#that is literally the only thing i will tag this with it's a barely coherent nightmare behemoth and i do not need it in tags

[ruvviks]

it's been a hot sec since i've talked about cyberpunk and i was initially working on a fic that would tell the story of this whole thing, but i've abandoned it many months ago and cannot say when i'll be picking it up again SO! i've decided to instead make this timeline. sorry in advance for how much information is in this thing the cyberpunk extended blorboverse essentially refers to the story parallel to the in-game events of cyberpunk 2077 that @mojaves and i came up with. we don't really have a better name for it but at this point the term has been used so many times that i feel like everyone here knows what it is by now, but at the same time we've never really explained the full scope of what the story is by now (it's a lot sorry). so in an attempt to get you guys a little bit more up to date with it all, here's a semi coherent timeline that describes the core events of the story and every branching story that came out of it! for additional background information, you can check out the following posts (timeline 1 / timeline 2 / timeline 3) to catch up with the continuation of the in-game storyline that's referenced in this timeline, but it's mostly irrelevant to everything here save for a couple of referenced events that cross over between the stories. it all ties together very intricately sorry about that. don't worry too much about it i've included my taglist down below to make sure people who are interested won't miss this post, but feel free to skip over this if it's not your thing! won't be doing a lot of this kind of stuff in the future but i'm trying to get back to the cyberpunk roots so this is kind of like, a good starting point and reference point for later posts!

The story starts in early 2077 and is centered around Sebastian Vidal, gang leader of the Cobras and previous test subject of Arasaka Special Programs (the linked page is a lot of information but gives the most coherent overview of what the branch actually is). The current director of the SERPENT projects, Andrew Colton, and Dr. Alana Cartier, both want him dead, to tie up their last loose end before the rest of Arasaka can find out and shut down Special Programs once and for all.

Over the past months they’ve been hiring various assassins in secret, to try and get Seb killed; however, these assassins keep failing, and their latest attempt lies in the hands of Cassidy Shaffer, an ex-corpo turned assassin with a strong moral code and plenty of experience to his name. With little to work with, as his mysterious client doesn’t give out much information, Cassidy starts with what he thinks is gonna be a quick and easy job– but he ends up hunting after Seb for essentially a year.

During this year, the two men have a series of wild encounters that get more and more insane the longer it goes on; it includes, but is unfortunately not limited to, Cassidy biting off a chunk of Seb’s ear, the two of them running over the highway, the two of them getting handcuffed together and chased by the NCPD then hit by a car right in front of the hospital, and Seb sensually licking blood off Cassidy’s face after having stabbed him when Cassidy wanted to strike at a concert Seb is visiting.

All of it comes to a sudden stop when Cassidy learns his client has been lying to him the whole time, and since he does not appreciate lying clients he ends up jumping sides and teams up with the Cobras to do some cleanup duty in Arasaka Special Programs. He and Seb work together to go after a list of targets to get the still ongoing projects mostly to a halt, while remaining in the shadows themselves as to not draw too much attention their way; and during this collaboration they meet several people from their past, bringing back both good and bad memories.

One of these people is Hanan Chisaka, the Head of Security at Special Programs. She ends up becoming the next test subject of Project Cobra after the last successful subjects, Xavier and Gabriel Mason, end up escaping in the midst of the chaos of Hanako Arasaka’s capture in mid-2077. Once Seb’s best friend and Cassidy’s mentor, she’s now forced to hunt the both of them down; but in their final confrontation she snaps out of the controlled mode Arasaka keeps her in and runs away with them, effectively leaving Special Programs without any test subjects. Another one of these people is Reid Bennett, Cassidy’s ex and ex-coworker back at MaxTac. He still works for the corporation and has been on an ongoing investigation into Arasaka Special Programs; seeing Cassidy alive and well, working together with Seb no less, piques his interest and he continues to look further into the case, which will cause him to make a very big mistake later on in the timeline.

By September 2078, Seb and Cassidy have successfully taken down all their planned targets and retreat back into the shadows, leaving Special Programs with many losses and no test subjects. With the APEX program discontinued a month earlier (incident discussed in this fic, which is a continuation of the in-game events), and Hanako Arasaka recovered and ready to take the corporation back from the hands of her corrupt brother, Special Programs ends up having to retreat for the time being, and cook up a new plan in the background.

Special Programs by this point is run by Andrew Colton, Alana Cartier, and Kaida Akiyama, three players who have been in the game for a long time already in the SERPENT projects’ runtime. Colton and Cartier are married– Cartier used to be married to Seb and cheated on him for a good amount of time when he was still at Arasaka– but their marriage is starting to fall apart. Akiyama has had to watch over Special Ops agent Ambrose Hawthorne for a while during his chase after the Mason twins, which ended up with the twins dead and Hawthorne going into early retirement (Arasaka doesn’t know the twins faked their death and Ambrose is now dating one of them lol), and xe is now determined to help Colton and Cartier get Seb back into Arasaka so the projects can continue.

Cassidy’s initial plan was to leave as soon as the collaboration would come to an end, but he has found his place with the Cobras and instead ends up officially joining them.The next chapter in the story is a more laid-back and easygoing chapter, in which Cassidy learns to be part of real life again, and in which Seb learns to let people get close to him again after spending years trying to convince himself he doesn’t need any help. Over the course of a little over a year (all the way to November 2079), the two grow even closer than they had already done, going on gigs together and, you guessed it, slowly but surely falling in love until they inevitably end up together at the end of it.

Not long after the two get together, Reid returns into Cassidy’s life. He wants to try and be friends again and Cassidy gives him a second chance, though this soon enough turns out to have been a mistake, with Reid trying to create distance between Seb and Cassidy and then going as far as trying to sell Cassidy to Kang Tao (one of the few corporations that have been hunting Cassidy down for a while now) in exchange for his own freedom from MaxTac (where he would have otherwise been stuck at for probably the rest of his life). Naturally, Reid can’t watch Cassidy get tortured for long and leaks his location to the Cobras, who find and free Cassidy and take Reid into captivity instead– he does not get killed, but instead has to sit out some time at a safehouse somewhere in solitude, where he gets to decide what kind of person he wants to be in the future.

This brings us to Elysium; a gorgeous spaceship which was supposed to be a relatively cheap escape from reality for everyone who wanted a refreshing break from Earth, but through Arasaka sponsorship has become just another cash-grab project to compete with the Crystal Palace– and considering the megacorporation has its greasy hands all over it, the secret labs in the spaceship are used for a series of very unethical experiments. Naturally so, it would be the perfect place for Colton to continue his SERPENT projects without the risk of Hanako Arasaka finding out and shutting the place down. He sends forces up to Elysium (obviously after his other attempts at relocating the project to space have failed tremendously, having lost contact with every single crew in the smaller Arasaka stations in orbit around the planet), but since he’s not there himself his cousin (one of the CEOs of Elysium), Maxwell Crane, unbeknownst to Colton, takes control of the SERPENT projects in space instead. From the earlier linked Special Programs page: “Project Eryx used the technology of previous projects, but took a completely new approach in the hosts it used; rather than focusing on the human psyche it attempted to create a new type of cyborg which would lack the humanity that caused previous projects to fail. The Cobra chips were no longer used and the software was instead installed directly onto the host’s mainframe. The flexibility of the new hosts– more robot than human, and in some cases the entire human aspect was lacking altogether– allowed for experimentation with highly advanced cybernetic enhancements and military grade tech and upgrades, turning the test subjects– dubbed ‘prototypes’– into dangerous, unstoppable killing machines.”

Things settle down for Seb and Cassidy, but this moment of peace does not last long. In January 2081 the two find themselves traveling to the spaceship Elysium, to investigate a curious situation in the laboratories– they’ve been hired by Arasaka without their knowledge and it’s a setup to get Cassidy killed and Seb back in Cartier’s control.

While in space, they learn that the secret labs have suffered an outbreak of the above mentioned prototypes. They quickly connect the dots and realize Special Programs is back in the game, and they work together with security guards Aubrey Valentine and Leon dello Russo to try and fix the situation before it gets out of hand. Obviously this fails tremendously and Elysium ends up on a complete lockdown after a ship-wide outbreak, which is eventually contained in late March of that year, with CEO Maxwell Crane dead, leaving only his wife Kinsley Osborn behind.

