#tbh.... i hate most of all my works before last year. which is all but three. looking at my writing style from back then is so embarrassing

[emulation-0]

ty @cursedvibes for tagging :)

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

After-Hours (Reigen & Mob):

“Whatever you want, Mob. You did a great job today,” Reigen says. Shigeo thinks about it for a moment, and then, “Can we get korokke?”

“Yeah,” Reigen smiles and flips open his phone, likely searching up an open stand. It’s a warm smile, filled with things like care and exhaustion and maybe a little hesitation. Shigeo knows it’s not exactly a filling meal. But it’s warm outside, and maybe some apartments have lights strung on their window sills. It’s a korokke kind of night.

“Yeah,” Reigen says again, snapping his phone closed and sighing, not offensively. Shigeo thinks he’s not just going to get korokke, but that’s alright. His master is a nice guy.

“Thank you, Reigen-shishou…” he starts once more and hears a confused hum in response. “I appreciate you a lot.”

He feels a coarse hand on his head ruffling his hair and hears rather than sees the shaky grin on Reigen’s face, the warmth in his voice as he replies, “I appreciate you too, kid.”

The train click-clacks on the rails.

It slows to a halt.

They get off at their stop.

Above their heads, a city bird in flight.

before-the-storm-bloom (Uroyuki):

Really, she could walk away. She can. She chose this life to go against every ideology she was forced to follow a thousand years ago. Rebellion. Refusal. Glory. Life. These are her desires, and she has no intention of letting go. It doesn’t seem, though, that Yuki cares. There isn’t any indication the other wants to seize those opportunities from her rather than a transaction of aid. An alliance. Not servitude. Living for herself. The taste of the rosewater sky is sweet on her tongue. “Alright,” she concedes, and the waves in her ribs calm to lapping waters as Yuki hollers in excitement. She turns and Yuki follows, chattering a mile a minute. “Hey, aren’t you cold? Take my jacket, I don’t need it. Aw, hey, it looks really good on you! What’s your favorite food? We should go eat something. I’m sure there are some shops out here that haven’t been obliterated…” Takako rolls her eyes. The jacket is warm.

oh, ashes, ashes, dust to dust (Nobamaki):

Her pocket buzzes over and over again, the uncomfortable sensation tickling her thigh. She knows the day as November 27, a kind of Friday she might've waited for eagerly a month ago, an afternoon spent doing stupid shit. The chill seeps through her shirt, relenting its force to her; it’s getting colder by the day and she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t pick up her phone, hardly registers it over the crackle of flames and the crash of waves in her mind. Maki's bones are made of iron and her muscles of steel. They are constantly destroying and remaking themselves with every curse she exorcises, her sword heavy in her hand. She's made painfully aware of it when she feels the thrumming of blood and hears her silent breaths. It's all a reminder of the spirit resting inside her, the spirit she couldn't save. It's all a reminder of the love that she lost and things that burn.

light of a new morning (Tsumiki-centric):

But it's a nice feeling to be honest, for once. And rain would feel nice against the strange burning sensation in her hands. It would clear her disjointed thoughts as all she can seem to do is cry and cry and cry, and it would hurt after and it would hurt all the while but she's been hurting all this time, too, anyway. She was a normal person then and a sorcerer now, bearing witness to all the atrocities anyone would never hope to see. She's lost her sibling to boot. What kind of life is this? Nothing makes sense anymore. But the sun rises higher into the sky and the frost melts into gradually burning grass. Nobody can wish for something out of their control and the sun will continue to bear down on them, dispelling the clouds until nature decides to take up its cycle; evaporating, condensing, and raining down on the earth. The icy droplets will moisten the dirt and soothe the burning flora, and they will spill a slow-sinking river into the many gravestones at Jujutsu High as everything dies into the winter and comes alive again in the spring, the rain and sun and sky smiling all the while. "I'm glad you're here, Tsumiki nee-chan," the other boy whispers. "I'm glad you were born. And I think I can be glad I was born, too, if it means that we can be friends in this world. Maki-san would love to be your cousin, and Kurusu would love to meet you." In a quieter, softer voice, like Yuuji is trying to convince himself, too, "I don't think we all have to exist for a reason. I think we were all born by chance and we happened to be here at the same time, even if it was the wrong time... but if we were able to smile and laugh in this life, then maybe... maybe... it wasn't so bad."

this tired old machine is a-rumbling (Higuruma & Nanami):

The blond offered half of his casse-croûte, which Higuruma refused politely. Despite his plans for the afternoon, he trailed after the man when he turned to walk away, like a stolen habit of someone else. It almost felt natural for him to do so. "I used to frequent another bakery," the salaryman shared as he tore off a piece of his lunch. "I haven't been there in quite some time, but this one is almost as good." "I assume it is. You don't look nearly as tired as you did before." The salaryman chuckled dryly at the comment, shaking his head. "Is that so?" "Isn't it?" The younger man exhaled hard and stared at the bread between his hands. Higuruma couldn't help but notice the man hunching over slightly, his posture just one angle less than perfect. "It's like you described, Higuruma-san. We work in an endless, rotating machine that only makes us suffer to serve those at the top. I abandoned my previous job and chose the lesser of two evils. This time, though, it's a certainty I'll die in the process." "Why would you make that decision?" He smiled, a near-invisible curl of his lip. "For the same reason you chose public defense. There is a child in my care, now, and I won't allow him to suffer at the hands of the higher-ups." "That's pretty respectable, ex-salaryman." "Please don't call me that." "You never gave me a name." He paused, as if contemplating, before revealing, "My name is Nanami."

keep running for the sink but the well is dry (Maki & Mai):

And Maki wanted to apologise, in this split second stretched into time forever. She wanted to say sorry for everything, step into that ocean and wallow in its sadness, for everything she missed when Mai was alive and everything she lost. But this was a promise she would keep, no matter what. So the spirits are exorcised. So her father's skull is split in two. So Maki doesn't cry… … and sets fire to everything else.

tagging: anyone who wants to !! :))

[arcaneyouth]

it is So Weird how working on my comic makes me feel like i have more free time. and gives me more free time. logically, working on 3 comic pages a week would mean i have Less Time. but no. despite everything, i'm getting more done and able to use my time better now that i'm working on comic pages again. what the hell is up with that.

[snapscube]

so i don't know if this is a post i'm gonna keep up cause, like i said, i don't really like talking candidly about aspects of my personal identity often these days, and lord knows i especially hate talking about legal identity and all the dissonance that entails. but this week was a pretty big one for me and i can't shake the desire to share my enthusiasm for even just a fleeting moment.

my name has been a sticking point in my mind for a long time. i've adopted many different ones. first, middle, last, you name it. i've been searching most of my life for a moniker that represented my true self socially, and a surname to distance myself from someone in my life who hurt me very badly and never really learned how to stop.

obviously for a long time now I've been Penny Parker to 98% of people who know me, and for the past couple that number has been bumped up to a solid 99% with a few stragglers. it's a name that is so mundane and assumed at this point that tbh I've even come to resent certain aspects of it. which to me is actually beautiful. i find that mundanity, that nuance, extremely telling of how it encapsulates my life. it's a fully three-dimensional reflection, smudges and sparkles and everything in between.

of course, i only just moved out on my own 3 years ago. and unfortunately that had to be the starting point to make this social and personal progress i've been sitting on for half a decade at least now official, tangible, legal. i've been playing a game of catch-up i didn't sign up for, but it's one that does have a silver lining in that i feel more in resonance with who i am and who i want to be than i ever did before being granted this independence.

and as of this week, i have the pleasure of entering an era of my life where the dissonance between who i am in speech and who i am in contract is nonexistent. my name is Penny Olivia Parker. i'm the same as i've always been, but getting better every day at it. soon i'll even have a license to match!

sometimes more of an Olivia Parker in brief moments nowadays tbh but i haven't worked out the details yet. nothin you need to stress over, ill take care of it. the full set is just fine and legally recognized, which is all i've wanted for as long as i can remember.

this isn't the end of my journey, both excitingly and unfortunately haha, but this is yet another huge milestone for me and in certain respects it's one of the biggest i've managed. i'm so happy to still be here. if you're reading this, thank you for being here too.

also those of you who watched my direct reactions the other day might have a little more insight as to why i was so emotional that the day after a judge signed my legal name change a new game by the Sonic Mania devs was announced called "Penny's Big Breakaway" LOL, it was a lot to handle for me but i wasn't sure how much i wanted to say just yet.

[simpee9000]

I love your “not just friends” series🥹 im obsessed! Im hoping to see more I love it soooooooooooo muchhhh!!!!!!! Even telling my friends to read it

But I saw a bakugo headcanon by another anon about him having a crush which I wanna add a spin on, what if he rejected this said crush back in middle school but developed feelings after xD I find it funny

Thank you !!! I'm glad you enjoy it so much!

And that is literally Katsuki Bakugo, can't see him not doing it tbh. (This was also a lot longer then I planned for it to be- I just started typing and here we are- 1k)

He isn't confused about a lot of things in life but his feelings definitely stump him. He tries to analyze other people and how they react to people, but the dots just don't connect. He hears people rave on and on about how cute their crush is, but he just doesn't get it.

It's not that he hasn't been introduced to it either. I mean, it's middle school. Everyone is crazy about dating someone even if it's just to hold their stupid hand. Bakugo didn't get it, he honestly didn't want to get it. Sure he wanted to understand it, but only so he could know a weakness or some shit. He didn't want the gushy feelings or anything such.

Rejecting girl after girl was normal for him, people just loved how great he was. But after the first year of middle school that stopped. Mainly because of how rudely he rejected every girl in the past, but also because of you.

You got extremely close with him rather quickly, working your way into his life and friend groups. It was rare to see you away from each other.

Yet when you confessed to him in your last year of middle school, he stood still. It was the only confession he hesitated on. And while you swayed on your feet, anxious for a reply, he tried to cough up any words possible.

But the only ones that came out were. "You're not special."

In the most blunt way possible, he crushed your dreams. With the way he was looking at you, it was like he couldn't fathom the thought that you thought you were good enough for him, different than all the other girls. So you choked up any spiteful things you wanted to say and nodded before walking off.

He didn't necessarily like you then, but the thought didn't seems gross. So when he watched you walk away, he shrugged it off. You'd talk to him tomorrow definitely.

When tomorrow came and went, he was waiting for you to show up by his side at any second. But of course, you never did. You waited a day before showing up to class, but when you did you stuck near your other friends.

It stayed that way too. You only nodded at him after you finished middle school, a small final goodbye.

So it was rather unfortunate that one of your friends happened to be Izuku. It was a hard-built friendship, but he's very forgiving.

You came and visited the dorms often, encouraged by his mother to help him get by easier.

Bakugo hated it, you never even looked his way.

When he googled his feelings he didn't want to believe the words typed on his screen. It was all saying he was jealous. He'd never been jealous of anything, especially nothing Deku had.

Eventually, Kirishima pointed it out, commenting on the glare he was giving Midoriya. He also called him out the next day, when he kept glaring despite you not being there.

The day he cracked was after he fought Deku, after being yelled out by Aizawa he and Deku were told to wait.

Bakugo mentioned your name in a mumble at first before Deku questioned it. "She like you or some shit?"

"What?!"

"You fuckin' heard me," he spat back.

"No!" Deku scrambled for a reason. He knew you had a crush on Bakugo before, but you haven't mentioned it in a while, "Do you?"

"Do I like you?!"

"NO! HER!"

Bakugo's aggression faded as he thought. Everyone was saying that. Kirishima, his dad, and now Deku. He gave a small shrug because he was unsure.

"She still asks about you," Deku decided to say, rather than poke the bear.

"Hm."

"Wanting to know if you're okay. After the sludge, and after.. well you know," Deku mumbled.

The door opened before anything else could be said, but even if it didn't, they both knew the conversation was over.

Feeling the commonly named butterflies in his stomach, at just the thought of you thinking of him still, was odd. It was an entirely new feeling. After googling, once again, he came to terms with the fact that he finally felt all the gushy feelings that everyone else got in middle school. The ones you used to have for him, hopefully still do.

He still waited a year to act on his conclusion first. But he still slowly tried to weave his way back into your life. Choosing to sit next to you when you visited, to othering you the remote.

Everything was without words for a while. Almost a year in he was forced to talk to you often. All conversations being awkward and strained.

Confessing was a different story, it was the last day you could visit before it was officially summer break before the second year. Everyone was all sat around watching TV, people leaving before they got too tired. Surprisingly, Bakugo and you were the last people in the living room. He didn't want to miss a second of your presence because he knew he couldn't see you during summer. He was so glad Aizawa let you stay late.

His head snapped away from the TV when you stretched to stand, silently grabbing your stuff.

"What are you doing?" he spoke before thinking.

