’ arm snaked around your waist as if you were going to get up and leave.

“No way. I’m interested now,” He walked into the washroom fully, taking a seat on the opposite side of the tub, balancing and stretching his legs out along the side. “How’d you get him in here, bunny?”

“I asked him.” You answered, and James’ face expressed the most shit eating grin.

“You really are all heart, Padfoot.” James laughed.

Sirius was ready with a loaded reply, but the fourth member of the group made his appearance. 

“Who are you talking to?” Remus appeared, referring to James who was seemingly talking to no one from his previous angle. When he saw you and Sirius in the tub, realization was written all over him. “Ohh. Looks like I’m late to the party.”

“You’re not invited. Neither was he.” Sirius growled.

The insult rolled right off of Remus and James. If anything, it only egged them on. 

“Someone’s pissy. I’d be in the best mood ever if I were you,” James replied, and he caught a quick glimpse of your naked frame. “How come Sirius gets a private bath and we don’t, bunny?”

“Well…Siri had a bad week and he seemed like he needed something to cheer him up.” You answered shyly, a quick fear that James was upset that you didn’t ask him instead.

“Aw, see? She’s taking care of you, and you’re acting like a prick about it.” Remus chimed, leaning against the sink that was in the middle of the room against the left wall.

“I was actually enjoying myself until you showed up.” Sirius argued.

James spotted the various soap bottles on the floor next to the tub, which he wasted no time taking into his hands. He looked over the labels, and Sirius knew he was done for.

“Let me guess. Cinnamon vanilla?” James chuckled. “I’m probably more of a lemon lavender guy myself.”

“Since when do you take baths?” Remus asked James, who didn’t seemed bothered at all to admit to it.

“Since always? It helps a lot after Quidditch,” James explained, twisting the lid off of the cinnamon vanilla to take a sniff. “Ooh. Good choice, Pads.”

It seemed that Sirius’ only leverage and means of defense was useless now. Sirius’ cheeks burned red. This was an unforeseen outcome. He couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed. 

“Shut up.” Sirius huffed, sinking further down.

“Come on, Pads. Lighten up,” Remus said. “You act like neither of us would jump at the chance if she had asked us.” 

Remus was right after all. Sirius had done the same thing they would’ve. If there was any way to look at it, it was Sirius doing something sweet for you. 

“Do you want to join? There’s honestly room for two more.” You offered, referring to the oversized tub they were in.

“Wait what?” Sirius squeaked.

“Say less!” James leapt to his feet, whisking out of his clothes in seconds. 

Before Sirius could even protest, James made a light splash and settled in the tub on the opposite side with a satisfied groan. Sirius leaned his head back against his end of the tub. At this point, all he could do was let it happen. 

“Moony?” James called, scooping up a collection of bubbles to show him. 

“If I’m being honest, I don’t fancy being naked in a tub with you, James. ” He crossed his arms, but he was amused as he was entertaining the thought. 

“If I have to take shit from you and tolerate him, then you have to.” Sirius barked, and Remus couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.

Remus supposed it was the least he could do. It’d make for a good memory if nothing else. 

Remus wasn’t as enthusiastic as he removed his own clothes at a slower pace. Sirius felt you shudder when Remus’ back was revealed (James was too busy playing with the suds to notice). Remus’ back and shoulders had always been a soft spot for you. You added validity to the “chicks dig scars” mantra, and it was just generally a turn on for you. 

Sirius couldn’t even be mad, because all three of them had different things that clicked something for you. Remus was much more careful when entering, and he managed not to send any water catapulting over the side (unlike James, who had a mess to clean up when this was over). 

It turned out that you were right. There was just enough room for all four of you in that tub. You didn’t move from your position with Sirius, which made his stomach flutter in the best way. His hands were resting on either one of your thighs, his thumbs dragging back and forth lazily as his discreet show of affection. The two of you were quiet, snickering to yourselves as you watched James and Remus begin to argue.

“You have so much room, move over! Why are you — Hey! Watch where your hands are going!” Remus nearly jumped through the ceiling when James hand accidentally got a little too close. 

“I’m literally on my si — get your LEG off of me!” James whined, and the two of them snowballed into a bicker fest.

Sirius’ laugh vibrated in your ear, his head shaking in amusement. Sirius had to admit that this was a little bit fun. 

Was it unconventional? Yes.

A little bit weird. Absolutely.

But you were enjoying yourself, and Sirius would’ve been a fool not to notice that this was bringing you undeniable joy. Sirius kissed your head once more, James and Remus oblivious due to their fighting. There was a reason that this relationship worked so well. It was a very specific dynamic that worked in the best of ways. Sure, the alone time was nice and it was refreshing — but there was an energy that came with the four of you being together that was perfectly intoxicating. 

Maybe sharing wasn’t so bad after all.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

“It's fine if you want to take me or whatever just let me grab my stuff.”  | Yandere Villain Deku

The villain stood in shocked silence as you moved about the little apartment packing away your things. He had been frequenting your place since he had arrived in (y/c) just a way to mess with your mind before ultimately burning the entire apartment building. But even after seeing him and his minions lounging around your room you just shrugged before going on with your life. The only time you ever spoke up outright was when one of his compatriots ate the last of your ice cream. 

“You ate it all?”

You were more tired than normal not even giving the usual ‘I’m home’ before heading straight for the fridge. At that moment his minion walked out with an empty carton in hand with the remnants around his mouth. That was the first time you exhibited any ounce of violence before and while it certainly wasn’t anywhere near Deku’s methods, he still found it intriguing how easily you threatened him to get more ice cream or else you’d castrate him. 

Since then everything you did enamored him, accepting money he most definitely stole to pay for meals. Even cook bigger meals when he supplied the means or indulging in your hobbies more often. Passionately gushing to him when he asked a simple question. 

“Sorry about that, I usually don’t talk to a lot of people about the stuff I like…no one’s ever interested.”

The villain found himself fighting thoughts of you away as he demolished the top heroes of your country. ‘I wonder if they’d like a cake from this bakery, of course before I destroy it.’ And as the days dwindle closer to the date he planned to leave (y/c), he decided he would take you. He originally told his minions to let him go alone this time because he wanted this to be intimate. After all, it's the last time you two would ever be apart for so long! Armed with a single syringe of a sleeping dose, he expected you to refute, but of course you surprised him again and you willingly are packing your stuff. He’ll text his buddies to bring the airship (yes, he has one) even closer to move all your stuff. 

“But this armoire has been through a lot with me!”

“I know Dolly but it's just too big…same goes for that potrait.”

“No but he’s my favorite character from–”

“It’s awfully rude of you to hold onto a slither of your past flings especially in front of your new husband!”

“Uuuugh fine I’m taking these posters then.”

You come so willingly Deku is on cloud 9 for the rest of the week you just moved right in when he stuck you in his fancy lair

The only time he ever saw any hesitation from you is when he dances along the line of your autonomy.

“Hey uh Izu?”

“Yes, Dollface?”

“Do you know where the knives are? I’m trying to make something for lunch.”