Elysium continues to exist and is rebuilt after the crisis, and Kinsley Osborn can now finally turn it into the retreat it was always meant to be. Previously, most Elysium employees were to be stuck in space for the rest of their lives; however, with Arasaka out of the picture they are free to leave as they please, which results in a gigantic cut in total employee count in the months that follow.

Seb and Cassidy return to Night City and take Aubrey and Leon with them. Aubrey reunites with his sisters; Becca, James, and Rikki, and soon after his return to the city he opens an LGBTQ+ nightclub called Bodytalk with them, found Downtown, City Center, in June 2081. Not only is it a fun place to hang out at, it’s also his main hub as a fixer, and he starts a collaboration with the Cobras to get business going between the gang and the club; and soon enough it grows into a large and powerful network of connections, which is the foundation on which the rest of the stories are built.

After this point in time, many many more things happen but it would take me another hour or ten to go into full detail of all of that, so instead here’s a quick rundown of some of the other things that Bodytalk gets involved in:

Reid Bennett is handed over to Aubrey and he starts working at the club, and he becomes a very valued employee as well as a good friend to many now that he’s no longer fucking insane

Kaida Akiyama returns from Elysium and shows up to Hanan’s doorstep, to ask for her help with getting out of Arasaka for good; much later on, xe starts working for Bodytalk as well, in an attempt to put xyr past behind xem and become a better person

Urban Dynamite starts performing at the club regularly, and it becomes their home base

Luna Serratos, Cassidy’s ripperdoc friend from all the way back to killing era, gets involved in the Harbinger case from Maelstrom (one of the gang’s most feared members); turns out the Harbinger is in fact Reuben de la Rosa, a by then 22-year-old kid who has ended up in Luna’s care with his friend Noah Telavera after the two got caught up in an explosion. She requests the Cobras’ help with getting Maelstrom to let Reuben go

Officer Michele Diaz from Militech (who used to be Cassidy’s boss) is demoted following the lawsuits after the Elysium incident, and her investigation into the incident in hopes to get her job back leads her to Bodytalk; she begins threatening them and sends the whole club and their allies into uncertain times

Many people get married. There’s so many fucking guys here we went a little insane with the numbers but there’s several weddings and there’s a whole polycule going on too feel free to send asks about this if you’re interested

Cobra Cybernetics releases a new line of cyberware, which is incredibly buggy and dangerous to the public; it’s brought to the club’s attention and it makes them realize that Luiza Vidal (Seb’s sister), who not that long ago asked them to kill her husband (William Colton (Andrew’s brother), CEO of Cobra Cybernetics), has gone missing; they now need to get involved without getting the news out that they actually didn’t kill William and that he is still alive somewhere, while also balancing out dynamics between Biotechnica (angry at Cobra Cybernetics for stealing their designs) and Arasaka (the actual reason why Cobra Cybernetics’ designs look like Biotechnica’s designs, because William stole designs from Special Programs after halting their partnership after the Elysium incident, but these designs had been stolen by Arthur Jenkins from Biotechnica even BEFORE that to be able to hijack the European Space Council’s cybernetics following the Frankfurt incident. Are you still with me)

Vitali Dobrynin (fixer and main character from the in-game events storyline and the continuation of it; Vincent “V” Mayer’s boyfriend) ends up visiting Bodytalk after meeting Aubrey at a Fixer Council meeting, which happens in late 2083; this essentially ties the two main storylines together, which means that yes, a lot of the characters from the two separate storylines end up meeting :]

Officer Ulysses Dimakos (used to work with Reid at MaxTac) is sent to investigate Bodytalk following the Cobra Cybernetics scandal, and ends up teaming up with the club to get MaxTac on a dead trail in exchange for his freedom of the corporation

On top of the Bodytalk / Cobras centered storyline, there’s a couple of side stories that are still connected to the whole thing but are more of a standalone thing with only a few touching points to the rest of it all:

This obviously takes place a lot earlier because it’s already mentioned above, but Special Ops agent Ambrose Hawthorne is tasked with chasing after the escaped Mason twins; naturally he lets them go and ends up going into retirement, and Xavier Mason later on ends up becoming Bodytalk’s part-time repair guy on account of knowing Kaida

Gabriel Mason ends up in a car crash with retired security specialist Ames Ortega, who was also in Elysium during the incidents there, and the two end up babysitting Ambrose and Xavier’s kids together while those two are helping Hanan with getting Kaida out of Arasaka (Are you still with me. Blink if you can hear me)

Mercenary Frankie Sayyad gets a promotion from his fixer, Vulture (real name Diana Crane, Maxwell Crane’s older sister and cousin of the Coltons), and becomes one of her Bloodhounds; he works together with Evelyn Harris, Nimue Nkuna, and Beckett Rydel, the latter being one of the very first test subjects of Arasaka Special Programs, and the four accidentally get themselves mixed into a mystery concerning their secretive fixer

Caleb Harris, ex-security at Biotechnica, ends up back at Club Bodytalk not long after the conclusion of the Cobra Cybernetics scandal, and starts working for Aubrey; he is partnered up with Ramiel Al-Masri, a mercenary who has been working for Vitali Dobrynin for a while and has recently joined Aubrey’s mercenary roster too, and together they dive into a series of gigs neither of them had expected

Journalist Bodhi Shankar has finally found more evidence and information surrounding the mysterious cult gang Umbra and its so-called Prophet, Thiago Salazar; however, his antics have led to him accidentally becoming part of the gang himself, and he has to figure out a way to get Thiago to stop listening to the supposed deity that the gang worships known as Scintilla, before she makes him do things that will get many people killed

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @aemondtargeryen, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian;

@estevnys, @elgaravel, @aezyrraeshh, @carlosoliveiraa

[luminescentwall]

please stop crying im in the middle of explaining my half baked personal minecraft lore

[welcometogrouchland]

sorry if I'm bothering you but I FINALLY FIND SOMEONE ELSE WHO PREFERS FTF BUT PURELY BECAUSE OF OUR LOVE FOR WILLOW (we're the only ones right about her) like yeah, it's DEFINITELY not a perfect episode but IT'S ABOUT THE CHARACTERS. and I LOVE TTT TOO BECAUSE OF LUZ but tbh I didn't like being in the fandom when TTT came out because THERE WAS SO MUCH STUFF ABOUT HUNTER, TO THE POINT WHERE PEOPLE THOUGHT HE SHOULD BE THE MC AND NOT LUZ??? I love my boy but I felt overwhelmed at all of this so him not getting too much in FTF was fine for me :)

Firstly, I'd like to say YES!! FOR THE FUTURE SOLOS!!! LITERALLY SOME OF THE BEST CHARACTER WORK, ART DIRECTION, SOUNDTRACK, BOARDING, HUMOUR AND HORROR IN THE WHOLE SHOW!!!

Secondly I'd like to say that this is SUCH a can of worms that I've held back on talking about for A While™. Tbh it kinda feels like u read my mind I was literally thinking about this this morning.

(BIG ASS RAMBLE UNDER THE CUT. I AM NOT JOKING THIS POST IS SO LONG IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY)

Both episodes are really fucking good, both on their own merit and when you take into account the circumstances under which they were made. I do not want to labour this point. I hate pitting two bad bitches against each other.

I AM however interested in investigating why, when two episodes are of similar quality, but with different priorities and focuses and (for lack of a better word) Vibe™ does the fandom demonstrably prefer one over the other?

Thanks to Them is BIG on plot. It's big on "establish what the kids have been doing, introduce Lore and Mystery, do the possession, fight the bad guy, get back to the demon realm, bada bing bada boom!!". I don't think it's nearly as relentlessly paced as some people think, and I think there are definitely emotional moments to be gleaned out of characters who AREN'T Luz, Hunter or Camilla- but overall it's similar to the most plot focused episodes of season 2. Your knock knock knocking on hootys doors and your hollow minds.

But for the future is a lot more concerned with character. Everyone gets some small moment to shine, though you're correct in saying that the focus is mostly on Luz, Willow and then probably the collector. But Camilla, Gus, Amity, Hunter, King, Eda and Lilith all get more emotional depth in a few lines than like. Willow did in half of thanks to them. even Belos gets more screentime this ep than he did in thanks to them, screentime that's much more illuminating (do love the moments he had in thanks to them but they weren't huge character moments really, just him villain-ing it up).

