#sometimes they make it work-- some of the times better than others-- and sometimes they don't. Depends

[embracing-the-ineffable]

The Washington Post has some ideas! My favorite part:

Secondly (and you are not going to like this one, but remember we are practicing optimism here), spend one minute writing down anything not terrible that could eventually come from the other candidate winning. Ten years from now, could it have galvanized a movement? Served as a wake-up call for a new generation? This might be unbearable to consider, but the research is pretty compelling on this point. “Pre-emptive benefit finding boosts emotional well-being while waiting, buffers the blow of bad news, and does not consistently undermine joy in response to good news,” Sweeny and her colleague Kyla Rankin have found.

This tactic, also known as “predemption,” is surprisingly effective. In a study of more than 700 Americans grappling with the results of the 2016 presidential election, Sweeny and her colleagues found that Hillary Clinton supporters who had engaged in predemption were less devastated by Clinton’s loss. In other words, they were better positioned to dust themselves off and keep fighting for change in other ways.

If you are convinced that a loss in this election would be so catastrophic that no good could possibly come from it, that it would be the equivalent of a cancer diagnosis for everyone you care about, let’s consider how this works with actual cancer: In a study of more than 200 women awaiting biopsy results, 3 out of 4 had, on their own, turned to predemption — thinking of positive things that might come out of a cancer diagnosis. Bad news, they speculated, might get them to eat healthier or to quit smoking — or help them to be role models for their daughters. And this isn’t entirely delusional, either. Among women actively fighting cancer, 83 percent said that they were indeed experiencing some benefits from the ordeal, a phenomenon known as “posttraumatic growth.”

Admittedly, the people who most desperately need to engage in predemption are the least likely to do so. The more politically engaged and generally pessimistic a person is, the more consumed by worry they will be this week. But it is really important to try. Because our very human fear of uncertainty is making us vulnerable, right now. We are so eager to find certainty that we will believe horrific things about one another, scapegoat people we have never met, and violate our most sacred values in order to ensure the other side loses. Intolerance for uncertainty can become, very quickly, straight-up intolerance.

Finally, the third item on our checklist is the easiest: Distract yourself. Get out of your head and into a state of flow, whether that means exercising, gardening, meditating, praying or painting. “A lot of the battle is about making the time pass without being super miserable,” Sweeny says. During the pandemic, people who were able to get into a state of flow seemed to be protected from many of the harms associated with isolation and quarantine. Sometimes, the best way to manage a risk you can’t control is to do something you can.

i've done my part and voted. what's left for me to do now other than post destiel election memes

[dduane]

I just read the part where Kirk experiences the Enterprise's point of view in The Wounded Sky to someone else, where she sees the crew as children she is training up to the Great Desire of exploration for exploration's sake, especially Jim. His reaction, essentially: "That was really pretty. ....And then he blows her up."

I hadn't thought about that before! I checked the copyright date, and it looks like The Wounded Sky came out a year before The Search for Spock, so you were writing without knowing that sacrifice would eventually happen.

How did you feel about that? Do you wish that writing decision had been made differently? (If, as a Trek writer, you're allowed to comment on other Trek writers' choices!)

You know, I tend not to think a whole lot about such issues. First of all, because (in the long run) it gets you nowhere in particular that's useful. And secondly, because it's not a thing that, as a Trek writer in any medium except film, you have the slightest power to change.

Now, at this end of time I think we can safely say that no one's going to hire me on to write a Trek film. And also that no one at that end of the creative spectrum is going to pay the slightest attention to anything I say, either. Both of those situations are just What's So, and neither of them bothers me. (Since I have universes of my own to manage at the moment, and that's where my attention properly lies.) So as regards my opinions about other writers' work, I'm pretty much off the hook.

If I had been on screenwriting duty for that film, would there be things I'd have wanted to do differently? Hell yeah. From the premise up. But the important thing here is: would those things necessarily have worked better on the screen / with the audience? Impossible to tell. And speaking as someone repeatedly given permission to work in someone's universe, the main thing to be aware of is the expectation that your chief responsibility is to do what best serves the characters and the IP of which they're part. (There's a post over at Out of Ambit with a lot more of my thoughts on the subject:)

The other thing to remember is that, though I've worn the Canonical Hat in my time, novel work is by definition non-canonical. Doing it, you are at all times working with the understanding that the licensor rarely views your work as anything better than a corporate side hustle—a way for the IP to make some cash on the side—and will ignore you and the stuff you've created unless given pressing reasons to do otherwise. (Such as when they might make some unexpected money off it... at which point you remind yourself as forcibly as necessary that what you did is Work For Hire; they own it, lock, stock and barrel, and you should not realistically expect to be given any credit.)

And, if you understand the rules and enjoy the work enough, all of this is okay. The reward is not in making a lot of money doing it, or even in having aspects of your work openly assumed into canon. The reward lies in being allowed to contribute to a given universe in public (and, yeah, getting paid for it by the licensor). It's not payback: it's payforward. And you're left an astonishing amount of freedom to bring your vision to that universe. (Sometimes... as one colleague has McCoy say... you have to be "very, very careful" to get away with it. But it can be done.)

The truth is that even in the 1980s, I was sharing this level of playing-in-a-universe with a goodish cohort of editors and writers: a big roomful at least. Now I'm sharing it (retroactively speaking) with hundreds of them. With the best will in the world, even in the 80's the licensors (as regarded film) couldn't have realistically polled/listened to all of us regarding our creative opinions about the screenplay end of things. As for what that'd look like nowadays... I'll leave you to your own deductions. 😏

Anyway, thanks for the question. It's always nice to know that there are people who want to know what you think. 😊

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Behave | Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Eddie always told you to behave on game nights - but tonight you were feeling extra bratty.

Warning: Slight Smut, Finger Sucking, Mimicking Blow Job, Spanking, Dom!Eddie, Public Displays of Lewdness, Fingering Mentioned, Language, Drug Use, "Daddy," Choking,

Rating: E - NO MINORS!

Word Count: 3.6K

Best Friend; A person's closest friend. Someone who will be there for you no matter what, someone who you can trust with your deepest and darkest secrets. Best thing about having someone be that close, you could be comfortable with one another and know you will never be judged. That was the best part about it all, knowing you can openly be yourself without the feeling of dread or fear. Everyone needs someone like that in their life, whether they would like to admit it or not. It's the truth at the end of the day. Everyone could use a best friend who will be there through thick and thin, who will pump them up whenever they are feeling low. It isn't to make others jealous, but to help with your own brand of faults and doubts. Sometimes having someone who will openly reassure you is better than just being silent - instead of letting you wallow in your own despair. For you, he was the chosen one. He was the one to take those doubts away, and flourish you into the world of beauty. Though really, he loved when you were more; Teasing, taunting, overall sexy.

Being a tease was in your nature, whether you wanted to believe it or not. Something about riling up your friends was funny. Maybe it was seeing what flustered them, and what made them tick. After all, it was all in good fun - your friends didn't seem to mind. I mean, how could they when you're gorgeous? Especially when Eddie Munson was the bestest of your friends. He really enjoyed when you teased him, openly flirted with him, and even when you would climb into his lap like it was nothing. Though you both were heavily adamant, you were just friends. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. It was a safety precaution after all, in case if things didn't work out the integrity of your friendship would not be ruined. To the naked eye of your friend group, the two of you were platonic with a capital P, whilst in private you could've sworn you were lovers. Just the way he handled your body, making you bend to his will - how you'd give yourself up to him, he was damned if he fell in love. It was normal for you two to experiment with one another - to find what you like and how it should be done. All the best adventures, came from Eddie.

That 5"11' brown eyed beauty would be the death of you at some point, truly a gracious man who would take care of you at the drop of a hat. Eddie Munson was your person, your forever in such a brutal world. When he had slid into your life at fourteen years old, you were a goner. That was around the same time he had grown his mullet out a bit so it was more of a hair metal variety. Bright brown eyes were like a puppy's, constantly begging and pleading to be loved. That is all Eddie truly wanted at the end of the day - to feel the love neither of his parents had given him. Growing up with his uncle, it was rare to show any sign of affection - making him feel almost robotic at times. But, when you were caught on the swings smoking a joint in front of a bunch of kids - he knew you could love him like he needed. He offered you a light to reignite your end of the joint, suckling the smoke deeply as it swirled within your lungs. Simply you passed it off to him; That entire day you spent running through the fountains near Hawkins downtown, causing chaos every moment you could. He was in love with you from the start, it was obvious.

"Sweetheart, I need you to behave tonight. We are at the halfway point in the campaign. No distractions, okay?" Eddie pleaded as he drove down the rickety dirt road near Hawkins High. Thursday nights were dedicated to Hellfire - the D&D club Eddie has ran since Freshman year. When you became the new soul to Hawkins, Eddie was the first to bring you into the sacred circle - loving how easily you fit in with the others and how great of a rogue dark elf you are. It made his heart beam that the girl of his dreams, also loved the same music, books and games. But, Eddie wouldn't admit that he fucking loved when you were being a tease, purposely turning him on during the most inconvenienced of times. There was something about being bent to your will he could not get enough of, especially when he was heavily rooted in the campaign. It wasn't outlandish for all of the guys to see - but enough for Eddie to silently berate you. The other guys were oblivious, which was cute.

You turned to Eddie's side in the van, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting with an audible hmph, knowing that cannot be arranged. A chuckle slipped from Eddie's lips as he heard you sweet little sound, your pout the cutest thing he had ever seen. He was a weakened man for you, that was a no brainer. "I cannot make any guarantees, Eddie the Banished." You knew Eddie was a slut for you calling him by his Dungeon Master name - which you found sexy. Just seeing how his hands gripped the steering wheel a bit harder to make the leather crunch beneath his fingers, was enough ammunition you needed to keep going. With Eddie's eyes becoming hooded in lust, he strained his fingers against the wheel. "Fuck, you love I love it when you call me that, sweetheart." Indeed you did, hence why this was going to be an absolutely torturous night for sweet Eddie Munson - not when the love of his life was bound to kill him with teasing. "If you're going to tease me, at least get it out before the game." Eddie pleaded with you, turning his head to face yours as the light remained red, gulping his worries down.

"Aw, Eddie? Are you okay, baby boy?" You pouted playfully, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You could hear the strain of the steering wheel beneath your fingers, causing his body to convulse in the slightest. His knee was bouncing up and down whilst waiting for the light, trying so hard to contain his raging hard on in his jeans, trying so hard to not fuck you in the back of his van in the school parking lot. You made Edie crazy, but he fucking craved it. Eddie slammed to 60 when the light turned green, speeding down the last set of dirt roads by the high school while you waited to tease him. Eddie wouldn't give you the chance to do so though, for as soon as he pulled into the parking lot, he left you in the van. No keys, no words, just grabbed his lunch box and that was it. In a way you silently wondered if you took this too far with him, if you made him angry by teasing. Your heart began to race with the possible realization that Eddie was mad at you, causing a sliver of doubt to shine within your bones. But alas, like everything else in life, you pushed it down and never thought of it again.

Slowly you crept the passengers side door open to be met with the cool early summer breeze against your freshly shaved legs; High waisted leather skirt caused the breeze to slide underneath. Adorning your torso was your very own Hellfire Club shirt, tucked into the band of your bottoms. With the blackened boots and studs on your feet, you hopped out of the van with a clank of the heels - sighing out softly. Truly you were worried that you may have pissed Eddie off, which would make the game that much more awkward. But as soon as you were about to be wrapped up in your worries, you heard the infamous giggle of one Dustin Henderson rolling through your ears, shoving your door closed with a smile. "Hello, Lady Thesa! Are you ready to completely annihilate the cult of Vecna?" Dustin smiled sweetly, tagging Mike and Lucas along with him. Smiling widely as you rolled your eyes, you bowed to the boys with a short curtsey, trying not to laugh. "Of course I am, ready to kick that slimeballs ass once and for all!" You exclaimed proudly, causing the three to scream in agreement.

The four of you made your way to the double doors of the school, the only set that would be opened tonight. It was cute hearing how excited the guys were to get to the halfway point - needing to level up and get their steel armor finally. If there was anyway you all would beat Vecna, it was with the best of the best armor. The halls of Hawkins high were bare from the world; Cold, almost decayed with the scent of death - and gym socks. It was weird always being back at the school late at night with nothing else around, no one else around for that matter. Principal Higgins, as much as he was a douchebag, gave Eddie a key to the school for these reasons - though he barely trusted Munson. It was funny, you and Eddie being the oldest of the groups - just due to the fact that he stayed back three times and you, well you had the unfortunate luck of your transcripts getting lost in the mail, meaning you had to repeat freshman year twice. Maybe its because Eddie officially ran Hellfire Club but, you always had a spare.

The chatter coming from the science classroom made your stomach drop, hearing Eddie's loud voice booming through the hiss of the lights overhead. Dustin, Lucas and Mike ran into the class before you did, screaming along with Eddie, Jeff and Gareth. Meanwhile you, you trailed into the class lastly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you wandered over to Eddie's side. Plopping down next to Gareth, Eddie noticed where was a twinkle of something in your eyes - something that made you not want to look at him. Is she mad I walked away from her earlier? Eddie's mind pondered so many different possibilities and fears, wondering if he was too harsh in what he did. But really, this was just one giant fucking game. "Hey Gareth, could you please be a darling and pass me by dice?" You smiled sweetly at the flannel wearing guy, batting your lashes softly. His face instantly reddened at your flattery, fingers trembling as they grabbed your purple satchel from the pile. Sending him a wink as a thank you, you hummed softly as poured them out beside your character sheet. "You look really pretty today," the soft tone of Gareth's words made your heart soar, the heat creeping upon your cheeks.

You nudged Gareth's shoulder with your own, smiling sincerely at his compliment, not knowing exactly how to function after it. "Thank you, that's really sweet of you to say!" You made sure the sentence was loud enough for Eddie to hear. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Eddie's mouth screwed up into a solid line, his fingers gripping the ballpoint pen as if he was trying to kill it. His leg shook the entire table, making some of the pieces turn over accidentally. "Jesus Eddie, did you forget to pop your quaaludes before the meeting?" Jeff snorted, causing Eddie to slam his hands down on the table, everyone shutting up so quickly. Eddie's beady eyes bored into everyone's, mainly yours with fury. You had never seen Eddie so pissed off before, or just mad in general. Usually if the guys joked around like this then Eddie was all giggles too. But tonight, something was different - something was off. "Listen here you little shits, I am not in the mood to fuck around. Get your shit together, or get the fuck out!" Eddie snapped, surprised with the tone of his own voice. He jumped back slightly at his own harsh remark, wincing towards the group. "I'm sorry - just...a lot going on."

Everyone was understanding, nodding and keeping their lips sealed until Eddie began the campaign. You barely needed to do anything here tonight, Eddie was already frustrated because of you. In a way you felt bad for working him up, but on the same length you were only just getting started. As Eddie began to recite where you all had left off, you leaned into your fanny pack to grab out a lollipop, unwrapping the blow pop - cherry - your favorite. As you popped the candy into your mouth, you wrote down your updated stats on your character sheets, not giving a second glance to the DM. "Lady Thesa, you see a Rust Monster coming your way out of the darkened woods. It's body insect like, the color of rust with antenna's that can easily wrap around you. Do you fight, or do you flee?" Eddie recited to you, cocking his brow as you swirled the lolly against your tongue. Popping it freshly out, dripping with your saliva, you nod to him with a smirk; "I'll fight that fucker." Eddie's eyes were dazzling over the lollipop, breath hitching as you traced your tongue on the underside of the protruding top, wrapping your perfect lips around it.

You grabbed two D7 dice from your pile in front, the purple and black glittering in the overhead lights. Shaking them in your hand was phallic in itself; You were mimicking a hand job directly at Eddie. As the two dice fell down to the board, you noticed how you hit the rust monster with an attack of fourteen, meaning you wounded him enough to take fourteen damage. Everyone around you cheered and Gareth clapped your back, rubbing smooth circles over your shirt. A flush rose to Gareth's cheek as you rested your hand on his lower thigh, gently rubbing his jeans as you giggled. Eddie hated that someone other than him was making you giggle, making your smile so hard your cheeks hurt, fuck even making you shiver with delight. That is something Eddie always did - to see that he was almost being replaced hurt a lot. But he could not let you get away with this. Clutching the dice of the rust monster in his hand, Eddie threw the D20 down with haste, seeing how it landed only on five - meaning you got to do another hit of damage. The way Eddie perched himself in the chair, his back against the wood and his legs spread wide, made you shiver with lust. The way his sinful hands grasped at the arms of the chair, as if he would rip them off at any given moment.

"Kick his ass Lady Thesa, stun them with your beauty." Gareth was on a roll tonight with the compliments. You wondered if it was because Eddie wasn't being obsessive about you, wondering if he was doing it to get a rise out of Munson. Either way, it was sweet of shy Gareth to speak up finally, looking at you like you were a prize. When Gareth leaned forward to whisper in your ear, that was enough to made Eddie snap. "Time out!" His voice boomed over the chatter of everyone, causing the room to stand still. Before anyone could ask Eddie if he was okay, the brute stormed out of the classroom, slamming the door behind. His jackets were laid across his bag on the floor, you wondered if he had a smoke to calm his nerves. Sighing out loud, you slowly pushed out of your chair, rubbing your forehead before heading towards the door. "What's gotten into him?" Mike asked with confusion, causing you to shrug. "I don't know but we will be back, I am going to see what's up."

This was very out of character for your Eddie, and you wanted to do what you could to give him peace in the process. As you left the classroom, you looked up and down both halls - not seeing a lick of Eddie anywhere. Groaning to yourself, you quickly sped down the right side of the hall, heading towards where the gym and locker rooms would be. There were only about four classrooms - all senior level art, psychology, history and culinary. He could be hiding out in one of those, you pondered, but just which one? You reached for the first class which happened to be the art room. Elongated black tables lined each row - showcasing off eight of them with four chairs at each. It was weird to see one of your classes in the darkened night, fluorescent lightbulbs not burning your eyes. "Eddie?" You called out with a hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you sighed out. You were nervous he was mad at you, or worse yet - he wanted you to leave. "Eddie I'm-" you began, but were cut off with two strong hands pinning your shoulders back against the air. The slice of tension covered your body like a wet blanket, unable to move under the force. His left hand slid from your shoulder to your neck, pushing down on your pulse point like it was nothing.