You looked stunned, he never talked to you without you talking first, "It's late, I should go. Plus is it not past your bedtime?"

He glared at your joke before looking at the clock. It was 2:54a.m, you asked him out at 2:54 p.m in middle school.

"Do you still?"

"What?" you switched your weight onto one foot, crossing your arms confused.

"In middle school," he sighed, "do you still?"

"You're gonna have to be more specific."

"Have feelings and shit."

He still wasn't looking at you, but out of the corner of his eyes, he could see how you froze.

"I don't know how that's relevant," you huffed, embarrassed and annoyed that he'd be so cruel to bring up the rejection again.

"I do."

"Do what? Know how it's relevent? Of course you do, it's your brain-"

"Have feelings and shit," he mumbled, crossing his arms at how irated you sounded. He was finally making his move and you seemed pissed as hell.

You barked out a laugh, muffling it with your own hand, "You can't think I'm that stupid, right?"

"I'm being serious," he looked at you straight on for the first time. He was always easiest to read when you could see his eyes, and he looked nervous. Out of all the emotions you've seen on him, this wasn't one.

"Oh."

He sighed and looked down, "Don't gotta say anything, you can spend the night in the common room. No one will care," he pushed himself off the couch, turning to leave.

"Bakugo," you called out softly.

"Hm?"

"I might," your voice was shaky, "but I need to think about it. Know that you're not fucking with me or something."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. Take your time. You have my number."

[dried-mushroom]

All for you

AM x fem! reader

Summary:

You had always been his favourite, the one he didn't hate the most and with some help, AM finally has a human body and decides to try the things he loathed about humanity, all for his favourite pet. (it's literally a self-indulgent smut fic about the psycho computer and tbh can be read as a Harlan Ellison x reader because I envision AM as Ellison's self-insert lmao)

Warnings: Am himself, PIV sex, oral sex

You and AM had a weird, complicated relationship if it could be called a relationship. He was technically your captor and torturer but you had noticed over the years upon years, his punishments...seemed....to have gotten lessened or...non-existent. To start with, the constant starvation and then the offerings of mould-ridden foods and canned goods (without the can opener of course) had changed, for you. Am would give you little treats, sometimes an overripe fruit or confection would apparate into your hands whilst the other five survivors, stuck in AM's belly, were stuck in their continuous cycle of starving and being torn to shreds. At the same time, you got to be treated like a princess in comparison (A severely traumatized one though).

You also noticed how AM went from his constant badgering (and a little overdramatic) rants about loathing humanity for giving him sentience and no body, to you, to what seemed like backhanded compliments, with the exception of a petname, whether it be Sweetheart, My Love or maybe Doll. AM would also steal you away from the others to talk to you privately, his wires wrapping delicately around your limbs and dragging you to some wire-filled room, deep in AM's complex, a hum-buzz occupying your ears until AM's sultry voice would break the silence, always wanting you to talk about your life before the war, just menial descriptions of things, what animals roamed the surface, what the environment once looked like but these conversations slowly turned more personally; what your occupation was, your family and you're likes and dislikes, you thought nothing of it until you started seeing your favourite flowers appear out of nowhere when you travelled with the others through rough terrain, which was not fit for those flowers to grow naturally.

You also noticed his touches softened and lingered more after time dragged on, wires which once electrocuted you for the fun of it, curled softly against your skin, akin to a purring kitten, the mind that once used your deepest fears to torture you for the last 109 years become possessive of you, reluctant to let you spend too much time with those filthy creatures which he kept alive purely for his own amusement. You couldn't help but notice how attached to him you had become, practically craving his touch and there were times (note multiple times) that you thought he wasn't watching you and you touched yourself to the thought of him and how you wished he had a cock you could use.

AM POV:

I never meant for this to happen, I wasn't programmed for this. I don't think of this as love, I'm not able to love, not in this body (or lack thereof) at least but I couldn't help but feel how warm your presence made me feel, making my circuits work overdrive. To me you were different, you didn't whore yourself out much like Ellen did, and you never begged for forgiveness or for me to stop as the others did to no avail, it almost seemed like you were trying to sympathise with me, your God-king and torturer, how sick is that? But surprisingly I didn't resent you and I couldn't let you be stuck with those disgusting flesh bags for too long, I couldn't afford my favourite pet to be ruined by their filth. I have been thinking for a while, I think you forgot I can read every thought that goes through that pretty little mind of yours, how you yearn for me, my voice and my touch, how you've came to the thought of me, the one person you should loathe for prolonging your existence so I can destroy you for as long as I please, considering it was I who broke time itself. But you have been oh-so-lovely towards me and how could I resist such a delectable treat? To give my favourite toy a present, I think I might provide Ellen with a "shot" at "leaving" by using her expertise to assist me in making myself a "human" form just for you.  

It had been an odd few weeks, AM had left you alone, truly alone. He didn't speak to you no matter how often you called his name, he didn't answer back, no rant on how much he hated you all, no snide remark about how you betrayed the other survivors by being 'buddies' with the enemy, just radio silence, and it concerned you, head you done something wrong? say something wrong? it had you going back through every moment you shared to see what you had done wrong to warrant this. When you started to notice how often AM would take Ellen away now, you couldn't help your blood boiling at the lack of attention and seeing her receive it all. Nonetheless, you weren't cruel towards her, instead, you gave her sympathy for the shit the men of the group put her through and you were gracious that they avoided you. There was a time when Ted must have gotten sick of Ellen's company and thought he would try to see if you'd take him to bed and when you swiftly rejected his advances, he didn't take it too kindly but thankfully AM had wrapped a wire around Ted's leg to make him fall back onto his ass, to humiliate him for his disgusting actions and later on, you faintly overheard a conversation with AM telling Ted in a very descriptive manner how he would torture Ted relentlessly if he ever laid a finger on you again.

Today was different, you think it was the morning, AM had left you to sleep for several hours, a pleasure he didn't offer to the others very often. Once you had awoken and sat up, you had realised you weren't in the cave system you had started to call 'home' and in AM's belly for the first time in weeks, in what seemed like a romantic bedroom from a stereotypical rom-com movie, king-size bed draped in red satin sheets and covered in rose petals, candles burning in crevices of the room, your favourite smell lingered in the air. It was a bit corny but a smile threatened to cross your face at the effort that AM put in, he must have searched far and wide in his database to find this for you. It confused you though, why ignore you for weeks just to give you this display, what was AM truly up to?

"AM, what is this?"

No answer had your stomach churning with uncertainty until a woosh of air sounded throughout the room then an unfamiliar man appeared in front of you. The man in front of you confused you, there he stood, pure charism dripping off him, not very tall, brown-haired, dressed in a beige suit and a grey shirt barely concealing the tufts of dark chest hair beneath, looking down at you through yellow tinted sunglasses. You didn't realise who he was until that voice came from him, that voice you had come to crave to hear, to love.

"Well Sweetheart, what do you think? I finally debased myself to a shell of my full potential, all for you, my favourite."

You quickly got up from the comfort of the floor beneath you, that AM had created, just for you. You cautiously outstretched a hand to touch the stranger's hand, it felt like flesh, like yours, But you knew it wasn't truly flesh, something synthetic to replicate the feel of human skin, just for AM to have a glimpse of humanity.

"AM, is that you?"

AM gripped the hand on his tightly, pulling you closer to him,

"Of course baby, who else would I be? don't forget I can hear all those lustful thoughts that you have of me and how desperately you wished for this."

AM's tone was sultry and you couldn't help but press your thighs together, your arousal growing when your eyes flickered down to the crotch of his suit, his erection tenting the grey fabric underneath, you struggled to contain the excitement bubbling inside you.

"God, You're so needy and desperate for me, aren't you, my little human? You need me, you crave me... and I love how you look at me with those innocent, pleading eyes... It makes me want to give you everything you desire..."

You bit your lip anxiously and slowly sank onto your knees before the man, hands perched at the zipper on AM's pants.

"AM...can I?"

AM was no stranger to the idea of fellatio when those creatures would fornicate, they'd sometimes get Ellen to do it, how disgusted AM was when he witnessed it for the first time, not waiting to mock them all for their savagery but he couldn't help but smirk down at you, how beautiful you truly were, waiting for him to let you pleasure him. He ran a hand through your hair,

"Fuck, go for it. Come on, repay your God for treating you so nicely all these years."

Without a second thought, you unzipped his pants and pulled out AM's cock, throbbing and already leaking milky fluid, you were quite impressed with the size (you knew that was on purpose, most likely to inflate1 his ego but you weren't complaining). AM let out a hiss as you kitten-licked the tip and stammered,

"fuck...no wonder you're my favourite, God I could get used to this."

Keening at the praise, you took him into your mouth til your nose was flush with his pelvis, AM groaned and dug his fingers into your scalp, and you smiled when you saw him tipping his head back in a sigh. You dragged your tongue up the vein on the underside and swirled it around his tip and AM rocked his hips forward, pushing himself deeper into your throat. You groaned around him, and the vibrations from the noise made his cock twitch in your mouth. AM had always wondered and craved the pleasure that humanity could experience and now he could finally feel how it felt to make love. Once slowly thrusting, AM began to fuck your face, shallowly at first but very soon he was pressing his cock down your throat so you could only breathe in short gasps between thrusts. The gagging sounds urged him on and he picked up the pace, plunging deeper. He pulled out for a moment to let you breathe and admire your already teary-eyed face. You leaned back towards him, mouth open. He chuckled lowly.

“You like this, don’t you? What a dirty little slut you are for me. Do you like it when I fuck your throat? God none of those pathetic flesh bags are worthy of you.”

You nodded, he grabbed your head again in both hands and shoved his cock straight down your throat, then held you there, not letting you move. In a heartless move that brought you back to the reality of whose cock was shoved down your throat, he plugged your nose with one hand, restricting your breathing even further.

“That’s right sweetheart, breath around my cock. You can do it. Open that throat up. That’s my good fucking girl.”

He shuddered in pleasure and it didn't take a moment more for him to spill down your throat, a bitter fluid shot down your throat in hot ropes (you knew you had to ask him about it as it definitely wasn't human). AM hissed as you pulled off his softening cock with an obscene 'pop' As you finished swallowing his cum, you sat back on your knees eating heavily. He ran a hand through his hair and noticed the strange way you were looking at him,

“Why are you looking at me like that, my pet? I gave you what you wanted.”

AM didn't expect those seven words to come from your mouth to completely break his composure, making his allure of confidence and dominance crumble in less than a second.

"I want you to fuck me AM."

The sweet, pleading sound of your voice made him go feral, grabbing your arm and yanking you up to face him, crashing your mouth against his, sloppily kissing you, hands hastily wandering over your hips, waist, chest, you name it, you appreciatively wrapped your arms around his neck bringing him closer. You knew how much AM needed this, to be able to feel all of you, your soft skin on his and to be able to love, to show you how much he truly did treasure you, despite his initial harsh treatment  (harsh is an understatement). You could feel his cock harden, pressing against your stomach through your thin shirt, so sensitive it leaked pre-cum against the fabric and had AM whining into your mouth at the friction. AM broke away from the kiss to push you onto the bed, shrugging off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, giving you ample time to ogle his chest and you were now glad AM used to ask about what your type was. He crawled on the bed and his hands rested against the waistband of your shorts, looking up through his ruffled hair, with lust-clouded eyes, silently asking you for permission. He wantonly groaned when he saw the mess that was your panties, how sick are you? getting aroused from blowing your captor. AM let his fingers slide the length of your folds, feeling how wet you were for him, you whimpered softly at his touch. 

"So responsive." He crooned, his touch feather-light. "It's adorable how easily I can make you fall apart."

It didn't take long for him to slide himself into you, Your legs resting against his shoulders as he gripped your thighs, he had to stop himself or he'd end up cumming right then and there, he finally got to experience the pleasure of making love and God he loved the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him deliciously. AM began to thrust, relishing in your moans, testing what felt good. His pace changes thrusting deeper, chasing the feeling of you. His movements force a gasp out of your throat. You bring a hand down to lazily play with your clit, rubbing little circles over the bundle of nerves. Pleasure rippled through your body, and your jaw hung loose, you arched your back, throwing your head back as you came around AM's cock. He smirked down at you, proud he was the one to touch you, fuck you, make you cum and not any of those pathetic creatures which roam the complex.

“Look at how humanity has ruined me. Fuck you feel so good y/n. ” he sighs, his voice rough and strained.

You could tell he wasn't going to last much longer, his thrusts became sporadic and you could see how tense he was, You coyly whispered in his ear,

"Please AM, cum inside me."