Less plot stuff happens, if you count the main goal as "get into the titans skull" then that's only introduced about a quarter of the way through the episode, whereas "get back to the human realm" is established as the goal of thanks to them in like. Negative screentime lmao. You basically know it's the goal coming in because you've watched king's tide already. For the future isn't like this!

And I GET IT MAN! checking in on the YouTube progress bar at the 3/4 of the way through elicited pure fear in me! But I feel like the fandoms fear of plots going unresolved and questions going unanswered has created this. Like. Attitude that the episodes need to be completely spartan or they're wasting time.

Like, with bringing back Boscha and Kikimora. Some people consider that a waste of time because they weren't Big Bads in seasons prior, meaning they should be low priority and don't belong here. And ppl are entitled to feel that way!

But I don't think you can call them wasted! Or irrelevant! I think the writers put a lot of work into making their storyline fit with the themes of the show! I have an essay I may never finish in drafts about this but- one of the most popular aspects of seasons 1 and 2 was the whole corrupt government storyline, which reached it's climax in king's tide but still had no resolution, same way hexside had no resolution from what happened after labyrinth runners. The writers combined these storylines by showing how hexside wasn't going to become a mini dictatorship like the isles old system (hence the title of the episode, changing things for the better "for the future"). That's efficient storytelling! Combining two plots into one in order to resolve both at the same time!

But people don't take this as an example of efficiency because it's not Lore or Plot based. And I think that's a real shame.

Both episodes have pacing and balance issues but I don't think one is especially egregious compared to the other? Nor do they have more pacing and balance issues than say, Clouds on the Horizon, which I'd say is one of MY least favouritely paced episodes of the show. Maybe thanks to them just had more novelty factor because of the setting (not to mention it probably benefitted from having one less subplot to juggle, but eh)

And about the fandom response after each episode....yeah. yeah.

I love Hunter. He's my baby. My scrimblo bimblo. He is like my twin brother. Literally. For reasons I cannot begin to explain here, hunter the owl house is like my twin brother.

And in all fairness to the fandom, plenty of people are normal about him. I know this because I've curated my experience to entirely be the people who are normal about him.

But the people who are not normal about him...my god.

Tbh I think this issue of focus actually lands on why I prefer for the future to thanks to them (THOUGH AGAIN. THEY BOTH SLAY)

The ending of thanks to them was so abrupt and emotionally charged that it felt like a betrayal, almost. The show went so hard and so fast that afterwards there was no breathing room and I didn't fully trust the show to be able to pull back afterwards. I thought either Hunter is going to eat up more and more screentime next episode by having to deal with the implications of every that happened five minutes from the episodes end, or they are literally never going to touch on him again. The ending of thanks to them was SO MUCH in so little time that I literally could not fathom a middle road.

Whereas the ending of for the future was a lot more. Aha, eureka! Moment to me. Like "OHH so that's what we're dealing with next episode!!! Nice". There was excitement and yeah, fear that things wouldn't land, but overall there was more trust in me. And of course, they did find a lovely medium between it being the Hunter show and addressing his trauma adequately. His arc was very emotional and satisfying this ep, without the borderline hard-to-enjoy turmoil that the ending of thanks to them put me through lol.

But I think, to some people, the sheer angst of thanks to thems ending was more emotionally rewarding than the well paced stability and slight ominousness of for the future. They felt that episodes end was too "mid". Too soft. The end of the show needs to go all out all the time, so this episode that focused more on emotional arcs and early season callbacks and payoffs is weak.

And to be honest, maybe my analysis here isn't as in-depth or as in-touch with fandom complaints as it could be! I've generally avoided the people harshly criticizing for the future because I like it when fandom is fun. I don't like watching one of my favorite episodes to date get dunked on. But that in and of itself (combined with the leak situation) has led to an inability to really Go All Out with fandom engagement rn. It's a struggle!

I've seen people describe for the future as en episode where Everything happened, and yet nothing happened. I get why! I personally prefer it to thanks to them because I feel like too much happened during that episodes climax to the point where it didn't even feel like the episode had true resolution.

But also, I get that for a lot of people, it's not even about construction. It's just about expectation and preference. People weren't expecting hexside, and when they got it, they got upset. People weren't expecting Willow, and when they got it, they didn't like it. And I get that. Really I do.

But this show is so fuckin wild. It does so much and throws so many curve balls at you. Never the big twists either, always the shit u don't expect. And it's great. I've honestly grown really fond of the way this show pokes me in the ass with something I didn't really expect or consider.

Not everybody is though and like. That's fine. But I do wish sometimes people would just. Kinda. Let it go when something goes in a direction they didn't expect. Because I didn't expect the direction FTF went in at all and I loved it once I stopped to think about it. But that's just me.

I think this is only like. 25% a direct response to things you said in the ask, so to conclude by answering/engaging with your ask point by point:

Willow stans and For the Future stans unite. This is our nation. Also shout-out to the fellow willow understanders I am mutuals with/follow you guys were really keeping us going in the pre for the future times

It's not a perfect episode but circumstances considering, it never could've been, and I'm okay with most of the ways it falls short. I'm also fully willing to hold out and see whether or not watching and dreaming rectifies any of my complaints, considering several of the issues I took with thanks to them were solved this ep, lol

Luz and Camilla literally stole the show in thanks to them and while I understand that the ending of that ep was very hunter centric, hence the hunter centric fandom atmosphere afterwards, I do prefer the environment in fandom rn that's appreciating this mother daughter duo rn

Hunter is not a main character imo. Not because he couldn't be but because his story is rendered infinitely more interesting when he is a supporting character. It's one thing to tell us that Hunter lives for other people and is made to forever be a second- best underling. It's another thing to show us this with his narrative role as the ultimate foil. He Is Better Off This Way. Also this point is dumb but I fully believe Hunter would be miserable as a main character. He does not want this

Also Luz is genuinely one of my favorite main characters in television. Maybe ever. If I start talking about her we'll be here all day. Just look at literally anything sepublic has written about her it's all on point

For the future had the perfect amount of Hunter content tbh. No episode should have more or less. I'm banging my gavel like a judge decreeing this to be so

[dinozarr]

†⠀❝ FUE MEJOR. ❞ ✶ CHOSO KAMO !

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♱

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ “STREETRACER!CHOSO HEADCANONS.”

★⠀warning y disclaimers — fem!reader. streetracer!au. fluff. smut. lapdog!choso. obsessed. lover boy syndrome. awkward choso. family oriented choso. he loves you so much that he introduced you to his brothers as “his one and only”. (gojo core) pussydrunk! choso. body worshipping. face fucking.

NOTEZ : this is for my lovely girlfriend who i just hit 4 months with on the 20th😫🫶🫶 y/n is based around her. love you mi vida mucho besitos @angelsfae💗🤕

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀who sits comfortably along the front edge of his Black 1970 Chevrolet Nova SS , feet planted firmly along the graveled cement with your body snuggled perfectly within his broad arms as your back rested against his solid chest; small circles dancing along your plump thighs from his calloused hands that held you dearly to him. you two always seemed to stand in that same position every time you went to a track meet, his teammates being annoyed since he’d get distracted by you and would forget to watch the time for their s-race.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀who begged you to be one of their flag girls when the last one quit, just so he could (consensually) slap your ass once you spun on your heels and dropped the flag. it was his favorite thing about having you tag along to his races, aside from your presence alone, of course. each time he won a race and would cross the finish line, he’d do a doughnut around you before jogging to you and spinning you around; giggles and squeals of enlightenment hollering from your lips all the while you cupped his cheeks.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀that hoists you onto the trunk of his car just so you could feed him whatever snack that the gyaru girls were handing out to everyone. your legs would wrap around his waist with his hands resting comfortably against your hips, his finger delving into the smooth flesh of your skin. he loved everything about the position. how close in proximity you two were, you smiling like a bread winning baby while you fed him the sweet treats, his hands roaming your body in a subtle yet endearing way. everything about it was utterly perfect to the man.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀is what most would consider a lap dog (or golden retriever) boyfriend. he may not be a man of many words, but he shows his love through his affection even if it’s very subtle. whether you’re out and about, or at home relaxing with a nice ‘ole horror marathon, he has to be next to you at all times. like even if your legs are laid along his thighs with his hands caressing yours, he will take the initiative to pull you closer until you’re literally sitting between him. his head would rest along your shoulder while his hands wrap around your sides and fiddle with the strings of your shorts.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀that was a socially introverted mess when his brother demanded to meet you. he could barely get a coherent sentence out while you were excitedly introducing yourself to yuuji. the redness that shuttered all over choso’s face when yuuji uttered the words “so you’re the one he swears is his one and only!” was priceless. if you had a phone, it definitely would’ve become your lock screen. that moment indefinitely plays on loop in choso’s head, and your constant hysteria and laughter about it does not help his case one bit.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀even though putting you and yuuji together was his biggest mistake, he loved nothing more than “family outings” with the two of you where yuuji would treat you like a sister. the only reason choso was so hesitant when introducing you two was because of how similar you were. and he was frightened by the fact that two positives could possibly make a negative and you wouldn’t get along. yet, the moment he watched you two pick out matching bracelets, he knew you truly were his one and only, and he was going to make it his mission to marry you some day.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀absolutely loves fucking you on the hood of his precious Nova. he loves watching as you desperately attempt to claw at anything and everything that surrounded you to help push you through the immense amount of pleasure that coursed your body. his hand were always either gripping your plump thighs, making sure your legs were spread just enough that he could watch as a rim of cum formed at the base of his dick anytime he thrusted out of you. or, they were firmly holding your sides with his hips colliding with yours at a star-seeing pace.