"You must think you're real fucking cute, don't you?" Eddie hissed as he tightened his grip, his right hand coming to pin your hip to the board behind you. Easily you could feel your eyes growing darker as they dilated. Eddie was possessive sure, but he never used this sort of force outside of the bedroom. In all honesty, it was hot to you, knowing how much you loved to be choked. Giving Eddie your best impression of doe eyes, you slowly let your smile creep forth, showcasing your reddened lips and tongue from the lollipop earlier, you had discarded when you were rolling. "Mhm, of course I do, Munson." You challenged him back, looking him up and down for two seconds. He was lost in your words, how you played feigned innocence so well. This time around it wasn't going to work on him, no, he was already deep into his mind of fury. Still holding your throat in his hand, Eddie marched you backwards to the emptied desk of the art teacher Mrs. Callough, watching how your bared thighs trembled. Eddie paced himself out by removing one of his hands from your body, using it to push your tight leather skirt over the swell of your ass, showing how you had forgone your panties for the evening, letting your naked core be only a few inches away from exposure.

"Naughty, naughty girl - you fucking menace." Eddie growled from behind, laying a harsh crack against your right ass cheek. The sensation made you jolt forward, stifling a waning moan. Before you could speak out against Eddie's spank, he laid another one flush to the other cheek, feeling the skin heat under his touch. It was like rapid fire at that rate, he kept laying harsh smacks against your ass almost to learn your lesson, but instead it caused you to go dumb. Your mouth hung open, collecting your own saliva as broken moans slipped out. Your cunt clenched around nothing, hoping to god he would shove his fingers or cock within you. Each spank got rougher than the last, his fingertips digging into the rounded, pillowy flesh like it was nothing - almost to show you who you belonged to. After fifteen, you had lost count, the pain mixed with the pleasure, you couldn't control yourself from wanting your best friend. "D-D-Daddy," you let out, tearing welling in the corner of your eyes. "Have you learned your lesson yet, princess?" Ah, so this was a punishment, you thought, feeling your heart swell.

Rapid nods fell from your head as Eddie placed a soothing palm over your now heated ass, letting the cool tips of his rings cool your backside. "Y-Yes, I am s-sorry." You muttered, letting Eddie help you stand up to straighten your tight skirt. Eddie cupped your cheek softly, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, watching how it puffed out just for him. "It's okay, sweetheart. I forgive you. If you can be a good girl, I'll let you come on my fingers under the table while we play - okay?" Eddie smiled softly, peppering kisses to your forehead, cheeks, nose and chin, watching how your heart raced with affection. Eddie did take amazing care of you, even when you were being a brat. That was what you loved most about him, and his darkened side. "I love you, Eddie." You let out louder than normal, causing his plush lips to turn up into a loving smile, leaning forth to kiss you so tenderly. "I love you, my darling."

[bunnys-kisses]

the dnf club (vol. 3)

alex albon

tags: smut/pwp, brazil gp '24, gentle sex, praise (kink), missionary, established relationship, affection & laughter, large chested!reader

a/n: another edition of the dnf club. i can't believe there were five dnfs at the brazil gp! as a result, i present to you the dnf club!

carlos edition // franco edition // lance edition // nico edition

"alex!" you chirped as you wrapped your arms around your lover. a terrible day on the track couldn't be solved without a few kisses. you leaned over him as you gave him a kiss on the cheek, "you'll get 'em next time."

he smiled a little at your affection towards him. you always tried to see the best side of things. always told him that one race is one race, and that there are far too many to worry about one dnf. but, the season was winding down.

"i know, love. just a little beaten down by it."

back in the motor home for the team, you knew that you had some time before you had to pack up for the weekend. franco would be returning soon and he too was already brow beaten from his own dnf.

you didn't want to rub it in with the sound of the bed's headboard rocking against the wall. franco got to mope alone while alex at least could smother himself in your soft skin.

and alex did just that. you stripped of your clothes and got into bed with him. he was down to his briefs as he laid on top of you, mindful of the weight on you. and rested his face between your breasts. the strong emotions melted away as soon as your played with his dark hair.

"honey." he groaned as he shifted a little. you kissed the top of his head and he shuddered.

"i love you so much. i'm still proud of you for giving it your all today. you did good." you praised him and alex's cock twitched in his briefs. you tilted his face up to look at you and you went for a heated kiss. he groaned against the kiss and you smiled against his lips.

it was true, you were quite proud of your lover. your partner. your boyfriend. you could never drive a formula one car, so for him to do it week after week was amazing. his ability to think of the fly, be in total control of vehicle while surrounded by other vehicle going at insane speeds was something to admire.

"i'm just happy your safe. it's a lot easier to fix a car than it would be to fix you if you got hurt." you patted his cheek lovingly.

he replied softly, "of course, i have to come home to you after every race." he kissed the valley of your breasts soon after and moved away. he looked down at you as he braced his hands on either side of you.

you smiled up at him, then pulled him down a little to give him a soft, tender kiss. when he broke it, you yelped as he took you by the hips and leaned your bottom half up against him. your slick pussy across the front of his dark briefs, leaving a little wetness on the fabric.

you splayed your hands across his chest. your nails painted the same colour as the williams team colours. you even had alex's number painted on your thumb. you smiled up at him lovingly and said, "good, you better come home to me." then broke into a wife grin, "because you know i'll change the locks."

he chuckled a little, "oh i know." he leaned in to kiss you before he rested on his knees and worked to get his briefs too. once he was nude, he added, "sometimes i'd rather be at home with you then on the track."

you blushed and adverted your gaze for a moment, "you flirt." you knew you were special to alex, he adored you. you weren't just lovers but also friends, each other's support through everything.

he replied, "only for you. i love seeing you embarrassed when i give you compliments." he leaned forward and rubbed his cock up against your slick entrance with one hand on your thigh, "you look adorable when i make you squirm." then sank his cock into you. you tensed up for a moment before you were able to relax a little, letting him slip into you.

"fuck, alex." you shuddered, "you feel like heaven." you smiled a little and he leaned down to kiss you. you two had been together for long enough, you knew each other's bodies painfully well. how to make each other feel good. alex was a generous lover, he always wanted to make you feel good.

but after a rough day at the track, you wanted to make sure he felt good. that you could help heal the wound of a dnf. that you could restore a little bit of his confidence.

"my darling man." you giggled, "my everything." you said with a soft love in your tone. alex just leaned closer, hands on either side of you once more as he moved against you. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him move against him. you licked your lips a little, the taste of your lips gloss. you noticed the gooey gloss across alex's lips.

he looked cute in bubblegum flavor.

"you're beautiful." he said as he moved against you. his pace wasn't particularly rough. he rocked against you and he gave you a soft smile. there was something about you that turned him on greatly. not just you beautiful looks, but also how sweet you were. your kindness knew no bounds, you seemed to light up every room you were in. he could still remember when you found a stray dog near your apartment and chased it down. you then sat with it outside all afternoon, even getting a sunburn, until the owner was found.

you were his friend, his lover, his girlfriend. hell, his future wife (he knew you'd die if he called you that). even at alex's worse, he still was confident that you loved him. and he in turn loved you, a deep kind of love. a steady foundation for a life to built on top of. and even with the immense chaos of formula one, you always had one another.

he went in for another kiss and continued to move against you. he gripped onto the covers under you. he moaned into the kiss and you smiled against his lips. you pulled away and said, "you're amazing. if they had a trophy for the best boyfriend in the world. you'd be the record holder for it."

he chuckled, "i wish that was an award as well. but, i'm afraid if they had one for best girlfriend, it would be unfair to every other woman on the planet." his voice warmed your soul, his words made you giggle and before you could cover your face in embarrassment. he took you by the hands and pinned them to the soft bed under you, "don't hide yourself from me." he continued to move against you.

you moaned, "i'm supposed to be the one praising you. not the world way around." you back arched a little bit from the movements. you felt the leap in your chest as the pace moved a little faster.

"you've already done enough. every day you do more than enough for me." he captured your lips once more. you moaned against his lips and felt his warmth around you. you felt safe in his touch, how could you not? he loved you down to the very fibre of your soul.

you held his hands as he moved against you. when the kiss broke, you smiled at him. you could see the warmth in his smile. you giggled a little, "you're something else, alex."

"that's good because you're something else as well." he felt the curl of pleasure in his gut as he continued to move against you. even with such a bad weekend and the inability to race. he knew at the very least he could be by your side. kiss you as much as he liked.

the bed shifted a little as his pace increased.

"that smile of yours." he groaned, "lights up my life."

you clutched his hands tighter, "and what about mister albon? i see how you smile in front of the cameras versus when it's just us. you're charming with the press. but, you beyond amazing when it's just us." you tightened your legs around his waist and he shifted his position to get a better angle with you.

"of course i am." he said as he kissed the side of your jaw, "how could i not? you just bring something out in me. even when the races go bad or the car breaks. i know seeing you will just light me up right again. i have to be a certain way with the press. but with you, i can just be me." you pouted a little at his sweet comment and he kissed you on the lips once more. the kiss was feverish as the two of you felt closer to your orgasms.

"don't pout, my love. i'm only telling the truth." and you felt the race of pleasure through your body.

you held onto his hands tightly as he moved against you. your tensed up quickly as you came around his cock. the heat of pleasure bloomed in your gut. orgasm crashed over you and you felt amazing. alex went in for a heated kiss and held onto your hands tightly, pressed them into the bed as he worked your pussy some as you orgasmed.

he hissed through his teeth as he soon finished as well. the rush of pleasure made him curse under his breath as he continued to work your achy cunt. he let go of your hands and you took him by the face to kiss him on the lips. soon he slowed to a stop and his face ended up back between your breasts as you both panted heavily.

"i love you so much." he said as he held you tightly.

you kissed the top of his head and played with his hair once more. you felt warm against him. comfortable with your love for one another. you whispered promises against his head.

"my amazing girlfriend. my amazing love." he held onto you tightly as he got comfortable. any anxiety or anger that lingered from the results of the race seemed to vanish.

there was always the next race, and that one he knew he'd be successful with. he knew he could dnf an entire season and he'd still go home to you. love you in every way he could. because you, in the simplest terms, were his everything <3

[wanderingelvis]

just thinking about what elvis would be like with you if you had a stutter or a stammer.

he’d be so patient with you, not everyone is, they get easily frustrated and fed up that you can’t get your words out properly but not elvis. he lets you take your time and it’s almost even more intimidating that someone is waiting for you to finish speaking.

but he won’t just say encouraging words to you, he’ll gently trace soothing circles into the small of your back. kiss your knuckles after rubbing them with the pad of his thumb, playing with the loose strands of your hair as he tells you “s’okay honey, y’doin’ just fine baby.” when you look to him desperately for comfort and reassurance.

he knows your prone to shutting up altogether when the nerves get the better of you but he loves nothing more than coaxing those thoughts out of you.

you’ll feel your mouth go dry as you try to manage a coherent sentence, getting all worked up and upset when you can’t do it but he never makes you feel bad for it.

you’ll sniffle through tears as elvis lovingly holds your hands and speaks to you softly but firmly, telling you that, “now, there ain’t nothin’ you gotta be upset about baby, you’re tryin’ your best ain’t you darlin’? hm? now i’m real proud of ya, tryin’ y’best like that, there aint no need for those tears now princess.”

and then he’ll let you collapse into his big hold, his arms engulfing you as he presses tender kisses to the top of your head, letting you get settled again as he soothes you.

and even if he tries to encourage you to speak and finish your sentences, sometimes he knows that ain’t always going to be the best thing for you.

like when you’re in a boutique, buying all them pretty dresses that elvis just loves to put you in, and the shop lady shows you something just gorgeous, and all you can do is try to get your words out.

“tha-a-tha-th-“ it’s on the fourth stutter that your eyes go all glossy and panicked, seeking out the big n powerful man like you’re just some little lost puppy searching for her owner.

and so he’ll step in, taking a hold of your little hand in his big coarse one and turning to the shop lady to speak on your behalf. “thanks honey, that’s awful kind of you to show us this. looks like it might just be the one that this little one is gon’ wear tonight.” he says fondly, the shop lady and elvis both looking at you with patience and a smile for you to swallow the lump in your throat and nod — that’s all you can manage for now but it’s enough. and sure, sometimes you feel like you’re four years old and unable to do anything yourself, not even speak, and the frustration gets to you, and the fear.

when you first began to date elvis, you’d wait for him to snap at you, the same way your parents would for embarrassing them in front of others, but elvis doesn’t do that — the thought wouldn’t enter his head.

no, elvis instead crouches down, whisperin’ “such a good girl,” to you. “such a polite, good girl huh?” he practically coos, knowing it’s hard for you, knowing how hard it is for you to even try to speak sometimes.

so elvis reminds you that you’ve tried and that is what matters most.

and elvis is always proud of you for trying. it’s okay if you can’t get your words out, he knows you and he understands you. and you love him, oh how you love him and how he look after you and takes care of you.

sometimes the stuttering makes you insecure, that elvis will get just as fed up as the memphis mafia do, or colonel tom does, but he doesn’t and he won’t.

he loves every part of you. stutter or no stutter, you’re his and he loves you.

note; had a bad week with my stutter, failed a test in a course i'm taking as it was part speaking and couldn't manage it, got rlly upset and rlly hating myself for it, so i thought writing down a lil about how elvis would be with me would help.

masterlist is here

request an elvis imagine etc here, i always love new ideas

love u all ❤️‍🩹

[signanothername]

What do u think of the trope where Blue/Swap joins the bad guy???

I have complicated feelings about it?

I love the trope in of itself, I think it would be a really interesting trope to explore

The problem tho? I never once saw it executed in a way that grabbed my attention or made me actually love the story it was used in

It immediately goes to the “asshole” Dream and Ink and “kind found family” Nightmare gang trope

Which again, if you don’t know, I hate the trope of Dream being somehow an asshole or somehow treating Swap as tho he’s less than him

Ink is a whole different story where the fandom simply villainize him just cause he’s soulless

And the kind found family Nightmare gang is a trope I love, but just like the trope of Blue joining the Nightmare gang, it’s poorly executed most of the time (and I mean, how can you call it a “Blue joins the bad guys” when the “bad guys” are shown to be good guys????)

Like, I opened so many different fics only to be hit with the same execution of this trope over and over, eventually just losing interest bxhxhdhdh

The idea of Swap not being able to “keep up” with Ink and Dream or is somehow neglecting himself to take care of Dream just doesn’t really intrigue me (or even make sense to me)

Like don’t get me me wrong, I’m an absolute sucker for the “Swap is literally the only anchor Dream has left in his life otherwise he’d fucking break down” but I dare say Swap is more than capable of handling it without it weighing him down to a significant degree

This is Swap for god’s sake, he’s literally Papyrus’ personality but in a Sans body, if anything, he’s the one who has his shit together the most and is able to go on with a genuine happy and determined smile on his face, no matter the shit that happens to him, it would make a lot more sense for Dream to be the one to try and catch up with Swap than the other way around

I get that the trope tries to show the limitations of Swap as a mortal compared to Dream and Ink who are both pretty much immortal, but what people tend to do is that they completely twist Swap to be absolutely pathetic just for this trope to work

Which *shakes the fandom* I promise you don’t have to completely change a character up to make a trope work

Like I saw stories that made Blue to be somehow a weak depressed anxious guy trying so hard and is failing and whatnot and I question myself whether that’s even Swap anymore hchcchcjvj

I think the problem I usually see when people try and write different tropes for different characters, is that they try to make the trope make sense, and so they twist the character around to fit around the trope

Which, imho, is ineffective, you should understand the character, and then think of how the character would deal with a certain situation and how that leads to the trope you’re trying to write, one step at a time without having to ignore/erase important personality traits of the character

Of course, that doesn’t mean the trope you’re trying to write can’t fundamentally change the perception, personality, or behavior of a character, but you have to show how it affects the character to such a fundamental degree, show how can the character be heavily influenced and affected in a way that makes sense for said character

For example, I’ve seen people write Swap neglecting to eat cause he’s trying to “keep up” or sometimes Dream and Ink don’t give him the chance to cause they pressure him to go on another mission or push him too hard

Here are some problems I see with this:

- why is the Nightmare gang even somehow attacking every single day? Have they got nothing better to do? Especially with the fact they’re a found family now?

- why is Dream and Ink going out for “missions” every day if the Nightmares aren’t attacking, like damn what are they even doing?? What are these “important missions”?? Since when was Ink so obsessed with “missions”?

- Swap would absolutely not let that shit stand, if anything, he’d be very vocal about it and tell Dream and Ink to sit down and eat his great delicious tacos (Swap’s voice always has power behind it, and his actions are a direct reflection of his beliefs not what others push him to do)

- Ink has a home in the doodlesphere, he wouldn’t even be around enough to push Blue, while Swap has an AU and a brother, there is pretty much no way he’d be with Dream and Ink 24/7, and if he was somehow, you think Swap Paps would let it slide? And even if we go with the idea of Swap not being part of an AU anymore, you think Swap himself would neglect himself just to please others even when it doesn’t align with his own beliefs?

And those are only few of the top of my head, I’m pretty sure if I sat down and thought about this for a few hours, I’d be able to write you a whole other set of problems

Not saying you can never write Swap neglecting to eat, you absolutely can, it’s just needs to make sense for Swap as a character, what would it take for Swap to start neglecting his health? It’s not others pressuring him or pushing him I can tell you that much

So yeah, good trope, not so good execution (for me at least)

I guess I’m way too focused on the logic of it to truly enjoy it for what it is, but then again I always love to complicate things way more than I need to

Not every trope or story has to make sense completely, but I guess seeing Swap be completely made into a pathetic mess with no actual grounds to support it beyond “he’s mortal and his friends aren’t“ just ruins it for me dhdhhdhd

[osakhee]

ceo!anton x assistant!reader

! exhibitionism

the noise of your footsteps echoes around the corridor. the papers in your arms feel heavy, you have been carrying them around the building, collecting more folders from the different working teams. it's a big publishing company that works internationally, sharing news and articles in many languages around the world.

and things are going really well for the company with such a young man at its head, his father methodically placing him at the top of the main building for him to arrange the teams and give long speeches. lee anton is good at what he does. his soft voice makes every room get quiet, his flat yet serious tone has every head bowing to him as answer. anton always gets what he wants, the company growing each time the young ceo play with the strings around his fingers with great care.

today is not different than any other days. you collect finished folders around the different teams and give them to anton, you classify his emails and organize his meetings. most of the time, you don't even see him. the only thing you see is his dark silhouette behind the blurry windows that surround his office. you throw a glance at the door when the team leaders get inside to share some informations with anton. sometimes, his eyes would meet yours, dark brown pupils hidden behind some strand of black hair.

you readjust the papers in your arms, some folders on the verge of falling on the side. the pile feel heavy, yet you know a lot of files are missing. the teams are working hard, but not hard enough for anton, he always asks for more. you peak your head inside of the empty room that's connected to anton's office, finding it comfortably empty. it's always more awkward when he's on meeting at the same time you drop the folders.

you knock softly on the tinted glass door of the office, looking up at the golden letters forming lee anton above your eyes. one... two... three... the clock ticks every second yet you hear nothing but silence on the other side of the door. you resist the urge to get inside but all the tasks on the back of your mind yell at you to do it. you have so much to do... he'll never know you got in... the doorknob clicks in a metallic sound.