Hearing the underlying tones of frustration in your voice the villain abandoned his paperwork to properly handle this. You weren’t a secret powerhouse but your typical lack of response gave such an impression. Deserving his full attention he came up behind you holding you by your waist as you dug through various drawers and cabinets. 

He was intent on handling this…fixation of yours. Call it a small experiment but he wanted to see how much he could have of you. How much he could get away with someone as agreeable as you. He wanted to own all of you and your will was something he would have had no qualms trampling but this was you. It was your will that intrigued him so much in the first place. So he decided he’d be lenient especially as your worried questioning dissolves into a scowl as he answers your question. 

“I’ve taken all the knives away. Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself on something so sharp.”

A tingle of excitement came as you took up that threatening stance, glaring at him as you made your case.

“Too sharp!? I’ve been using knives for this long. I don't need you to get in the way.”

“In the way of what baby doll?”

He tries to simply ask but it comes out as mocking. He just couldn’t help it, you were so agreeable he always wondered what cute faces you’d make if you rebelled against him. It was almost worth instigating your first fight with him. 

“Of my cooking. Of my food. I don’t really care about much else but this is mine.” 

“...”

His jealousy spiked, for an activity no less. It made him want to withhold it from you even longer but your unwillingness to back down would make things harder for him. So he sighed, summoning some tears as he clutched onto you. Tucking his head into your neck as he whined.

“Awww but Baby I only want you to be safe! That’s why I brought you here, won't you trust me?”

“I’ll trust you when you trust me!” 

“But I do trust you, Love. Won’t you indulge me a little.” 

He tried to sweeten the offer by planting kisses on all of your exposed skin. Holding him away with a single hand you glared at him down.

“I’ll indulge you if you cut up the stuff I want with your dagger you like so much.”

He had to calm the demonic smile that threatened to stretch across his face. So eager, so final. Perhaps in another world you would have been the hero. He would live through a constant game of cat and mouse. But this was reality and he knew that he’d rather drink in your domestic agreeability before picking this fight with you. Letting you reach into his vest jacket before guiding his hand along he relished in your presence. 

“Oh, (Y/n)-doll. Only you could do this to me! Just keep letting me in okay?! I doubt you’d like me if you didn’t.”

[k1utzymitry]

rises the moon ₊˚⊹☆

chpt. 1: days seem sometimes as if they’ll never end

<prev———next>

series mlist

choso x roommate!reader

a story in which reader finds themselves sharing such a small space with choso kamo. there’s nothing wrong except, the fact that her roommate for the next school year is sooo cuteee!! choso has never loved before, will you be his first love..?

wc: 1.5k

cw: language

As you stood outside the huge building labeled "DORM BLOCK E," the hot summer sun shone down on you. Grabbing one of your many bags and boxes from the car, you locked the doors and made your way to the building. Surprisingly, the dormitory looked much better than you remembered. They've definitely done a lot of cleaning, and even the cafeteria seemed bigger. You headed to the elevator, holding a note card in your hand that read "Room G18 Double Room." Pressing the G button, there was a slight pause before the elevator started going up to the 7th floor. Sharing such a small home with a random stranger wasn't exactly exciting for you, but this year you're parents told you to be more independent so this is the best that could be managed in such a short amount of time. As the elevator stopped, you stepped out and walked down the long, narrow hallway towards room 18. Pulling out the flimsy key from your shorts' pocket, you prepared to open the door. Once inside, it was completely silent. Maybe your roommate hasn't arrived yet, you thought to yourself, getting excited because you get to pick your room first. Taking off your shoes at the door, you ran inside to explore. To the left, there was a coat rack, and to the right, a small living area with an even smaller makeshift kitchen. Further in, there were two identical spaces facing each other. You decided to go for the one on the right. As you opened the door, you were met with a tall, pale figure with their back turned, pulling a sweater over their head. Glancing inside the room, you noticed the decorations - black bed sheets, blackout curtains, posters taped up on the stone walls, papers on the bulletin board, a bass guitar in one corner, and a canvas in the other. when you snap out of your small trance you shriek slam the door shut without wasting a second you ran across the hall to the room on the left.

You catch your breath, panting heavily, as you place your backpack on the bed. You take a seat next to it, feeling relieved to finally find a moment of rest. Taking a look around your room, you can't help but feel overwhelmed by its emptiness. The only thing that catches your eye is the desk in the corner. Curiosity piques, and you decide to stand up and walk towards the bathroom. Inside, you find all the standard fixtures - a toilet, shower, mirror, sink, and a couple of drawers. It's a pretty typical setup. You reach into your bag and grab your toothbrush, toothpaste, soaps, lotions, and all your other hygiene necessities. You strategically place them around the bathroom, making it feel a bit more like home. Once you finish, you cautiously peek your head out of the room, making sure the coast is clear. With a deep breath, you leave the room and make your way through the living area, heading out the front door to your car. You know that there are still more bags and boxes to bring in. you think to yourself.. just gotta make it to thanksgiving break..

Once everything is settled in your room, the sun has already set. You're feeling exhausted and hungry, but unfortunately, the cafeteria under the dormitory is closed. You rack your brain trying to come up with a solution for what to eat, but nothing comes to mind. Feeling determined, you leave your bedroom and walk down the hallway. As you reach the living room, you spot your roommate tinkering with wires behind the TV. Gathering your courage, you take a deep breath and walk towards him, tapping his shoulder gently.

“hi i-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence before the man practically jumped out of his skin. it startled you making you step back a bit before tripping on one of the wires and falling backward.

“i am so so sorry!” he practically wails before he quickly stands up before helping you off the ground. “are you hurt?” his voice was deep and gentle. his hands were light and soft. he practically lifted you off the ground with ease.

“uhm yeah i’m okay. i was trying to introduce myself sorry if i startled you” your voice sounded like pure bliss when you started talking. this is his first time ever seeing a girl so pretty up close to him. he listened intently as you introduced yourself to him. once you finished talking he didn’t even notice he just sorta stared at you.. and to be as polite as possible you just stared back. the silence growing awkward you decide to repeat yourself.

“did you hear me? what’s your name?” you waved your hand in his face to catch his attention.

“oh i’m sorry. my name is choso.” his voice was low as he spoke. “…it’s nice to meet you” he said even lower. he looks down at you to see you still staring at him “sorry i’m not too good with people” he mumbled out. in your eyes he was the cutest guy to ever exist. he was tall, cute, hair reached to his shoulders, not to mention but you got a good look at his back and he looked muscular as hell.

“it’s okay don’t worry!” you reassured him. he gave you a small smile before looking away from you again. “i was also wondering if there were any plans for dinner.” he then turned to the kitchen and pointed out the bags on the counter. “i ordered takeout earlier. i also ordered you food, i didn’t know what you liked so i got everything plain if that’s okay with you.” he uttered quietly. “it’s more than okay! thank you so much cho!” he had looked taken aback by the sudden nickname. “oh sorry about the nickname..” you aplogized profusely, face heating up at the sudden embarrassment. “w-wait! no it’s okay if you want to call m-me that. i-it’s just nobody has ever g-given me a nickname b-before.” he tripped and stumbled over his own words as his face also started to heat up.