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀that would flip you two over so he was laying back down on his hood, urging you to sit on his face with your ass getting a direct view of the nightly Tokyo skyline. you were always cautious no matter how many times he begged you, scared to hurt him since there was metal beneath his head. however, he made sure to let you know that even if he suffocated, he didn’t care, because at least he’d died doing what he loved most. (eating you out)

STREETRACER!CHOSO⠀⟡⠀loved pinning your knees to your shoulders and pressing a hand sternly against your lower abdomen, feeling just how deep his veiny dick pumped into your womb. your tight walls clenched around him so dearly he himself could swear he saw stars each time he thrusted into you. the cum that would leak from your dripping cunt lathered his bed in juices, your tears that were from the pleasure causing you to apologize for the mess. choso never cared though, he’d continue to pound into you just so he could make even more of a mess.

NOTEZ : second post to my streetracer!au. and again, any other ones i make for jjk characters will be within the same universe as this one, and my gojo one, so be advised. and, enjoy, ofc!

ᶻ z Z ! © TAKST4Z — all rights reserved. mature discretion. please do not plagiarize or steal any of my works or graphics.

[asexual-cat-furry]

TF2 nationality headcanons

(I think of RED and BLU as separate characters, who might just happen to look/act alike)

RED Scout - american (Boston, MA) (his ma has irish ancestry, from Galway - I saw this headcanon somewhere and I love it)

BLU Scout - filipino-american (NYC)

RED Soldier - american obv (Atkins, AR) (I know that he's supposed to be from the midwest but I don't care. I headcanon that his dad is from Idaho and his mom is from Ohio. Also I think he's like 25% native or something because I think it'd be funny/interesting if he's not 100% White American™)

BLU Soldier - american obv (somewhere in Virginia) (he was raised by eagles in the Appalachian wilderness, so he barely speaks coherent english)

RED Pyro - chinese (somewhere in the south, but spent most of their childhood homeless in Shanghai) (they never told anyone and it's unlikely they ever will. The only people who know are Pauling and the Spies, but none of them will tell) (I know it's a popular headcanon but I never really saw them as mexican, sorry)

BLU Pyro - irish (Dublin) (their muffled voice is made harder to decipher due to their hardcore irish accent. BLU Demo can understand it best)

RED Demoman - scottish (Ullapool) (literally canon)

BLU Demoman - scottish (Glasgow)

RED Heavy - russian (somewhere in far eastern Siberia) (his family doesn't look white, especially Zhanna, so I think they're probably some kind of siberian people)

BLU Heavy - ??? (swedish? belarusian? idk man)

RED Engie - american (Bee Cave, TX) (I hc the Conaghers as a whole to be a mix of white & latino, so the Engies speak spanish as a second language and often just switch to it to exchange praise/insults/advice without others noticing)

BLU Engie - american (Bee Cave, TX) (RED Engie's cousin although doesn't have the Conagher surname actually)

RED Medic - german obv (Stuttgart) (jewish, although his family probably converted to christianity many years ago and either way they're not particularly religious, Medic is actually the "most religious" of his immediate family but that's just because he knows Satan exists)

BLU Medic - british-greek

RED Sniper - new zealander, half-māori (born in Auckland, raised near-ish to Perth)

BLU Sniper - australian, half-aboriginal (somewhere in the outback in Queensland) (the half-aboriginal thing is also a headcanon I saw somewhere and happily adopted)

RED Spy & BLU Spy - french (Paris) (they're twins)

Edit: Dang it I forgot the tags

[caffeiiine]

I read the tags on your Kunikida post… go ahead and explain, my liege

JUST SAW THIS SOMEHOW ABYWAYS TYYY

OKAY so probably going into detail about how kunikida can be considered passively suicidal since i have the most coherent thoughts on that aand warnings for stuff of that nature under the cut :D + length

[also small disclaimer, i have been procrastinating reading dazais entrance exam and so far have only seen the anime adaptation which apparently left a ton of stuff out so feel free to correct me on inaccurate details and/or missed examples or just downright incorrect information]

[note: idk if passive is the correct term bc i was thinking about it and hes not exactly like oh i hope this kills me yk, so whatever that term is lmk <3]

This stuff also sorta ties in with his ideals and their potential self destructive-ness. they tend to cause him to either negligently often risk his life with there being an apparent “other way”, or just outright risk his life with barely a second thought for his ideals.

so kunikida has very strong morals and that’s the core of his character. the main ideals referenced in the show being his infamous “ideal woman”, “how to make dazai ideal”, and the ideal that basically tells him to save people. [i forgot what that one is referred to as]. If we’re talking timeline wise i think one of the first examples of his ideals causing him to negligently risk his life would be in Dazais Entrance Exam, or The Azure Messenger arc if you’re an anime watcher.

First example off the top of my head in dazais entrance exam would be when him and Dazai first see the hostages, specifically the ones in the room

after the gas came down dazai has to actually wrestle kunikida away from the room because otherwise hes gonna die. kunikida repeatedly shouts about how “people shouldn’t die like this”. This might be a bit of a tangent but later on in the episode he remarks how he “may as well ahev set the bomb off himself” when Dazai asks about Rokuzou’s dad, implying he blames himself for Rokuzou’s dad’s death. This is of itself isn’t enough for me to say “oh yeah he’s passively suicidal” so moving on to the main manga where there are several other instances of his tendencies to throw himself directly in harms way.

[there may be examples before this i just skipped to chapter 40] and starting off strong we have the thing with Aya. This could be written up to circumstance but he had the opportunity to avoid death himself so im counting it. he’s basically hugging death. that’s all i have to say for this.

of course he ends up surviving it because of deus ex machina yosano. After the fact, Aya asks him what he would’ve done if Yosano wasn’t there. To which he replies basically he would’ve done the same thing he just did except died and basically would have been fine with the outcome as long as she didn’t die in front of him. [he would’ve been dead as well and not had to deal with the guilt] i should point out as well, he does this because of his ideals. he specifically cites his ideals around these parts usually. The not letting anybody die before his eyes is one of ideals and the most common one he uses.

[im pulling that from the fact he had no backup plans or anything to actually stop the bomb aside from Yosano, since his words could imply he would’ve tried to save Aya. and the guy with the bombs was using the fact Kunikida holds his ideals very close to him, taht he wouldn’t have allowed Aya to die if he could’ve prevented it.]

aaand i think our last example and best example for tonight

context for the scene: they’re in the getaway helicopter and tecchou is trying to take it down via his sword and Kunikida decides to take matters into his own hands and take down Tecchou. First off, HE DID NOT HAVE TO, CHUUYA IS RIGHT. THERE. HE LITERALLY SHOT TECCHOU WITH GRAVITY BULLETS EARLIER.