"did i tell you to get inside?"

anton's voice is low when he speaks up. you stop in your track, the door barely opened, and you meet anton's eyes. the smell of hot coffee surrounds you, mixed with addictive scent of the ceo's probably expensive cologne. he walks up to you, each footstep having you growing more nervous, and cocks his head on the side, pointing inside the office.

"now that you're here, put the folders on my desk."

you look at your feet and hurriedly get inside the empty office, each sound echoing on the walls. you quickly reach the dark wooden desk and drop the files on it, checking one last time that you have everything before turning the other way around. yet you can't stop following anton's figure, watching him checks the papers himself, his eyebrows furrowed while he quickly goes over the crumpled words and numbers.

"is that all you have? this is half of what i asked."

"they were not done with them sir... i told them i would come get the folders later in the afternoon-"

"do you take decisions by yourself or am i the one deciding?"

the silence grows thicker until anton put down his mug on the desk. you feel like your feet are glued on the floor where you're standing. anton walks up to you and stands in front of you, you want to avoid his eyes but you're met with the unbuttoned top of his black shirt, and you have no other choice than to look up and meet his gaze. it's impossible to read anton's expression.

"are you not going to answer me?"

"... you decide."

"much better. out now."

you almost run outside, the door closing behind you. you go down the long corridor in silence and reach your own small office, dropping yourself on your chair to let out a long sigh. one day the ceo will make your heart burst in front of him. each time you would see him, he'll act the same way. like you're his little doll, a puppet he controls the way he wants.

you turn on your computer and starts working, but you can't concentrate on the meaningless tasks of organizing the emails in front of you. it's almost as if you could feel the presence of anton behind you, looking over your shoulder, his intoxicating scent making your head spin and your heart race-

the phone on your desk rings loudly. oh. it can only be him. you don't have the time to answer before the noise stops and you quickly get up, walking towards anton's office. you knock on the door once again, and gets inside after hearing anton's voice call for you on the other side.

"did you call me? is there something you need?"

"do i have meetings on the afternoon?"

"you have one at 2:30pm. it's for the international news, two journalists called last week and-"

"okay. cancel it."

"but sir... it's an important meeting, the teams have been all looking forward-"

"did you not hear what i said?"

you awkwardly shift from a foot to another, watching anton sigh loudly and spin around on his black leather chair.

"i'm tired and i really need to get my head out of work. to relax. can't you help me just this time?"

just this time. just this time. what about all the other times you canceled meetings so anton could have his way. but he always does, right? he is the one deciding, the one in charge, right?

you make slowly your way to the desk, and anton spins his chair to face you. he extends one of his hand, the other one patting his thigh like a quiet call. you get easily on his lap, his legs parted just the right way for you to sit as if he waited for you this whole time. anton drags his fingers through your hair until he reaches the back of your neck, and draws you closer until he can comfortably meet your lips.

the kiss is gentle and slow but anton wastes no time deepening it, holding you in place with a strong hand behind your head. he grips your thigh and pull your body closer, the feeling of his palm squeezing the fabric of your pants making you whine softly in his mouth.

anton devours your lips, ragged breaths between hot kisses ringing into your ears. he leaves your mouth to drag his lips down your jaw and your neck, his fingers messily opening the buttons of your white shirt to have access to your chest. his hands find their way on your sides while he bites at the skin of your chest, painting red marks on your body only him can see.

everything you have in mind disappear the second you get to taste anton, his lips on yours better than any kind of medicine, than any type of rest. he helps erase all the worries of the long working days. anton pushes your shirt down and holds your bare shoulders, eagerly sucking on every little part of your chest. he feels your hands tug on his hair and bringing him closer to your burning skin, a smile creeping on his lips as he leaves a soft kiss on the middle of your chest.

anton lets his hand rest on your back, your bare chest press against the fabric of his black shirt. the opened buttons let you see the golden chain dangling around his neck and the smooth skin of his chest. anton taps your thigh with his fingers, drawing slow circles on your pants.

"get rid of that for me baby."

your legs feel numb but you stand up and replace your opened shirt on your shoulders before working your hands on the buttons of your pants. you can see anton palming himself in the corner of your eyes with half opened eyes, his hand lazily stroking the bulge between his legs. you pull down your pants and underwear in one go, tossing it to the side, and turn back to anton, now half naked in front of his foggy eyes.

you're beautiful. you're breathtaking. the words spin in anton's mind, mindlessly opening his belt to free his hardening dick from its confines. he strokes himself when you get rid of your clothes. he loves it when you're like that, eager to please him. all of that for him.

you sit back comfortably on anton's thighs, pressing your heat against his cock, rubbing yourself on him. you watch anton rests his head on the top of his leather chair, his lips parted, his eyes heavy and menacing to close from the pleasure coursing through his veins. he grabs your thighs and help you sink down on his cock, eliciting a moan from you a and deep sigh from him. anton lays back on the chair and hold your waist, his voice lower than usual.

"missed this feeling so much... you're gonna make me feel good baby? wanna help me?"

you slowly roll your hips against his, his cock deep inside you rubbing your walls deliciously. you feel the grip on your waist tighten, anton's other hand holding your thigh to help you rock faster on his lap. he loves watching you break apart on his dick, low moans growing inside his throat as you grind against him faster. biting your lip is not enough to stop the cries coming out of your mouth, anton's name rolling on your tongue along with his preferred nickname, sir.

anton can't last long when you feel so good around him, your insides clenching with every move, his tip hitting perfectly the spot that makes your back arch. the knot in his stomach grows at each second. anton drags his hand into his hair, pushing away the messy black strands that could hide his eyes from seeing the delicious sight in front of him.

his hands grabs the skin of your ass, and anton lifts his hips to meet yours in a precise thrust that has you cry his name. you hold his shoulders as he buries himself deeper with each move of his hips, curses falling from his lips. the warmth burns his skin with one last thrust, holding you down on his lap, his cock twitching inside of you as he empties himself.

you rock your hips, making sure to get every drop of the thick fluid he has to offer. anton's chest rises heavily, his hand resting on your cheek before he presses a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"always there to make me feel better baby..."

no matter how frustrated you feel, you always care about anton first. he helps you stand up and you look around the office for your pants while anton tucks himself back into his pants. you bend down to get your clothes from the floor but large hands straddle your waist, and anton sits you back down on his lap, your back comfortably resting against his chest.

"it would be mean of me to let you go like that..."

anton sits straighter on his chair and roll it closer to the desk, the wooden table hiding the lower part of your bodies. you feel his nails graze the skin of your stomach, his fingers impatiently pushing into your folds with a wet noise. you hold the desk, your other hand covering your mouth to stop your whines when you feel anton's breath against your ear.

"you should button that up pretty... keep quiet for me."

there's a knock on the glass door. you messily button up your shirt and try to arrange your hair, biting the inside of your cheek when anton plunges his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. "come in." anton's words ring in your ears, and you take a deep breath as the door opens.

two journalists get inside the office, closing the door behind them. their footsteps, the shuffle of their clothes and the folders opening are enough to hide the obscene noises coming from you, your thighs wet from anton's fingers deep inside of you.

you heavily swallow when anton starts speaking with his ceo voice, his fingers stilling when he talks. the two guys in front of him give each other a suspicious look, but they don't say a thing. when they start explaining their project for the company to anton, he sets a fast pace with his hand, you almost fall back onto his chest, your legs shaking at the strong pleasure.

the journalists clearly don't want to take much longer with anton. he looks at the projects, makes useless comments, concentrated on the way his finger hit those spots inside you, pushing all your buttons. the two journalists bow lowly to him after anton gave them his review, and they both walk out.

the second the door closes, anton grips your thigh to part your legs wider, looking down at the way his fingers disappear easily inside your core. he presses hot kisses on your neck, his hand reaching deep until your arch back. your head rest on his shoulder as he helps you ride your orgasm, pleasure exploding from between your legs and coursing through your body, making your mind foggy.

you take deep breaths, holding yourself on anton's forearm when he takes his soaked fingers out with a low chuckle. he kisses the top of your head, his arm going around your waist to bring you closer.

"i love it when you help me relax... but you really should cancel the meetings when i ask though, don't you think so?"

okay i kinda lost my mind at anton's mirror pics from earlier.......... im a little insane sorry hope you enjoyed that 🚀

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

wazzup!!

so glad to see you back! I hope you’re doing well :)

anyways I wanted to request for something, idk if you’re still doing tmnt 2007 but— wanted a bit of funny scenario. How would they react if their partner slapped their ass out of no where.

How They React To You Smacking Their Butt (Suggestive/Crack-ish)

2007!Turtles x reader

A/N: I hope this is in the direction of what you were looking for. It’s on the shorter side, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it💚

Warning: Butt smacking, implied sex.

Leonardo:

To be honest, Leo isn’t much of a fan when it comes to getting his butt smacked. The first time you smacked Leo’s behind, was a short distance away from the rest of his family. This caused Leo to turn towards you with absolute panic written all over his face, so many emotions rolling through him. His partner had just smacked his butt with his brothers and father in the room. Luckily for him, it didn’t seem like anybody noticed, but still, for a moment his soul almost left his body.

But of course you found that hilarious. And before Leo knew it, you would use this as a way to kill your boredom, when you felt like his training took too long. It would usually end with you cashing Leo around the lair in front of his whole family, with him covering his behind telling you to stop it, while you would rub your hands together, getting them ready for the ultimate smack.

Raphael:

The first time you decided to smack Raph’s behind, his reaction was to get flustered, absolutely unsure of what to do. He had done it to you several times at that point, but never had he imagined that you would do that to him. So there he stood, frozen in place, his face feeling hot while you stood laughing beside him, finding his reaction hilarious and adorable.

However the second time you did that, while Raph was walking by where you were sitting on the couch, he spun around instantly, a dark look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. This time he wouldn’t just let you get away with it, so this time he started chasing you around the lair, so that you could get a taste of your own medicine, before he would take care of your ass all night.

Donatello:

It wasn’t uncommon for you to smack Donnie’s butt, but Donnie being Donnie, would be as unbothered as he could be.

Give him a light clap as you walked by, and he wouldn’t react at all. Not a muscle. Not a word. He would simply just continue working on whatever he had in front of him.

Should you do it while his talking to someone, it wasn’t uncommon for Donnie to give you a playful push or a small kick with his finger, while trying to hide a smile.

Are you alone with Donnie feeling somewhat playful, he would sometimes stick his butt out at you, jokingly saying that you could do better than that, making you so flustered, that you either just sat down or left the room all together.

Michelangelo:

Let me just warn you; don’t smack Mikey’s butt if you can’t take the heat!

There’s no such thing as smacking your boyfriend's butt for a quick laugh. You might as well just have yelled from the other side of the room that you wanted sex, with the way Mikey would be on you in less than two seconds. Didn’t matter when or where. And that is when the laughing would start, as Mikey loves bringing some sort of humor into your intimate life.

Smack his behind while he’s speaking with someone, and Mikey would abandon whatever conversation he was in without any explanation, before heading straight for your butt, usually making you break out into a sprint, as you had smacked him for fun and wasn’t actually intending on sex… at least that was your excuse. One smack from Mikey and you were on.

[sordidmusings]

WIP TUESDAY - Sugar Daddy Headcanons with Shanks and Garp

Saw Schoute's wonderful art WIP and writing and wanted to join the fun! Have some ridiculous Blorbos as Sugar Daddies headcanons that have been on my backburner LOL I've got Shanks and Garp ready for y'all 🫡 They're pretty much done, I moreso have to fill out everyone else on the list 🤡 No warnings really! Just some allusions to spice but nothing explicit. Lots of silliness. I believe they're gender neutral but I'm going to tag as afab just in case because I fear it may be in the subtext since that's the perspective I wrote it from and the one people generally expect for sugar babies. Might be fun to subvert sometime by writing them with explicitly amab sugar babies. I will Ponder lol I'd also love to see what everyone is working on so please take this as a sign to post something of your own!!

The song I blame for everything (I love u Thot Squad):

“This fine old man, he played three

He can knickknack this coochie

With an Amex black card, get a girl a Benz

Reset and do it again”

Word Count: Shanks ~750, Garp ~400 (sorry about the favoritism Vice Admiral 😬)

Shanks

shanks absolutely pursued this type of relationship with you

Your pretty face and open smile snagged his attention but the way you easily met and fed his energy had him at you like a dog with a bone

He’s no stranger to helping people laugh their way into his bed, but the journey with you felt different. He took extra time simply because each moment with you was too good to keep from savoring

You didn’t hide your attraction at any point but he did appreciate that you would try and prod back at him in good humor to test his will and want

You found he had both in excessive abundance

It felt nice to have someone so attractive, established, feared, and adored seek your company and watch him become more interested with each minute he got of you. It also felt nice to see that while he certainly had an abundance of confidence he held no arrogance with you - he played no games in making you question his interest or assert his importance to you. He treated you as a person (one he mainly wanted to turn to his bedroom tenant but still-) and it made him feel more like a man than a myth for you both too

And holy hell did you like that man - he made you laugh even if at his own expense, he impressed you when he’d let some of his cunning slip through the jovial pirate shtick, he kept your interest with how he could entertain any topic you brought forward, he made you feel beautiful with the way his eyes and hands soaked you in, and he made you feel wanted with the way he treated everything about you with genuine interest. 

The only thing that made it better is how he made sure you wanted for nothing. The first night it was making sure you didn’t pay a cent for anything, you always had food and drink right before you realized you wanted it, his coat found your shoulders the moment you felt a chill, you found yourself in fresh air right when the heat and the noise of the bar became too much. 

After that it was an endless stream of trinkets, from priceless to silly but sentimental, all coming with letters that had you laughing, blushing, and swooning.

Every time he’d visit you (and it was at first as often as he thought he could manage but that managed to get even sooner and sooner because of his need for you) you’d indulge in each other like it was the first and last time

He stopped wanting anyone else - there were enough people across the seas he had to apologize to after explaining why he’d gasped the wrong name and they were never right to scratch the new insatiable itch he had anyway

When it dawned on him how much you had him wrapped around your finger, not just physically and financially but also mentally, emotionally, and he’s pretty sure even spiritually, he may have had a crisis (the crew was very torn between amusement and true wory watching it unfold, especially when the usual rum and patented Beckman Shoulder Pat with Nod didn't ease his turmoil)

It wasn't because he didn’t want to love you, but he truly never thought he’d ever find someone he wanted and needed the way he does you. It was such a foreign concept to him that he felt like the world had tilted and left everything slightly unfamiliar. Especially coming from a relationship he stapled together with riches. Sure, there was also joy, camaraderie, and intimacy holding it together, but he found it harder to trust that someone such as you wouldn't find someone younger and more present to belong to than to trust that you could need him to sustain a lifestyle of ease and abundance.

If he couldn't be sure you'd want him, he'd try and find solace in you needing him, even if it was only for what he could afford you

When he finally told Beckman of his plight, he was slightly offended by the “it took you this long to figure it out?”

He’s currently trying to figure out how to convince you to live on his ship with him. He needed to let you know you’d be safe regardless of your experience level with the seas or battle. 

He’d bring the world to its knees if anything touched a hair on your head

Luckily for him, you knew. Anyone with eyes would from the way he smiles at you.

Garp

Garp was decidedly not in your plans. Yes, you wanted someone older, someone with wealth, someone with influence, someone who would take care of you, but you thought Gilfs were an urban legend told to see what face it would get out of freshies

You’re not complaining tho

He has certainly convinced you that the rarity of his kind just pointed to what a prized role it was to shack up with one

He was rough around the edges to be sure - brash and loud and stubborn - but he used all those traits to get you both exactly what you wanted

All your needs were met without you having to even think of them anymore (you were surprised that needs in the bedroom were included in that, but you supposed you shouldn’t have underestimated a man who could still punch apart battle ships, nor one with such a lust for eating)

Neither of you had any illusions of sweeping romance

You were more than happy with the care and respect that built between the two of you in your roles, growing with each act of service to each other, each piece of comfort, each unintended moment of vulnerability

Don’t get me wrong, the vulnerability ain’t common; most of your time is this man having fun watching you light up when he took you out and tossed his money around for you before taking you home to have multiple courses of dessert

You’ll never get over his gruff voice and curling accent - they helped your brain turn to mush while he coaxed and praised you through happily giving him everything he wants as a thank you for all his care

That voice along with all that burliness and age, which you thought would’ve been a turn off not on, ended up making you feel small yet so protected

Garp didn’t think he’d enter a relationship like this that went on so long and so easily but any reservation or second guessing was lost the moment he saw you and everything just felt natural

Tho he’d still make jokes that always make you groan about how you keep him young better than his troublesome recruits (that he is stuck between wanting to parade you around to see their jaws drop and wanting to keep you hidden away from any young bucks who may try to get your attention before he’s ready to let you go)

Thank you for reading 😘🤍🤍

Masterlist

[ford-pines-lover]

Tolerate it

when you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Here is this one!! @chillinglyadventurous

Tags: SFW, falling out of love, i actually think this is sad

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome

There was nothing better than going to the shack after a shopping trip with Mabel. She strides inside the house with her millions of bags. It was like she was gleaming with the dust of a million stars. There was nothing that could hurt her or stop her from her excitement. 