“well thank you for the food.” you flash him a smile that warms his heart as you headed to the kitchen and started to rewarm your already cold food.

“you’re welcome..” his voice faded out at the end as he watched you walk away. he feels a tight pain in his chest. his heart ached. his heart felt like it was gonna beat out of his chest. he can’t be in love.. can he? choso usually leaves the ‘love at first sight’ troupe to romantic novels, but this is different. when you look at him he feels like he can’t breathe, he feels like his heart was penetrated and struck by cupids arrow. it feels like there’s a lump stuck in his throat that he can’t swallow down. he then comes to terms with the fact that he’s completely and utterly fucked..

later that night he’s sitting on the two seated couch in the small living area, legs crossed over each other as he draws in a sketchbook that sat in his lap. the tv was lowly playing some random tv series from the cable while choso continued to draw. you on the other hand, you’re restless. rolling around in the hard dorm mattress trying to find at least a semi comfortable position. you can hear the neighboring dorm with loud music blasting. there’s no way you’re getting sleep like this. you look over at ur phone that lit up on the nightstand. it’s 2:47am and you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. you decide to get up and get a drink if water. you leave your room to see choso mindlessly drawing away in his book. you smile and plop down next to him.

he looks up at you while you look down into his lap studying his sketch book. he waits for your reaction he feels like he’s about to explode as he gets nervous as he looks at your expression. you look back up at him and smile.

“this looks amazing cho..” you look back down at it. it’s a beautiful picture of a scenery that’s referencing a picture from his phone that sat beside him. “t-thank you..” his face starts to heat up. “could i see some more of your art?” you ask scooting closer to him. “uhm sure.” he hands you his sketch book and you start flipping through the pages as you take your time examining his glorious work. your eyes light up at every detail, every mark, every color. it ranges from animals, sceneries, some people you’ve never seen before, and even his own self portrait on the first page. his art looks magical. he watches you intently awaiting your reaction, nervousness fully takes over him and he starts shaking. once you look through all the pages you look up at him.

“cho these are amazing, do you major in art?” your curiosity is cute to him, and his face flushes even more. “fine arts actually..” he responded as you handed him the book back. “ooh what else can you do??”

and that sentence caused you two to stay up to the early hours of the morning. it felt like a blessing to get a roommate you could get along with. maybe this was the start of something new?

-

a/n

sigh one chapter down. this took so long to revise and edit idek why which is crazy going off the fact i want my next couple of chapters to be LONG so it might take a bit. BUT i will NOT give up! would’ve posted this yesterday but i just slept all day long lol. but im revising and editing chapter 2 and working on 3 so it won’t be super long before the next chapter. love u all -dmitry ₊˚⊹☆

[ambyandony]

heres the limbo fusions with the rest of the vento aureo main protags

Limbo + Mista

Mimbo - any pronouns

"Are u lost bbygrl? :)"

(They give a weird stare if asked for a full name. They only use Mimbo, even though it’s a combination of Limbo’s forename and Mista’s surname.)

most stable Limbo fusion merely by virtue of Mista’s simple ability to just not give a fuck.

GET YOUR GUN OUT OF YOUR CLEAVAGE!

bitch gon step on my fuckin toe bitch with them fuckin cowgirl fuckin boots

VITALLY important that you know that despite being easily mistaken as fem on first glance, Mimbo also has the deepest voice of any Limbo fusion for literally no reason other than it’s funny to me. They also have sideburns

Stand: Mighty Wings - Redirects Signals. Still a colony Stand, looks like tiny little pastel fighter jets!

Limbo + Abbacchio

Lio Adkio - they/them

“Don’t say SHIT about my mascara or my eyeliner.”

“In fact, don’t fucking look at me or I’ll have to kill you or myselves.”

stable only because when Limbo started panicking in the mindspace, Abbacchio simply pointed and snapped at her to CALM THE FUCK DOWN. and she did so immediately.

nicer than Abbacchio. not by that much, though… but weirdly apologetic about it.

the eyeliner doesn’t appear to be due to crying, it seems that it just looks like that.

bazongas?

Stand: Keeping The Faith? Never Too Late? Shawty like a melody-

“rewinds” signals to previous states or connections and/or can do a “replay” of those signals’ succeeded actions (i.e. having a phone replay a prior conversation) Unfortunately, it’s pretty useless in combat.

Limbo + Giorno

Glimbo Giovadkins - she(?)/they/them

“Wouldn’t you like to hear one of my 765 fun facts about aerodynamics, animals or Air Bud?”

“I also have a few facts about botany, blood and birds.”

stable, until they’re not. they’re incredibly calm and delightful, but when they think someone’s mad at them they panic and start excessively apologising.

genuinely the softest cutest sweetest lil bitch you’ve ever seen. also traumatised with a guilty conscience and can flip on a dime in a terrifying way.

shortest Limbo fusion for no clear reason? shorter than both Limbo and Giorno.

Squalo’s worst fear.

sounds pretty much how you would expect.

Stand: Crystal Dolphin - can transform signals into life—by taking the signals out of something, typically disabling it, they can create life like Gold Experience can. The more complex the device, the bigger its potential creation.

Limbo + Buccellati

Bimbo Luno Adkellati - they/them

"...I've lost the conversation. I'm gonna go make pizza!"

Megan Thee Stallion?!

has no idea what’s going on for some reason? always looks a little confused and loses track of conversations very quickly.

very good with kids! practically unable to have a coherent conversation with Abbacchio. They don’t seem too distressed, but they just stop making much sense and seem to confuse themselves.

Stand: When Doves Cry? Perhaps Freewill? Uhm… I don’t know? Maybe it can sort of, ‘zip’ signals together, combining two or more functions into one sent signal? Bruno's ability is just so specific... I can't think of many ideas.

Limbo + Fugo

Fimbo (Pannalimbo Adkigo) - they/them

"STOP TALKING ABOUT FREUD BEFORE I KILL YOU WITH MY FUCKING BRACELETS!!!"

( Note: all currently depicted instances of Fimbo seem to be post-PHF, as Fimbo is almost always seen with the mouth scars hidden by the tattoo.)

enemy of the state. punches fascists. lovecore punk goth. in terms of authority figures they only respect Buccellati and Limbo’s dad.

AuDHD trauma poster child. Short fuse but very friendly until something sets them off and they start screaming and or burst into fucking tears.

Self-love in the sense that the fusionmates care about each other deeply and both sides are trying to look out for the other knowing the other won't look out for themself.

Stand: Cabin Fever - Terrifying deathly virus that, rather than being airborne like Purple Haze, is passed though signal transmission. Fimbo doesn’t know if the virus is the same as Purple Haze, a different strain of it, or something entirely different. It spreads most quickly through vocal communication between two people.