HE DID NOT HAVE TO RISK HIMSELF BUT HE DID. also additional context, in this arc and the previous arcs, he’s been faced with situation after situation where his ideals have failed him and he’s been unable to exercise them and save the people he thinks he should.

point being, he feels like complete shit! he probably is thinking like if he should do anything then, it should be he makes sure he gets his friends out of there. regardless of whether he’s dead or alive because he jumps out of the plane and full body tackles tecchou while being in direct contact with fucking chuuya.

chuuya “has to stay out of the fights and arcs half the time because he’s too good at his job” nakahara.

chuuya “just shot tecchou and did a decent job at keeping him back a few pages before” nakahara. you see my point.

oh and then he just attempts to blow the both of them up.

he does not care for his life at all here. not one bit. also he did not need to blow the both of them up. he could’ve made a fucking stun gun or anything else that wouldn’t KILL the BOTH of them??

my whole point is he does not care for his life here and it’s gets worse the more you progress through the manga.

anyways anyways ending off, kunikida repeatedly puts his life in danger either for his ideals or neglectfully and/or without need. this has been a ramble. this man is not okay.

also kinda funny is he’s partners with dazai of all people, actively suicidal princess bungou himself. i really enjoy their differences and how similarly different they are.

^ not actually related to anything but i almost started laughing so hard with my family in the room at this piece, junichiro looks so concerned

[bittersweetresilience]

WAIT FUCK SHIT just realized that you actually commented on my fic oh my god. oh my god

i'm having a complete fangirl moment rn AAAAAÀAAAAAAAAA you're a literal legend i can't believe you read that word vomit but also i am over the moon.....senpai noticed me fr 😭

i adore the way you write. i don't even know how to describe it but it's in the emotions, how palpable and visceral they feel....just wow i'm absolutely in awe of the way your prose flows. it's so witty and beautiful and i can only hope to write like you one day

your writing genuinely has me choked up rn i feel crazy.....also as a fellow lore nerd it made me feel so seen that you noticed all those little renjing details :D god i love your jing yuan's inner voice he's so fucking old and tired and burdened by the weight of all his responsibilities yet the yearning hasn't waned one bit.....it comes across in all his interactions with other people....(the conversation w yukong killed me) he is never moving on, is he?

the letters to yingxing wrecked me each time. so painful but so artfully done. to be honest, i have always struggled a lot with writing jy and striking the correct balance between the wise, experienced general of the hunt that he is vs the sopping wet mess he becomes when it comes to Emotions and his friends and yingxing/blade. you captured that perfectly and i already know that i will be thinking about this fic for a long, long time

i am really sorry for this long ass ask 😔 i wanted to leave you a comment on ao3 but it is currently 7 in the morning and clearly i am barely coherent...i want to reread your fic and then try to gather all my thoughts for a proper comment but for now just know that you've saved my life with this fic

weirdly enough, i don't peruse the jrj tags much on ao3 which i now realize is quite stupid of me. this is the first time i've read one of your fics and i'm so glad that i stumbled upon it. for some reason i really missed blade and jy today and this fic truly made everything better (even tho i had tears in my eyes) uni is beating my ass rn but i'll def make time to read all of your fics now ty for your incredible service <3

SORRY FOR THE MINDLESS RAMBLE ;_;

AHKLBJADKFJALFDA DID I COMMENT ON YOUR FIC????????????? ANON WHO ARE YOU... WELL I KNOW YOUR TUMBLR USERNAME NOW BUT WHO ARE YOU ON AO3... could it be the incredible and lovely dustedpink who i met during renjing week...

I'M AJAKJDJKFKDHGHJD NO NO I'M BLUSHING SO HARD AND I AM SO HAPPY YOU'RE HAPPY BUT ALSO I'M NOT ANYONE SPECIAL I'M JUST A LITTLE GUY!!!!!!!!!!!! a little guy on the internet who really likes renjing 😳 and your fic, if i am thinking of the right fic, was absolutely wonderful and thoughtful and funny too 🥺 i don't normally read jingren things but i wanted to get to everyone participating in the week and now i'm even more glad that i did!!!!!!!!! i'm giving you flowers... 💐💐💐💐💐💐

i'm screaming about how sweet you are about my writing AAAAAAAAAAAAA... i'm SO SO glad you enjoyed it and YOU!!!!!!!! YOU ALREADY WRITE BEAUTIFULLY!!!!!!!!!!!! AND LORE YESSSSSS omg i love gnawing on tiny pieces of canon i will do that forever it's so fulfilling

JING YUAN IS SO TIRED 😭😭😭 HE REALLY IS 😭😭😭😭 his conversation with yukong is one of my favorites next to the one with fu xuan so I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT...

"the wise, experienced general of the hunt that he is vs the sopping wet mess he becomes when it comes to Emotions and his friends and yingxing/blade" JLAKJMFKLAKLFAKLDFJKDJFHJDFhdS no no you're so right about this 🤣🤣🤣 HE CONTAINS MULTITUDES. and we love to see it...

🥺🥺🥺 I'M SO HONORED TO RECEIVE SUCH A THOUGHTFUL ASK PLEASE DON'T EVER APOLOGIZE FOR THIS!!!!!!!!!! AND ALSO!!!!!!!!! OMG PLEASE GET SOME SLEEP!!!!!!!!!! i cannot judge you for i have also stayed up forever in the name of renjing but I AM TUCKING YOU INTO BED AND WRAPPING YOU IN WARM BLANKETS

i'm giving you a big big hug and i hope everything is a little softer and sweeter for you tomorrow and there's!!!!!!!!! never any rush to do anything!!!!!!!!! anxiety and ennui about writing have been beating MY ass the past few weeks but i'm 😭😭😭 WAAAAH I'M HOLDING YOUR KIND WORDS SO GENTLY...

thank YOU for being so kind and NO APOLOGIZING!!!!!!!!! BECAUSE!!!!!!!!! MY ANSWER IS EVEN LONGER AND MORE MINDLESS!!!!!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAJKFSJKFKSDF GIVING YOU ANOTHER HUG BECAUSE I'M SNEAKY 🫂💓❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️

[ew-headyhearts]

i am so sorry for asking this but can we pls get some more nsfw headcanons?&2&1&/ AHHH SORRY

Okay, let me preface this by saying this, I wrote these head canons while extremely high and I've been sitting on these bad boys for a while now. Forgive me if they're a little incoherent but I figured this was the best ask to share them with. Please mind the tags. If you're uncomfortable with anything skip this one.

TW: N$FW Topics, Tord being fucking nasty, everyone just being nasty, sex toys, edging, just the tip, biting, praise, strap-ons, messy sex, questionable use of pillows, stealing clothes, using said clothes in questionable ways, VERY questionable fantasies, "onii-chan", again Tord's fucking nasty, Who needs that many dildos ever?, NO BETA READ (future Squid stopped by and made everything more coherent. You're welcome), EVEN THE TAGS AREN'T SAFE, Squid's a mess right now, Don't do drugs, unless it's legal for you like me

Edd

Chronic pillow humper. He has cum on the sheets multiple times. Don't worry, he cleans it all up very well. He just tosses that shit in the wash and passes right out afterward.

A huge fan of clothes on sex. Let that man dry hump you until he's busting in his khakis.

Service top. Much prefers giving. The guy gives great head and he knows it.

Praise kink, praise kink, praise kink. Did I mention the praise kink? Whether he's giving or receiving it, it doesn't matter. You're both getting called pretty no matter who's getting pounded into.

He talks so much during sex. It's either he's talking about how good you are or he's describing in massive detail every little thing hes doing to your body. It doesn't even get better when he's going down on you.

A massive tease. He can spend hours just fucking you with the tip. It makes it so much more enjoyable for him.

Loves edging so much, like one of his favorite things is edging you both together and see who gets so desperate that they are practically drooling and barely able to form a thought.

Did I mention guided masturbation? He loves seeing his partner get off while he whispers right in their ear how to do it. And trust me, he pays extra close attention he knows nearly all of your sweet spots and he's going to abuse that information.

Matt

Likes to use a vibrator against his cock.

He is a total voyeur and definitely makes a show out of you watching him tease himself.

Also produces a lot of precum it WILL get everywhere.

Much prefers bottoming. Stuff his holes, yes please.

His absolute favorite is to ride you/your strap and look up into a mirror on the ceiling (becausd of course he has one). Then he can look at both of your pretty faces.

He's a total biter, the vampire episode just awakened it in him.

Pin him to the wall; it doesn't matter if you're way shorter than him. He will quite literally drop to his knees in front of you if you do so.

The few times he does top he's still so submissive. Seeks out praise so much.

The ONLY way to get him to take a dominant role is to bruise his ego, which takes quite a bit of effort.

Tom

Has one of those clear pocket pussies. No idea how else to describe it. It's clear and you can see his weenie through it.