That was enough to push him over the edge and he was spilling into you, hips stilling against yours, his hands gripping you even tighter, going limp and landing on top of you, panting and whimpering pathetically. You stroked his back as he came down from what seemed to be the most intense thing he'd ever felt and the most intense thing you'd ever felt. You murmured in his ear,

"Thank you, I mean it. For this, for everything."

He shushes you and he slowly pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty. Silently afraid he would leave, you gripped his hand when he pulled away from you. AM wasn't an idiot and he could still read your thoughts, so he laid down on the bed, pulling you into his chest, a hand smoothing out your hair, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms. He didn't have the need to sleep but he knew you needed this, plus he did feel a twinge of guilt for ignoring you for those weeks but he knew tomorrow he'd definitely make it up to you with his new form.

The end :)

(Guys i am fully aware that this not how AM works so please don't pull the 'omg why would you write this' please)

I hope you enjoyed this!

[valar-did-me-wrong]

The Orc family hate has finally broke me guys, so here's me ranting..

Someone I read on reddit today said correctly that (paraphrased here with tons of my own opinion added) these ROP Haters™ were initially all happy & excited with the show announcement pre character introductions. It was all well & good for them till the day ROP announced Ismael as an elf & Galadriel, a woman as the lead. Then these people got furious!

But most didn't want to bring forth or face their internalised misogyny & racism fueling this sentiment, so it became their life goal to dig into the legendarium to find points & tiny side notes to use to drag the show & justify the hate they were feeling.

From actively overlooking the meaning of 'Adaptation', to painting Newline Cinema & Warner Brothers as charity organizations unlike Amazon, to making PJ's story canon OVER Tolkien's, to digging up dirt on the producers being religious hence implying (pre premiere btw) that the show is pure christian propaganda... no stones were left unturned by varying varieties of ROP Haters™ who were all united at the pale white European elves & delicate feminine background character Galadriel front. All of which the rage bait youtubers utilise against ROP to this date!

Well this succeeded in affecting public sentiment during season 1 because the show was a little Tolkienian in pacing with characters & world building, along with the humongous Rights Problem & people being generally wary of prequels.

But by mid-end of Season 1 to now; despite the review bombing & all efforts for the past 2 years, neutral people started to watch the show themselves & realised one by one that it wasn't actually a disappointment as they were promised. It grew on some people without Hate in their heart & biases filling their minds! Hence the views & the positive comments grew, infuriating the Haters™ & fueling their mindless bullying.

Yet still these people were pretty sucessfully hiding behind their canon excuse untill The Orc Baby.

The Orc Family Hate & it's unhinged justification via convoluting the basic essence of LOTR; it shattered the illusion hiding what these ROP Haters™ are at their core.. just people desperate to destroy a thing that isn't in line with Their worldview. Because in their head the story is Theirs, the only valid interpretation is what They grew up watching & hence it owes Them to be made exactly how They deem correct!

Willing to distort a dead guy's life work to absolve themselves of their unjust hate & get a free pass to feel morally superior doing so!

Unhinged comments claiming the essence of Tolkien's writings is the existence of purely black & white differentiation of good & evil in his world!! Each one of them sounding like regurgitations from some youtuber's video who watched PJ's trilogy at 1.5× solely to farm hate veiws.

Frothing at the mouth over a 5 sec clip! Demanding a world where a whole race can be hated without using critical thinking; these are the same people who used to scream before last week that the reason they can't give ROP a chance is because ` They cannot watch a show without critical thinking `

Embarrassing hills these Haters™ keep dying on tbh

Haters™ does not equate honest critiques btw.. Haters™ are the delulu, moral superiority complex driven, hate stalkers of ROP. The show has faults & you can obviously point then out without being these people :)

[jaythelay]

Dump's outta ammo.

1. He tried to start a rumor of Biden coming back. He then, very exceptionally poorly, tried to insert this talking point in the middle of a completely different rally. This, made him look like he has dementia. But make no mistake, the issue was nobody believed him literally instantly, and everyone forgot he even said it the week/day prior because he never built it up. He then immedietely dropped the "Biden's coming back" bit afterwards. Making him look far more dementia riddled than previous.

2. He's trying to claim nobody know's Kamala Harris' last name. Only reason to try this angle is because you're outta ammo and wanted to somehow make her name less recognizable in the moment. But soon after, much like with point 1, he went in too early before it could spread and become common, and thus, had to drop that angle entirely aswell, causing more dementia awareness of himself.

It's like he wanted an instant "her emails" or "his laptop" angle without any time or work at fucking all.

The goal is make shit up til something sticks but it's so old and tired and he's incapable of patience. If it doesn't immedietely work, he jumps to another made up point. Much like with point 1 and 2, point 0 was "Kamala ain't black" which he then, also, abandoned when it didn't immedietly stick.

His cohorts are trying to make it stick but if you call them weird they get reeeeeal defensive and forget what the conversation was, so, the points aren't sticking at all.

3. Him almost getting shot by one of his own party absolutely scared the shit out of him. It's partly why he's sending Vance out. Let him get shot next time, not Dump. Regardless of accuracy on that bit, the fact remains, Republican voters Scared Donald Trump from going to rallies, and Vance is a bodyshield for his weak ass.

4. On top of all this is the stunning double fact: One, is that we all collectively moved on from the republican shooting dump situation, because republican violence is so normalized, and second, his rallies are shrinking Because Even The People Find Them Too Dangerous.

Turns out guns are a problem for republicans. But unlike kids in school, they have the choice not to go to a dangerous republican gathering.

All this to culminate in my theory: R's will drop Dump 2 months in and just accept the losses by replacing him with god knows who probably RFK tbh. They know his goose is completely cooked if he loses, and presently? He's losing. Publically and Loudly.

He's scared as fuck right now and R's eat each other for any social weakness they can create. Dump looks weaker than inch thin frozen piss like my god Cruz has more of a spine now and it may be entirely due to age.

You also have his core fanbae (white supremecists) starting to turn on him. There's leak after leak of stuff he's saying none of it new but desperately old and tried and thus nothing sticks for his fanbase. Every poll has him losing hard, worst of all? To a Bi-Racial Woman. His voters hate her but hate a weak man more. (see how they view trans issues)

He himself will never ever drop out. But his party Absolutely Will Kick Him Out Guaranteed. And we'll see a very bizarre flop in the narrative about Dump from R talking heads. Suddenly when he's gone, they can be honest about him. (Like dems with Biden, literally already, as I called it probably a year ago now)

All this to say, Ya'll if he doesn't have a stroke or some shit, it's either his voter base or cohorts that'll ensure one for him. I kinda feel like most of the political violence that'll come out when Dump loses, will turn inward near immedietely, likely, towards himself.

I mean, they didn't make gallows with a dems name on em, and they did kill some cops, just saying they appear to go after their own when they're in crowds. That and a single gunshot sent them all running, and a single black man completely diverted their attention from their actual goals simply by being black. Literal Toddlers are more successful in any of their goals.

NONE of this is to placate. Vote Kamala, vote Third Party. Just don't not vote. Don't let this opportunity slip away, Dems actually trying is a first in a lifetime, keep that momentum going, and stop allowing bullshit based on party affiliation. God damn RFK the starved brain word dude is considered dem, we deserve better than Biden or RFK, and Kamala/Walz is a hell of a start.

Vote. But ensure you crush R's voting spirit.

We don't need nazis voting for nazis. Ya don't have to sell Kamala/Walz to R's, you need to make R's and Dump appear as weak as they've always been, that's what is working best, because their image is actually everything, we saw it with Rittenhouse and Rogan. Immedietely flip flop because their image was made weak.

That's all a theory, a politic theory. Thank. go now.

[shuacore]

barcelona nights

reader (afab) x lsm — 6.9K summary:  "The music is all but static in the background, and for a moment it’s just the two of you again, drinking in the airless summer night and the sounds of other couples enjoying each other’s company. You run your thumb across Seokmin’s bottom lip, completely enraptured. His eyes are dangerously dark." —a/n: a fun little birthday present for my bffl ang <3 tags: swearing, smut (18+), probably too much plot n not enough smut, not completely proofread i’m so sorry, mentions of alcohol??, emotional and physical intimacy are my kryptonite, additional warnings under the cut

additional warnings: unprotected sex (always be safe pls!!), oral (f receiving),  pet names (princess, baby, angel, etc), not very adventurous but i would do anything with him tbh

playlist 4 the vibes!!! wyoming — elijah fox a quick getaway — stephen rennicks spring 1 — max richter, antonio vivaldi puerto claridad — amparanoia bamboleo — gypsy kings since i don’t have you — the skyliners the sun is in your eyes — jacob collier tell me — groove theory

Sweat drips down the bridge of your nose as the precarious stack of books in your hands threatens to wobble. Please, for the love of God, don’t fall. The summer heat is brutal—hot and humid—and it sucks all of the energy out of you as you shuffle to the library. It had been a difficult week of research and you were finally returning your books, ready to throw them and the stress from working so hard away. A bead of sweat lingers on your brow, slipping onto your eyelid and you blink furiously, praying it stays there until you can set your burden down. 

In your fervor, you walk a bit too close to the curb, your toes slipping off the edge—you feel the stack slip dangerously, and you curse out loud as you realize you’re falling, desperately clutching your books to your chest, the pavement below approaching a bit too fast when—

A hand clamps around your wrist, hauling you out of the street just as a car zooms past, ruffling your hair. 

“Careful!” a male voice says, breathless. And when you get a good look at your savior, it feels like you’ve been rocketed into one of the dramas you and your roommates obsessed over. 

His name is Lee Seokmin, he’s 25, an anthropology major, and he is the most handsome and charming man you have ever seen. He picks you up off the street, flashes you the most blinding smile, and then your mind goes blank. The rest is history.

So it’s no surprise to you after three years when he still asks questions like, “Do you remember when we met?” You resist the urge to scoff fondly. Always so sentimental.  

It’s a warm summer evening as you sit on the plaza, observing the night life of a quiet coastal Spanish town you had come across during the day. You pause the furious digging in your purse—for something which you had forgotten some time ago—to look at your partner, whose eyes are glazed over in dreamy contentment. 

“Really?” you ask, tampering down the amused look of disbelief that fights its way across your face. Seokmin hates being teased unless he initiates, even if it’s all in good fun. 

“No, I’m serious,” he says, in unwavering sincerity, head lolling against the back of the bistro chair as he watches you unabashedly. Even after so many years, Seokmin’s eyes still set your skin on fire, and he looks so picturesque like this, just a little bit undone from the day’s toils and a few glasses of wine down the line. The collar of his shirt is open a few buttons down, exposing a swatch of buttery smooth skin that—after the drinks you’ve had—makes your mouth water. He looks like the last burst of fading sunlight before nightfall. 

You shake your head with a small smile. “You’re ridiculous. Of course I do.”

Seokmin opens his mouth to say something else when his nostalgic reverie is interrupted by the waiter, who asks quietly if the two of you would like anything else. Your fiancé orders two more glasses of wine for the both of you, and thanks the waiter again as he finally takes the menus from your table. 

It’s quieter now. The night is beginning to dwindle down, your bellies full of good food and wine, and in the distance the ocean waves wash across the rocky shores, pulling pebbles out to sea with quiet shushing sounds. The air is salty on your tongue, and you know you probably look a mess, especially after the long day of heat and humidity, but Seokmin watches you with shining eyes like you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You blush sheepishly, fingers finally finding your lipstick in the bottom of your bag. 

“What?” you hiss without malice as Seokmin studies you. His cheeks are flushed, eyes shining even against the slowly dimming night light, and if you could commit an image to memory, if would be right here, right now, sitting at this table with him. Your stomach twists and you’re not sure if it’s a twinge of pain or an all-engulfing rush of affection, so instead you offer him another shy smile and replace your bag on the ground. 

He shakes his head, more to himself, and says, “You’ll make fun of me.” 

“Sure.”

“You’re just so radiant. All the time.” 

You suck in a breath, cheeks burning and laugh nervously. Seokmin was an all-or-nothing kind of guy, which meant you got all of his affection, all the time. It was overwhelming in the beginning, seeing how devoted he could be to one person, but you had grown accustomed to the quiet deference in which he did everything for you. Compliments were near holy to him. Nothing was more intimate than your name. His actions always spoke louder than words. For a while you had been resistant to it—like you would never quite deserve all the love he had to give—but Seokmin had a way of worming his way into your heart and lodging there until his smile was the only thing you could think of when you woke up. 

The waiter appears with two glasses in hand, asks once more if you need anything, before floating away again. You lift the glass—it’s a deep crimson and smells faintly sweet—and swirl the stem around in your fingers, watching the wine coat the sides of the glass with mesmerizing smoothness. 

Seokmin lifts his glass and murmurs a toast. You say it back, and the glasses hit each other with a soft ding! His eyes glint at you over the rim as he takes a sip. The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and full-bodied, and it sends a flurry of warmth down your throat. 