Limbo + Narancia

Nimbus Ghirgins - he/they/she

"tummyache... :("

Libby why does my stomach feel like it’s going to fucking collapse in on itself and why are my knuckles torn? aren’t they supposed to bruise when you punch?

bad relationship with food. Hanahaki disease, what are you doing here? (/ij)

sometimes they find Mista sitting around, sit next to him and fall asleep on him immediately

incredibly bad with emotions and doesn’t even get angry they just get overwhelmed instantly at any presence of significant emotion

Stand: Falling in Love/Hard on the Knees - who the fuck let this kid control CO2 emissions?? They can barely control themselves???

[speedofsoundsketches]

I noticed that you have made it clear that you are not one for the first Sonic the Hedgehog film. And I must make it clear that I respect your opinion on it; it is not for everyone, even all Sonic fans.

However, I get a feeling that you are antipathetic to the future installment(s)- you mentioned some time ago you have not seen the second film. But even if you were underwhelmed by the first film, do you believe that they cannot improve?

in the wake of the trailers of the Super Mario Bros movie, I have seen things like "I used to like the Sonic movies, but since the *trailers!* of the Mario movie came out, the Sonic movies suck now!". Do you believe that is really a "correct" way of thinking? Like, regardless of what one thinks of the movies, should people just dismiss all the hard work that people like Fowler and Tyson Hesse put into the films just because they aren't animated like the Mario movie? Or that they don't use much of the game music, like the Mario movie? is this truly shaping up to be a "1:1 or nothing" thing, leaving no room for deviation?

I ask this because I feel that rational StH fans are as rare as hens teeth, especially these days; consider yourself a hens tooth

The biggest issue I have with these movies is the foundation it laid for itself.

Cue TL;DR rant mode

Let's be absolutely frank and honest with ourselves. The first movie was only saved purely because the controversy of Sonic's design led to him being revamped entirely and Eggman's portrayal was solid. That's really it. I'm not against human characters showing up at all, on the contrary. But this set up is "Take the most superficially basic concept of Sonic then make a bunch of convoluted revisions to the lore of the original series to justify isekai-ing him into San Francisco so we can save money on animated scenes". Like, it's the same problem most children's media being adapted into "live action" suffers from. It's a cheap, lazy adaptation that broke absolutely zero ground and I've held this opinion of it literally since the day it was first revealed and announced with those leaked posters of Chris Pratt and Sonic's initial design.

And just because it didn't end up being as "bad" as it first looked and they brought on actual, talented fans of the series onto the creative team, doesn't suddenly detract from this most basic, fundamental problem. Sonic's movies suffer from what happens when you let Hollywood just go to town on your IP and barely give it proper boundaries to stay in.

Even if they manage to get SOME things right like, Knuckles actually being cool again and the Giant Robot fight at the end of the second film, the reality is they'll still be tied down by the flimsy foundation they started on, like dragging on a wedding scene or putting waaaay more focus and attention on the human characters than the.....main characters we came to watch???

Now compare that with the Mario movie. From the start, Nintendo I understand had a MUCH bigger involvement on the production. It's not like the lame adaptation I mentioned above. They went full on "Angry Birds" level of staying on brand. The entire world feels like the natural, fleshed out idea of "How do we make this feel as warm, inviting, and fantastical as the games but still make it work as a movie?" It's actually BRILLIANT just from first impressions.

I'm sure it's going to suffer from other typical kids movie problems like "Peach's a STRONG WOMAN NOW because she wears PANTS and DON'T NEED NO RESCUER", dumb movie writing or Mario, Luigi and Peach's flat voice acting. But you cannot look at that movie, how it just unabashedly looks, feels and is completely imprinted in Mario and say that Sonic had anywhere NEAR the same level of enthusiastic production on it. I mean, even the cute commercial of their plumbing business in New York is entirely animated and ALSO feels like it fits. They went to the absolute nines with making this feel like a WAY better adaptation in spirit, story and visuals.

Of course I appreciate the hard work the team put into saving the Sonic films from becoming absolute jokes but WHY did it even have to be so compromised in the first place when Mario shows up looking EXACTLY like how I've dreamed Sonic's movies would've been treated?

I'm not wooed over by the small glimpses of Sonic's world or the tiny references they managed to squeeze in there. I'd appreciate those way more if it were ACTUALLY set in it. And I cannot stand this prevailing narrative that "Sonic's world is separate from Earth" in most of these adaptations because it's not! It IS Earth! He's always lived in the same planet as humans, their animal kind is just reclusive and live on islands. That's the actual lore of the games!

This movie made the mistake of doing what Sonic X did. They think it'd be "too weird" for someone like Sonic to have been from Earth as if the intense popularity of it in the first place isn't enough to show how wrong that is? No kid questioned Sonic showing up in City Escape around humans any more than dinosaurs or other crazy entities existing in Dragonball's version of Earth. It's still Earth, just fantastical.

Mario works with that because him iseaki-ing into Mushroom Kingdom is that original lore of the games too I believe. But in Sonic's case it's not and it's so JARRING because they think Sonic himself can't carry a story as the main character. No, kids need a human or avatar to help them navigate the weird, unexplained parts of the series. I'd rather they'd just do that with Sonic himself without needing to be forcibly tied to a regular human. (I'm so annoyed that he couldn't have just run to San Francisco if he wanted because he "needed directions". What a pitiful excuse. And these movies are FULL of them like that.)

Hollywood is a joke and they cannot for the life of them, understand how to effectively adapt most Japanese properties by themselves. Especially anything even remotely inspired by anime like Sonic.

I know this might make me look like "the most offended Sonic fan in the world" right now but in all honesty, I don't really think about those movies much. They function as effective promotional materials for the games and kids like them so whatever. Like, it's just one big Shrug really.

*sigh*

[shares-a-vest]

@eddiemonth Day 8: Rockstar, Confident

Word Count: 952 Rating: T | cw: No Happy Ending, Break-Up Fic, No Resolution, Hurt No Comfort My first post for Eddie Month! With this event's prompts, I reallyyy want to challenge myself and write things I typically wouldn't/haven't so far. I'm sorry for starting out a week late with a no-happy-ending fic, I didn't mean for it to work out this way 😭😅 Thanks to both Lex and Lex for creating and hosting this event 💖💖💖

Since he was a boy, listening to a healthy combination of his mother's records and any and every radio station his dad could tune into, Eddie dreamed of being a rockstar.

When he was six, his grandma gifted him a battery-operated plastic microphone with sound effects. Later when he first moved in with his uncle and the Munson family had dwindled down to just the two of them, Wayne brought home an acoustic guitar from Goodwill.

Eddie practised and played away, sometimes for hours too long until underdeveloped callouses stung and bled. Wayne helped him paint 'This Machine Slays Dragons' on it so he could be just like Woody Guthrie, one of his mom's favourites.

He soon found his fellow bandmates in Jeff, Gareth and George. Gareth offered up his garage and Jeff came up with the name Corroded Coffin. Eddie and George made merch and drew up posters.

They practised and played until Gareth's mother kicked them out of the garage, complaining about what the neighbours might think of their noisy metal thrashing. They entered the Battle of the Bands contest in middle school, then started playing at The Hideout perhaps a few years too early for a handful of drunks who probably weren't listening anyway.