When you two walked inside the shack, everything was in its place. It seemed as if nothing was touched. Made sense; Dipper was out with Stan doing some grunkle, nephew bonding, and Ford? Well, he hasn’t seen the light of day in a week. It was starting to worry you. Usually he at least makes an effort to come see you before bed or come up for dinner, but lately it hasn’t even been anything. Long nights waiting and hoping that your boyfriend would come and sleep next to you. Waiting to feel another person next to you was excruciating. 

You got snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Mabel say, “That was so fun, y/n! Thank you for taking me!” She gives you a hug and runs off to the attic to drop off her stuff. She was like a younger sister to you. Maybe even a daughter in some sense? Your own feelings were conflicted. 

You walk down to the lab to see your boyfriend. He was slouched over his desk, papers everywhere. He was drowning in his work. You surmise that he had just found a new discovery. Perhaps a new equation or a new creature found here in the Falls. You knew that just recently Ford had gone deeper in the woods than he had ever felt comfortable. Unsurprisingly, he took Dipper with him. They came home with cuts and bruises. Neither of them unscathed.

“Dear, I’m fine,” he had said.

So you believed him. 

“Hey, love.” You walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move, still surrounded by the pages and pages of math and science. You knew you had an affinity toward the man, but sometimes you couldn’t pinpoint why. He wasn’t involved in your relationship often; he never came to bed; hell, you can’t remember the last time you two had sex!

I take your indiscretions all in good fun

It took him a bit to notice you. 

“Hello, my dear.” He turned to look at you. His chair squeaking as he moved as if he hadn’t moved in hours. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You give him an incredulous look. Actually, you hadn’t slept in days. Ford had been so engulfed in his work that he hadn’t gone to bed with you in days. He sleeps on his desk, waiting for some sort of answer to just pop out of his work. You press your lips together, not wanting to disturb the peace. Deciding to keep your mouth shut about your feelings, you say, “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple nights, but I’ve been okay.” You turn around to leave, “There will be dinner in about an hour if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,”

“If that’s what you wish.” You tearfully look away and walk back upstairs. Your movements were saturnine. Everything hurt; nothing felt real. The love you had once in the past almost feels obsolete now. There was almost a remorseful feeling inside you for him. He has gone through so much; you should just let him be. But if your needs weren't being met, why should you stay?

I sit and listеn

As you set up your new art station that you had bought at the store, you open the paints. They were an expensive set of oil paints that you were so desperate to try out. Painting wasn’t a new hobby, just one that had gone dormant over the last couple years. Now that you have a rather inadequate boyfriend, you were ready to take on this hobby once again. 

“Hey, kid.” You see Stan approach you with a weary look on his face. He must have just gotten back with Dipper, but you hadn’t seen Dipper yet. “I know that you and Ford are going through hard times right now." He leans on the doorframe with a phlegmatic disposition. “Just know that he does still love you and is just having a hard time. Just give him some time, kid. He’ll come around.”

“Stan, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” You said with an indigent look across your face. “I love him, but I can’t feel so empty anymore.”

“Look, kid, I can talk to him for you if you’d like. He’d better listen to me. I wouldn’t want to lose a family member over some stupid math equations.” He sighs. "You know how he’s an opportunist. He knows what he wants, and he takes it.”

“Please talk to him for me; he doesn’t seem to listen to me.” You gulp. “I know how he is. I just want my Stanford back.” 

“I’ll be back, then. Hang tight.”

You watch as he goes out of the room. You were stationed in the kitchen with your supplies, so it was easy access to the lab from there. Your mind starts to wander. What if you really were just a bother and in the way? What if there was really nothing there? 

You take a deep breath and lather a thin coat of white paint on the canvas. You weren’t quite sure what would come of this painting, but you knew you were emotional, and this was one healthy way to get it out. At least that's what your therapist had said at one point. Instead of taking it out on other people, taking it out of a piece of canvas was healthier. Or something. 

You started with hues of grey and blue. For some reason there was something compelling you to use those colors. Maybe they stated how you felt. Grey and empty. Blue and sad. Or maybe you just liked them. 

Below you, you could hear fighting. It was the two men that you had trusted more than anything in the world. You couldn’t quite make out what they were yelling to each other. It was loud. It shook the house. There was a negative tone flowing through the shack. It was dizzying.

“C’mon Poindexter… shes… kid! Don't…care... her?” You heard most of Stan’s words. But what hurt the most is what his brother said after. 

“Yes, I care, Stanley! It’s all just become too much, and my work is far too important! I don't understand why none of you can see that!” You heard that one clear as day. It was perfectly clear why he didn’t want to see you. You were too much. 

“Why the fuck would you say that?” You could hear Stan getting louder with each word. “At least talk to her! Have dinner with her. Once. Before you decide to throw this away.” He had an ardent tone. 

“What are you trying to imply?”

“That you’re being a selfish idiot and throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you!”

I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn

You got up from your spot at the table. Your mind is whizzing and whirring from the fighting in the basement. You try to think of something, anything, to keep your mind off of what Ford had just said. Too Much? You walk over to the sink and start doing the dishes. You were staring off, out the window, trying not to completely break apart. 

Was Stan talking to Ford a good idea? Or did it really cause more issues than what was worth? Maybe Ford is just saying shit because he’s sleep deprived. He does tend to get more annoyed than usual when he hasn’t had a good rest. Doesn’t everyone?

“Hey, y/n. Everything good?” You jump, seeing Dipper behind you. When did you start crying?

You wipe your face with your sleeve and put on a fake smile. He definitely could tell. “Yeah, why what’s up?” 

“I’m not stupid, y/n. I hear Grunkle Stan and Ford fighting.” He gave you a judgmental look. You knew he wasn’t stupid, but it wasn't fair that he had to listen to his Grunkles fighting. 

“I know you’re not stupid. I’m genuinely okay; I am just a little overwhelmed.” You took in a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay.

He gently nods and walks away.

You're so much older and wiser, and I

You think about the age gap between you two while you sit down to continue to paint again. The age gap was significant enough that you were 30 years younger than him. It was hard for him, yet it seemed like he thoroughly enjoyed the relationship. 

You two had met at the library while checking out a book. Then on from there, Ford invited you to go on adventures with him and invited you to play D, D, and more D with him. You two were really bonding. Giggling and blushing as your two characters in the RPG were flirting and Dipper being grossed out the whole time. Mabel was way too excited about her Grunkle’s newfound crush. 

Then you lost your house. The landlord decided that he wasn’t going to rent out his house anymore, and it left you homeless. You couldn’t afford to just move spontaneously. This had left you to live out of your car for about a week. It was horrible. Worse than you had originally imagined. It was overcrowded, messy, and humiliating. 

The Pines family had heard what happened. Stan was the first to offer you a room to stay in. 

“Kid, times are tough. I know what it’s like to be homeless. So I’m offering you a space, free of charge.”

“Are you sure?”  You had said, worried about overstepping bounds.

“I wouldn’t be offering it to ya if I wasn’t sure.”

That was that. You were now an honorary member of the Pines family. 

With that came more time spent with Stanford. This led to stolen kisses in the lab and sleepovers in your bedroom. It became routine to see him often. One day you had asked him out formally. It was just to a diner. Nothing fancy, but it meant something to you. 

After that, you and Ford were inseparable. Constantly going on adventures; hanging out. Life was great. Until now. 

Ford stands before you, arms crossed. You could tell he was upset. 

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a bit, but I would like to know if you were okay with going out for dinner.” It seemed like it took a lot out of him just to get that out. 

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to not let it be known that it upset you that he was being this way. “I think I have an idea. I’ll come grab you in thirty minutes, okay?”

“Alright.”

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

You decide to stand in his lab doorway. He had agreed to dinner. Hopefully things will not go to shit and everything will go to plan. 

“You ready?” You held out your hand, and he hesitantly put his hand in yours. It didn’t feel right, but you kept it cool.

“Yes.” He had said rather coldly. Oh boy.

Use my best colors for your portrait

You stare at the portrait you had made as it sits in your tote bag. This was a gift to him. It was of you two stargazing. The colors were magnificent. It has ranges of blues, violets, and reds. You hoped that he would like it and see it as a means to start over. 

Maybe not.

Lay the table with the fancy shit

You led him outside to the place you had set up. It was a picnic on a hill. Just like you two had once had a date there months ago. There were plates of food, fake candles, flowers, just about anything you could imagine. 

“It looks... nice.” Ford had said as he forced a smile. 

“I’m glad you like it.” You pop open the wine bottle and pour yourself a big glass. 

Throughout the whole dinner, he was not attentive. He really was in another world. There was nothing that could make him want to be at this dinner that you had planned. Yet here he was. 

And the portrait stayed in your bag. 

And watch you tolerate it

[herecirmsims]

Questions For Storytellers

I have (I think) finally caught up on my list of poses to make, so I wanted to do something a little fun (for me, not for anyone else LMAO) and entirely self-indulgent. I read stories and tell my own over on Instagram, but of course it's harder to post long-form text like this over there.

Special thanks to @freezerbnuuy as I'm copying their post. ❤️

What’s the last screenshot you’ve taken for your story?

This is from the middle of my last post, but it's the last screenshot I took because I went back and added this scene in after finally caving and making my own stupid poses for it hahah.

2. Describe your story in three words or less: Needlessly long tbh

3. Describe (insert character here) in three words or less: Uhhh I'll pick Saxen since he's my MC... wet cat energy (which I think is something @nefaricussims said actually??). Or "90s cocaine chic" as @southernsimmin so beautifully described him. 🤣

4. How did you choose the name of your story? It's called The Cottage because it's... based in and around a cottage. 🥲 I have a very imaginative mind!! 🤣 But also, the cottage plays an important role throughout the whole story and especially in the upcoming finale.

5. How do you choose your characters’ names? My Sim story is based on a novel I never had the confidence to finish - in that version, Sax is an ælf based on Anglo-Saxon belief. I made him a vampire in Sims because that was the only pack I owned at the time, besides base game, and for gameplay purposes I thought vamp put him close to how I imagined him. I now realise I could have easily used CC and my own damn imagination to make him an ælf but I didn't know much about CC at the time, either. 🤣 Because of this, the original story leant into fae lore and the stuff about never revealing your true name. Saxen isn't his real name anyway, but for an added layer it also isn't spelt how you might imagine if you heard it spoken. The same for Thom and Jac who are also characters who came over from the 'original'.

6. How long have you been working on your story for? A little over three years! I have learned soooo much in that time.

7. Whats the biggest risk you’ve taken with your story? Did it pay off? I dunno that I've taken any risks, other than putting it out there in the first place.

8. What about your story are you proud of? I think the fact it exists at all. I've been writing stories since I was a kid, but at some point I lost confidence in myself and have never finished anything/wanted to share it with people because I end up overthinking and deleting it. So I am proud of myself for having maintained a continuous story for three years, and for having other people read it. I think because there was no pressure with a Sims story - with a novel I kept thinking, this has to be perfect and polished so that I can publish it someday. With a Sims story, I'm free to just write the silly tropes I enjoy and allow myself to suck and learn and get better at it.

9. What about your story are you looking to improve on? I read a fantastic article about ma - including pauses in your visual storytelling, space for the characters to sit and breath and reflect. It's ma that makes Ghibli movies so wonderfully distinctive. Being able to make my own poses means that I can show a character's expression or body language in response to a situation, without the need for overlaying text. I'm trying really hard to move away from the "talking heads" style that reads more like a script, and letting the visuals tell the story for me instead. I'm not very good at it because I enjoy my blah blah, but it's fun to try!!

10. Is your story fully planned or are you still working things out? Is there a definitive end? I'm approaching the end of it now, which has been planned for the last three years, so yes - I know pretty much everything that's going to happen. Sometimes the characters still throw a little surprise for me though.

11. Why have you decided to tell this story? Are there any messages or meanings within it? When I got the Sims almost 4 years ago, I had absolutely no idea that there was a) a whole community around it or b) that people used it for storytelling. I'd already made Sax, Thom, and Jac in the game, because I'd wanted to see them come to life during gameplay. Then I discovered poses and started sharing random staged screenshots on Instagram, and became friends with the exceptionally talented TheSimmerKay (now making machinimas!) who showed interest in my silly little characters and suggested that I try telling a story too. I owe her a lot!! As for messages and meaning... I'm very interested in what makes people do the things they do, and how the hero of a story often depends on whose POV we're hearing the story from. There's a fine line between hero and villain sometimes, and a hero acting out of love can cross from protectiveness into control.

12. Do you actually play the game or do you just use it as a storytelling medium? Yep - I have a designated story save, which is the one I take all my screenshots in and which never has gameplay. Then I have a Happy Ever After save for Sax and Fen and another save for for my Globetrotter Challenge Sim, both of which are gameplay only. I think it's important to have that outlet; I can work on my story, make poses, or just play the game, depending on what I fancy.

13. From basic planning to a finished post, how long does that take you? 2-3 evenings. I tend to get everything laid out and text added, then let it sit for a day because I inevitably think of a way to do something better if I give it chance to breath. 🤣

14. Do you have any regrets about your story so far? If you could go back in time, how would you fix these? Not regrets, really, but there are some threads that I put in - fully intending to complete them later in the story - but never did, due to them just not fitting with the story or wanting to try and bring things to an end sooner. But similarly, there are times when I was going to put in a little hint or foreshadowing in and didn't, and then later in my story have wished I had! The tricky part of serialised storytelling is you have to just live with what you have (or don't have), you can't go back and remove or add scenes like you would with a drafted novel.

15. What have been the highlights of creating your story? I've met so many incredible people due to it, oh my goodness. Truly extraordinary Simmers who've shared their time and knowledge with me. We have a little mutual reading group on Insta where we all read and geek out over each other's stories and it's just wonderful. I was honestly shocked when i went to other platforms and realised how much drama there can be in the Sims community. 🤣

16. What about the process do you enjoy? Not that I don't enjoy the process... but I mostly love it when it's finished and I can share it, hahaha.

17. What about the process do you hate? I don't hate any of it... it's a hobby and I do it because I enjoy it. That being said, it does fuck me off when I have multiple Sims in a scene, everyone is in place and has poses queued, and then MCCC Dresser FREEZES MY GAME NOOOOOOOO WHY

18. Choose a song that reminds you of your story:

This is the unofficial theme... specifically this version in Old English, which is Saxen's first language. "It's our destiny then to find love again / Where we failed once before now we'll win"

19. Choose a song that reminds you of (insert character here):

Another one for Sax I guess because he's special. 😌🤣 "But you, a cinder of the fire that's yet to come / Will you just sit and mourn this fragile thing that you've become / Or instead will you consume the very things you can't outrun / Until you finally see all of the strength that you draw from?"

20. Choose your favourite shot from your story so far: Hmmm I think this one, which was me being lazy and reusing a screenshot from an older scene during a flashback-style narration. 🤣 I was trying to achieve something else with the editing but did this by accident and liked it.

21. Choose your least favourite shot so far: Too many to pick from LMAO

22. Choose a favourite character from your story so far: Sax, obviously, he's my lil chew toy/punching bag. But then there's also Idris, for whom I only wish the best. She's going through some trouble right now and I don't enjoy it. It's much more fun to bully Sax.

23. Choose your least favourite character so far: I don't have one! Although Vlad makes me deeply uncomfortable tbh. I find him to be a really creepy villain, and unlike any of my other villains, he's not in any way misrepresented or redeemable. I'm using a makeover version of him by WistfulCastle (I would link, but I don't think he's available anymore?)!

24. Are there any characters who remind you of yourself? No... well. Whenever baby El randomly info-dumps on a niche subject, that's mostly me taking advantage of a captive audience to tell them about karkadanns or medieval torture items or dead bodies on Everest. 🥲

25. What inspirations have you drawn on for your story? I honestly don't know - I can't name anything that I've consciously drawn on, though I know for sure I must have. Funnily enough people have told me things like "oh that's like in Vampire Diaries" or "that's like that part in the Harry Potter films" and I haven't watched either of those, so I think what's happening is we're all drawing from the same well of folklore and mythology and trope. There is occasional story drama about being copied and the thing is... unpopular opinion alert... many of us aren't as unique as we think we are. 😅 What we are unique at is taking a trope and telling it in our own distinctive way. No one else can tell your story quite like you can.

26. Have other sim stories inspired you? I have soooo many talented friends who inspire me to do better when it comes to visuals and storytelling!! @callmedomino is the queen of silent storytelling and a huge inspiration on my journey to discover ma. I really love how well she can tell a story with no words.

27. What genres would you describe your story as? I call it rural fantasy lmao

28. If you could reproduce your story in another medium (movie, novel, comic, etc.) what would you choose and why? I mean obviously I'd say movie because HOW COOL would that be?! Especially an animated one!

29. What would your story’s rating be? (G, PG, M etc.) Ummm probably M because there is the occasional spicy scene. Sometimes three a year LMAO.

30. If you were leaving simblr Simsta and had to choose another creator to continue the story for you, who would you ask? Well tbh I've given Sax and Fen to several good friends already; some of them have them in ongoing cameos in their own stories. I wouldn't ask anyone to continue mine, but I like to think that Sax and Fen could live on in my friend's stories and games if anything were to ever happen to me.

31. Drop some random trivia about your story: When I started I only meant to do short, random vignettes about daily life at the cottage. Somehow it snowballed into a three year epic. 🤣

32. Give a light spoiler: "This is who I am. If I was any other way, I would not be myself."

[criminalcinnamon]

COOKING LESSONS (an alecody oneshot)

I wrote this during school lalalalalala

Alejandro sighed as he stood in the kitchen, faced with a clueless Cody.

"You know nothing of how to cook, really?" He raised an eyebrow at the shorter boy, who shrugged in response.

"Great." Alejandro said flatly. "What will you do if I am not home to make you food?"

"I dunno, probably just make some instant noodles or order takeout."

"You cannot be living off of fast food, Cody."

"I know." Cody sighed.

"Which is why I am going to teach you how to cook."

"But cooking is hard." Cody whined.

"No it is not, we will start with something easy."

"Like?"

"Soup."

"Really, soup? You know I don't like certain soups and like, the texture and stuff."

"I will let you pick the ingredients."

"Ooh!" Cody clapped his hands.

"Now, shall we get started?" Cody nodded eagerly.

Alejandro began to gather the equipment while Cody scribbled the ingredients he wanted on a post-it note.

"Have you made your decision?"

"Mhm!" Cody enthusiastically waved the paper in front of Alejandro's face.

Alejandro chuckled. "Hold it still so I can read it, remember?"