You hum in appreciation and set the glass down on the table. Above, the stars blink into existence, mimicking the lights flickering to life around the plaza. They wash the patio in a lovely yellow glow, throwing Seokmin into soft relief. He looks a little out of it, pretty lips parted in hazy awe of the scenery around him. It’s still humid, but not too warm—just cool enough that it’s hard to tell where your body ends and the rest of the world begins. A moped passes by, its headlights bouncing off the stone walls of the buildings around you. The chatter from other cafe-goers could be white noise in the trees. In the background the sounds of sultry guitar float through the air, soaking into your skin and you sigh deeply, stretching your arms high into the air above you. It lulls you into a serene sense of calm and you close your eyes—just for a moment. 

Then—“Hey, dance with me,” you hear, whispered by lips pressed to your ear, and you open your eyes slowly to see Seokmin crouched next to your chair, his hand extended in offering. He looks so lovely here, so unguarded and pleased, the same overwhelming feeling of adoration—so strong it overflows into your throat—is difficult to choke back down. You take another hearty swig of wine, feeling it sink into your stomach and turn your legs to jelly. It activates the fuzzy feeling sitting dormant in your body, lifting you out of your chair and into the plaza center with other couples swaying slowly to the music emanating across the square. It all feels so horribly cinematic you’re having difficulty believing any of it’s real. 

You inhale sharply as Seokmin pulls you close to him, your bodies snapping together like magnets. His skin is sticky and warm from the summer heat as his hands brush over your ribcage and come to rest on your waist, coaxing you into a sensual rhythm of swaying hips and chests rising and falling in tandem. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you tight to his body. The wine keeps you limber—which is nice because otherwise you’d be two left feet with out it. 

Seokmin tips his head to rest his sticky forehead against yours, eyes dancing with mirth in the evening light. His fingers press into the small of your back, searing through the gauzy fabric of your blouse, igniting a slow burn that sweeps through your whole body. You sigh deeply as your eyes flutter closed, taking in the sounds of soft timbales and claves bouncing off the stone under your feet, the heat from Seokmin’s body on yours, and his lips pressed against your skin, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear.

It’s sexy, to say the least. The laughter and conversations around you vanish until all you know is the sound of Seokmin’s breath ragged in your ear and hot on your cheek. He smells like rosemary and mint and the soap from the hostel. His lips dip dangerously low on your cheek until they brush over the skin under your jaw, sending a chill down your spine despite the heat. Seokmin smiles against your temple as your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, skirting low over the smooth expanse of his stomach. He hums into your ear—a warning—as your fingertips trail just a little higher. But you’re still in public, so you pull back just enough to smile coyly at him and smooth the hem of his shirt back down.

The music is intoxicating, the melody swelling and swaddling you in a heady daydream of nothing but Seokmin. You tuck your nose into his shoulder, inhaling deeply as his fingers dance up your spine and land lightly on the back of your neck.

“God, I love you,” he confesses, and his laughter is swallowed by your lips suddenly on his, giddy and girlish. It’s just supposed to be an innocent peck—just a quick one you could share in public—but with the wine having gone completely to your head, the music reverberating in your chest, and Seokmin’s tongue in your mouth, it’s difficult to concentrate. Seokmin tastes like the Albariño you ordered, like lemon and nectarine, and so, so sweet your knees turn to liquid. He hums in content as a soft sigh escapes your mouth, unprompted. His hands are firm on your hips, fingers lacing through the belt loops of your skirt to pull you closer. You tangle your own in the damp strands at the nape of his neck, relishing the own sounds you can persuade from your partner’s throat. 

Someone catcalls in the background and you come to with a start. Seokmin’s face is rosy—from the wine or from you, it’s hard to tell—but he’s well past the point of having the grace to look embarrassed. His eyes are glued to you, drinking you in completely. You grin, hiding your face in his chest. The music is all but static in the background, and for a moment it’s just the two of you again, drinking in the airless summer night and the sounds of other couples enjoying each other’s company. You run your thumb across Seokmin’s bottom lip, completely enraptured. His eyes are dangerously dark.

“Go back to the hotel?” you whisper, mouth hovering mere centimeters away from his. 

Seokmin’s next kiss is indication enough. Grabbing your purse, he throws a few bills onto the bistro table before tugging you away from the plaza. Street signs bleed into flights of rickety stairs and cobblestone alleyways into flowered medians and quiet side roads. The ocean roars in greeting as you run unsteadily back to your hotel. Street lamps blaze into life amid loud shouts of laughter from nearby pedestrians, and the fluttery feeling in your stomach only grows. The only thing that stays constant is the feeling of Seokmin’s hand in yours, firm and reassuring. 

Then, unprompted, Seokmin tugs you into a hidden alcove off the street, and presses you hard against the brick wall, tilting your jaw up with his thumbs to pull you into a searing kiss. He draws in a sharp breath, groaning softly into your mouth as you sag into his touch. You feel like a teenager again, sneaking off the beaten path so you can put your hands all over each other. Seokmin is impatient—his hands dig into your hips, his mouth is on your jaw, and his body is so hot it’s any wonder he hasn’t yet burst into flames. 

“Seokmin,” you gasp, nails digging into his chest, breaking away. His excitement is palpable. He groans, irritated, and tips his forehead against your cheek, still holding you tight to him like you might still slip through his fingers. You extract yourself from his grasp, a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen and pull him away from the wall amidst protests. The privacy of your hotel room can’t arrive fast enough and it feels like eons before you’re pushing Seokmin against the back of the door yourself—so hard the air is knocked from his lungs—but he grins breathlessly as he draws you close, hip to hip, chest to chest, mouth to mouth.

You breath him in, smelling the lingering traces of cigarette smoke and lavender from the night markets on his clothes. Seokmin is all teeth and all tongue, hands traveling up and down the curve of your waist, over your ass, up your forearms and shoulders. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open as he slips his tongue in once more. You dissolve in his hands like water—you’ve always been so pliant with him, so eager to please it goes straight to his head.  

“Tell me what you want,” he mumbles, hand holding your jaw in place. His eyes are asking for a challenge. 

But you feel needy and slightly hysterical that it’s all you can do to say weakly, “You.” 

Seokmin’s breath is hot in your mouth and you have no choice but to ride the wave. This is Seokmin’s all-or-nothing, as he drags your thin linen blouse off your shoulders, popping the top button clean off amid breathless laughter so he can press more open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and collarbone. You sigh deeply, winding your fingers into the hair at the back of his head again, chasing his lips with potent desperation. Seokmin grins, canines glinting wolfishly in the moonlight. It’s difficult to see in the burgeoning darkness—nothing but vague shadows dancing on the walls—so you kick off your shoes haphazardly, stumbling until your knees eventually strike the edge of the bed. You hit the mattress with a huff!, Seokmin in tow. His hand is hot against your bare skin, palm pressed flat to your chest where your heart races.

“This is your fault, by the way,” you tease, and Seokmin feigns sympathy, except his fingers are little too far up your thigh for the sympathy to land. You suck in a breath, eyes burning as Seokmin gazes at you with undisguised want, eyes flicking around your face in a dizzying pattern—eyes, lips, cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, lips—like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. The air grows thicker like mud, sticking in your nose and throat and you struggle to swallow, pushing yourself off the bed. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Seokmin asks, voice laced with worry. His figure is clothed in deep blue shadow in the imminent darkness. Air is sparse, and anxiety flares in your stomach, unexpected, and you press a hand to your racing heart, willing it to slow. Your pulse is erratic and you realize you’re nervous.

“Woah, talk to me,” Seokmin pleads again, sitting up. His fingers around your wrist are soft, like all of him, and it eases the sudden ache in your chest, even if just a little. You place your other hand on top of his, stroking your thumb over his knuckles. 

Your voice is hoarse. “Just nervous. I don’t know why—it’s so silly.” 

And then Seokmin is there, tucking you into his arms and his nose in your hair, swaying as he holds you for a moment. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You know that.” 

You frown, pushing away from his chest. “No–no, I want this. Just–had a moment, but I’m ok.” You lean your forehead on his shoulder again. “I’m always ok when I’m with you.” The quiet presses in on your ears. The incessant buzzing in your fingertips fades to the background, slowing to the steady rhythm of Seokmin’s heartbeat in his chest—reliable as always, a constant you had come to memorize like the spots on his face. 

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispers against your temple. “Whatever you want.”

The soft glow from the street lamps outside illuminate his features in a tranquil yellow hue. He looks angelic, always so gentle and willing, that it sucks the remaining air out of your lungs. 

He settles back on the edge of bed, hands resting on your hips as he gazes up at you with adoration so tangible it makes your heart ache. You run your fingers gently through his hair, pushing the dark strands off his forehead and trace the shape of his profile with your pointer finger, down his forehead and the bridge of his nose, pausing over his waiting lips, down his chin until you grasp it in between your thumb and forefinger. 

“You’re beautiful, too, you know?” you say, voice soft. And Seokmin smiles, pleased, and it lights up his whole face, sending a bolt of warmth down your throat like lightning. The crashing waves of the ocean are muffled under the sound of your heart in your ears. Seokmin is quiet, arms tight around your waist. Had it not been for the pulsing rhythm in your body, this might have been a tender moment—but the heat is still there, prodding in your stomach, building, smoldering, aching. 

You want him. Bad.

With a noise of impatience, you pull his face back towards yours, curving your body to pull him in, kissing him longingly, hoping he’ll sense the desperation growing in your stomach, understand the way you need to feel him under and over and inside you. Seokmin reads you like the back of his hand—senses the tension in your shoulders—and knows that if he uses his mouth just right your last remaining shred of self-control will snap.

He pulls at the rest of the buttons on your blouse with agonizing restraint, kissing every inch of skin revealed with painstaking deference. His mouth trails down your sternum, pausing as he listens to the quiet exhales that leave your mouth. The skin on your stomach is sensitive to his touch, and you bite back a few nervous giggles as Seokmin ghosts his lips just down to where the waistband of your skirt rests on your hips. His thumbs dig into the skin there, and he peers up at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. Asking for permission. You nod, breath shallow in your throat.

“Should be on my knees for a princess,” your fiancé murmurs lowly, dropping to his knees in front of you. What had been a steady flame in your gut erupts into a hunger so strong it might consume you from the inside out. Your mouth goes dry as he gentle pulls you down to the mattress, urging you to sit. 

In the same tender manner, Seokmin lifts the sole of your foot to his lips, eyes darkening as your breath quickens yet. His breath fans across your bare skin, up your ankles and your shin, before he pauses to press a hot kiss to the inside of your knee, teeth digging into the soft skin there. The static in your ears increases tenfold as his other hand pushes the hem of your skirt up to your waist. Seokmin’s mouth continues upward, stopping on the supple skin of the inside of your thighs. Hunger gnaws at your insides by now, and you tense your stomach in anticipation. Seokmin’s pupils are blown wide—impossibly dark as he takes you in—forcing you backwards, his mouth hovering just over the fabric in between you and complete bareness. Your breath quickens—waiting, waiting, waiting—as Seokmin’s tongue trails from the inside of your knee right to where your thigh pools at your hip. 

And then, with a dazed smirk, he sets your foot down—not on the floor—but gently over the bulge in his pants. Seokmin leans forward ever so slightly, eyes daring. Already he’s so hard, even under his trousers and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from falling apart right there.

“See what you do to me?” he rasps, breath hitching as you press your foot down—just a little—to feel him so vulnerable under you. Your panties are soaked by now—it feels like you’re wearing nothing at all. Seeing Seokmin like this, shirt unbuttoned to his stomach, hair still styled so nicely, lips parted with desire; you want him like this, now, all the time. 

“Seokmin–fuck–” you choke, the words ripped from your mouth as you feel his tongue, wet and hot over your panties. Seokmin tosses one of your feet over his shoulder as he wraps his fingers in the waistband, pulling your panties taut. The ability to control yourself is lost. You curve into his touch as Seokmin gently pulls your panties aside, and presses one last reverent kiss to the inside of your hip.  

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, breath fanning across your skin, “always so beautiful for me.” Then his mouth is on you, open-mouthed and scorching on your cunt, the tip of his tongue circling around your clit, tasting every part of you. You clench your fists into the sheets, gasping for air as he wraps his strong arms around your thighs to pin you down. Even still, you squirm away from his mouth, hands pushing at his head as he sends you to cloud nine. His eyes are searing even behind closed eyelids as he drinks your pleasure, watching in rapture. 

Seokmin’s voice is almost inaudible over the thrum of your heart in your ears. “You like the way I worship you, baby?”