He likes to masturbate in the shower. He says it makes clean-up quicker, but in reality, it's just because the water usually drowns out his moans.

Also a fan of fantasy toys, though he's mostly interested in having those absurd dildos. Too big for any sane person to use bc he's a size king and he loves the stretch. Has more than enough dildos that it's considered illegal in Texas.

Tom's a growler and does enjoy the occasional primal play.

Masturbates in the hoodie and would not complain if you did too.

Mutual masturbation, he is so weak for it. He'd probably use a double ended dildo just for funsies. It's a bonding experience.

Chaotic switch. Does not care who is getting stuffed. In fact, he really loves it if his partner would switch mid-sex. He's much more pliant if you do so.

He loves bondage on his partner but does not allow himself to be tied up. It's a trigger for him and that's not going to be fun for anyone.

Also, a drooler as he gets closer to cumming. It doesn't matter if he's topping or bottoming, there will be drool, and it will be messy.

Tord

Has a "just the tip" fantasy. He thinks he's improved every time, but, like- it takes 3 minutes of him just thrusting the head in before he's going absolutely rabid, wanting to fuck you deeper. He likes edging himself using his partner's hole.

Does not want to stop until either one of you is so overstimulated and fuckdrunk.

Will steal your underwear. He's fucking NASTY and uses it to jerk it. He might just wash them before returning them. Emphasis on might: he's nasty and probably gets off to the fact that he's come in your clothing multiple times.

I feel like he would have a fantasy where you call him "onni-chan"

Will buy you sex toys, but most of the time they're just tentacles. If you let him though, he'd love to make you one of his own. Don't give him that power. He'll make a secret remote to use anytime he's bored.

Will nut the second you come out in cosplay, or just dress up vaguely like one of those anime girls. It doesn't matter your gender; he goes nuts for miniskirts and thigh highs.

Secretly into being dominated. Put him in his place. Please? He wants it so bad but he won't admit it.

[riddle-me-ri]

Riddlers Reacting to Reader Wearing A “TikTok” Dress

A/N: okay so a few things:

1) This was one of my first original ideas for headcanons when I first decided to write fanfics again, so I’m excited to feel confident enough to write it rip (this is also one of the more self indulgent ideas I’ve had so bare with me)

2) Heidi Lavon owns my tiktok, so it’s my job to bless you with her content here’s her in the dress:

3) It’s called the Carmen Dress and it has a $300 price tag on god save queens

4)  As I mentioned this is 100% self indulgent, so sorry for ALL the errors, this idea has been brewing in my mind for months until I couldn’t hide it anymore, so if it reads like rambles…that’s why lol

( Also, I mention it in only one or two headcanons, but ALL these bastards would ask if it comes in green (unfortunately it doesn’t but I’ll be damned if a couple these guys won’t try and make it happen) also this all takes place in private)

Trigger Warnings: heavy suggestiveness (I mean...look at the dress) and strong language (I have a sailor mouth, sorry not sorry)

Batman the Animated Series Riddler:

- Congratulations, you’ve made this goofball speechless

- No literally, man looks like a fish out of water

- Eyes wide, mouth opening and closing. Stuck between catching his breath and trying to form a coherent sentence. 

- Oh God, you’re walking closer to him?!

- The man’s face is as red as a tomato and he’s as hot to the touch as a furnace

- He’s finally able to start rambling off compliments

- You’re stunning, ravishing, gorgeous, enchanting…

- He’s a chuckling mess as you wrap yourself around him

- Becomes speechless again as he realizes just how little you’re actually wearing

- Your body is at the mercy of this measly fabric

- It takes him a minute, but he gets his suavity back once the surprise wears off

- You are beautiful there was never any doubts about that, but now that you’ve teased him he wants to see all of you

Capullo/Zero Year Riddler:

- Well, hellloooo~~

- The fuck you’ve been hiding this piece for?

- He absolutely loves what’s going on in the front, straight up licking his lips.

- The back could use some work though, not nearly as revealing as it could be

- You better hold this dress close to you, he’s not opposed to making some “alterations”

- Does it come in green? 

- Adores showing you off in it, look how hot my partner is! 

- He appreciates the piece, it accentuates everything he loves about you, and can love a good tease

- But he also thinks you just being in your underwear would suffice

- Or really nothing at all

- (wait omg are you commando right now in the dress?)

- Ow, don’t hit him that hurt!

The War of Jokes and Riddles (twojar) Riddler:

- Oh shit

- Sexy and sophisticated, he’s here for it!

- Reveals just enough to be enticing but hides the right amount to tease

- His hands are instantly caressing the sheer parts of the dress

- He’s already mapping out what the dress shows so he’s sure to leave hickeys later (or right now)

- Also asks if it comes in green, possessive buff leprechaun prick.

- If you mention there are similar dresses available in different varieties, he’s all here for it.

- Like, babe, you have his card and bank information, you don’t need to ask (you didn’t when you bought this dress, so what the hell?)

- Will absolutely show you off to literally anyone and everyone, so better not be shy! 

- They can look but if they even try to touch they’re dead.

Gotham City Sirens Riddler:

- Another connoisseur of the sexy and sophisticated look the dress provides. 

- He’s a proud grinning bastard

- Inquires where you got the dress and just how long were you going to keep this a secret from him

- Oh you’re just trying it on?

- Let him help you take it off~

- What? He’s being a gentlemen! He is reformed you know. 

- (but not in that category)

- Hands are immediately on you and show no sign of pulling them away

- Fingers running along the track of black fabric on your back

- If you’re his assistant at his private investigator firm, he is debating possibly changing your dress code

- Too much? Yes, you’re probably right, this view is for his eyes only

- Maybe you two could set up a private visit to his office though, hm?

Dano Riddler:

- He’s stunned

- Frozen like a deer in headlights

- His brain is short-circuiting between how gorgeous you look but also how the dress is even like fitting right now?

- How is it even on your body? Wait that’s sheer material? He thought that was just skin

- His face blooms in a bright red when you invite him to touch the material so he can feel it. 

- Eyes constantly raking over your form up and down, up and down.

- When he finally finds the strength to go up to you and touch you, he’s gone.

- Roaming his hands up and down, all around your body. 

- He’s absolutely breathless, constantly taking sharp inhales every once in awhile

- He’s just in awe, he already thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, but you were able to surprise him yet again.

- No one else is allowed to see you in this but him, he wants this to just be for him (and you’re more than happy to oblige) 

- (suck it, bruce wayne! My partner is more gorgeous than any of your flings!) 

Gotham Riddler:

- Oh hello there~ (calm down obi wan)

- His eyes are wide to saucers and his mouth falls open

- But only for a second, before he’s absolutely grinning like a cat that caught the canary

- He walks up to you, his full attention on you. 

- Warm brown eyes scanning your figure up and down, almost like a predator to prey

- But the way you look is absolutely killing him in the best way

- He’s committing this image to his mind, you know he has a photographic memory

- He genuinely thought with his times at GCPD and his experiences as the Riddler, he’s seen it all

- Like Dano Riddler, he’s quite impressed with how you manage to surprise him with your beauty, yet again.

Arkhamverse Riddler:

- Deadass did a double take.

- He walked past you, barely giving you a glance (like usual), but he must’ve seen your lack of clothing in his peripheral.

- What’re you trying to do? Distract him? You know how much that frustrates him!

- Once the haze of annoyance he’s usually in goes away as he takes in the rest of the dress…

- The man’s a stuttering puddle. 

- “W-W-What are you wearing? I-It’s not even a dress! N-No! I…I do like it..”

- You give him a small 360 twirl so he can get a full view.

- You can’t help but grin at the sharp gasp of air he took and tried to hide.

- Man is struggling, quick wrap your arms around him, his bravado is DOWN

- His tired eyes have glossed over and he’s absolutely puddy in your hands

- Once his brain starts sparking again, he shucks off his gloves so his rough hands can touch your soft skin. 

- He gasps again at just how little is hidden and how thin the material is.

- Stunning, radiant, gorgeous…so many words but they fall short as you take his breath away

- Congrats, you’ve done something even the Bat has never done…rendered Edward Nygma absolutely speechless

Telltale Riddler:

- This ornery asshole.

- He’ll rake his eyes over you and give you a little “hmph”

- He’ll shrug it off, he doesn’t see the reason for it when you can just parade around in your underwear and get the same reaction

- But don’t let it fool you, he is absolutely warming up and “getting” up as you saunter around the room

- He does appreciate the cheekiness of the dress, revealing just the right amount to make you still wonder

- He’ll keep up his indifferent front for as long as he can.