Then they spent the next few years scrimping and saving between jobs, travelling to other towns in his shitty van until they found an even shittier (but bigger) van and a studio that was willing to give them a booking to record a demo.

They shopped it around for a good long while as Eddie turned on his charm.

And one day they got a chance.

George called Eddie, frantically talking about a producer who wanted to re-record the demo with an expert on hand, all the while promising more music and a meeting with a potential manager.

And if all that wasn't enough, Eddie found himself with none other than Steve Harrington by his side.

After a good few years of pining and failed dates and the temporary comfort of other people, they finally got their act together. It was Christmas, just a few months after the demo got picked up. They kissed out on Claudia Henderson's front porch with snow falling around them as they promised each other more.

Then Corroded Coffin made it.

The perks came fast. Money – oh-so-much fucking money! Private cars and drivers to take them anywhere they wanted. Touring around the world and sightseeing between gigs. Adoring fans. Photoshoots. Magazine covers, interviews and TV spots.

Eddie always maintained it was about the music, though. The rush, the confidence and power it gave him to be performing on stage. Whether it be The Hideout or a goddamn stadium. It filled his soul from the moment he stepped on stage until the band finished their encore.

But most of all, he had Steve by his side. Always.

Until he didn't.

Until the night he got back to their hotel room, a swanky penthouse overlooking New York City that they always stayed in. They were barely a night out from returning back to the States from a quick promo tour in Europe for the new album.

Steve had left a note scrawled in his messy handwriting on the hotel's branded notepad.

'Going to Robin's' is all it said.

Eddie was angry at the time. He balled the note up in his fist and hurled it across the room.

At the time he was pissed because Steve was acting all bitchy pouty at the airport after barely speaking a word to him the whole flight. Then he was tapping away incessantly on the limo's middle armrest the whole car ride, looking at the window with his stupid Tom Cruise sunglasses on.

At the time he guessed it had something to do with the last night in Amsterdam. The band had a gig, the last one and Eddie just wanted some quiet so he skipped out on dinner, telling their security to pass the message on to Steve.

But it was just a tiff, right? Steve knew what it was like – how exhausting being on the road could get sometimes.

He thought Steve knew what the deal was, that he didn't mean anything by not going to dinner. Hell, Steve was used to a last-minute change of plans after years of this, right?

At least that's what Eddie told himself until Steve didn't call.

Or come back.

So, Eddie called Robin's number. No answer.

Then he asked Jeff to call, even their manager. Still nothing.

A call to Wayne made it real though.

"Eddie," his uncle had sighed, voice low and impossibly disappointed.

And then everything he had gained came to mean nothing.

As Eddie now stands at the door to Robin's apartment in Chicago, he knows he fucked up. Knows that it won't be easily forgiven.

Knows that Robin will probably cut his dick off if she arrives home from... Which gallery had she moved to, again? Steve told him. Weeks ago... months? He thinks...

He should have asked his publicist to look up the name of the gallery along with Buckley's address.

His stomach drops and tears begin to fall as Steve opens the door.

"Oh," his boyfr – Steve – mutters as his brows quickly knit together.

Eddie slaps his hand onto the doorframe, chancing the guy slamming the door shut and thus smooshing his guitar-wielding digits.

But then Steve rips off his wire-framed glasses and presses the heels of his palms into his reddening eyes.

"How could you just forget about me?" he sobs, his whole body shaking.

And Eddie is confident the sound of Steve choking on his own breath as he cries will haunt him for the rest of his life.

[theculturedmarxist]

Many US papers are giving front-page, above the fold treatment to university administrators going wild and calling in the cops on peaceful campus protests, first at Columbia, followed by Yale and NYU. Harvard, in a profile in courage, closed its campus to prevent a spectacle. Demonstrations are taking hold at other campuses, including MIT, Emerson, and Tufts.

This is an overly dynamic situation, so I am not sure it makes sense to engage in detailed coverage. However, some things seem noteworthy.

First, in typical US hothouse fashion, the press is treating protests as if they were a bigger deal than the ongoing genocide in Gaza. I am not the only one to notice this. From Parapraxis (hat tip  guurst; bear with the author’s leisurely set-up):

I am employed as a non-tenure-track professor in a university department dedicated to teaching and research about Jews, Judaism, and Jewishness. One day, I arrived at work to find security cameras installed in my department’s hallway. I read in an email that these cameras had been installed after an antisemitic poster was discovered affixed to a colleague’s office door. I was never shown this poster. Like the cameras, I learned of it only belatedly. Despite the fact that the poster apparently constituted so great a danger to the members of my department as to warrant increased security, nobody bothered to inform me about it. By the time I was aware that there was a threat in which I was ostensibly implicated, the decision had already been made—by whom, exactly, I don’t know—about which measures were necessary to protect me from it. My knowledge, consent, and perspective were irrelevant to the process… The prolepsis of the decision did more than protect me—if, indeed, it really did that. It interpellated my coworkers and myself as people in need of protection…. I was unwittingly transformed, literally overnight, into the type of person to whom something might happen. My employer has a campus—three, actually—meaning that it has a physical plant. I navigate one of these campuses as my workplace, but it almost never figures for me as “the campus.” In fact, the first time since beginning the job when I felt myself caught up in an affective relation, not to the particular institution where I work, but rather to “the campus” was when I looked up into that security camera and felt myself being “watched” by it. Only then did I think, a couple of months into my temporary contract, that I was not just at my workplace. Now I was on “the campus.” This incident with the poster and the camera occurred, of course, some weeks after the October 7 Hamas attacks on Israel and the onset of Israel’s retaliatory military campaign in Gaza. Against so horrific a backdrop, and relative to the intimidation and retaliation to which those who speak out against the war (including—indeed, especially—in the academy) have been subjected, my story sounds banal. And it is. In its very ordinariness, however, the anecdote is quite representative: first, of how decisions get made at contemporary institutions of higher education (generally speaking, without the input of those whom they impact); and second, of the logic of a peculiarly American phenomenon I call campus panic…. The months since October 7 have aggravated the most extreme campus panic I have witnessed. To judge by the American mass media, the campus is the most urgent scene of political struggle in the world. What is happening “on campus” often seems of greater concern than what is happening in Gaza, where every single university campus has been razed by the IDF. When all the Palestinian dead have been counted, it seems likely that these months will be recorded as having inflamed a campus panic no less intense than the one that accompanied the Vietnam War.

Second, many otherwise fine stories, like Columbia in crisis, again by the Columbia Journalism Review, and Columbia University protests and the lessons of “Gym Crow” by Judd at Popular Information, start off with the 1968 protests at Columbia as a point of departure. And again, consistent with the Parapraxis account and being old enough to remember the Vietnam War, I find the comparison to be overdone. Yes, there are some telling similarities, like the role of right-wing pressure in getting campus administrators to call out the cops, the device of dwelling on the earlier uprising seems to obscure more than it reveals. The Vietnam War, unlike Gaza, tore the US apart. Today’s campus students are, with only the comparatively small contingent of Palestinian students, acting to protest US support of slaughter in Gaza. In 1968, for many, the stake were more personal. The risk of young men having to serve was real.