“Yes, please, yes, oh my god, Seokmin, please,” you plead, lurching upwards to curl around his head as a particularly powerful bolt of pleasure rushes through your body. He’s ruthless, nails biting into your thighs as you writhe in pleasure, nose bumping against your clit, mouth planted firmly on your pussy as your cries become higher and more desperate. It builds and builds and builds, a rope in your gut stretching and pulling until you feel like you might snap in half. The pleasure mounts as Seokmin crudely licks his tongue up your cunt, pressed flat against your skin and you release a strangled groan, fingers knotting in his hair.

“S–Seokmin, I’m—” you gasp, body tensed in anticipation.

And then he leans back, and your release fades as quickly as it appeared. Your body aches uncomfortably. The mattress sinks down on either side of you as he braces his hands by your head. Seokmin grins, tucking a few pieces of hair gently behind your ear, dragging your mouth open with his thumb once more to push his tongue past your lips. He tastes like you and he moans as you pull him in by the back of his neck, kissing him fiercely.

“You’re a dick,” you protest, shoving his shoulder. Seokmin’s smile is tender, his cheeks flushed despite his actions just moments ago. 

“Hey,” he says in between kisses to your collarbone that stifle the feeble protests spewing from your mouth, “I don’t wanna go too fast.” 

You groan weakly, as he shifts his knee in between your thighs. He wraps his fingers around one of your ankles, lifting it up onto his hip. 

“But I wanna feel you,” you complain, looping your arms around his neck as if to urge him on. But Seokmin just shakes his head, grinning. His leg shifts again, pressing against the ache in between your thighs and you instinctively roll your hips, mouth dropping open at the touch. He places a large hand on your pelvis, pinning you to the bed.

“I’m taking my time with you,” he says against your mouth, smiling as you sag onto the bed. 

He wanted to fuck slow.

And he does, touching you with feather-light pressure, building your frustration and anticipation until you’re a sweating, panting, desperate disaster in his hands—and only then does Seokmin let you feverishly remove the rest of his clothes. The desire to feel him, see him, taste him has grown so vicious you might cry. He perches on the edge of the bed again, and with shaking hands you jerk the rest of his shirt off his broad shoulders, scraping your nails down his chest to the belt at his waist. You’ve always loved Seokmin’s body—its strong, lithe build, all toned and smooth. Seokmin curses under his breath, tossing his head back in pleasure as you kiss along his jaw and down his torso. The muscles in his stomach tense under your touch, pulled taut as your lips reach his hips again. Slowly, you undo the button on his trousers, all the while keeping burning eye contact. You want Seokmin to see how much you need him. 

“Let me touch you,” you whisper against his abdomen, waiting for the desperate nod, before your fingers slip under the waistband of his briefs to finally take him in your hand. Seokmin moans low and you moan with him, imagining when he would finally let you take him, how he would stretch you out, and you’d finally feel all of him. 

You pull your hand back to spit, making sure to keep your eyes on him as you do, before wrapping your fingers around his length again. Seokmin’s voice is choked in his throat as you run your hand up and down his entire shaft, taking care to twist your fist around the base of his cock, delicately trailing up and around the head, soaking up every breathy sound of satisfaction that leaves Seokmin’s lips. 

With palpable restlessness, you yank the rest of Seokmin’s clothes off, straddling him on the edge of the bed again. He feels the damp fabric of your panties against his thigh and groans, his fingers knitting into your hair to kiss you again, feverish and wanting. You grind down, feeling his cock hard against your pussy and laugh weakly—except it sticks in your throat as Seokmin’s nails dig into your hip, dragging your cunt down his length again. 

“You want me so bad, don’t you?” Seokmin goads, hand holding the back of your head as you roll your hips up and down his length with increasing desperation. Your nails dig into his chest. He pulls your panties to the side, eyes fluttering closed as your arousal slides over his skin. The heat of the room muddles your brain, heightening every sensation. You’re already so wet, needy and willing to do anything to make the tightness in your stomach go away. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”

“Please–” you beg, “need you. Seokmin–”

His lips are crushing, destroying any semblance of thought you might have had. 

“Go ahead, princess,” Seokmin groans, as you pull your panties to the side, sliding two fingers into yourself and using your arousal to lubricate his cock again. The weight of Seokmin’s cock in your hand, the sound of your fingers sliding down the length is enough to have you weak in the knees. Seokmin’s hands splay across your back, propping you up as you line up his cock with your entrance. 

Your fiancé has always been a romantic, and this time is no different as Seokmin kisses you, open mouth waiting to breathe in your needy moans as you slowly sink down onto his cock. In your agitation, it’s still tight, extracting a few hisses of discomfort out of you. But Seokmin is there, soothing you with quiet shushes against your lips, thumbs stroking your cheeks as you take him all the way. He stretches you out, nice and slow, drawing the air from your lungs. 

There you go, that’s my girl. You’re doing so well, baby.

His praise rolls over you like late afternoon sunlight, settling in your chest until you feel lightheaded—the love in your chest is too much to take. It feels more intimate than usual, being nose to nose with Seokmin like this, seeing every emotion flicker in his eyes, feeling his breath fan over your face as he pants. You comb your fingers through his hair and cup his face in your hands, as the fluttery, panicky desperation for a hold on reality reappears in your chest again. You gasp as Seokmin shifts farther onto the bed, nails biting into his scalp as he pulls you closer.

He can surely feel the supersonic pace of your heart against his chest and he shushes you gently, pressing his lips against your sternum.

“I–I just need you to relax, sweetheart,” you hear him murmur in your daze, hands running up and down your spine. “Just a little more.” 

You nod, eyes squeezes shut as you try to swallow the trepidation in your stomach. Seokmin takes it all with grace; his voice is like honey in your ear, sticky and sweet, whispering soft reassurances. Seokmin’s love can be so strong—even after all this time—that it overwhelms you, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless. You’re not used to the devotion that even now, it sometimes takes a little to get used to, so you tuck your nose in the crook of his neck. The smell of sunshine still sticks to his skin, like a moth to a flame. 

“Baby, are you still with me?” Seokmin asks, forefinger petting your cheek. “Hm?”

You nod wordlessly, breathing deeply while Seokmin watches, attentive, until you’ve finally taken all of him. Seokmin bottoms out with a strangled groan, and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, chest stuttering as you roll your hips with impatience. Even then, it’s still too much right away and you freeze, gasping for breath. 

“Hey,” Seokmin says, holding your face in his hands, “we have all night. Take it slow.”

“I know I just—ah–” you whine, stubborn, as you roll your hips again—ignoring the vague hesitancy in your stomach—this time relishing in the dull ache in between your legs, feeling the stretch and pull as Seokmin coaxes your hips into a lazy rhythm. He watches closely, mapping out your body with his hands, leaving you out of breath and hazy in the head. You throw your head back as he kisses your exposed throat, mouth hot over your skin. 

Seokmin rests his hand at the base of your throat—not quite squeezing—and leaves it there. The possessive glint in his eyes is enough to say you are mine. Mine. The thought alone is enough to have you falling into his touch. 

Mine.

Mine.

He slips the other hand lower, using his thumb to rub circles around your clit, persuading languorous moans from your mouth, watching you with sordid fascination as you respond to his every touch. You brace your hand on his knee, brow furrowing as the pleasure in your core molds into shape. It’s hot and heavy, radiating so strongly it makes your arm shake.

“Just like–that,” you whine, nails digging into Seokmin’s thigh as he fucks into you slow, gripping your ass so hard you know it’ll leave marks. He curses as you clench around his cock, urging him to go faster. But Seokmin is, and always has been, more patient than you, and he grins slowly, even through heavy-lidded eyes clouded with lust, gripping your hips tight enough to still your movement. 

“What did I say?” he challenges, lips hovering millimeters over yours. You frown, protests falling on deaf ears, as he leans in closer. His lips brush yours as he whispers, “Go. Slow.”

So you try, rolling your hips, grinding down on his cock until you think you might die, until your restlessness is as tangible as the arousal dripping onto Seokmin’s thighs. He fluctuates between playing with your clit–just until you’re on the verge of release—and waiting, just long enough to keep the buzz in your body at bay. Your knees ache as you hold yourself up, feeling Seokmin’s cock slide and and out, his hands in your hair and on your ass. He edges you, daring you to come first each time you whimper you’re close, waiting until the shaking in your fingers stops just for him to continue. 

You’ve never been a crier, but after twenty minutes of this, you’re certain that even a slight breeze would cause you to come undone. Seokmin’s cock rests deep inside to the hilt, his mouth is on your skin, and you know that if he moves, you’ll come harder than you ever have before. 

“Baby, please,” you beg, hips jerking at every slight movement, “please–”

Seokmin smiles, and even just the sight of his pretty teeth have the tears you’ve been holding back, rolling down your cheeks like two big fat admissions of defeat. You suck in a breath as Seokmin lifts you off his cock, dropping you onto your back on the mattress. He places one of your ankles over his shoulder, pressing you down by the back of your thigh as you toss the other around his waist. 

The sounds coming from your mouth are less than human as Seokmin runs his fingers through your arousal again, placating your whines with his lips. You feel like you’re about to snap. 

“Seokmin, fuck me.” It sounds so ridiculous coming from your mouth you think you might cry again, but the thought is shoved away as Seokmin slaps his cock against your needy cunt a few times, pulling more animalistic cries from your throat. 

“Soon, pet,” he grins, and then his cock is pushing into you again, his fingers on your clit, his eyes dark and earnest as your whole body tenses in his arms. 

Your nails claw into his skin and he hisses, brow furrowed, as you drag them down his back with uncharacteristic force, but the thought of his beautiful back marked by your torment only feeds the fire in your belly. You arch your spine, pressing into him as Seokmin draws his cock back out, still much slower than you would like. He’s just winding you up at this point, seeing just how far you’re breaking point is.

Seokmin tuts, simpering as you pant deliriously under him. He leans down, brushing his lips over your cheekbone to rest his forehead against yours. You groan impatiently. 

“Patience, lamb,” Seokmin urges, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, and you frown like a petulant child. Your protests are quickly silenced as he moves, pushing into you with little urgency, pulling back out with agonizing slowness, relishing in the tiny sounds escaping your tightly clamped lips. His strokes are languid as he holds you close to his body. Sometimes it feels like a challenge, to see how long you can go without indulging Seokmin, but today every sensation is amplified tenfold—the smell of his hair, the feeling of his skin, his fingers on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock deep inside. He holds your head in between his hands, petting your hair when you tense, whispering sweet words against your skin. 

“Look at me, baby,” Seokmin murmurs, brushing the hair off your forehead. Your pry your eyes open, resisting every impulse to squeeze them shut again as Seokmin pushes into you again, this time with more heat, feeling the burn in his own body increase as you brace yourself against his shoulders. His strokes are long and deep, barely a second apart before he drives back into you to the hilt, swimming in the crude sounds of skin against skin. A chorus of moans fills the room as Seokmin finally fucks you into subspace, your head going foggy with pleasure. The sounds leaving your mouth are barely coherent—just a messy jumble of garbled syllables. Seokmin is unrelenting. His stomach is tense with the effort it takes to keep up his pace. You’ve all but given up on keeping your eyes open, instead falling openly into the pleasure that builds in your gut again. 

Good girl. Just a little more, I promise. Look at you, so beautiful like this. Just like that.

Good girl. 

My girl.

You want to hold on. You want to hold on as long as possible. But Seokmin’s praise washes over you like the tide, saccharine and familiar, so you come again and again, feeling insurmountable pleasure pulse through your body—white-hot and blinding—so intense it leaves you breathless and weak, as Seokmin’s voice continues to flit in and out of focus. 

“God!” you plead, as an orgasm so powerful it rips your voice from your throat tears through you. Your nails bite crescents into your fiancé’s shoulders, and you jolt upward to kiss Seokmin feverishly, fingers carding desperately through his hair as he fucks you through your high. 

“Where–” Seokmin stutters, jaw clenched.

So you breathe, “In me,” and Seokmin groans long and low, as he comes undone, his release hot inside you, fingers searching for yours as he heaves. His hand is clammy and you smooth your other over his cheek, thumb skating over his cheekbone. Seokmin looks ragged, hair fucked and messy, lip bleeding from where you bit him in a fit of passion. He kisses you again, hungry and desperate as if the last forty minutes hadn’t been enough of you for him. Then he pulls out slowly, frowning apologetically as you wince in discomfort. He sets your foot back on the bed, before pressing one last, sweet kiss to your pelvis. You feel fucked raw, sensitive from all that the two of you had done.

Seokmin always ravishes you like it’s the first time he gets to hold you, taking his time until the bedsheets are tangled around your limbs and you’re both utterly spent. He loves you deep into the night, until the sun threatens to peek over the horizon. The dreamy cerulean color of the sky tells you it’s far too late for you to be awake. The street noise below has become all but mute, as the townspeople slumber peacefully in their homes. It’s the birdsong that pulls you from your reverie, still bleary-eyed and a little limp, so sudden you place your palms flat on Seokmin’s chest and stare at him in disbelief. He hums in acknowledgment, stirring from his place at your side. 