- Until you straddle the puzzle grandpa. 

- He has no choice but to appreciate it now, how what little fabric hugs your skin, and just how little you’re actually wearing

- Just don’t tell him the price tag, sweetheart, he’ll have an absolute boomer fit.

- ($300? You can just walk around the lair naked for free?!)

Young Justice Riddler:

- Uhh, yeah no he’s dead.

- Congrats you’ve killed him without laying a finger on him

- Shaking him might work…

- Once he’s conscious, he’s still sort of brain dead. 

- His lisp and stutters are amplified to the -nth degree

- He’s not even making words at this point. 

- You’ve broken him, way to go

- You try to reach out for him and talk to him

- Poor baby will literally scurry away

- H-he doesn’t deserve this, to see you dressed like this, looking so stunning

- W-what do you mean you’re wearing this for him?

- He barely feels worthy to kiss you, hold you, see you in a bikini/swimwear

- But this?? Really?

- It’s going to take him a minute, but once the initial shock is over, he’ll warm up to touching you and interacting with you in the dress

- He is torn between asking you to wear this only for his eyes or wear it when y’all go out

- Like he wants to show you off so he can see the gorgeous partner he pulled, but also like doesn’t want you to garner any unwanted attention (n-not that he wouldn’t protect you..but..like…you’ve seen him)

[santhropomorphy]

Hi!! Love your fics!! I hope this isnt an odd question, but I wanted to ask, since you've shipped hobmurphy/dreamling since before the tv series came out and the ship definitely has more attention now than it did before--have you noticed any differences in how the morpheus/hob dynamic was written/viewed by the fandom before the netflix show vs afterwards? anything about the ship that newer fans might overlook? im deathly curious about that evolution and thought it might be worth asking about :)

Aww, thank you for reaching out! I'm so glad you like my fics☺️

👀You wanna know the pre-show dreamling story? Oh boy, am I happy to talk about that! (no seriously, I vent about those dark ages to anybody willing or unwilling to listen)

So I'm not your oldest sandman fan, I read the comics about 2 years ago and started shipping dreamling/hobmurphy at the same time. I read Men of Good Fortune (dreamling's first issue) and left off shipping them like a maniac. Two guys meeting each other every hundred years, the slowly developing affection, the fucking break-up, the reconciliation at the end, I was HOOKED. So I looked on ao3 for fics...

In a 30 year old fandom, there were FOUR (4) dreamling fics. One of them an introspective drabble, and another one barely shippy, just a lead up to desire/dream... And all those fics were dated 2003, 2006 and 2010. On Tumblr? There were about 30 posts under the tag Hob Gadling, 3-4 of them shippy. There was ONE (1) fanart of dream and hob together. One!

As for the dreamling fandom? Nonexistent. I can count on one hand the number of people I could talk to who shipped them, and I raided the fucking internet... I was literally going around 5 different socials like an idiot, begging people to ship them with me! I nagged my beta (bless you, Roonie) to read the comics, so that I could have somebody to yell at about dreamling!

I wish I could tell you the difference between the shippy content now and back then but it would be a chore cause I was literally the only person actively creating said content (plus ThePlatypussPrincess whom I managed to rope into my agenda and nagged into writing a Glorious fic😘). Those few interactions about them I managed to have were all very similar to the dreamling conversations I have these days.

I think a lot of this was a product of the differences in the source material. I picked up on the dreamling ship fast because it was right up my alley with friends to lovers and slow build of trust and affection. But a lot of other people seemed to have missed that potential i guess which still baffles me. Then the bloody show came around and Hob and dream spent 8 whole minutes staring into each other's eyes, saving each other from Constantine and a million other things so glaringly obvious that there was no way for anybody to miss it. And I was left standing there in the corner like... PEOPLE, THE QUEER WAS ALWAYS THERE, IT JUST DIDN'T WHACK YOU OVER THE HEAD WITH A BAGUETTE!!

Okay I can try comparing differences I guess but those are just the result of the show's additions: there was no Hob jealous of Shakespeare and no Teacher!Hob. And dreamling all in all was perceived in 90% as platonic...

Fuck I'm getting depressed, anyway, the way this ship blew up after the show was fucking insane, I'm still recovering from it.

Hope this was coherent enough!

[rocorambles]

Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.  

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult. 

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for! 

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step. 

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line. 

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity. 

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor. 

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder. 

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing. 

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes. 

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think. 

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate. 

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place. 

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission. 

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm? 

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have? 

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes. 

Or so you believe. 

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds. 

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods. 

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path. 

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.” 

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.  

 You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers. 

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.” 

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd. 

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants. 

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place. 

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable. 

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

 “So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

 “Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face. 

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you. 

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right? 

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.  

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home. 

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of. 

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you. 

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru. 

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.  

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries. 

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.    

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”. 

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips. 

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame. 

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.  

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing. 

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch. 

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”. 

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four. 

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting. 

And history repeats itself. Over and over again. 

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you. 

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock? 

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth. 

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint. 

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of. 

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy. 

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases. 

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.” 

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with. 

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it. 

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him. 

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you? 

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use. 

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose. 

Anything, huh? 

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him. 

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly. 

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary. 

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases. 

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast. 

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.” 

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face. 

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim. 

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy. 

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.” 

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll. 

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.” 

[cursestothemoon]

I’m so excited your requests are open!!! Can I request a blurb of rough sex with Charlie where he throws around and manhandles his girlfriend (it’s all safe and consensual). I just know he’s a bit burly dude who would have no problem picking up his girlfriend with one arm

Watch Your Mouth

C.W. x FEM!READER

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, manhandling, size kink, tummy bulge, praise kink, sub!reader/dom!Charlie, mentions of edging, spanking, overstimulation, UNPROTECTED SEX (wrap it before you tap it), kind of subspace (nothing too intense), also unedited because i am lazy ✋🏻😔

“But it hurts.” You whined into your boyfriend's ear.

Subtlety was fading fast in your act, after Charlie spent all night last night teasing you with the idea of an orgasm but never actually letting you get there you were far past the point of just horny.

Charlie placed a warning hand on your thigh, fingers gripping the flesh tight enough to have you squirming, “Eat your food and behave.”

His tone was husky, whispers harsh as he tried to keep you at bay in front of his family. Perhaps dinner at the Weasley’s- a usual Friday event- wasn’t the best place to start acting up but really it was Charlie’s fault. He had to have known his teasing would result in something of this sort.

You also knew his hand could be heavy when he wanted it to be, spanks from Charlie always left a mark that could be felt for days following. So you listened to him, quietly picking at your roast as your mind wandered to what might be in store for you once you two got home.

“Yeah, better get going, it’s getting rather late.” Charlie announced as he stood up from the couch, your hand in his.

You had to restrain from vibrating with excitement as you stood up next to Charlie, your head barely reaching his broad shoulders.

Everyone bid farewell to you two, a longer exchange than you would’ve liked but you managed. Finally Charlie pulled you into his side, tucking you under his arm as he appareled you two to your flat- after the war he wanted to move closer to his family and you had no complaints.

Leaning on the hardwood floor of your living room, you stumbled a bit only to be grabbed by Charlie. His arm wrapping around your waist to lift you up and off your feet, carrying you to the bedroom. He grunted through the doorframe, making sure he wasn’t going to hit your head on the wall as he passed through before tossing you onto the bed. Upon hitting the mattress your body bounced roughly, only adding fuel to the fire of your excitement.

Charlie pulled his boots off hastily, hands moving to unbutton his shirt and fling it somewhere in the room to be retrieved later for you to wear. In just a pair of tight black boxer briefs and a single silver chain dangling between his pecs, a dragon tooth at the end.

You watched him with wide eyes, breath hitching as he grabbed your hips and flipped you over with ease. His palm, open and heavy, rested on your plump backside. You panicked, trying to turn around to face him, because you knew what that meant but you thought you had been a good girl.

“But I was good.” You whined trying to move your butt away from him.

He tutted, pulling your hips back to where they were, “You were good...after I had to tell you to behave, and now you’re questioning me.”

“Because I was good. If you hadn’t been mean, not letting me cum, then I wouldn’t have been so needy. S’your fault.”