Similarly, conservatives then supported the military and were typically proud of their or any family member’s service. Draft dodging and demonization of armed forces leaders was close to unconscionable. It took years of the major television networks and the two authoritative magazines, Time and Newsweek, showing what the war looked like, and intimating that the US was not succeeding, that shifted mass opinion.

And even the initial 1968 protests were more disruptive. The first wave at Columbia occupied some campus buildings, presumably disrputing operations. Today’s were encampments, as in outdoors. So they were more analogous to Occupy Wall Street, where the ongoing rebellion was an offense to authority even if it caused harm. But worse, the ones at Columbia and other schools now are by elites in training, and not presumed loser riff-raff.

So the aggressiveness of the crackdown looks like very insecure leadership. For instance, why escalate to calling in the NYPD immediately, as opposed to campus police, when the city’s cops reported everyone cooperated with the arrests?

This takes us to the third issues, that it isn’t just the students who oppose the stifling of protest, but also faculty. From the Popular Information article:

[President] Shafik’s actions were blasted in a statement issued on Friday by the Columbia and Barnard College chapters of the American Association of University Professors: Shafik also drew a rebuke from the Columbia student council. In a statement, the council said that “students possess the inherent right to engage in peaceful protest without fear of retribution or harm” and called for “the preservation of freedom of speech and expression among students.”

Popular Information also points out how the Biden Administration is, natch, whipping up fear about possible dangers to Jews while ignoring that Muslims have been on the receiving end. Recall that ex-IDF soldiers who attacked pro-Palestinian protestors at Columbia in January went unpunished. Again from Popular Information:

On Sunday, the White House released a statement in response to the protests at Columbia, denouncing “calls for violence and physical intimidation targeting Jewish students”: What incidents prompted this statement? A White House spokesperson did not immediately respond to a request for comment. But some media outlets are interpreting it as a response to this video, in which two unidentified men promise more terrorist attacks against Israel. According to the individual who posted the video, the incident did not occur on Columbia’s campus. There is no evidence that Columbia students were involved. An NBC reporter, Antonia Hylton, who was on Columbia’s campus with protesters, reported no instances of “violence or aggression” among students.

Now we’ll turn to Rajiv Sethi, who as a professor at Barnard, has, for better or worse, a front row seat on the turmoil.

By Rajiv Sethi, professor of economics at Barnard College. Originally published at his website

My campus is in turmoil, and it’s hard to think or write about anything else. Dozens of students have been suspended, arrested, and barred from the premises. Others have been advised to leave for their own safety. Most entrances are closed altogether, and the few that remain open are guarded to prevent entry of non-affiliates. Calls for the resignation of leaders are coming from multiple quarters—some concerned about excessively punitive measures and others about inadequate enforcement and protection.

There are several reports on social media of harassment, intimidation, and the glorification of violence. Such reports often conflate what is happening outside the gates—involving people who may not be affiliates and who are on ground over which the university has no jurisdiction—with the protests on the South Lawn. Based on what I have seen personally, the latter protests have been peaceful, prayerful, and even joyful at times.1

I did see one sign directed at President Shafik that I felt was offensive and ill-advised. And there is one phrase—recently deemed anti-Semitic by an act of Congress—that has been repeated loudly and frequently within the gates. This post is about the meaning of that phrase, and about meanings and messages in general.

While on stage at a political convention in July 2015, Martin O’Malley said the following:

Black lives matter. White lives matter. All lives matter.

Taken literally, these words are entirely unobjectionable, even laudable. But O’Malley apologized for them within hours, saying: “That was a mistake on my part and I meant no disrespect.”

Why was the apology deemed necessary? O’Malley was running for the Democratic presidential nomination at the time, and to many of the voters he was courting, the words “all lives matter” had come to mean something else entirely—an expression of indifference to racial inequality at best, and perhaps even a racist dog whistle.

As phrases come to be endowed with new meanings, some people respond by carefully avoiding them, while others are motivated to adopt them with relish. This further entrenches the new meaning and reinforces the process of selective abandonment and adoption. Thus “Democrat Party” can come to be intended and perceived as an epithet, and the seemingly harmless chant “Let’s Go Brandon!” a vulgarity.

This process is decentralized and largely uncoordinated, and there is little that legislation can do to enforce the attachment of meanings to messages. Of course, this hasn’t prevented our elected officials from trying. On April 16, by a vote of 377-44, the House passed Resolution 883:

Expressing the sense of the House of Representatives that the slogan, “from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” is antisemitic and its use must be condemned.

One day later, Columbia President Minouche Shafik was asked by Congresswoman Lisa McClain whether she agreed that such statements were indeed anti-Semitic. President Shafik answered as follows:

I hear them as such, some people don’t.

The problem with this response is that it suggests that listeners are free to assign meanings to expressions, regardless of the identities and intentions of speakers. But meanings are created jointly by speakers and listeners, and the same message can carry different meanings depending on what is known about the parties engaged in communication.

People have often appropriated and de-fanged racist, misogynistic, and homophopic insults aimed at the groups to which they belong. Even the most vile and vicious slur in the American language carries a different connotation when used by Randall Kennedy in conversation. The meanings of messages cannot be established independently of the indentities of those who use them. They cannot be established by listeners alone.

Thus the attempt by the House of Representatives to define the meaning of a phrase is likely to be futile. The meaning will evolve over time based on the process of selective avoidance and adoption. And this meaning is vigorously contested at present.

Consider, for instance, the Jerusalem Declaration on Anti-Semitism. This document states clearly that “denying the right of Jews in the State of Israel to exist and flourish, collectively and individually, as Jews, in accordance with the principle of equality” is anti-Semitic. However, it also proclaims:

It is not antisemitic to support arrangements that accord full equality to all inhabitants “between the river and the sea,” whether in two states, a binational state, unitary democratic state, federal state, or in whatever form.

President Shafik could have referenced the above in pushing back against the idea that meanings can be assigned by elected representatives or college administrators. I understand the pressure she was under, and it is difficult to give thoughtful responses under such circumstances. But it is important that moving forward, the use of this phrase alone not be used as a basis for disciplinary action.

One organization that I have come to admire over the past few years is the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE), which has been admirably consistent in defending freedom of speech on and off campus. On this phrase in particular, FIRE’s position is the following:

If students at a peaceful protest chant anti-Israel slogans like “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” that speech, taken alone, is protected political expression. Even if some understand the phrase to call for the destruction of Israel, it is still—absent more—protected as political speech, advocating in general terms for violence elsewhere at an unspecified time against a broadly defined target… But context is determinative: Were the same statement to be directed at a specific Jewish student by a student or group moving threateningly towards him, during a protest that has turned violent and unstable, it may arguably constitute a true threat.