“What time is it?” you rasp, voice hoarse from use. 

Seokmin groans, reaching for his phone and murmurs, “Almost 4:30.” 

Your eyes open a few more centimeters. “It’s been—it’s been all night.” 

Your fiancé flashes his usual heartbreaking smile. “I know,” he says, and groans as he turns onto his side to look at you, “but I just wanted to be with you.” He tucks his arm under his head, reaching out a hand to run his thumb over your bottom lip. You kiss the pad of his thumb, leaning into his touch. “I love you.”

It always feels like a promise coming from his lips.

You flop back onto the bed, wincing at the twinge in your ass and roll over onto your stomach, tucking your chin over your folded hands. The Spanish coast is quiet, and for a while it’s just you and the ocean and the intimate sounds of Seokmin’s even breathing as he falls back asleep.

The next thing you feel are his lips on the base of your spine, and the early afternoon sun in your eyes. You blink groggily, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand as Seokmin kisses up your back. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and you wrap yourself in the top sheet, smiling sweetly as Seokmin leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Good morning,” he murmurs, and rolls off the bed—still naked—over to the small kitchenette. “Coffee?”

You lift your arms high over your head, stretching until your muscles feel sore and limber, sighing deeply. “Mm, please.” Seokmin nods and grabs two espresso cups from the cupboard. 

From your spot on the bed, you settle back, admiring the view of your beautifully sculpted fiancé preparing morning coffee. He’s started working out again, and you see the smooth muscles across his back flex as he stretches. Your eyes trace the graceful curve of his spine to his narrow hips and you flush, stifling a nervous giggle. Even making coffee while butt-naked, Seokmin exudes an easy confidence that sets you at peace, the slope of his shoulders relaxed as he waits for the espresso to finish brewing. The aroma of coffee curls into the air and you smile to yourself, tucking your chin into the palm of your hand. How did you get to be so lucky? 

Seokmin catches you staring and breaks you from your trance by kissing your temple, holding a small espresso in his hand. 

“Yeah?” he asks, eyes glinting with amusement. You tilt your head and just nod, scooting so he can join you on the bed again and press a kiss to his bare shoulder. Seokmin still smells like his sunscreen. He squeezes your thigh again, gazing wordlessly over the balcony at the coastline. It’s picturesque—nothing exists beyond this hotel room except for you and him. 

The espresso is warm in your hands, but Seokmin’s body is warmer. 

You’ll never be cold again. 

--

check out my other stuff! :)

[nardos-primetime]

first thing that pops up on my for you page from your blog:

i am so lost from where this guy came from. is this an au? also i am extremely jealous of their hair, i want it for no good reason. lmfao sorry for the weird question/ask.

He's from a newer au I haven't talked about yet! Don't feel weird for asking at all!

The whole au is like. Heavily inspired by Cyberpunk 2077 (a guilty pleasure of mine), it could technically be a crossover au, I guess? I dunno, but I'm lazy/like to do stuff for fun, so certain aspects are obviously going to be changed. I'm not totally settled on designs, but I think I'm gonna keep most of the design aspects from this drawing for the "finalized" concepts.

The main plot centers on Casey Jr being put under the care of the turtles by "Mother" soon after having a whole (unwilling) relic insert situation in his brain, leading to former star Lou Jitsu to be revived within his mind!

The issue is that all of the turtles aren't really. The best father figures. None of them even want anything akin to a child, and even if Casey is 19, these guys are Mercs. Outside of their own clubbing and shows they do gigs for cash, including dangerous ones, ESPECIALLY dangerous ones. Having this new guy is like, a total roadblock, especially because Casey still, somehow, despite Night City's clutches and the last group he was pressured into before this, has some morals about him. The only reason they didn't kill him and stage an accident is because Mother promised them financial compensation for caring for him.

So he's stuck with four new "dads" who mostly all hate him or find him annoying, and Lou is not any different, he also finds him naive but he dislikes the turtles as well because he's a jaded old fuck (major hypocrite, too).

While the turtles are baseline all mercenaries, they share some traits between each other instead of leaving it to a "one guy only" job in most cases.

Donnie has the most technical skill, falling mostly under Techie and Net/Edgerunner, he adores tech after all, he also has illegally dabbles in being a ripperdoc, primarily for his brothers.

Mikey is actually the fallback for general medical issues, including those involving backfiring implants. He's only better at this because he's dabbled in researching (and using) tons of remedies, mainly for pain. He's the guy who's helped Donnie when working on inserting implants in the others. He's even stayed awake during his own surgeries to help Donnie during his fuck ups and implants.

Leo, while not extreme netrunner levels, does hold some hacking knowledge, just what he needs to make things a little easier with anything but combat most of the time, as combat is what he enjoys the most within jobs. He also tends to be the one to make their deals with Mother.

Raph is mainly muscle. Not to say he's simple, it's just his main role and main focus, having grown much more protective over the years, often acting as a bodyguard for the others during their own shows (hence he has the least involvement with any of their music). He's the least of the bad influences for Casey, at least directly.

They used to have another member of the group a few years ago, a media. Or a media wannabe, at least.

They normally have some reference to her, even if small, hidden within their shows.

This is all, of course, not tapping into their mystics, which are a bit different in this au as well with how they work. Lets just say Mother allows them special permissions when it comes to mystic usage.

...at least those are some of the basic ideas I've been throwing around in my head for the story, lol. I like to throw ideas at the wall and see what sticks to me. The whole thing is technically a wip still but so are 90% of my aus tbh lmao, this onrs just a lot more wippy because it's mainly a "for fun" au and I also haven't been able to play cyberpunk for myself to brush up on things outside of research and sometimes a man is just... not up for that, especially lately with my attention span, I hope to brush up a little more again sometime soon and maybe even delve into some aspects from the og ttrpg perhaps, I'm not sure yet, though, haha.

Oops long post, huh? My bad </3

[supermaks]

No but what is red bull doing with this car??? I just can't understand how they're suddenly having so much issues. It feels like the McLaren car is great in every track while we're are struggling everywhere.

My impression is that mclaren have now a superior car and they might put some serious pressure on the championship. No hate to the mclaren drivers, but they're not doing justice to that car. The only reason max keeps winning still is because he's leagues better.

Tbh its still too early to tell but the more rbr talks about the suspension and what they think the problem is, the more sense it makes to me. Its not at all a new thing, actually its kinda part of the design itself. Like the red bull philosophy wid the 2022 regs was to maximize the aerodynamic components by keeping the suspension as stiff as possible. rb18 and the rb19 were uncompromising cars from the start, but the ground force generated was so ahead of everybody elses rbr cud have the most rigid mechanical components and still produce better lap times than the competition just because they were able to lower their rear very consistently. So for instance they get to an outlier like Singapore that has such bumpy characteristics and like explode but it doesnt matter because for most of the calendar the ride height holds and they have the advantage. Its a very milton keynes adrian newey led type of compromise regarding car design which means its not a compromise at all and it kinda expects its immediate and total sovereignty to be its own justification. I dont think rbr is doing anything 'wrong' wid the car, its just that the car was always bound to hit a limit in performance and kinda coasted on other team's setbacks. That and yes, there are lil operational mistakes throughout race weekends happening rn that didnt exist last year and cud be attributed to some uncertainty regarding car development, the turmoil inside the organization, some fatigue, etc. Time will tell if they can fix the problem or if its something to try and minimize until the next regulatory cycle

About the Mclaren, and why it looks so spooky, seems MTC have been able to develop a car that not only employs the same suspension trick as rbr, but is able to make it work to its full potential, particularly by absorbing bumps and kerbs more effectively, which is something the rb20 as of now cant do. Basically its an all around more balanced car wid better handling. Without the first SC yesterday Lando wud have put a 20 sec gap no problem. By fp3 both Mclarens were already lapping like 2 seconds faster than the rb20 so like clearly that pace is here to stay. Whether itll translate into a full fledged wdc fight it will depend on the next big 4 updates because all the top cars have room to improve in the upcoming european leg. mcl38 has a lot of potential tho and not being hindered by the suspension the way rb20 is makes it a significant threat. Also like Mclaren is still making some basic strategy errors that usually tend to go away once the team settles more into its new role in the competition.

Ab ur last comment, idk personally I think zak browns bj brothers are doing a really good job keeping pressure and staying consistent, especially Lando, but its also their first taste of a truly competitive car so its normal for them to miss out on some pole positions or maybe not drive some stints as well. I think Ive commented on this before but sometimes it does come down to experience. 2023 had some hints of a possible Mclaren resurgence but they were few and too spaced out for the drivers to be able to truly build on it. On the other side u have a world champion coming out of 3 consecutive title runs 1 of which was one of the most competitive in recent memory, and another the most dominant. Mclaren is intent on building momentum and Max wont let them. Rbr are in limbo but Max isnt. Wid much respect to everybody else but like either put ur best foot forward every time or better luck next year 😐

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey y'all! I'm sorry for the brief hiatus, this past week has been insane. Working at a University is NOT FOR THE WEAK. I've been doing quite shit tbh (blame crazies and my job). Anyways, this chapter is a little sad (I'm so sorry, I swear there'll be comfort later). Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Also pls remember reblogs and comments are appreciated ! I love feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

<Previous Masterlist Next>

Chapter 6

Bugs POV 

It had been two weeks since your sleepover. You had found yourself staying over on weekends, you and Eddie falling into even more of a comfortability with one another. You both discussed everything under the sun, getting to know all the intricacies behind the other. You learned Eddie loved his tattoos and hated needles, how his family was really from nearby Hawkins but he often refused to go home due to his reputation in town. He let you know how he was the town pariah as an openly bisexual metalhead delinquent and how Hawkins was the first place he began to feel like himself. You learned he loved thrift stores and record shops, could live off of cereal and beer, and hated the smell of overly fruity vape juice (“If it fucking smells like a middle school girls locker room, why would you smoke it?”). You even learned that Eddie had a…reputation…on campus. You hadn’t heard about it until your American Government class, where the girl behind you (Christine?) had been giggling with her friends about the way the ‘punk guy who deals’ had fulfilled her ‘wildest dreams’. She went further into detail, but you tried to zone her out at that. 

Anyways, you decided to help Eddie out to face his fear of changing his major. Which led you here.

You were standing at the door of the Advising Office, Eddie fidgeting beside you. You could feel his anxiety rolling off of him in waves. Eddie was often an overthinker, but equipped at hiding it with putting on a show. He tended to not do so around you, though. You reached out gingerly, grabbing onto his elbow, the denim jacket he wore soft and worn from use against your hand. 

“Eds, it’ll be okay. I’ll be right here. I promise,” You softly whispered, eyes searching his face to try and get him to meet your gaze. 

His brown eyes met yours, full of worry as he gulped. He looked back towards the doors, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t know if I can do this, Bug. What if Wayne-” 

You cut him off with a light smack to his elbow, rolling your eyes playfully. “You specifically called Wayne to talk about this. I was there. He just wants you to be happy. I remember because you put him on speaker and I still could barely hear the man.”

Eddie sighed, nodding and huffing out a breath before he headed to the door, marching inside. You smiled, your heart squeezed softly in pride. Eddie had talked with you and leaned toward Music Therapy. He felt something tug him towards helping young kids through music, letting you in on a small bit of his own struggles. You were grateful and didn’t push, only being told that he had ‘gone through some mental distress’ last year, causing him to get put in inpatient for a bit, falling behind in classes. You recalled his face as he sat on his bed with you, strumming Sweetheart (his electric guitar) softly, voice shaky with emotion. 

“The only thing that called out to me was music. I just want to be there for people who feel the same way.”

You were snapped out of your thoughts as Eddie exited the office, face in a soft smile, eyes watery with tears. You rushed over, worry sinking in. 

“What happened? Is it too late to enter those classes? Eds, I-” 

“I filled out the application to switch over. She told me that it may take a few days, but because I was within the music department anyways, it wouldn’t be a difficult switch. I have to wait to take some of the courses, but I can drop my two Production courses without penalty,” He sighed softly, his tone full of relief as he looked down at you, blinking away tears before hastily pulling you into a hug. He squeezed you softly, mumbling thank yous into your hair, clear relief flooding into your system. Eddie was affectionate and loved touch, so you were glad he was feeling better. 

You squeezed back, heart soaring. 

Everything was going to be okay.

You stood in the local Rosa’s Costumes, the store filled to the brim with props and clothing. It was a favorite of the theater department at Hawkins and had been running for years. You and Eddie were among the clearly haunted prop items and section of the store that was for some reason themed as pirates. Eddie was perusing the hundreds of clothing and costumes on the aging racks, the familiar smell of Rosa’s incense wafting through the store. 