Cody nodded sheepishly and handed Alejandro the list he had comprised.

Alejandro smiled. "This looks good, we can work with this, now can you get the ingredients?"

"Of course I can!" Cody grinned confidently before accidentally walking into the fridge door, which won a giggle out of Alejandro before he went to check if Cody was okay.

"Are you alright?" He cupped Cody's face.

"I'm fine." Cody smirked. Alejandro smiled back.

Soon they had gathered the ingredients and had the pot of boiling water on the stove, Alejandro gently squeezed Cody's side, who laughed.

"Alright, time to chop the vegetables. Watch me do it first, okay?"

"I can do it without a demonstration, you know."

"Alright, I will watch you, though."

Cody grinned as he grabbed a carrot and placed it on top of the wooden chopping board before grabbing a knife and starting to (very shabbily) chop up the carrot. Alejandro winced when Cody finished.

"What?"

"Your chopping skills have... Character."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They could be better."

"Oh."

"Watch me, okay?"

Cody obliged and watched as Alejandro quickly cut a potato into neat cubes.

"Woah..."

Alejandro laughed. "Impressed?"

"Yeah!"

"Do you want me to guide your hands?"

Cody blushed slightly at the idea of Alejandro holding his hands and guiding him but nodded.

Alejandro stood behind Cody at the chopping board and took his hands in his own, he gently guided Cody as he cut up an onion, as well as carefully wiping Cody's watery eyes.

"Good job!" Alejandro grinned, ruffling Cody's hair, which made the other boy laugh.

"You think?"

"I know."

Cody felt his face flush again, god, Alejandro was... Well perfect, really. He sometimes found it hard to believe that Alejandro even liked him.

Soon, they had put all the vegetables (and two stock cubes) into the pot and were waiting for it to boil. Cody leaned back against the counter, getting a good view of Alejandro from where he was standing. Alejandro glanced down at Cody and noticed him staring. He smiled down at him and brushed away some of Cody's fringe that was covering his eyes, Cody sneezed in response, getting Alejandro to laugh.

"You really are cute, Cody."

"Maybe a little."

"More than a little bit."

Cody grinned. "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Alejandro opened up the lid a few minutes later and peered into the pot.

"It is almost ready."

Cody - who was drumming his fingers on the countertop - grinned and rushed up to look.

"I just need to blend it, but we can take turns if you want?"

"Great!"

Alejandro smiled and grabbed the handheld blender.

Cody watched as Alejandro blended the soup, mesmerized by him, Alejandro noticed and chuckled.

"Cody. It is your turn." He handed Cody the blender and Cody grinned.

"Awesome!" Cody switched on the blender and started blending the soup, which started spraying EVERYWHERE.

"Oh shit."

Alejandro laughed and took the blender from him, turning it off and setting it to the side.

"I think it is blended enough, hm?" Cody nodded, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Finally the soup had finished cooling down and Alejandro poured it into two bowls, Cody almost immediately started scarfing it down.

"Good?"

"Very." Cody grinned and Alejandro chuckled before wiping the soup off of his face.

"I am glad you like it, now you know you can make something when I am gone."

"Yeah! Maybe you can teach me other recipes too?"

"Of course." Alejandro ruffled Cody's hair and Cody laughed.

"This was fun."

"It was." Alejandro kissed Cody's cheek and the latter leaned against him.

----------------------

Hope you guys liked this one!!! It might be a little bad cause I haven't written in a while but alas.

[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] Bonus - Trippin' Balls

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn’t exactly considered classy, Stolas.)

A truth serum and emotionally repressed demons. What could go wrong with that?

pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word Count: 7,045

Warnings: truth seekers episode. hallucination, depictions of various types of trauma, uncomfortable hallucination scene involving boundaries being pushed, don't hate me for reader's hallucination, sexual remarks, jokes and innuendos as always, dhorks are their own warning i dont like the mfers lmao

Look who's back!

You sigh as you watch Blitzø hang from a window frame, trying to climb it.  “‘Kay, Blitz, I get it, can we please just go now?” It’s been a long day and, as endearing as his shenanigans can sometimes be, you’re all way too tired for him to be doing all this.

“Shhh, remember- we can’t be seen!” He whispers in reply, right before his hands slip, causing him to promptly fall off his ass from the dumpster he’d been hovering over, landing on the pavement.

“Pardon my words, sir, but you’re currently being the loudest,” Moxxie points out, and it’s objectively true. All his unnecessary tumbling out of stuff and rolling on the ground has been making much more noise than the rest of you combined.

Millie walks off into the portal, Loona already waiting on the other side of it, laughing at the way Blitzø stands back up at lightspeed just to shove his finger on Moxxie’s face. “You shush your dick-sucking lips, Moxxie.”

“Dude,” you call him out, “he’s right. Stop tumbling out of stuff like you’re some secret agent or something.”

“Well fuck you too, bitch! I’ll have you know I stuck a perfect landing.”

Finally changing out of your human form, you decide it’s best not to argue with him if you want to get home any time soon, settling on rolling your eyes and just agreeing with him instead. “Yeah, sure. Very cool. Can we please go now?” 

You can just feel he’s right about to insult you in some way when his expression shifts: his eyes widen at the sight of something behind you. “Fuck, shit, Mox, get down!” He yells out, and you don’t even get any time to look back and see what it is that he saw before he tackles both you and Moxxie to the ground and, out of the corner of your eye, you can clearly see what you assume are two tranquilizers land exactly where the two of you just stood. And then you see them. 

“Loona! Close it!” Blitzø yells, and you watch as Loona complies, hurriedly closing the portal that led directly to the meeting room in the I.M.P. office, leaving the three of you stuck on Earth.

And, in the middle of all the chaos, that’s when they get you. 

All you can register before blacking out is Blitzø screaming in pain at being covered by something, some sort of glowing net. And then everything goes dark. 

Shit.

[. . .]

You start panicking the very moment your eyes begin to flutter open, your sight begins to focus and you begin to gain your bearings after being out for who-knows-how-long, assuredly from the damn tranquilizers. Looking around, you gather that you, Blitzø and Moxxie have been tied up to chairs with your backs turned to each other. You pull on the ropes that tie your hands together on the back of your chair, but to no avail, and you hear Blitzø scoff at your attempt.

“Blitz! You’re awake?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t work. I tried. Maybe I should’ve bought that online course on untying army-grade knots.” He shrugs. 

“Fuck. Where even are we?” 

“Some government facility, I think.”

“You think?”

“Well, take a better fucking guess!”

“Hello?” Moxxie mumbles, beginning to wake up as well. 

“Mox?” You call.

“What’s going on?” He asks, groggy from the tranquilizer still.

The agents show up out of, seemingly, nowhere. It would be creepy if they didn’t look (and sound) so utterly unqualified and absurdly pathetic. “Y’all finally awake, huh? Your partner there’s been awake for a while.” The blonde woman tells you and Moxxie.

Blitzø immediately starts talking. “Look, shitbag, it takes a lot to keep me down, alright? I took a fuckton of tranquilizers in the college I dropped out of.” 

Now that’s new. “You went to college?” 

He arches an eyebrow at you. “Why you so surprised?” 

“You never told me about that.”

He shrugs. “Eh. Never told you ‘bout the time I was strapped nipple-first to a car battery either, so-” The other agent points a light directly to his eyes, making him squint. “Oh, okay-”

“Tell us, demon scum, who do you work for? Satan?” The guy asks.

“Heh, I wish. The guy’s hot as fuck,” you remark, and Moxxie laughs. By now, you know you’ve all silently agreed to pull the annoying card on them.

They pass the light between each other, the woman now holding it to your face. “How did you get to our world from the afterlife?” She asks, but gives you no time to reply, as the light is passed to the guy again. 

“Why are yous killing humans?”

And back to her. “When did you show up here?”

“Damn, that’s a lot of questions,” you point out.

It seems annoying enough, as the man lets out a frustrated growl. “You-”

Blitzø cuts him off. “Okay, okay, I’m gonna stop you right there, bitch. First of all, we just woke up from a veeery nasty shock and I’m still feeling fucking woozy, so I’m gonna request you fetch us some coffee before we get into this. I mean, everyone gets coffee in shitty movies with scenes like this, am I right? I want something iced, bitch. Y/n?”

“Ooh I’d die for some hot chocolate right now! Mox?”

“I’ll have a neapolitan cappuccino, more ‘capu’ than ‘ccino’, make sure it’s got no more than four ounces of milk, the beans won't have the right texture otherwise. And make sure they spell my name correctly on the cup, they always put Foxy or Roxy, I hate that. If you can’t handle that I’ll have a venti traditional misto, please use soy milk, with two blonde shots, affogato and ristretto! I’d also love three vanilla pumps at the very bottom and add the coffee after, and-”

You’re surprised they let him keep going for that long before the man interrupts him. “Enough! We aren’t getting yous coffee!”

“Wow, I was getting massive douche chills just there, Mox, congrats!” Blitzø comments, and he actually sounds proud. 

“It was beautiful!” You exclaim.

The lady crouches down to be at eye level with Moxxie. 

“If we have to, we are willing to resort to torture methods to get answers out of you nasty Hell beasts.”

“Ooh, you promise?” You ask her, turning up the fake-excitement in your voice, just to piss them off.

“When you say torture do you mean physical or psychological? Physical seems counterproductive. I mean, we’d likely tell you anything if it meant an end to the pain, and you would have no way of knowing what was true.” Moxxie tells her, matter-of-factly, and he’s not wrong.

“Or we might like it too much, and then you got a whole new thing to deal with,” Blitzø adds.

You nod. “We’ve done roleplay rougher than whatever this is.”

The man in front of you quirks an eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean by that?” Now he’s just asking for this. Blitzø grins. 

“Ah, you’re stupid, huh? I can work with stupid. Daddy likey dummy.”

Moxxie can’t contain his laugh at that one, stomping his feet on the ground at Blitzø’s words. “Good one, sir! Daddy likey-” 

You can’t keep yourself from laughing, either, when the two agents all but jump back in disgust at what was said.

“You better stop laughing at us!”

“Yeah!”

“But you make it so hard!” Moxxie exclaims.

“You know what else is hard?” Blitzø goes, and it sends the three of you into a laughing fit again. 

“Hey!” The man picks Blitzø up with some difficulty. “You are the ones at our mercy.”

Moxxie turns their attention back to himself. “It’s hard to resist, I’m really sorry. I mean, considering your approach thus far you’ve had us tied here for what? Hours? And you haven’t even had us confirm what exactly we are.”

The two idiots share a look between themselves before the woman speaks up. “Well, what are you?”

“I’m a virgo!” He mocks.

“Ha!” Blitzø yells, proud of him, and the man actually looks done this time, letting Blitzø down. 

“Ooh, a smart guy, huh?”

His partner looks increasingly annoyed too. “One more quip out of you and we’ll shut you up.”

“Ooh, keep talking dirty,” you purr, and Blitzø immediately matches the energy.

“Getting kinky!”

Both agents jolt backward in disgust, the guy even letting out a horrified screech which, frankly? A bit too much, isn’t it? “We aren’t playing any of your vile demon kinks!”

“I mean, that's what it sounded like back there, you sickos,” Blitzø continues taunting.

“What else do you wanna do to us?” You ask them, raising an eyebrow suggestively, in an over-the-top attempt at ‘flirting’ meant to disgust them even further.

Moxxie catches on. “Please don’t give them ideas!” He exclaims, sounding purposefully fake in the request, as if he wants them to get ideas. Honestly, you’re pretty impressed. 

“Why not? I know the shit you’re into,” Blitzø states, and for a second Moxxie’s pleased expression falters. 

“Ah!” The man yells. “We are not getting kinky with you!”

You fake-pout, making eye-contact with him. “Why not, big boy?”

“I- I-”

“Oh, you’re good.” Blitzø compliments.

“Thank you.”

The lady pats her partner’s shoulder. “Calm down, One.” That’s the alias? They’re ‘One’ and ‘Two’? Pathetic. “Don’t let these monsters get into your head.”

You can’t contain it. “Aw, but we’re all so good at head!” 

‘Two’ growls and the three of you laugh.

“So, aren’t we gonna get our phone call, bitch?” Blitzø asks, annoyed.

‘One’ crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, that entirely depends. Who are you gonna call?”

“Your fat mom! Thanking her for a fat time!” Blitzø blurts out before the agent even finishes speaking entirely.

“Nice try, demon. His fat mom is dead!” ‘Two’ yells out, and the man promptly starts crying.

Okay, things are getting too weird now. And incredibly annoying. So much for getting home soon.

“Stop insulting my mother! She’s dead!”

Eh, you’ve got nothing to lose. “Okay. No more about your mom. Can’t you guys just let us go or something?” 

“No?” Both agents reply, at the same time.

You shrug. “Tried.”

“You thought that was gonna work?” Moxxie asks.

“I’m all out on the inconvenient comments.”

“Hey, let’s just leave them here until they feel like talking,” The lady tells ‘One’  with a grin. You all try to tug on the ropes again as soon as they’re out of the door, but still to no avail. 

“That online course really would’ve paid off right now,” you point out.

“Hey, don’t worry, we just keep being obnoxious and they'll eventually slip up and we’ll get a chance to get out. Let’s just keep fucking with them until they get so frustrated they stop thinking clearly, it usually works.”

“I guess.”

Moxxie tugs on the ropes again. “I’m just worried about Millie. She’ll be on her way by now, I'm sure.”

“Ugh, she'll be fine, Moxxie. It would take a fucking hippo to take down that woman when she’s upset.”

“He’s right, Mox. Millie can handle her shit.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never dealt with the human government before. She’s in danger!”

“Uh, are you guys seeing this too?” You ask, as you see a green fog slowly spread through the floor of the room.

“Do you ever honestly shut up about Millie? It’s always ‘oh, how's Millie?’, ‘I can't tonight, I’m hanging with Millie’, ‘I'm so worried about Millie’ and she’s always five fucking feet away from you, it’s pathetic.” Blitzø complains, and he actually sounds pissed. 

“That was… oddly personal.” Is all Moxxie says in response.

“Yeah dude, you alright there?”

“No you’re right, I don't know why the fuck I just let my guts spill like that.”

That’s a little weird, alright, but are they not seeing the actual, much bigger issue going on right now? “Okay, look, do you guys not see this weird fucking green fog all around?”

Moxxie looks down and, sure enough, is startled when he finally notices it. “Fuck, they’re filling this room with something!”

“Yeah no shit, Moxxie, that’s what I just said!”

“Fuck, the hell is this?” Blitzø asks.

Moxxie squints, looking around a bit more before declaring “I think it’s some kind of airborne truth-telling serum.”

“Oh, you just guessed that’s what it is?” 

“Well, uh, just ask me something specific I wouldn’t normally tell you.”

“Okay. Uh… does Millie ever peg you?” Of course that’s what he asks.

“Sometimes,” Moxxie replies instantly without a care before what he just admitted dawns on him. “Wait- ew! Fuck. Why that?”

“Heh. I knew it.”

“Hey why’s that so funny?” You’re speaking before you even process it. “You begged me to peg you for like wee-” Woah. So that was not supposed to come out. 

Blitzø interrupts. Thankfully. “Heeyyy, hey, how ‘bout we all shut up?”

“Your suit is tacky!” Moxxie blurts out, as if he’d been holding that in. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“And you have shitty taste in music,” Blitzø blurts right back out. “Fuck I’m sorry.” 

“You said you liked that musical I recommended to you!” 

“I lied! I left halfway through. I lied to you guys so many times! I’ve lied to Looney before too! Oh my sweet, sweet, Looney, I hope she’s alright she must be so scared-”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yeah, like you don’t absolutely suffocate Loona. You talk about Moxxie and Millie but you’re so much worse with her. She's fine.”

“You take that back, she’s my daughter and it's different!”

“Is it really?”

“I don’t hear you saying shit about how Stolas treats his daughter.”

“Oh I didn’t know Stolas was in this room with us!”

“Oh I bet you wish he was.”

“Well you know who’s also not in this room with us? Your horse. You know why? Cause it’s not fucking real.” Only after all of that does it actually cross your mind that these aren’t things you should be saying. Curse Moxxie for being right about the truth serum. “Oh my- shit I’m sorry.”

“Oh you did not, you bitch! Lavender Magic Bubble Tea is real and she loves me!”

“As real as y/n’s shooting skills.” Moxxie laughs. 

You turn your head to face him at lightspeed. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

“I’m sorry, shit, I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”

“I’ll have you know I am improving!” You yell out before you promptly start crying.

“She's improving, Moxxie!” Blitzø defends.

It’s not long before the three of you become a big crying mess, apologizing to each other over and over again through your tears.

 [ . . . ]

“Moxxie, this is all your fault!” Blitzø spits.

“How is this my fault?” Moxxie tugs on the ropes that bind his wrists together behind the wooden chair once again as he cries, but it’s not useless this time around. 

The ropes fall graciously to the floor as he sets himself free, standing up to walk right into… what even is this? The empty dark room he’d just been in somehow morphs into an almost endless golden staircase, soft white clouds enveloping its surroundings. It makes him cough.

“Guys? I can’t see you. God, this smells awful.”

Moxxie doesn’t question it. He climbs the steps eagerly, wondering what it is he might find at the top. 

“What’s that music?” He asks out loud as a melancholic melody takes over the atmosphere. He keeps climbing, and climbing, and climbing until he reaches steps high enough that he’s able to see the top, only to find…

“Blitz? Is that you? Is this a prank? Because I swear to Stan-”

“It is no prank, bitch!” Blitzø , who, for some reason, is dressed in something weirdly similar to the Phantom of The Opera, mask covering the burn marks on his face and all, interrupts.

“Hey! Why do you sound like that?” Moxie questions, as his appearance doesn’t seem to be the only thing that’s different about his boss- his voice lower, more dramatic and… was that an accent he could hear? 

“Because you, my precious little bitch boy, are trippin’ balls!” Blitzo declares, and, in this bizarre chain of events, it does seem like the best explanation as to why the imp sits by an organ at the top of a golden staircase in the sky, somehow playing a perfect melody that just compels Moxxie to sing his worries instead of talking about them. It still freaks him out.