This is the right position to take and I hope that Barnard and Columbia will adopt it. The keynote by Killer Mike at the 2023 FIRE Gala explains in the clearest possible terms the value of this perspective, and it will join the Reith lecture by Chimamanda Adichie and the Stanford Memo by Jenny Martinez (along with the Kalven Report and the Chicago Principles) as a classic in the pantheon of free speech advocacy.

Among the people who have addressed the students on the South lawn are Madmood Mamdani and Norman Finkelstein; I caught the tail end of the latter’s speech but couldn’t hear much because amplification was limited and he tends to speak quite softly. I do hope that the students who invited him will read his latest book, which is as fierce a critique of identity politics as one is likely to find anywhere.

Norman Finkelstein addresses student protestors at Columbia on April 19th, 2024

I received a response to this post from Seth Weissman, whom I first met when he was a graduate student at Columbia many years ago. I remember Seth fondly, and have enormous respect for him. His message is posted (with permission) below:

Rajiv, as usual, a very thoughtful take. That said, you are missing something. I say this as someone who knows and respects you as fair-minded and as an Orthodox Jew who is: So what are you missing? I’m all for “from the river to the sea, Palestinians will be free.” That could mean in a binational state alongside Jews living freely, or in two states, one Palestinian (West Bank, Gaza, and the Arab sections of Jerusalem such as Abu Dis) and the other a Jewish home where Arab citizens are accorded full rights, which is the current (albeit imperfectly realized) concept of Israel. This is in accordance with the Jerusalem Declaration. But the chant, “from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” explicitly and willfully denies Jewish self expression. In a context where some of the protestors (not all, and I am making no claim as to what percentage) have expressed solidarity with Hamas, it can be taken no other way. And while the majority of the protestors would denounce Hamas (I hope), they are standing shoulder to shoulder with those who empathize with Hamas. FYI, I have the scars from confronting nationalism and Islamophobia on the Jewish side. If I could pay the price for denouncing Jewish nationalists on my “side,” I can expect the protestors at Columbia and Barnard to do the same—criticize Israel without providing political support for terror and anti-Semitism.

1

After posting this I came across a credible report of significant harassment and intimidation within the Columbia gates. All classes at Barnard and Columbia are remote today, which I imagine is a prelude to clearing out of the encampment.

[falcqns]

𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞

◎ pairing: Joel Miller & Ellie Williams

◎ summary: after Silver Lake, all Joel can focus on is his girl.

◎ warnings: Post Ep 8, slight mention of D*vid, insinuations of SA and canon typical violence, blood, Joel finally admitting Ellie is his daughter, mentions of Sarah

◎ a/n: my first TLOU fic!! i hope you like it! tagging @natashasera like always <3

Joel had never truly realized how small Ellie was. He knew she was little, a small girl of only 14, but until now, when he was cradling her in his arms, he realized how small she was. This child, the child that he told Marlene and Tess that he didn’t want, that he shouldn’t be entrusted with, was small. Too small. But then again, he hadn’t been around a child her age for 20 years. 

He watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. They’d managed to make it to a small abandoned cottage close to Salt Lake City, but far enough from Silver Lake to keep Joel’s throat from closing up. Seeing Ellie, his kid, stumble from that burning building covered in blood, ponytail falling apart, was a sight he never wanted to see again, as long as he lived. All he wanted to do now was get her to the Fireflies, let them run their tests, and then take her back to Jackson. To their farmhouse, number 38. Even though they’d only spent a night there, he could see himself, and his new-found daughter, living there. 

He wanted to help her redo the bedroom that she had claimed. Repaint the walls, get a new, bigger bed. The biggest he could find. Fill the room with all the pillows and blankets he could find and trade for in Jackson. Maybe add some string lights, like ones hanging on the main strip in the town. Find her things to do with space. Books, posters, figurines, anything. Anything and everything she wanted. He wanted to give her a bedroom where nothing bad had ever happened. No tears, no fighting, no ‘you’re not my daughter, and I sure as hell ain’t your dad.’ Because the truth was, she was his the second he laid eyes on her. 

And could anyone blame him? He may have lost his daughter 20 years ago, but that paternal feeling, the feeling of needing to protect those smaller than you, didn’t go away. It remained, spreading through his whole body, like the virus. And like the fungus, it exploded out. The second he laid eyes on Ellie Williams, on the ground at his feet, glaring up at him, he was screwed. 

Ellie’s legs began to slip off of his lap, and the motion jerked him out of the trance he was in, watching her chest rise and fall as she slept. He cleared his throat quietly, and picked up the wet cloth he’d been using to wipe off the blood caked to Ellie’s pale skin. He’d managed to check her over for any breaks earlier, but hadn’t gotten the chance to clean her up, in his panic to keep her alive. 

They’d been walking for hours. Both of them were tired, ready to fall asleep standing up. But, Joel had been determined to push on. The man who took his Ellie was dead, but that didn’t mean his followers were. He wanted to get them as far away from Silver Lake as possible. He stopped though, when Ellie collapsed. Fell, into the snow. Had Joel not been gripping her so tightly, making sure he didn’t let go, he may not even have known she’d collapsed. That’s when he spotted the abandoned cottage. He knelt down next to her, and checked her over. 

He pushed away the sides of his coat, and reached for the brown crew neck she had on. He lifted it up, trying to get a good look at her ribs. A large red, purple and blue bruise was blossoming on her rib. “‘m sorry, baby girl,” he whispered, before, as gently as he could, poked and prodded her midsection, trying to see if she’d broken any ribs. From his inspection, she’d broken at least one, but it was low enough that it didn’t endanger her lungs. He lowered her sweater down, and continued his inspection. There were no other injuries that he could detect, and as long as she wasn’t bleeding internally, she had simply collapsed from exhaustion. He cradled her head in his elbow, and slid his other arm under her legs, groaning as he stood and lifted her. After a breath, he continued on to the small cottage in the distance. 

Joel lowered the cloth once her face was free from any blood. Her nose appeared to at least be fractured, but other than that, she seemed okay. Physically, at least. He dropped the cloth onto the bed next to him, and lifted her legs back up. As he held them, he remembered the last time he held his other baby girl. 

Sarah would have loved Ellie. If Sarah had lived, she would be 34. And knowing his Sarah, she would have been attached to Ellie right away. Joel had always known Sarah would be a mother, and after meeting Ellie, he knew she would have thought of the younger girl as her own. She was great with children, and always talked of being a teacher when she was younger. He just wished she was here, so Ellie could have a female figure to look up to. Something neither of his daughters had, he realized. 

He sniffled, as a tear ran down his face. He gently laid Ellie’s legs down, and lifted her up, so they were chest to chest. Her head flopped around briefly, before snuggling into his neck. His right hand settled on her lower back as he slowly began to rock her, while his other buried itself in her messy hair. 

He had been so scared, when he woke up and she was gone. He couldn’t lose her. He’d lost one daughter, and that’d been one too many. Ellie needed to survive, so he can give her the life she deserved. 