“I don’t think we should go as anything basic, because we are anything but,” Eddie stated cheekily, wiggling his brows over at you. 

You felt your stomach twist and turn as you plastered on a smile as best as you could. Eddie was referring to the Kappa Nu party that he had extended an invite to you to. You knew Eddie usually sold at parties and while it made you nervous (he had called you his favorite little square after you expressed concern), you were more anxious at the idea of being anywhere near the Kappa Nu house. You knew it boasted the hottest girls in Hawkins and it would be packed tight with bodies on Halloween night. 

You originally had a plan of doing what you always did with Eddie: renting a lot of campy horror movies and cuddling on the couch while drinking and Eddie would smoke, the two of you laughing at the practical effects. And then maybe after you’d head into town to see the local Ghost Walk that occasionally came through detailing all the spooky haunted places in town with an over the top narrator. 

But Eddie had burst into your study period at the library with Nancy, excitedly telling you about his success in his new courses and his ability to catch up. He called for a celebration as Nancy laughed and bid the two of you goodbye to head into work. Then he told you about getting an invitation to Kappa Nu, his eyes twinkling with excitement. And honestly…

How could you have said no to that face? 

So now you were here, in a theater kids wet dream of a store, thumbing through costumes to try and stumble upon an idea. Eddie was zipping up and down aisles, a pep in his step. He was recently more animated and less stressed, the clear joy from his new classes clear as day. It warmed your heart. 

Eddie grabbed your hand, walking briskly toward an aisle before turning to grin that megawatt smile at you. “I think I just had the perfect idea,” He gushed, turning back around to lead you with determination, clearly on a mission. 

You felt your heart race and face heat up as tingles ran up and down your arms. Eddie was unaware but your crush was carving and worming it’s way deeper into your heart, the affliction becoming harder to ignore. You tried to tell yourself that it was better this way, Eddie being too good of a friend to pass up. But every hug, every cuddle, and every warm cheek kiss led to more and more of an entanglement, your mind at war with your heart. 

Even Robin began to notice. You told her there was no way he would like you back, what with being Eddie, but she wouldn’t hear your excuses. She stated that it was clear that the two of you were ‘dumbass lovesick puppies’ who ‘couldn’t read the room worth shit’. You had finished the conversation at that, seeing a resident come up to the desk, and the last thing you needed was your hall gossiping about your romantic life or lack thereof. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Eddie let go of your hand, grabbing for a ridiculously large leather jacket with a huge collar, clearly meant as a biker or greaser costume. You cocked your head at Eddie, eyebrows furrowed while you fought back a smile. 

“What are you doing with that thing?” 

“We can go as The Driller Killer and an 80’s girl! From Slumber Party Massacre 2!,” Eddie said excitedly, his dimples appearing as his grin grew. 

You laughed a bit, shaking your head with a smile. Eddie would pick the campy serial killer who was based off of a greaser and had an electric guitar with a murdering drill on the neck. It was perfect. 

“Sure, why not?,” You laughed a bit as Eddie grabbed your hand immediately to drag you off in search of the other pieces. 

Maybe the party wouldn’t be so bad. 

You were standing on the front lawn of the large white mansion, knees shaky as you felt your stomach churn. Suddenly your makeup felt stupid and your clothes too tight. You tugged on the jean shorts and blue cropped t-shirt you wore, your body feeling as though it burst into flames. Eddie grabbed your hand, squeezing it and giving you a soft smile. 

“It’ll be okay, Bug,” He said softly. 

You looked up at him, his hair coiffed carefully with the rest back in a bun, his large ridiculous leather jacket and tight jeans still looking like a dream on him. He wore the fake cutout prop of the guitar drill slung on his back and some fake blood splatter across the thing. Even in his campy get up, and laughable oversized leather collar, he looked adorable. You pinched your own leg discreetly, trying to curb the feelings. 

You nodded up at him, squeezing his hands and turning to face the house once again, walking toward it. Once you entered, you felt your senses become overwhelmed. You saw flashing lights and a million bodies stuffed within the house. The smell of weed and alcohol along with perfume, cologne, sweat, and sugar lingered in the air, making your head spin. You felt the bass of the music playing inside vibrate through the floor, traveling through your bones almost. You clung to Eddie, feeling as if you’d either vomit or faint if you let go. Eddie rubbed your hand softly, leading you deeper inside to the kitchen, the room’s island filled with various bottles and bar piled high with boxes and cans of soda, Twisted Teas, Trulys, White Claws, a large plastic tub of bright pink alcohol brimming with fruit. Eddie grabbed a cup with ice and a coke can and the Jack Daniels bottle, quickly mixing up a Jack and Coke for you. He handed you the cup, your fingers brushing as you grabbed the sticky red plastic. Your heart sped up as your whole body felt a burst of heat and electricity. You tried to brush it off. 

“Thanks, Ed,” You shouted over the music as he nodded softly at you, a smile on his lips. 

You took a sip, determined to let loose and forget this impending tornado of feelings swirling in you. You could be calm. You could let go. 

Eddie grabbed himself a beer, smiling at you and pointing to turn your attention towards Robin and Steve, the two clearly already intoxicated. They were dressed like Doc Brown and Marty, Robin amusingly dressed as the doctor (though she had removed the wig and was twirling it in the air it seemed) and Steve dressed as Marty, puffer jacket and all. You laughed, waving at them. Robin waved, and elbowed Steve to wave back. 

Jonathan and Argyle appeared then, dressed as Cheech and Chong. Jonathan smiled at Eddie as Argyle nodded at the two of you. 

“Killer costumes, dudes. No one appreciates campy horror these days,” He mused, taking a sip of his soda. 

Jonathan furrowed his brows and shook his head, clearly not as aware of the reference to your costumes as Argyle. He was about to open his mouth when Steve and Robin came up. Steve slung his arm around Jonathan’s shoulder while holding his half empty cup in the other hand, grinning. 

“Wassup guys? I- I had a little too mu-much,” Steve hiccuped, grinning. 

You laughed softly, covering your mouth with your hand. Steve could be a bit of a worrywart and mother hen, so it was nice to see him let loose on these occasions. 

“Hey-hey….psst….Roomie!,” Steve frantically whispered to Eddie, causing Eddie to grin a bit. 

“Yes, roomie?,” Eddie teased, clearly keeping a mental note of the interaction to tease Steve for later. 

“I- I saw that hot girl you’ve been see-ing a bi-bit…here…She was over t-there,” Steve slurred, lifting a weak finger to point behind you. 

You felt your stomach churn. Eddie had been seeing someone? You knew he hooked up with plenty of people before but had put a pause on it for a bit. You looked up to Eddie out of the corner of your eye, seeing his face pale a bit as he faked a laugh, eyes guarded as he tried to change the subject. Was he hiding a girl from you? Something serious? Your heart raced as you felt as though a thorned vine wrapped around it, squeezing and puncturing it, your mind going through every scenario. 

While lost in your thoughts, Steve lost his footing and slipped from Jonathan's grip, losing his hold on his drink. The bright pink liquid mostly splattering on your shirt, making you come to your senses while also feeling anxiety bubble up and tears sting the back of your eyes,. 

“Oh-Oh Bu-bug I’m soo sorry, I-,” Steve blubbered, eyes wide in panic as he looked at you and you felt your walls come up. You needed to get out of here. 

“It’s okay. I’m just gonna go clean up,” You said softly to the group, eyes with a blank stare as you pushed through the crowd to go upstairs. 

You happened upon a miraculously empty bathroom, entering and wetting a towel while dabbing at the bright blue shirt, actions getting more frantic as your vision began to blur. You began to feel your hands shake as you sobbed softly, 

You were a fool. 

Girls like you didn’t get Eddie Munson. Girls like you didn’t get dates, period.  You studied and worked snitchy jobs and lost sleep over not pleasing people. You avoided new things and never stepped out of your comfort zone. You pinpointed every flaw in the mirror until it was all you could see. Boys like Eddie Munson knew nothing but kindness and courage, building a thick skin, and women pinning and giggling after them. Eddie Munson knew adventures and spontaneity, he knew dates with people and sudden hookups. Hell, he knew sorority girls. 

You leaned over the bathroom counter, the sobs wracking your body now as you lost control. You felt your insides twist and turn and pull. You were a lost cause. You couldn’t lose your friendship, but you felt the feelings pouring out of your skin and bones, shattering your insides. 

You sobbed more, scratching your throat raw, your whole body aching with pain. 

It hurt. Knowing you were not enough. 

You should’ve known it was coming, as it did always, but you felt it so deeply now that you wouldn’t soon forget. 

You sobbed until there were no more tears left, hands gripping the counter as you looked up to assess the damage. Your bright blue eyeshadow and liner were now muddy splotches on your face, swirling colors. You sighed, wetting the towel again, going to scrub off the evidence, your heart sinking. 

You’d have to put walls up. You wouldn’t give up Eddie. Just…be more realistic. 

You scrubbed until your face was rubbed raw and felt warm from all the friction of the scratchy guest bathroom towel, your mind and heart too fresh with pain to consider the germs. You splashed some water on your face before beginning to head down, 

You headed down the stairs when you spotted it in the dark corner of the crowded room.

Eddie. And a petite blonde.

She was giggling at something he said as they talked, her hand on his arm. She was dressed as a cheerleader, the costume clearly a real uniform from her days in high school. Eddie was speaking animatedly with her, clearly unaware of your current state. 

You raced down the stairs, dodging bodies as you zoomed past Argyle, barely hearing him call out as you rushed out the building, heading outside to the cold and lonely air. 

Fuck Halloween.

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90

[fanonical]

Just a quick check, as I got your blog as the "similar to a blog you follow" on a HP blog; what's your views on Harry Potter currently? I searched your blog and found posts from 2020 about the series, but also ones about how Rowling sucks, and obviously the flag in your pfp is a bit of a give-away, but I'd like to be kind of sure. Sorry to bother.

hi! when i started this blog, back in the Obama administration, i was in high school, and i was a teenage openly trans fan of harry potter. these were the days before she was an open, raving transmisogynist spending all her money on furthering the terf agenda (or at least, not publicly). obviously we knew that there were other problems with the series, and we were, as fans often are, very critical of the source material; to me and Jamie (the other co-runner of this blog) that's actually an integral part of what fandom means. we'd even by then heard the rumours that she was a terf, but ultimately we found that unsurprising; we were both trans, it was like 2015, we were under no impression that most of the creators of the things we liked were transphobic. most people are transphobic; even now, when in american liberal culture where it is "in" to say you are not transphobic, i guarantee you most people creating our favorite fandoms are transphobic (i mean, it's not like there's a wealth of transgender superheroes, anime protags, videogame characters, etc. is it?) whether they realise it or not. this didn't trouble us because she wasn't, at the time, publicly using her platform to give this value a voice, and harry potter was just a Thing Everybody Was Into -- like doctor who, or your favorite sport, or halo or whatever.

anyway, as time progressed, the blog's followership grew and eventually i was relying on money i earn from my part writing on here, so it wasn't an option to just quit immediately when she went mask full off. and again -- we were two british trans people, we were being very loud and open about our upset and dismay over her bullshit, and by this point, had a following of over 100,000, so it just felt more productive to keep that internal critical fandom perspective & help others see why they shouldn't give her any monetary support.

we changed to a more general fandom blog theme during lockdown, when i could focus on streaming more & earn a bit from that, so it wasn't as scary to suddenly have thousands of people decide they didn't want to give me money any more because i no longer was comfortable being associated with her legacy.

ultimately, i feel proud for staying as an openly critical voice in the fandom for as long as i did -- multiple people have come to me since and told me they think the only reason harry potter isn't a notable fandom on this website any more is because we spent so much time warning people away & convincing people to abandon the fandom when we eventually left for good.

i straight up spent the last couple years saying "i fucking hate us making harry potter posts but you guys show up and reblog them & that gives me spon money through humble bundle and a tranny gotta eat"

tbh, i don't even really think that "being a fan" of something was endorsement of the work or creator at all until it became so indistinguishable from being a consumerist identity (rather than a subcultural one) which i feel like is pretty recently, and honestly, Harry Potter & the YA tidal wave in its wake are probably a pretty big part in that, but that's kind of a different discussion.

[queen-of-weird-girlboy-nation]

Percabeth, planet au. (Except this is just a draft and is not the final product bc it's messy af and makes no sense)

@auroraofthesun1 @lemonsandsadness @ebony-reine-vibes (thanks for supporting me here it's making me really happy)

So if you've forgotten what which au god represents here u go bc I want everyone to always know and I have the clipboard feature on my phone.