No, what? How could this be? I’ve never tried acid, shrooms or DMT It’s a bad trip, oy gevalt! Of course, Blitz, this would be your fault!  My lungs are full of honesty Would you promise me that you won’t judge? Yes, bitch Not trying to divulge too much But I’m in too deep So, first of all, fuck you! What? This is just typical Well, two can play in this game of dismay ‘Cause, if you’re here causing frustration, I’m torturing you in your hallucination!

[. . .]

Blitzø doesn’t know what this place is or how he got there, but this definitely wasn’t the same dark room he was in just a couple seconds ago. In fact, this barely even looked like the same reality he was in just a couple seconds ago. It’s still empty in this new place, but everything around him looks warped, fake. He’s covered in some sort of red goo that he can’t help but try to smell, and, for some reason he can’t comprehend for the life of him, he’s dressed like a circus clown, because of course that couldn’t be left out from this bizarre nightmare sequence he was living though. 

More red goo falls onto him, causing him to fall from his chair, to which he was somehow not bound anymore, onto the muddy ground, but it’s not like that was the weirdest part of all of this. The goo morphs into some kind of cartoonish version of Moxxie, oddly similar to Blitzø’s own drawings of the imp, and this Moxxie-like creature speaks to him with words he can barely process, let alone comprehend.

“I simply follow your orders. It isn’t my fault your orders are as nonsensical as sun-tanning bed left out on the cold rainy porch of a fresh april shower-”

“Why are you talking like that? What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I am simply speaking Satan’s plain English. Perhaps you should crack open a dictionary sometime. And then maybe you could understand half of the frivolous things I carry on and on about in my many rants about upbringings. It is my honor that you should-”

“Shut up!” 

[ . . . ]

Fog.

All you can see all around you is fog. The same green fog that you’d warned your friends about, that had been slowly coming out of the vents, now consumed everything. 

You try to blink, to squint, to somehow see anything beyond the fog, but to no avail, as it was so thick you couldn’t even see your own hands as you tried to wave them around in front of your eyes. 

But wait… you were waving your hands around. How? 

Standing up, you realize that, just like your hands, your legs had somehow been untied from the wooden chair, leaving you free to take Moxxie and Blitzo and run out of-

Where were Blitzo and Moxxie, anyway?

For all the dead silence indicated, you seemed to be alone in the room, no sight of them anywhere near. You walk around, mind spiraling with all sorts of awful possibilities. Maybe they were still there, but the fog had made them pass out. Shit, the more time passes, the more it takes over the space, sure to suffocate you soon enough. 

Coughing as you feel the substance fill your lungs with each breath you take in, you call out their names, voice hoarse from the lack of air. You call them once, twice, three, four, ten times, until it dawns upon you that they are simply not there, and panic sets into you. If they're not here with you, where are they? What if they're hurt? What if they're- 

You let yourself fall to the floor, defeated, and the tears immediately start to come out. What were you supposed to do from here, trapped, alone, scared… dying? How were you supposed to help?

Is this how you die? You’re-

“You’re gonna die like this? That’s pathetic.” A familiar voice makes its presence known from somewhere behind the fog. It takes a single blink for it all to fizzle out, leaving the room almost completely dark and empty, except for…

It can’t be. “Verosika?”

She paces back and forth in front of you. “What, embarrassed? I couldn’t miss this for shit. This might be the best day of my life, really.”

“Verosika, Blitz- he-”

She scoffs, flipping her hair with the back of her hand. “Ugh, enough about the pathetic little imp! This is about you. And about me, I’m enjoying this very, very much.”

“You have to call I.M.P, they-”

She leans closer, looking down at you, and it makes you feel smaller tha you’ve ever felt before. Her tall figure looms over you, and it’s easy to imagine how pathetic you look in comparison to her right now. She lifts your chin with her pointer finger and squeezes your cheeks together. The action alone calls you powerless in all languages you can think of. “Shhh, shhh, shh, shh, shh. Come on now. You can’t do anything to help them. You’re dying. Ha! Isn’t that hilarious? You’re dying. And so are they. And there’s nothing you can do to stop that.”

With your cheeks squeezed together with increasing strength, you struggle to talk back. “Thats not fucking true, you-”

“Hey, I’m not the one saying it.” She releases you, putting her hands up in surrender.

“What?”

All she does is laugh, and it does sound like her normal, full-of-disdain laugh at first, but an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach when it slowly turns into a sinister sound, a deep laugh that echoes all around the little dark room, giving you shivers. Her face contorts in an uncomfortable, bizarre way as the sound gets louder, like her face is made out of clay and being molded by some entity’s invisible hands into something else …

Or someone else.

“Millie.”

“Y/n? What the- what’s goin’ on?”

“I’m- I- these guys, they-”

She looks around furiously, interrupting you. “Where’s Mox?”

“I don’t know, Mills, I can't find him, I-”

Her focus returns to you, and her tone changes drastically as she repeats your own words. “You can’t find him?”

“No! I’ve been trying, but-”

“You been tryin’? You been tryin’? Last thing I checked you’ve been curled up in this corner talking to yourself.”

“What? No, I tried-”

“He’s gone. Isn’t he?”

“What? No, he’s out there, I know it-”

“You ‘know it’? How could ya possibly ‘know it ‘when you’ve been here feeling sorry f’yourself ‘stead of looking for him?” Tear threaten to fall from her eyes, and her voice trembles. You’ve never seen her more distressed, and it scares you. If Millie’s lost hope, if she believes Moxxie’s dead, then… “He’s gone, Y/N. My Moxxie’s gone and it’s all your fault””

“You have to listen to me, I-”

“No,” she interrupts, and her knife is pressed to your throat before you can even see her take it out. She’s crying now, but sadness isn’t the only thing you see in the eyes that stare right into your soul. 

Anger. You see anger in them.

“Millie, we can still go find them!”

“You won’t be here to find shit!” She lunges at you and you raise your arms over your face to protect yourself, but nothing comes. No knife pierces through your skin, no hands hit you, no teeth sink into you. You let your arms down, only to see remnants of green fog where she stood, as if she’d completely vanished. 

“Millie?”

There is nothing but silence for a moment, and you’re sure you’re back to being completely alone when you hear the noise of steps coming from behind you.

“Millie?”

Whatever it was that made the noise leaves you no time to wonder before you’re tackled to the floor, hard.

[ . . . ]

Why do you hurt me so?  I know, I push my friends away  (Why must you push your friends away?) Why does this seem like a reoccurring thing that you alienate with your toxic routine? I don’t know, eventually everyone goes  ‘Cause you’re thoughtless and cruel and you’ll end up alone! 

[ . . . ]

“Admit it, my dear boss- you don’t know what you’re doing half the time! And you depend on me and the girls to manage your foolish flights of fancy.”

“I don’t need you. I could do this shit on my own so easily!”

Blitzø is thrown back onto the ground with so much strength he struggles to sit up, and when he does he’s met with a terrifying sight. Before him now is no longer the version of Moxxie he’s used to scribbling on corners of papers when he’s bored. ‘Moxxie’ has transformed into something much worse:

Striker towers over him, and he borrows Blitzø’s own voice as he spits the truth Blitzø ignores like the plague while looking down at him. “But you don’t want to be alone, Blitzo!”

Blitzø has no time to react  as he’s yanked into the air by muddy, bodiless hands- only, when his eyesight focuses, they’re not bodiless anymore. A warped, black-and-white version of Fizzarolli contorts and twists its body to spill Blitzø’s insecurities directly to his face: “You tried the solo act, it didn’t work out so well!”

‘Fizzarolli’, who also borrows Blitzø’s voice, untwists his body as he laughs a freaky, grotesque laugh, sending Blitzø flying back to the floor, from where a creature emerges from the mud in front of him, taking form of yet another demon Blitzø loved to pretend he didn’t hurt. 

Verosika crawls her way over to him, cornering him back into something he can’t see. She holds his face in her hands with such strength Blitzø fears his eyes might pop out of their sockets. Unsurprisingly, yet still horrifying, his own voice comes out of her mouth, too,  when she speaks. “And you still shove away anyone who gets too close until they resent you for being a selfish shit-spittin’ snob!”

In a desperate attempt to flee from her, Blitzø blindly yanks himself away from her hold, standing up and turning around to face whatever it was that he’d been backed into- only to see it’s a big, fancy staircase. He tries to climb up its steps, only to be stopped by some sort of invisible force that prevents him from getting any closer. 

The staircase that looked endless unveils the sight of none other than Stolas, who sits, in all his royal glory, on a golden throne, while clones of Blitzø himself and Y/N tend to him. Blitzø doesn’t spare a single thought into the matter before he tries to crawl up the steps once again, realizing perhaps this is how he’s supposed to get there- by crawling his way up to him- seen as the force that once stopped him doesn’t bother him this time around.

 As he crawls his way up, he notices his previous circus clown get-up morph into his usual work clothes, but that is long forgotten about when someone magically appears by his side.

Y/N crawls her way up to Stolas alongside him now, golden collars attached to matching golden chains materializing around their necks. Stolas pulls on said chains, forcing them both into kneeling at his feet right before his throne. Stolas leans down, and he gets at face-level with him, but his place is still clear: beneath him, less than. 

Stolas tilts his head to the side and smiles. 

“Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?” He coos, before releasing his hold on Blitzø’s face. With a flick to his forehead that is almost comical, Blitzø is sent rolling down the steps, landing back on the muddy ground. He holds himself up with difficulty, hands instinctively feeling his neck for the collar that once was there, only to find nothing. Looking back to the top of the stairs, he sees Y/N has been freed from the collar and chains as well, only she’s still there with him, still kneeling on the floor, still worshipping.

“Y/N, come on, you don’t have to-”

She turns back to face him, and her expression shows nothing but anger. “Can’t you let me have this one fucking thing, Blitz?”

“What are you-”

A white flash of light blinds him. He covers his eyes with his arm, blinking rapidly to try to see again, only to see something that is somehow even worse- Y/N no longer kneels before Stolas’ throne, but sits right on his lap instead, wearing clothes Blitzø could swear looked identical to what he’d seen Stella in before. The clones of the two of them are now gone. 

“What, did you think we needed you?” She laughs as if the mere idea were utterly stupid.

She leans further into Stolas and whispers something in his ear, to which he giggles. 

“You’re right, darling, why would he think we would want him?” Stolas speaks to her, but stares right into Blitzø’s eyes as he does so, and grins.

Moxxie, the real Moxxie, instead of some cartoonish version of him, appears in front of him once again, only this time he wears this weird princess-like dress. Blitzø doesn’t question it for even a single second. 

“I believe your self-conscious is trying to tell you that you simply cannot fathom proper intimacy, but also crave it as well. And you fear your inability to show affection to those you care for will heed their need for you entirely. Is that not right, sir? It’s rather unfortunate, really, considering it’s often how you treat those who stand by you… suck as myself. Are you worried I may have enough of it one day as well?

“Stop fucking talking, all of you!”

[ . . . ]

You bring your hand up to touch the back of your head, where you’d hit the ground, relieved when you see no blood, and you struggle to stand back up. “Fuck. Millie?”

“How could you let him die?” 

Shit, that wasn't Millie.

“Loona?”

“You said you’d take care of him. You promised.”

“Loona, I-”

“He was the only thing I had left. He was the only one to actually see me as a fucking person and not some rabid guard dog.”

“Loona, we can go find him, I’m sure he’s-”

“He’s gone! Fucking gone! And who’s fucking fault is that, huh?”

“Loona, I swear, I don’t know what happened to him-“

“Stop lying! You don’t care. You never fucking cared. You don’t care about Moxxie and you don’t care about Millie and you don’t care about Blitz and you don’t care about me.”

“That’s not true, Loons, I love-”

“Shut up!” She yells. Angry tears roll down her face and fall to the ground, fizzling out as green fog into the air. “Shut up. Don’t fucking say it. We all know what it is that you care about.”

“What?

The green fog from her tears envelop her entire figure, leaving you with Stolas right where she just stood when it dissipates.

He holds your face in his hand, lovingly. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Stolas. Is this… is this really you?”

He laughs, tenderly. “Of course, darling. Who else would it be?”

“I… I don’t- I don’t know-”

“Here, you got struck pretty bad, didn’t you? Are you hurt?”

“No, I-”

He doesn’t listen, manhandling you into sitting back down so he can look at the bruises that now cover your face and body.  “Don’t lie to me. We’ll take care of it. Alright?”

“Stolas?”

“Hm?” He pays half a mind to what you’re saying as he murmurs what you assume are healing spells as he runs his fingertips over your split bottom lip and the cut on your eyebrow.

“Where’s Blitz?”

He ignores. “Did you get tackled, dearest? This does not look good.”

“Stolas where is Blitz?” You repeat yourself. Surely he just didn’t hear you, right?

He touches the bruises on your hand, amused. “And these! Oh my. Have you been fighting some rabid dog?” He laughs.

You retract your hand from his. It can’t be that he’s just ignoring everything you say, can it? “Stolas. Answer me.”

He dodges, once again. “May I look at your head? You might have gotten a concussion from all this.”

“STOLAS!” You yell out, exasperated.

His preoccupied expression drops in a fraction of a second. “What is it?” He asks, annoyed.

“I am asking you a question!”

“I don’t know where he is! I don’t keep track of what you little imps do.”

“What? He’s in danger, Stolas, we need-”

“We need to do what? Help him? Save him?”

“Yes! How can you act so unbothered about all of this when I’m freaking the fuck out-”

“How about we make a deal?”

“What?”

“I’ll help you find your friends. If you give me a little… something… in return,” he offers, leaning closer to you.

“You’re not being serious right now.”

“But I am. You’ve seen no issue with my… deals… before.” He slowly drags his pointer finger along your face, condescendingly tapping your cheek once when he’s done. It actually makes you uncomfortable.

“Stolas, this is not the time.”

“Really? When is the time, pet?”

“Stop. This is not like you.”

“Is it not? Blitzy did warn you.”

“He’s wrong. He’s wrong. He’s wrong.”

[ . . . ]

Why, Moxxie, why?  Do you hide your true feelings inside? I am scared of rejection  Why, Moxxie, why?  Do you have Millie put it in your butt? It gives me an erectio- hey! No need to hide We accept your true feelings, so promise me That I can do To be true The world is your anus, so peg it with honesty “Ugh!” I’ve been a jackass, it’s true (You’ve been a jackass, it’s true) But soon as we’re back as ourselves I will be a better friend than i was before  Be better at speaking my mind  And together we’ll begin to become… Fine 

[ . . . ]

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the brightness of the lights, and you catch a glimpse of the reminiscents of the green fog dissipating. You’re still bound to that damn wodden chair and you can feel Moxxie and Blitzø move as they awaken as well. You look down at the floor, unable to even try and look at either of them after whatever that was that your brain conjured during your hallucination. Judging by the sheer silence, you can only imagine they’ve also gone through some sort of terrible vision while tripping on whatever this substance was.

Moxxie is the first to say something after what feels like an eternity. 

“Blitz?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember what you said to me after my first day with the company?”

“Not really,” Blitzø replies with a shrug.

“I remember. You told me I did a good job and that you were proud to work with me. I feel like you wanted to say something more judgemental, but… you said that because I needed it. And it helped.”

“I felt that too.”

“What?”

“When you came by to offer me the job. I wasn’t going to accept. I think you knew that. But Moxxie said you’d talked non-stop about me and how you needed me for this to work. I felt like you wanted to correct him, but you didn’t. You let him tell me that. I still don’t know if it’s even true, but… I needed that.”

“Look, you care too much about what everyone thinks, except for… me, because, you know, my opinion is correct, but just… keep doing a good job, okay? I’m hard on you because I know what you’re capable of. Both of you. You shoot and kill good, you escape things easy, you can be strategic and cold-blooded when you need to and… don’t expect any more compliments, I maxed out.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You know my name. Use it.”

“Thanks, Blitz.”

A silence fills the atmosphere for a few seconds before you manage to say what you’ve been meaning to ever since waking up. 

“Hey, Mox?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you… would you maybe give me shooting lessons?”

“Hey, I’m really sorry I said those things-”

“No, you- you were right. I can handle myself with a knife or a dagger but I’m pretty shit with a gun. And you’re the best shooter I know, so…”

“Second best shooter you know,” Blitzø corrects you, and you roll your eyes, smiling.

“So? What do you say?”

“Yeah. I’d love to, Y/N.”

“Cool.”

“What, you’re not gonna say anything to me?” Blitzø questions, annoyed.

“Honestly? I just… I’m glad you tried to steal from Ozzie that night. I’m glad we’re friends. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah. Same. Don’t expect much more than that, this has already been way too touchy-feely for me.”

You laugh. “Fair enough.”

“So how long do you think they’re gonna keep us-” As if on cue, Millie barges into the room through the glass, interrupting Blitzø. Through the huge hole left on the cracked glass, you see Loona standing on the other side of the room, and for only a moment does it make you nervous to see the both of them again, memories of them, angry and crying, coming back to you. 

But Millie crushes Moxxie with a hug and peppers kisses all over his face and unties you and hugs you tight and asks you if you’re okay and suddenly your worries wash away like nothing but a bad memory. She’s there- the real her, and she’s worried about you. 

Besides, you don’t get much time to dwell on the memories of what you saw while in delirium, because a siren starts sounding, alerting every single one of the agents in the building of your presence. 

[ . . .]

“I- I can’t see dick!” Loona exclaims, exasperated at the useless attempt to read the words from the Grimoire and get all of you back home.

Blitzø fumbles with his pockets, trying to find more weapons, only to come up empty-handed. “Oh, shit. looks like we’ve milked this weapon tit-dry and now we’re out of badass-erry.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’ve got yourselves trapped into a government facility in the human world with no way to get back home and, suddenly, the two idiots that had held you hostage for the majority of the day didn’t seem as stupid as they did just a few minutes ago, now that they had the upper hand. 

“Ha! You demons aren’t going anywhere now!” ‘Agent One’ mocks, holding a gun in your direction. 

It seems like it might actually be the end for all of you, and it’s actually terrifying.

Until something happens. 

The atmosphere in the room shifts, chills coursing through your spine as some sort of presence makes itself known. The many monitors in the room turn on, one at a time, making the sound of static take over the room before they begin to fall to the ground, one at a time as well, screens shattering against the floor. 

A voice echoes through the tiny room, ominous and bone-chilling: “Who dare threaten my impish little playthings?”

You and Blitzø immediately whip your heads around to face each other, sharing an alarmed look. 

Fuck. Stolas.

[. . .]