Ellie whimpered, her head moving around briefly, and Joel found himself shushing her like he would a newborn baby fussing. But yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Someone had hurt his baby girl. Hurt this small, skinny child. She wasn’t defenceless, in fact she could defend herself better than he could defend her, but she was 14. She shouldn’t have to worry about anything other than who she had a crush on at her age. 

As he sat there, against the wall off the cottage, cradling his Ellie in his arms, he vowed to make sure no one ever touched her again. No one would harm her, bruise or break her porcelain skin. She would never have to defend herself again. Not while he was alive to protect her. 

Just because her small hand was able fit around her too big knife, it didn’t mean it should. 

[melon-mastermind]

Kafka and Trailblazer

I think as the game progresses, more and more people need to realize that Trailblazer and Kafka are not really written as a mother and her child. I can understand the confusion, seeing as I used to feel this way too, but some of you must not have finished the companion mission “Letter from a Strange Woman,” or misinterpreted it.

Since photos seem to grab people's attention the most, this is a photo that Kafka can send to Trailblazer in order to confirm that it is her who is messaging them.

The main focus of this image is what you think it is. You aren't being gross for noticing it. It's literally the focus of this image. You see only a fraction of Kafka's face, but can see everything underneath it. This is not something that a parental figure would—or should—send you. The act of sending images like this is not viewed as platonic.

Secondly, a common misconception is that Trailblazer is made of Kafka's DNA due to what she says in Truth and Lies, but this has been confirmed to be the lie. The truth is this:

"One day, Elio handed you over to me. He said that if things continued to transpire according to the future possibility he foresaw, you would eventually change me and I would change you.

In other words, you and I are each other's destiny.”

The phrasing of Kafka's last line isn't quite platonic either. If you think of the phrase by itself, and not in relation to Kafka and Trailblazer, you'll likely think of a couple more than a parental figure and their child—adoptive or not. There's so many romantic quotes out there that have something to do with destiny, and although destiny can be viewed platonically, as in you are destined to befriend someone, that doesn't seem fitting for Kafka and Trailblazer's relationship.

Additionally, after fighting Yanqing, Blade will come to thank Trailblazer, mentioning their old relationship with Kafka.

“You once followed Kafka, didn't you? There was a time when she was on a mission — you were next to her. I remember.”

In order for Trailblazer to have been on a mission with Kafka, Kafka would have to see them as an equal, or at least trust Trailblazer not to get hurt, even when she did her best to keep them alive. This trust can be hard to obtain in parent-child relationships, since it's typically a parental instinct to make your child avoid danger in the first place. For Blade to be involved, it was obviously a bigger mission too.

Since Trailblazer's memories would be erased, I don't think it's crazy to believe that Kafka really did just want to spend time with them in some way.

Later, in “Luofu Myths: Haunted House,” Trailblazer will encounter a wanted poster of Kafka in a seemingly haunted house. One of their first thoughts can be that she is beautiful, to which the narrator will confirm, but say that now is not the time to be saying such things. Immediately pointing out someone's beauty doesn't feel platonic, not when Trailblazer knows who Kafka is, and not when Trailblazer has been known to flirt with other characters through such compliments.

Things can be seen a lot earlier too, like in "Stars Sun, Prescience Sprung,” where Trailblazer finishes finding clues. When March 7th voices that Kafka is probably loving the chase, Trailblazer can say that she sure is a Stellaron Hunter, to which March 7th will reply:

“Ugh, why don't you go and marry her, huh?”

Even if March 7th doesn't know the relationship that Trailblazer and Kafka share, it would be in really poor taste to include this line if their relationship was that of a parent and a child.

Now, I personally don't ship Kafka and Trailblazer, but I really don't want people to be so surprised if Kafka and Trailblazer's relationship gears towards something romantic. They have to change each other, and it seems like the threat of losing Trailblazer will be what let's Kafka finally feel fear.

If you acknowledged my previous points but still want Trailblazer to have a mother figure, Himeko is right there, and she's amazing. You'll probably get the angst you crave too, if you know anything about the previous games.

[m1cr0rant]

Boycotting MC

I find this little trend hilarious, at least until it gets to a serious point, kinda. To the point we use actual wars where people sacrificed their lives for whatever cause. I watched this one video where they used the REVOLUTIONARY WAR. yes, the war for FREEDOM against BRITAIN. a MONARCHY. To "invoke" a feeling of war. Rebellion. Whatever you wish to use.

The revolutionary war was a war between Great Britain against the revolt of its colonies leading to the beginning of a new nation called America. So why are we using this war, a war where people on both sides sacrificed their lives for their way of thinking; to boycott a simple, NON-WAR LIKE, video game because they wont add all the Mobs on.

Not only has the mob vote been going on for years now, but its also a way to get feedback from the people, and a way to excite people about the upcoming updates.

Minecraft is updated almost on a 2 month basis. Most being minor, but every year there comes more or less a major update. A lot of games DONT do this.

You paid 26-27 U.S dollars for this game that gets updated more than a game that costed you.. lets say 60 dollars. Thats A PRETTY GOOD FUCKIN DEAL. RIGHT??

They also posted a poster of being like "support your modding community." You boycotting against the modders of mohjang is 1. not supporting. 2. If you wish to support modders, play mods, promote the modder, make videos, tell epople tp subscribe to them. Thats supporting. Boycotting ?? is no where near supporting.

Along with it uses multiple american references. Idk that just seems unsettling to me. A game where people of all shapes, sizes, colours, come to play. And youre using a like.. weird way to get these people to boycott a silly game.

LETS TALK MOHJANG!!

Yes, a modder made a mod of the upcoming characters in the mobvote the crab in just under 16 hours. Woahhhh. They have the time to do that.

Mojang devs and creators are paid. To them this is a job. Yes a job they may like. BUT a job. Which means there are job hours. I do not know about you but me personally? Id rather not work overtime.

Mojang devs are not being lazy, they are working on their own time. They are people just like us. They have lives. Some may get sick, some may have wife and children. JUST BECAUSE they are not working up to speed, like modders do in THEIR FREETIME, does not mean they are lazy.

These updates go into the OFFICIAL game. They have to make sure they do not break or damage the original software. Also its the mob vote, sure is one of the bigger updates, but its also in a series of updates. More things are added than just a mob. Ask modders how long it took them to mod an entire biome, an entire mob series, how long it took to take designs, the small details. A while, right? Now put that into an official game.

PEOPLE THIS IS AN ACTUAL. RUNNING. COMPANY. This means, that they are not just in charge of the game, theyre in charge of trades, all products. the lego products, the plush products, weird toy products. They are in charge of overseeing their revenue, and so many more things. MODDERS. dont typically have to do this.

Board meetings are gonna come and go. Thats when ideas come in. Remember that these devs are probably high-ranking people.

They are not modders, modding in their freetime. This is a job. A company.

Stop calling the devs lazy.

Stop using actual wars to invoke a feeling of "revolt".

Bro. just stop. Using actual wars is like.. sm disrespect????

IDK i need people's opinions on this. Im going CRAZY. the fact is i could go more into depth. Im so tempted to make a analysis type video on all of this just to like?? idk. Someone like help.