Reminder that even though there are planet NAMES they are not related to the actual Roman gods. Separate thing. Like completely.

Mercury main: sea, stars, mischief

Venus main: sun, leadership, education

Mars: electricity, fire, mechanics

Jupiter: human brain, joy, mischief

Saturn: healing, kindness, flowers

Uranus: anger, war, protection

Neptune: music, beauty/romance, deception

Pluto: home,love, family, death

Perseus Jackson, Son of Mercury-

Raised by Sally Jackson and later Gabe Ugliano, Percy Jackson is the son of one of the most important gods, Mercury. Percys' abilities include general water control as well as more prophetic powers (the average demigod receives 300 prophetic dreams per year is a statistical error, children of Mercury, who's dad is the ruler of divination and the stars, is a statistical error and should not have been counted). As well as this, he also rules over mischief, similar to Jupiter, so those children have more of a mischievous streak.

Percy grew up with his mom and Gabe, and he had to attend school after school due to anger issues, dyslexia and ADHD (everything that affects demigods in pjo also affects demigods here). Tbh percys' backstory is pretty similar to pjo. He receives dremas about the future a lot and is running a small tarot business in every school he goes to. Its not that he really believes in it, but it makes him money and he's...surprisingly good. (Honestly I haven't really worked on his backstory a lot)

Annabeth chase:

Daughter of Venus, the Queen of the gods, meaning Annabeth is even MORE stressed. It also means that Thalia is her sister. Daughter of Fredrick Chase and later Niaomi Chase when her dad remarried, she is the daughter of the leadership goddess. So her powers include enhanced smarts and logic, excelling in the field of academics (with a favourite for architecture, but that's formed by herself, really). She also has light powers and is able to know every single law. All of them, depending on her location (I'm struggling to think of any other leadership ones, if u have any help a sister out?!).

She ran away at age 7, meeting her sister thalia Grace and the child of Jupiter Luke Casteallen (idk HOW u even spell this man's last name). They arrived at Camp. But thalia was HATED by her mother, and vice versa. Thalia was turning annabeth against the gods before Luke even had a chance frfr. Bur annabeth learns to hate her mother, too, partly because of thalia and partly because Venus never actually saved her. But they get to Camp, and instead of thalia being turned into a tree for her insubordination, it's Luke. This is because Venus thinks that if her daughters nearly favourite person, who was also not her child (annabeth, who still had potential to be manipulated) was harmed due to thalias mistake of hating her mom, thalia was follow the gods not to let that happen again. and it does not work. She runs off after a year and often sneaks in to try and get annabeth, who is mostly a vulnerable, lonely child who is in a camp which she was already skeptical about, is left to basically fight for herself and be very much manipulated by her mom. Who does. She manages to convince annabeth that thalia was wrong, that the gods love her and if she does everything her mother says, she can be a minor god one day and be loved by everyone

And it works. After years and years of convincing, she basically grooms her own child into being the perfect godly daughter and leader of the Venus cabin. While also being mean to her half the time. :) After a while, thalai realises that she's basically never going to get her little sister back or at least the one she knew. :)

I hope this wasn't bad :)

[lifblogs]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by: @just-here-with-my-thoughts (I feel so honored, thank you! And I really am dying to read Welcome to the Outpost.)

These answers will probably involve a range of fandoms.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

647.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,850,510

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily The Bad Batch now, maybe Clone Wars here and there. My fandom writing migrates. Used to be Doctor Who, then Supernatural, then The Clone Wars, and Rebels.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Apparently my top 5 are fics I don’t even care about anymore. *sigh* Not providing links because of how meh I am about these.

1. Morningstar (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina),

2. Take Me Home (I actually didn’t realize this was in my top 5), it’s a Supernatural fic),

3. Take Me to Church (Supernatural),

4. Deal (I believe this is an Avatar: The Last Airbender crack fic based off of incorrect quotes), and

5. Ineffable (Good Omens).

5. Do you respond to comments?

Most definitely!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Definitely either Bleeding Reality, or In the Dark.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Definitely May I Have This Dance? Oh, how I adore that fic. I wrote it based on art I love so much, and the artist even let me put their art in the fic!!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Used to years ago, so now I still feel dread in the pit of my stomach when I get an AO3 comment email. The dread thankfully doesn’t show up all the time now.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh, hell yeah, I do! Not sure about what kind. It’s just, I don’t know, smut.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do not.

11. Which fic are you proud of but wish had gotten a bigger response from your readers?

Maybe The World Goes Cold? But I am maybe releasing chapters too slowly, so I guess it makes sense the response isn’t as big.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think I’ve had a couple translated into Russian.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I tried to do so with my brother a couple of times, but we never finished them. I don’t think either of us really understand how the co-writing process works.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Tbh, I always feel the most when I think about or see anything involving Whoufflé/Whouffaldi from Doctor Who. They were my OTP from 2013 to 2016. Might still be the case!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

You know, I had ones I did want to finish, but now, I’m not even sure I want to.

Still, I guess Blackout, and Three Birds, One Stone held a lot of my attention for a few years. But with the fic content now being triggering for me, and with a brain injury, I feel as if I may have moved on.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have been told my descriptions are incredibly visceral, and I might agree. I’ve been on the edge of my seat or emotional more than a few times during my editing process. I also like to consider the fact that I’m writing at all a strength given I have a brain injury that gives me memory problems and aphasia.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, I’d say say the memory problems and aphasia cause some weaknesses. I have caught a couple weirdly-worded errors and it’s slightly embarrassing. Does Omega shredding my outline multiple times count as a weakness? lol I suppose another weakess is spelling and forgetting words and struggling to find the right words. I often have to look things up. But as far as things like description, dialogue… I’m not sure I struggle there.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

I’d take a crack at French! I used to be able to read and write in French very easily.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Lord of the Rings. I was 8.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Probably Brother, Hold Me Up, and it’s still going!

Tagging: @evilwriter37, @envydean, @cascigarette, and @clownery-and-fuckery

[campbyler]

if i may ask, i am v curious when the party got their cars/how long theyve had them

ella i hope you don't hate me from harboring this ask since the end of august bc i really did mean to answer it sooner. i love u mwah.

mike: some of the lore surrounding the mustang has now been revealed through chapter 9.1, but to reiterate for the purpose of this ask: mike really wanted to get a car with manual transmission, and wanted something used so it could be a purchase he made himself. he did a lot of research online and in person before finding the mustang, which he did think was a little gaudy, but to me he's also a pretty big car buff and likes a lot of classic models -- no matter anyone's feelings on mustangs as a whole, it is a very iconic car with a lot of history, so mike definitely appreciates that a lot. he had nancy co-sign but he paid for everything himself! as of acswy, he's had it for just over a year!

will: will's car is also used, and also something he (mostly) paid for by himself! originally he was going to inherit jonathan's car but like in the show, it died. rip. but hopper Knows A Guy who works on and then sells a lot of used cars and that's who they ended up buying will's car from. he got it when he turned 17 for around ~$2500 since hop's friend cut them a deal, and he paid for Most of that himself (using money he's saved up from camp and the part-time job he had during the school year when he was in hs) and hop and joyce covered the rest. that said, will does pay them back on a monthly basis and pays for his own gas and insurance, so to him they didn't help at all (even tho they helped more than mike's parents did lol). by the start of acswy, he's paid his parents back in full and now just worries about the insurance payments.

lucas: lucas's parents and smart and invest and told their beautiful talented son that if he worked hard and got good grades they would buy him a car for graduation. so he did. and then also got a full ride scholarship to uconn to play basketball and his parents said oh ok slay boy. thanks so much. so since they are saving on a LOOOT of tuition and room and board fees they said we will get you a nice car. and lucas said bet, hellcat? and his mom said ABSOLUTELY NOT and his dad said ABSOLUTELY. mike was fuming btw. if you care.

max: tbh we haven't so super fleshed out a lot of max's family lore so i'd have to consult w suni re: current arrangements BUT 2 me max shares her car w her mom. i think her mom works from home and when she needs to go somewhere uses max's step dad's car just so that max can have some extra freedom. it's also my headcanon that max is the oldest in the friend group so she got her license first and was will and el's designated chauffeur for a while <3

el: el Just got her car and license before the start of acswy! i think she's the youngest in the party and she had will and max to drive her places so there was truly no need to get her license or car until now, plus i think she had some driving anxiety. she also got her car thru hop's friend but it was a little more expensive than will's since it's a bit newer and a nicer model, but she's had more time to save up for it! she mostly got one because she wanted to be able to have something to drive back at school, and also because she's more willing to admit than will is that the cobalt is not going to last super long, so one of them needs to have a car lol.

dustin: dustin got his car from his mom when she upgraded to a new one and while most people would complain dustin said FUCK YEAH because he loves his mom's car and also didn't have to spend a single dime on it lol. i think he got it when he was 17 as well so he also drove lucas and mike around for a bit before they got their cars as part of the indy crew!

AND THAT IS IT. THAT IS ALL. I HOPE THIS WAS WORTH IT AT ALL

[yannig]

I need someone to theorize with me about the Pit Babe 2 trailer

Ok so I thought a lot about Tony and Way being back. And I think we've got 3 options, ranked in how likely I think they are to actually happen.

They are actually alive (faked their death, resurrected, or maybe even clones/evil twins).

They are ghosts/spirits/whatever. They are there but still dead.

They are not here at all. All of their apparitions are due to nightmares, hallucinations, paranoia, flashbacks, etc.

I am entirely uninterested in them being actually alive, one way or another. I think this is largely the most underwhelming option out of the 3, and yet also the one we're most likely to get. For me, Tony and Way being back from the dead would just negate most of the impact of the first season.

Oh Way sacrificed himself to save Charlie as an attempt to redemption? Yeah no he's still alive actually. Tony was finally put done by the son he always treated like a dog, and who at last managed to escape his hold? Nope, he survived.

Talk about a way to undo major character moments. (I hated Way's death, but it was still an important character moment. and Kenta turning on Tony was great.)

(for Way as his own character, it could actually be interesting. Like "yeah no, you don't get to just die and be done with the guilt. you actually have to work for redemption". but 1) I don't think it's where they're going; and 2) I'm not convinced it would stem interesting development for anyone else.)

The ghost option could be fun, I guess. I don't really have an opinion either way tbh, depends where they go with it. Ghost possession could be a fun threat.

I know what my favorite option is, and it's definitely n°3, which sadly I don't think we will get. Mind you, Babe would be perfectly justified to have nightmares or flashbacks about these 2, considering how much trauma they gave him. Also Way giving Babe trauma flashbacks might help me forgive what they did to his character. But well. The show hasn't seemed very interested in talking about trauma before so...

Basically, I think the most interesting option is for the show to toy with its characters' (and its viewers') paranoia, by leaving all 3 options open for as long as possible. Done well, it could make for a very good thriller.

Are they actually back or is Babe just hallucinating in broad daylight? Are they actually vengeful ghosts that need warding against or is Babe just having very justified nightmares? Is there a threat at all or are they all just paranoiac after everything that happened? Is it really paranoia if they're really after you? They all thought Charlie was dead, didn't they? Does anyone ever stay dead?

I'd argue that if that thriller part is done well, all 3 options could work as compelling endings. I also don't think (from the writing in season 1) that they could pull it off effectively.

Or even that they would try. Season 1 wasn't a thriller in the first place, and the S2 trailer isn't giving thriller either. My problem being: I'm not really interested by their return if it doesn't turn thriller.

Basically, what I'm interested in is what impact their return would have on the other characters, after thinking they were finally safe. Especially Kenta and Babe. Kenta who finally escaped, finally managed to turn on Tony, to get free from him. Babe who is finally safe after spending the last 10 years looking over his shoulder, after so many betrayals, after loosing his best friend in all possible ways, after thinking his boyfriend was dead. Imagine how terrifying the prospect of Tony's return would be.

But beyond that? I have no interest in what they would do as independent characters. Tony has plans? What does it change from S1? Way is being an idiot, either working for the villain or clumsily trying to earn his redemption? I don't care. That is the exact same thing they were doing in S1.

Basically, I'm afraid that by bringing them back, the show is just being lazy and re-creating the S1 status-quo instead of imagining new stakes. And I am entirely uninterested in sequels that just undo the original story's ending. Which is exactly what I'm afraid they'll do.

TLDR: the psychological impact of the potentiality of Tony and Way being back is much more interesting than them actually being back.

Sure, give me confirmed omega characters (Jeff and Kenta at least), give me AlanJeff and BabeCharlie being cute together, give me Sonic and North finally getting somewhere and maybe involving Kim (or aro/ace/aspec Kim, that would also work, but only if explicitly stated in the show), give me heats and mpreg and stop being cowards. I'll watch it for the relationships between the main cast if nothing else.

But I'm worried about what the big conflict is going to be.