“How did you even know that we needed help?” Blitzø asks when Stolas comes back into his usual, normal form.

“I have my ways, darling. Are you two alright?” Is the first thing Stolas says as if possessing someone from Hell and making corpses summon him so he could come up to the human world though that someone’s body was no big deal, grabbing both you and Blitzø by your cheeks and squeezing them hard. 

“We’re fine, Stolas,” Blitzø replies with an eye roll.

“Good. Good.” Stolas takes a deep breath before his eyes widen so much they might as well fall off his face- all four of them. “How the fuck did you get caught by humans? Are you little creatures not being careful up here? You know if you get in trouble I get in trouble. We don’t want that.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, Stolas. We’re sorry,” you try.

Moxie nods in agreement. “They caught us off-guard, Your Highness.”

Blitzø has a… less respectful approach. “Yeah, you can unclench your bird-puss, Stolas. It's not gonna happen again, okay?”

“Luckily for you, most don't believe the words of the demon-obsessed lunatics. They are seen as kooks.” Stolas laughs. “Kooks! Such a silly word. Now, let us all return,” He says, opening a opens a portal back to hell with ease.

“Yes, please. I'd like to return to the correct hell-hole as soon as possible,” Moxxie says, jumping into the portal, followed right away by Millie and Loona. 

Unspokenly, Blitzø takes his place in Stolas’ arms, and you climb his back until you can wrap your arms around his neck, wrapping your legs around his torso as well. 

He looks pleased at the position the three of you find yourselves in, “Am I going to get any thank you for this rescue?”

Blitz raised a hand to his chin, as if seriously pondering over the answer.“‘S’ppose you should. What do you think?” He asks you.

“Are you kidding me? That was so fucking hot, you can fuck me into next week for that.”

Your words ignite something within Stolas, whose voice sounds higher than usual when he tries to speak. “Oh. I’d very much like that.”

“Want me to fuck your brains out while you’re at it?” Blitzø offers.

“Very much so.”

“‘Kay but you’re gonna keep quiet or I'm gonna use the bear traps.”

“As if he’s not into that!” You accuse, laughing.

The feathers around Stolas’ neck puff up with arousal as he conjures up images of the scenario in his mind. “Please do.”

“See?”

A/N: yall thought i was giving up huh think again!!!

[prettyoddfever]

Hey, sorry if you've already done a post on this but do we know why Ryan ross stopped wearing stage makeup /makeup in general? I haven't seen any pics of him during pretty odd with any makeup on xx

Ryan only wore stage makeup from June – December 2006. It was just a short phase and then he was totally over it.

The Pretty. Odd. era started in 2008. Ryan and Jon talked a lot that year about how they wanted to make music that was more “honest” and authentic. At that point they viewed all of the Fever-era performers, costumes, makeup, and elaborate sets as “distractions” that weren’t necessary if the music was good enough to speak for itself. There were times that year when Ryan would almost look down on the Fever-era’s dramatic stage shows in a condescending way, as though those things were totally beneath him now. He certainly wanted to distance himself from all of that. He also made comments like “I think we’d be silly if we were wearing the circus outfits again. I don’t even know how we got on that kick.” He also told Cosmogirl in spring 2008 that “I think we’re playing a lot better than we used to... I guess you could say we’re more about sounding good than looking good.” Even his comments that weren’t dismissive of the Fever era still made it sound like the previous version of the band was inferior.

I loved that Ryan had found a direction he was happier with! But he didn’t seem to care that a lot of us were kind of hurt over how he was treating the Fever era. He had moved on. Ryan was more focused on establishing & defending the new version of the band in 2008 (and making it clear that fans didn’t own P!ATD; the band members controlled it and could take it in whatever direction they wanted). A lot of us were definitely interested in the new era, but we were loyal to the old familiar one. I wanted to be able to like both, but many of Ryan’s comments sometimes made me feel silly for ever thinking the Fever era was cool. 

Ryan changed so much every year. He also seemed to like to shake things up and make changes to the band so he could feel a stronger sense of ownership & control in something that was more authentic to who he was at each point. Like we had seen many other times, Ryan wasn’t interested in doing something for approval and he didn’t care what other people thought (which could be a strength). He was just going to move ahead with what he liked. Ryan told NME in 2008 that “Fever was a moment in time and it’s not who we are anymore.” Basically, his interests & focus had changed by 2007 and he wasn’t interested in looking back. Here’s something Ryan told Alt Press in 2010 when they asked him if he regretted any decisions from his years in P!ATD:

“At the time, I wouldn’t have changed anything, whether it be the weird makeup or whatever. Now would I do that? No. But at the time, that’s what I felt like I should do, so I did.”

I’ve seen some people these days make comments about how they wish the modern P!ATD had the Fever-era makeup/aesthetic and that its absence is somehow connected to Ryan’s absence? I have no idea how that conclusion works. Any hint of theatricality that the band had after the split was because Ryan was no longer there. Take a Vacation by TYV is basically what Ryan & Jon had in mind in 2008 for PATD’s third album... and that’s a far cry from AFYCSO. 

Basically, people change as they grow up nbd.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Exquisite dancing and a loving married couple

Part one

Barbie dolls: husband! president!Coriolanus Snow x gn! Reader

Word: 5.3k

Summary: your joints are shit and you Coryo go to a gala and you guys are freaking cute

Warning: mentions of cream be mature it's like icy hot cream ok the brand is made up don't go looking for this magical blue flower joint cream, you like ceramics, you know that sound that goes okokokokokok and lalalala yeah that's y'all, you yap and coryo listens, you think you're a hassle and Coriolanus is like 😡hey shut up 💗, ypu have chronic pain/disability its mostly vague but your joints hurt, coriolanus is a lil ooc bc I wrote this before I finished the book and movie, his job is a lil vague but it's insinuated he's president, also speaking of president if you're American please go vote every vote counts plz, a man tries to flirt with you I didn't want it to be like traumatic but he is gross so he's like comically creepy, you're a smidgen oblivious but consider it in the autistic way not the "oh I'm a ditsy innocent Virgin reader I wear Velcro shoes and lace panties always what's body hair" way, old lady bothers yall, you kinda ignore what's going on and let coriolanus handle all the social interactions, mentions of sex and mildly nsfw, its kissy and light touching, you don't drink alcohol or at least not at this specific gala, yea that's it

With the warm dinner in your shared bed still feesh on his mind, Coriolanus decided he wanted to get closer to you. If you would grant him the friend title, he'd accept it. If he could choose, you'd both use kisses as greetings and know everything about each other.

Truly he worried more about how much pain you went through in your day-to-day life. Coriolanus decided there were going to be changes in how people treated you. Mavvy was going to be your right-hand-maid, ready to jump into action if you ever needed it. If he even caught a whiff of someone making an off-handed comment about you, he planned to leave his precious gem cuff links in your hands and start swinging. On the topic of him, he decided he was going to spend every minute of his free time worshiping you if it meant you'd be more comfortable. 

One evening after work he stopped by a local cornerstone with racks upon racks of simple medical supplies. Coriolanus followed the clerk around as he spit possibly thousands of words all about the best ways to help with joint pain.

Coriolanus came home with bags so stocked full of supplies he stumbled through the sunroom door, almost dropping them all. After you swallowed your shock, you two started experimenting with all the new supplies. Some of them helped, some of them didn't, but your favorite was the cream that had a blue flower on the bottle. 

For one Coriolanus was adamant on not letting you do it yourself. He just had to rub it in for you. After the third time, you didn't mind it at all. You liked him massaging your joints. You felt like it was the only way they felt any better. The cream helped definitely, his hands were just a bonus. 

Just like that, your relationship started to shift. After the bath situation, you had more good days than bad in your body. Some days you would rest more than you truly wanted but for the most part, you were doing pretty good.

 Though sometimes you mentioned the pain to Coriolanus even if it wasn’t all that bad just so he’d rub your joints and muscles. He got so used to it, that he started to do it absentmindedly. Coriolanus rubbed the muscles in your hand as you two were settling into bed. He rubbed the back of your calves when he massaged the cream into your knees. He rubbed your shoulders every time he pulled your coat on or off.

His dresser became more and more cluttered with your creations as time went by. You laid in bed longer in the mornings so you could compliment him on his clothes before he left.

 Coriolanus sometimes even changed outside of his closet. Every time he looked up, you’d be watching him. It made his chest puff out. It gave him so much confidence he thought about always undressing and redressing in front of you. You talked almost constantly around him, he loved every word of it. You didn’t stop talking and ask him about himself, you just talked. He listened and when the conversation floated back to him, you listened to every bit. 

Soon enough you became friends that happened to be married. You both secretly thought there were some simmering romantic feelings that grew with every touch and laugh. You didn’t sleep on other sides of the bed now, you actually scooted into the center to hold onto one another. You always used the ruse of hurting arms that just needed to be wrapped around someone. Coriolanus saw through you like glass but played along. He held you just as tight as you held him. He thought if he could choose where he got to die it would be right there in your arms. 

Months flew by with you just inching closer and closer. You both became comfortable with each other. Dinners were one of your favorite times of the day. You got to talk with Coriolanus and laugh over good food. Halfway through your rant about the difference between Earthenware and Porcelain, Coriolanus touched the back of your hand to silently ask you to pause for a second. You paused your sentence, looking away from the food you had been pushing around. Coriolanus wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin before setting it back in his lap. 

“This weekend there is a gala I need to go to for work,” Coriolanus said, hoping you caught on to where he was heading. You smiled and set your fork down. 

“Okay, I hope you have fun. I can handle the house on my own for one night, no problem.” Your tone was so bright he felt like you might be more excited to stay home. Coriolanus shook his head. He gripped onto your hand, making sure his seriousness was received. 

“I’d like you to go with me.” He clarified, watching your expression closely. You stared at him like you didn’t understand why and looked at your plate instead. “You’re not being forced to go. I just want you to be there. I know I would have a much better time if you were there. I think you would enjoy yourself.” Coriolanus waited for you to look back to him. You peeled your eyes away from your plate. Your other hand came to rest on top of his, making a sandwich with your hands. 

“Are you sure you want me to go? I might just end up being a hassle. If it’s a work thing I want you to be able to meander about. I’d just weigh you down.” You said, staring into his eyes so sincerely it hurt. He shook his head at you, upset you could even think those words about yourself. 

“You’re not a hassle. I want you to come with me. I want to spend the night with you. Also, I’m forced to go, so taking you with me would make the night enjoyable.” Coriolanus’ hand was warming from yours. He wanted to flip his hand over and hold onto your other one but he was trapped. You finally nodded. 

“I’ll go.” You whispered. Coriolanus let you continue your speech on clay types, returning to his food. 

The rest of the week flew by and before you knew it, you were getting ready with Mavvy next to you. You took a bath and there she was, clipping her nails while sitting on the bathroom sink. Mavvy helped you dress, smiling at you when she finished. You hated to have favorites when it came to people but you liked Mavvy much more than any of the maids or butlers. Mavvy walked with you as you made it downstairs. Mavvy lead you to the Library. Coriolanus heard your footsteps and stood from the chair he was sitting in. He paused when he looked you up and down. He smiled and nodded at you, holding his arm out for you. Coriolanus muttered compliments as you walked into the venue. 

It was stunning, the decorations made you want to inspect them and dissect them to find out what they were made of. You held onto Coriolanus’ arm and tuned out his words. He pulled you towards a wall but you didn’t watch where you were going, staring at what looked like fake dragonflies and butterflies dance around in the air.

There was soft music playing from the wall across from the entrance. There was an orchestra whispering out tunes towards the chattering crowd. It wasn’t packed but there were definitely plenty of people. Against the wall Coriolanus was dragging you towards was food and drinks, plenty of glittering small foods and dishes.

Around the floor were round tables that could sit eight at maximum. Towards the orchestra was an empty space of floor that had a few people casually dancing on. You decided you and Coriolanus would be dancing at some point tonight. On the opposing wall from the food, was another row of long tables, though you couldn’t make out what was on those. Coriolanus’ fingers brushed against your cheek, dragging your chin back towards him. You understood and focused on where you were heading instead of the room. 

Coriolanus walked towards a group of maybe six people. They all greeted him warmly. He introduced you, you gave them a short smile and nod. He listed off their names and you committed none of them to memory but pretended you did.

Coriolanus wandered around the room, greeting plenty of people and talking plenty of business with them. You got bored quickly, slipping away from his side with a kiss on his cheek. You headed straight for the table with beverages, at least you’d have something to hold onto. You wandered around the table, holding your hand up to cover the card that had the name of the food on it, guessing and revealing the answer to yourself. You had gotten 7 right out of the 10 you tried but it was more entertaining than listening to Coriolanus yammer about business. 

A man came and stood next to you, picking up a Meat Stick Thingamabobber, as you had named them. You moved on to the next item, guessing Brie and learning it was actually some other fancy cheese you didn’t know how to pronounce. The man moved with you, scooting over one. You moved over two, staring down at the Rosemary Crackers you had no interest in eating. The man finally greeted you, still following after you and scooting down the table. 

“Vinal. Richardson.” He stuck his hand out towards you, a crystal plate stacked with Meat Stick Thingamabobbers in the other. You could not want to shake someone’s hand less. You still shook it though, giving him a quick smile. You gave him your first name, looking back at the stupid Rosemary Crackers. 

“Do you work here? I’ve never seen you in the Office?” He asked. When he said here you assumed he meant do you work in Coriolanus’ office. You shook your head. 

“Oh no, I’m a plus one. I very much could not work in the Office.” You chuckled, thinking of the way you felt incomplete without looking or making art at some point during the day. Like just today you walked into your sunroom, realized how much work it would be to paint, and left. How could you live without that joy in your life? Vinal chuckled like he was inside on the joke. Which he was not. You glanced over his shoulder, trying to spot Coriolanus without looking like you were looking. 

“Guess not. You’re too pretty to sit in the office all day.” Vinal said. You moved towards the end of the table, picking up a drink. You already tried one and they were quite enjoyable. They had a fruity taste to them and even though they weren’t alcoholic they made you less nervous. You had a reason to be quiet while you were sipping. 

“Well I don’t know, I know at least one very pretty person who works in an office.” You countered, thinking of Coriolanus getting dressed in the morning. He didn’t know it but the sun always peaked out from the curtains and caught in his hair while he buttoned his shirt. He might think you liked to watch him dress for more lewd reasons. Though maybe he wasn’t completely wrong, you liked watching his gears turn. Watching him get ready for the day always felt so domestic you might even think your wedding was sparked by love. You knew he thought of all the words you told him in the morning so you planned them out as he pulled his outfit together piece by piece. As you looked up from your drink, the smile on Vinal’s face set you on edge. 

“Aren’t you a little tease? Well, where do you work then?” You furrowed your eyebrows at Vinal. What did that have to do with being a tease? You weren’t sure how you should answer his question. You didn’t really work. 

“I make art. Mostly I stay at home.” You gave Vinal a half-shrug. He oooed. 

“You make art? What kind? My mother is actually a painter. I’m sure she’d love you.” You took a sip from your glass, glancing around the room like you were lulling his question over. You still hadn’t caught Coriolanus. Damn your husband for wearing neutral colors. Why could he not where bright neon orange, at least you’d find him when you needed him. 

“I do all sorts of things.” You finally answered. Vinal nodded. 

“I’m sure you do. Where’s your friend? You’re a plus one right, I wanna meet your friends.” Vinal asked, glancing around the room with you. You shrugged. 

“I’m not sure actually.” You whispered into your drink. Vinal reached out for your face, turning your head to face his again. 

“Or we could just get out of here…go somewhere quiet?” Your skin crawled and you realized just how extremely happy you were married off to Coriolanus instead of some freak like Vinal. You sucked in a harsh breath, that he probably considered a good sign. You looked away from him, begging for Coriolanus to appear.

He must’ve heard your thoughts because he took a step back from the group he was talking to, smiling and taking a step forward again to join the conversation again. You shoved your drink into Vinal’s hands and stepped away from him. You moved as quickly as you could from him, hoping he didn’t follow. You glanced over your shoulder, glad to see he stayed in his spot. You swerved around the people moving about the tables.

 You felt your anxieties slightly ease when Coriolanus was close enough you could hear his voice. You dipped into Coriolanus’ group, joining him at his side. You pressed your hand into the small of his back.

Coriolanus kept his eyes on the coworker he was speaking to, nodding with whatever they were saying. He still showed you he recognized your existence, pulling his arm around you and tucking you into his side.

You glanced over at Vinal to find him still standing at the table with your plate in his hands and staring at you upset. You reached up to tuck a stray hair behind Coriolauns’ ear. You pressed your knuckle against his cheek for a second longer than you normally would. You were silently telling him you needed his attention. Coriolanus’ brows pinched but he still stared at the person talking. When his coworker finished talking and a new coworker started he turned to face you. 

“Do you know a Vinal Richardson?” You whispered. Coriolanus gave you a confused look. 

“Yes, he’s a vile little worm, why?” He answered, keeping his tone low. You held onto Coriolanus’ back tighter. 

“I think he just tried to get me to go sleep with him. And meet his mother. I think I accidentally flirted with him, but I really didn’t mean to it just came out wrong. I was talking about something else but he must’ve taken it to mean I was talking about him. Now he’s all upset because I ditched him and every time I look over my shoulder he’s staring-“ Coriolanus tugged you forward into a hug, using it to comfort you and look over your shoulder. There he was, Vile Vinal. Pouting away and glaring at Coriolanus. Coriolanus pulled you back and knocked his nose with yours. He gently kissed the corner of your mouth and rubbed your back. 

“Don’t worry about him. How is your body feeling?” Coriolanus asked. You pressed your nose against Coriolanus’ collar, breathing in the scent you started to associate with your home. 

“I need to rest soon. I feel hot.” You whispered into his clothes. Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your forehead. He gave his coworkers a goodbye and a promise of later returning. He gently pulled you away from your hug and held onto your elbow.

He moved you towards a nearby table and pulled out a chair for you. You slumped into it, fanning your face with your hands. Coriolanus picked up a piece of very thick paper that held the details of the reason and funding for the gala. Special thanks and all that. He fanned you with it. It helped greatly, the soft breeze cooling the burning under your skin. His hand slipped over your shoulder, rubbing the tension from it as he fanned you. You hummed and leaned your cheek against his forearm. You heard the chair next to you drag across the floor. You didn’t worry about it, focusing on Coriolanus fanning you. The voice you assumed from an older woman asked Coriolanus if you were alright. 

“Just fine, Ma’am. A little hot, that's all.” Coriolanus answered, you could hear his smile. His hand traveled up your shoulder and neck. He gently tilted your head back against his abdomen, fanning your neck and chest. The old woman started rattling off about how much she loved watching newlywed couples interact, it reminded her of her last husband. You peeked an eye open at that, tilting your head to the side, much to Coriolanus’ disapproval, making eye contact with the old lady. 

“Are we still considered newlyweds if it’s been months?” You asked. Coriolanus kept fanning you. His other hand resting on your cheek and rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. The old woman raised an eyebrow. 

“I suppose not, keeping the love young then. You two still have the Glow.” You quirked an eyebrow, confusion lacing your face. Coriolanus trailed his fingers up to your brow line, massaging away the wrinkle. You closed your eyes, not caring again, and leaned your head back against him. 

“You just have the look of young and new love. Must be the honeymooning, that always keeps the stress and anxiety of marriage sedated.” The old woman muttered. You furrowed your brows again, turning your head away from the woman in disgust. Coriolanus rested his hand on the side of your neck, reminding you he was still right there with you. Like you could forget that amazing makeshift fan of his, oh is that a cooler brush of air than last time? 

“Trust me, Ma’am. The love of ours is something much more pure. Honeymooning can only get you so far. Care and trust is what takes you to the finish line.” Coriolanus defended. Was it even really defending? You supposed so, this old woman just said you two only worked because you fucked. Which was falsities at best. You reached up and held onto Coriolanus’ wrist. He kept the fan going with his other hand. He twisted his hand in a strange way to release your grip and intertwine your finger instead. The woman smacked her lips. 

“Well, I suppose that’s true. You don’t hear that often from young birds like you two. All the yougins think about honeymoons.” She said. You sat up straighter, feeling like you could handle another hour or two before you needed to go. Coriolanus ignores the woman, putting his focus on you again. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, slowing his fanning. You clenched your teeth. You could lie and say you were fine but that’s exactly how you ended up stuck in the bathtub. 

“I could probably power through another hour or two.” You answered. Coriolanus dropped the paper onto the table. 

“That’s not what I asked, How are you feeling?” Coriolanus repeated. You felt too tired to be scolded. 

“Tired and my legs hurt. I know you have more to do though so I can wait here and we can stay for longer.” You said, trying to cover up how badly you just wanted to go home and go to sleep. Coriolanus clicked his tongue. The old woman nodded in understanding. 

“Ready to skip town and get back that honeymoon bed?” She asked. She must’ve felt like a genius detective coming up with that one. 

“Chronic pain.” You answered, tired of her blabbering in your ear.

 “No,” Coriolanus said in sync with your words. He sent a look over toward the old woman, if you didn’t know him you’d think it was just a confused look. You did know him and you knew he was beyond annoyed with her. 

“I think I’m actually feeling exhausted, all that classical music tuckered me out. What do you think, Darling?” Coriolanus asked. You stood from your chair, leaning into Coriolanus. 

“I think, we ought to get you home. You must be running a fever, sweetheart.” You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead and yanked it back. You shook it out sucking in a breath. ”Oh you’re burning up, we must take you home immediately.” Coriolanus smiled at you joining in on the ruse, sticking his arm out for you to hold onto. 

Your driver made quick work of getting you two home. In the car, you leaned against Coriolanus and felt your heart soar when he wrapped both his arms around you.

In no time Coriolanus was pulling you through the bedroom door. Mavvy followed both of you inside, trying to help you out of your clothes. She had placed your shoes back on the rack, moving back to you. By the time Mavvy had finally started the process of getting your first piece of clothing off, Coriolanus was taking over her responsibilities. He was already half undressed, his pajama pants on and his matching shirt waiting on the edge of the bed. Mavvy seemed hesitant letting him take the reins. When you smiled at her and rubbed her hand soothingly, she left the room. 

Coriolanus was much slower than Mavvy. Mavvy was destination-focused. She was just trying to get you into your pajamas as fast as possible. She wanted you in bed and her shift over as quickly as possible. You tried to tell her she could go to bed already and you could undress yourself, you were an adult after all. Yet she waved your hands off and continued. 

Coriolanus was path-based, moving his hands terribly slowly. He took plenty of time just pulling your clothes down to the floor. His fingertips dragged across your skin, making you shiver. He rested his hands on your hips as he moved behind you to work the rest of your clothes off of you.

You waited for his hands to move, but they were frozen on your hips. They ran up your back, making you stand straighter, before dipping over your shoulders. He ran them down your arms and stopped at your hands. He fiddled with your fingers, running his fingers against your fingertips. He moved his hands around to the back of yours. He felt the way your knuckles flexed with your finger twitched, felt the underside of your wrists, and felt the wish of your hands always being on him get caught behind his teeth. You tilted your head to the side, trying to meet his eyes. Coriolanus turned his body slightly so you could see him staring into your soul eyes. 

“I think I like this better when you do it than Mavvy.” You whispered. You wanted to mention the differences in pacing, how his fingers made your skin burn, how much you wanted him to just spend the next hour running his hands over your body. Coriolanus’ face stayed neutral. It scared you slightly, maybe you spoke out of turn. Maybe you should’ve stayed silent entirely. His eyebrows twitched up and the smallest, tiniest, most minuscule grin pulled at his lips. 

“Why thank you, I like this more too.” He thought of all that was running through his mind. Romance was something you two hadn't even tried to approach, it was all about reaching friendship so you could withstand each other.

Npow the electrics that ran through your fingers when you touched his skin, the way your eyes pulled him closer, and just the way you two moved with each other physically and mentally, he could feel something stirring. It was so easy for you to catch what he was thinking without even a word, you both could communicate with nothing but a touch, and oh man the way your compliments sent waves across his body.

He could hear the storm approaching. The relationship was about to take a massive hit and change for better or for worse. Whether he liked it or not, the friendship you two had just built was about to come raining down on the both of you. Coriolanus hoped it would be used to blossom a gorgeous flower that would allow him to kiss you with a thousand unspoken words. There was always the chance that it could start a flood and you two would be whisked away from each other and end up on opposite sides of the bed again. 

As you stared at him, he was certain you could read minds because you spoke again. You nudged him towards the storm and he was almost entirely certain you knew what you were doing. 

“You know, I wanted to dance with you tonight. Too much happened before we could do that though.” You said, facing the front again. Coriolanus would’ve stayed silent but a crack of metaphorical thunder pushed the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

“I planned on asking you for a dance before we left as well. Great minds, I suppose.” Coriolanus ran his hands down your arms again, intertwining your fingers. You leaned back against him and pulled his arms to cross over your body. 

“Wish we brought our dancing shoes home, then.” You muttered. You tilted your head at a strange angle to catch a glimpse of him, hoping he caught on to what you were hinting at. Coriolanus smiled and dipped his nose to your temple. No, he caught it. He tightened his arms around you. 

“Think you could manage just one dance?” He whispered, pressing his lips to your cheekbone. You nodded. You turned around in his hold, pressing your chest to his. You slipped your arms around his waist, knocking your nose with his for a second. 

“As long as it’s slow and gentle. Think you can handle that, Mr. Snow?” You said, a smile still pulling at your lips. Coriolanus pulled one of your hands from his back, intertwining your fingers. He held up your hand, slippingll into the dancing position. He rested his other hand on your back, just as yours was on his. He started to slowly sway with you, tipping you around the carpeted floor of your shared bedroom. He leaned towards your ear. 

“Coryo. Please, darling.” Coriolanus whispered. 

”How many more times are you going to change your name?” You joked, enjoying the swaying pace he started. Coriolanus shook his head. He gave you a light shrug and continued your dancing. You were terribly happy he had already made it halfway into his pajama set. His fancy shoes definitely would’ve hurt if there was a misstep. It was just the two of you, half-naked, socked feet moving in sync, and absolutely no music. Probably would’ve been better if he started some tunes but you didn’t seem to care at all, grinning up at him. 

You tried to imagine how this dance would’ve been if you actually did dance at the gala. Coriolanus would’ve been uptight. He moved differently with his coworkers than he did with you. His back was straighter, his smile was tighter, and every word was calculated. You imagined how he would’ve danced with you in the way he was taught to as a child. Not like he was now. 

You liked this much more. It was just a simple way that rocked you back and forth. Coriolanus was relaxed, pressing his skin against yours. He was humming in your ear like he could hear music you couldn’t. His hand was gentle rubbing your back, keeping you close to him. You enjoyed this much more than the dance that could’ve been at the gala.

 Coriolanus’ hand slipped down from the small of your back to the top hem of your underwear. You cocked your head to the side, asking him what he thinks he’s doing with your look. Coriolanus peeled his eyes away from the space over your shoulder he was staring at to meet your eyes. As you two slowed your moves in your swaying circle with connected eyes, his fingertips under the band of your underwear. It wasn’t traveling just dipping in to test you, your feelings, to test it all.

Coriolanus raised an eyebrow at you, asking you what you thought about his move. Your hand on his back shifted to his chest, trailing up to his neck. He tilted his chin up as you ran your fingers over the side of his throat. He pressed his fingertips into your skin, begging you for more. 

You held onto the back of his head. You pulled his face closer to yours, knocking your noses together. Coriolanus slowed your sway, pulling you into a standpoint. He brought your intertwined hands to his shoulder, dropping your palm onto it. His now free hand found your cheek. He glanced between your eyes and lips. A question was laced in his flickering gaze, were you ready to step into the rain with him?

A small grin reached your lips. That was all the answer he needed, leaning closer to you. He was taking his sweet time inching his lips closer and closer to yours. All of his tailing fingertips the past few weeks made you impatient. You lurched forward and pressed your lips against his. 

After getting married, all you could think about was how intimidating your husband was. How were you supposed to grow closer to him if you couldn’t even look him in the eye? He just set you on edge so you tried to avoid interacting with him. You wrote to him instead of speaking because it was easier. All you could think about in those first months was staying away from Coriolanus. 

Now all you could think about was how to get closer. He moved his lips against yours in perfect harmony with your movements. Coriolanus left a buzzing against your skin. Even with his mouth on yours and hands pressing into your flesh you couldn’t think of anything but more more more more and more. You pulled back enough to suck in a breath, your lungs straining under your ribs. Coriolanus dipped his mouth down, kissing under your chin. You breathed hard, your skin pressing into Coriolanus’.

You pulled his mouth away from your neck by the back of his head. You pressed your lips against him before he could complain. Coriolanus must’ve felt the same way you did about him needing to be closer because his hands started to dig into your back again. Coriolanus’ fingers rested on the edge of your underwear and slipped further inside, pressing his palm against your ass. He tugged you closer to him, pressing your body fully against his. He hummed into your lips like he was finally happy with your proximity. 

As much as you wanted to kiss him until you both decayed into swaying skeletons, your lungs needed substance and your knees were hurting again. You slowly pulled back. Coriolanus was clearly not agreeing with this move, chasing after your lips by pressing his lips back to yours in brief kisses and trying to draw you back in. You tapped his shoulder, telling him to pull away. He pulled back, finally giving you time to breathe. 

That night he rubbed the cream into the joints of your legs and kissed you again before slipping into the covers. You two had never slept so close in that bed. Your legs were tangled. He was holding onto you like you were his lifeline. You were actually incredibly glad you married Coriolanus. Coriolanus added a new flower on top of your dresser in the morning. He couldn’t be more thankful for the very not real and incredibly metaphorical thunderstorm that pushed the two of you together. 

[furiousgoldfish]

On effortless recovery (personal)

I've been slowly dealing with cptsd and osdd for the last 8 years, and while I've had to actively work on some stuff, other have just happened without my interference, or at least, without me knowing I did anything about it. I have not been to therapy; or rather, there's been several attempts that were not working, and I had to end them. For instance, I've had therapy with someone who showed next to no interest in my issues and kept minimizing and ignoring whatever I've been saying, and this was the only person who didn't try to institutionalize me.

I've had to actively work on osdd, and it's something I'm learning about, and understand more as I go, but I also get that osdd is making everything else much easier on me. For instance, lots of my memories and thoughts are being blocked from me, and contained in alters who are making sure that I'm not affected by it, that is a huge help. Lots of thoughts that would upset me if I thought about them, are completely out of my reach, and if I do try to think about them, my mind goes blank and I forgot what I was thinking about. That's a great help for issues like anxiety and spiraling; I used to drown in my own fears and worries; now I just can't remember any of it. It is slightly depressing that my own peace of mind requires that big amount of amnesia, but you know, having some peace is so nice I could never be anything less than grateful for it. Being able to maintain some semblance of peace feels like resiliency, it means I have a place of quiet where I can go back to, even when distressing things happen.

I'm having my chronic pain and chronic exhaustion ease away from me very slowly. I still get exhausted easily, and am tired way more often than a regular person, but I now rarely get days when I can't get out of bed, or have to sacrifice a whole week due to a flashback or a nightmare. I no longer get anxious about planning to do something a day or two ahead because I can count on having at least a basic amount of energy. I don't think I've done anything to create this, it was just happening over the years, on its own. It's also happening so slowly that I don't even feel the progress, I have to remember to look 3 or 5 years back and remember just how much time I've been spending in bed then, to realize that it's less now, that I can do multiple activities a day now. I know I'm extremely lucky to be recovering from this, because there are people who have a chronic condition that doesn't allow for recovery, and I am very grateful for every day I can move around.

Another thing that is much better is sleeping! I used to wake up feeling like I'm dying, overheated, stressed, anxious, sometimes even paralyzed in fear, and if not fear, then grief would hold me down and I would be too sad to move. Now I'm finding myself waking up thinking 'Oh I'm so well rested! I have the energy to tackle some chores' like I'm in an actual good mood. And it's like ??? what is going on, since when is this me. I've been dreaming of having mornings like this, and now I have them, and it just happened over time (8 years) I still only think about doing chores when I have energy, because I know it's the only time of day I'll have any energy, so if I wake up restful I will rush to do dishes, laundry, cleaning, cooking, and whatever else, because I know the energy will go away later and I will become a sad slob. But it's much better than waking up and having to take a few hours (or days) just to recover from sleeping. My sleeping schedule has been 8 hours all along, I somehow can't sleep over the 8 hour mark, and can't function if I sleep less than 7.

I will still sometimes have flashbacks and meltdowns if anything bad happens to me, but the recovery time from them has gone way down. It used to be weeks, months even, to recover from a single bad event. Now it's more like hours and days. It's still not very similar to what I think a regular person would have to deal with, but I love the progress very much! One thing that slips my mind is that I regularly forget how much worse things used to be. If I bounce back from something, I forget that in the past, this would ruin me for weeks, and I forget that this is progress and to take a minute to acknowledge that. I just take what I can and go. But it's good to look at it and see that life is a little easier.

Some anxiety has also withered away from me, because so much of my anxiety was due to inexperience. New problems that would appear in my life seemed unsolvable and catastrophic, because I never faced those problems before, didn't know how to solve it, didn't dare to ask for help, didn't have skills or knowledge to tackle any of them myself, and all of it felt like it would lead to my doom. After already having solved some of those problems multiple times, I'm at peace just because I know what to do now. I haven't done much asking for help to be honest, because I hate it, but in struggling to solve the problems myself (sometimes taking months and years to do so), I've gathered knowledge, skills and experience, and I now have a general idea of what to do in situations that reoccur, and also know what to expect, how long something will take, what type of action will resolve it. Just living and tackling things by myself, and succeeding, eases a lot of anxiety. There is a solution to everything, with sufficient knowledge, experience and skills.

A lot of stuff that's previously been bothering me to the level where I couldn't deal with it, can now be dealt with merely distracting myself from it. Which I think is very funny, because I used to consider all my time playing games or looking at funny videos 'procrastination', because I wasn't being productive right, I was just 'procrastinating' and delaying dealing with life. Now I value these activities specifically because they can save me from feeling miserable and sad. There's a warmth to looking at people being goofy, funny, interesting, entertaining, and taking joy in it, and reminding myself there's still a lot of good things in the world, there are good people, there is warmth, there is love, and I feel better after seeing it, regardless of how awful I felt before. Having my own thoughts redirected to something hopeful is making my days better, more stable. I think I'm just stopping myself from spiraling into hopelessness, by looking directly at hope and staying fixated on it for long enough. And it's something I didn't previously value as a real activity, because I didn't believe that making myself feel better while producing nothing, was a worthwhile pursuit.

Being safe from abuse for a long time managed to erode the feelings of guilt and shame I had in my own interests, thoughts and activities, and I've became unafraid of any failures. It is now very clear to me that failing is the only way towards learning and it's incredibly valuable. I'm shameless at starting new hobbies and activities and it does not bother me whatsoever when I do badly. Even failing at big stuff in my life, things that created actual damage to me, supplied me with knowledge I don't think I would otherwise gain, and I treasure it. I don't feel ashamed or like I've done anything wrong. I've been able to engage with my own curiosity about things and I'm now able to ask questions about anything, without feeling bad for 'not knowing already'.

I've also accepted that I'm bad at some stuff, and it doesn't mean anything much about me, we're all bad at something. Sometimes I'm bad at stuff, but enjoy doing them, so I still do them, fun gives it good value! And if I'm both bad at something and don't enjoy it, then I completely drop it, and feel okay knowing this just isn't for me. I remember when I used to believe I'm bad at everything, just because I was getting such horrid feedback on it, now it's almost funny. I like stuff I create even when I do them badly, because I remember how much fun I had doing it. If I want to do them better, I know I just need to keep practicing and it will happen. Nothing a human creates is shameful, especially if it's not causing any harm to anyone. We're made to create and it makes us happy.

I don't think I've done anything specific to create these changes, maybe some critical analysis of the past, and some willingness to consider my own happiness important and worthwhile. I think I spent so much time grieving that I've actually processed the most of it, so I'm no longer as overwhelmed by it as I was before. It's not like I'm no longer sad, I will start sobbing frequently and whenever I'm tired, I am automatically miserable. But it is no longer constant, suffocating feeling that follows me for every second of existence.

I haven't done anything to fix the sleeping or to ease the chronic pain, that was just time and being safe from abuse for a longer period. I wanted to write this specifically because I've been waking up feeling okay the last few days and that was a shock to experience, what a bliss to wake up and think 'I'm well rested'. Incredible life experience.