The silence was deafening and you realized you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“My fault?” Charlie questioned, his voice unnervingly calm.

You shook your head quickly, trying to back track as best you could, “No, no no, I didn’t- I’m sorry, I’m your good girl, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “My good girl wouldn’t blame me for her being a horny slag. My good girl wouldn’t question my authority. My good girl would take her punishment, but no. You just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?”

Charlie didn’t give you a chance to respond, instead grabbing the material of your tights and quite literally tearing them apart, exposing your g-string and soaking cunt. He continued to rip and tear your tights until whatever was left didn’t have enough structure to stay on, he picked up the pieces and tossed them to the floor before roughly tugging your shirt and bra off. 

There was a moment of silence again, as Charlie adjusted the rings on his fingers. You barely allowed yourself to calm down before he was sitting on the edge of the bed, grabbing you by the waist to roughly pull you across his lap. The action made you squeal, your legs kicking up in an attempt to stall the punishment that was coming. He wasn’t having it, forcing your legs under his thick thigh to keep them out of the way before playing with the thin string that made up the back of your thong. You let out a muffled whine as he pulled on it, lifting it up and making the front of your panties rub against your throbbing clit then letting it go, snapping it against your skin.

“Only thing I wanna hear out of your mouth are apologies after every swat. Understood?” He asked, hand running across the globes of your ass.

You nodded, not wanting to anger him further.

“So you do know how to watch your fucking mouth, good.”

You had little time to prepare before his hand came down onto your backside with a painful sting sending pools of arousal straight to your core.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

Another swat hit your warm flesh, then another, and another. With each slap apologies fell passed your lips along with muffled cries, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

Forty spanks later your butt was beet red and practically numb, his ring clad hand massaging the raw skin making you whimper. He dipped his hand down to your core, running two fingers up your slit collecting your juices before teasing your entrance making you jolt. His other arm came down to keep you still as his fingers entered you, making your walls clench. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the moans as he started to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, alternating between fast thrusts and massaging the spongey spot that made your vision go fuzzy.

You gripped his calf tightly as your orgasm neared, your legs started shaking and you could only hope he’d let you finally get off. Only you weren’t so lucky, Charlie pulled his hand away quickly watching as you writhed around in his lap.

“You wanna cum? I’ll make you cum until you’re begging me to stop.”

His hand dove back in between your legs, this time with an unbelievably fast pace making you let out loud, wanton cries. Charlie’s arm pressed down on your hips firmly, giving you no wiggle room as your toes curled and eyes screwed shut, orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You were shoved onto the bed as you heaved, Charlie having no trouble moving your from place to place without your cooperation. He got down on his knees, eye level with your pussy clenching pathetically around nothing.

Making sure you were still sensitive from your first climax, he was quick to dive into your weeping cunt. Tongue lapping at your glistening folds and nose nudging your clit, your twitching was uncontrollable as he was relentless with his mouth. Your hands tangled themselves in his deliciously wavy red mane as his copper beard rubbed the insides of your thighs raw.

You were unable to form coherent sentences, choked cries, waterlogged moans, and desperate pleas were the only things leaving your lips. Charlie gripped your thighs tightly, keeping them open after they had started to close around his head. You came again, loud sobs sounding through the room as he continued his torturous lapping at your cunt only to pull away seconds after your second orgasm hit you to aggressively rub at your clit.

“Go on, cum, you were begging for this.”

The back and forth motion only got faster as you tried to close your thighs and push his hand away, a third orgasm washing over you before you could even realize. Charlie pulled his hand away after giving your clit a harsh slap making you cry out again. 

Charlie took his time peeling off his briefs, his prick taut against his abdomen with precum leaking from the mouth watering tip. He had always had a rather gorgeous cock, the lively red of the spongey head contrasting the creamy beige of the shaft had you clenching your legs in need. You’d never say no to that no matter how worn out or sensitive you were, he was just far too beautiful. But the sheer size alone had excited nerves mixing in your belly, regardless of how often you’ve seen him nude. His tip was dangerously close to his navel, and not only was he gifted with length but his veiny cock was girthy- never failing to stretch your aching pussy out just how you liked it. 

You watched as his hand gave a few languid strokes to himself before your eyes traveled over the expanse of his torso. His skin was dappled with countless freckles and a few scars scattered here and there from misbehaving dragons or rowdy brothers, most of the time his sheer size as a human had your walls convulsing. Charlie was big, he was tall but by no means lanky, his thighs were deliciously thick along with his biceps, his entire being painted in the likeness of Norse mythology’s Thor. 

“How cute, my little girl is staring.” Charlie teased, hand abandoning his cock and coming closer to you on the bed again. 

He gripped your hips with his large hands, pulling you up onto your knees with your ass in the air. You were too tired to hold your head up, opting to rest it on the mattress instead as you watched Charlie - as best you could from this position- as he paced a hand on the still raw skin of your backside. You didn’t need a mirror to know that a few visible handprints would be left on the skin for a while. The cool feeling of his hand on the skin made you jolt forward, but Charlie hunched over carefully and placed a handful of feathery kisses on the tender skin- you could’ve sworn the pain started to subside immediately at the contact. 

You whimpered as you felt him start to prod at your entrance, he chuckled at the way you wiggled your butt back into him hoping for more. Giving you what you wanted, he pushed in all the way, careful to go slow keeping in mind that he was rather large. 

“Look at you, taking m’cock so well.” He grunted, bottoming out. 

Cries emitted from your parted lips as you nodded into the sheets, words and sentences long gone as he started to thrust. You knew what was in store, and it only made your moans and chants of Charlie that much louder. It was no secret he had stamina, a product of his insatiable libido was usually you getting to cum twice before Charlie even thought of filling you up himself. Seeing as tonight you had already trembled through two, four and five seemed a bit daunting- but you need it. 

He quickened his pace, eagerly thrusting into your tight cunt as his voice started to crack with each grunt and groan before looping an arm around your midsection and pulling your back flush against his chest. The new position had your head lulling back, pornographic moans crooning from your mouth and into his neck. Your hand came up to make its way the back of Charlie’s head, fingers carding through the copper curls at the nape of his neck as his hips snapped up into you at a hellish pace. His hand, the one not occupied with holding you up, moved to rest on your lower belly wanting to feel the way your tummy bulged with each of his thrusts. You were so tiny compared to him, so dainty, and it made his thrusts get that much harder.

His breath fanned over your ear and neck as he spoke huskily, “Such a tight little cunt f’me, can feel my cock in your belly.”

You hummed in response, his hand pulling yours down to rest where his was just moments before. The outline of his dick, each time he thrusted, running up the inside of your palm making you clench around him. 

“S’like I’m gonna slit you in two, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

With pathetic cries and nods you answered, “Yes, want you t’split me in two, need it.”

Orgasm number four hit you before you could even register what was happening but Charlie didn’t slow his thrusts, instead dropping a hand to your pulsing clit to rub rough circles and the engorged nub. His other hand, still holding you up, shifted so he could grab a handful of your breast, pinching and pulling at your erect nipples as best he could while he kept you upright. The overstimulation had you seeing stars, orgasm number five was already knocking on your door ready to come barreling in. At some point, your not sure when seeing as your mind was foggy from your fast approaching orgasm, Charlie had doubled over with your body firmly held in his arms as his hips continued to thrust into your weeping pussy at lightning speed, your back still held tightly against his chest only now your chin was hitting the mattress with each rough thrust. 

You could register the stuttering of his thrusts meaning he was nearing his own release and you could finally let go for a fifth time. The weight of his body on top of yours mixed in with his forearm pressing into your abdomen and fingers massaging your clit while his balls were slapping against your glistening and used pussy had your body trembling uncontrollably in his grasp. Charlie gave a choked moan of your name as he finished deep inside you, your body spasming along with the walls of your cunt as you came with him. 

Charlie held you to his chest still, but shifted so he was now on his side and you were no longer taking any of his weight. Slowly he went to pull out of you, making you whimper at the feeling, your over used cunt far too sensitive for the movement.

“Shh, you’re ok,” He cooed, gentling running a palm down the side of your face and through your hair. “Gotta get you cleaned up, yeah? Then I want my best girl’s cuddles, ok?”

His voice was gently, coaxing you to open your eyes and look at him as you answered with a feeble nod, “Ok, then cuddles...” you murmured.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinblack003

@maybesandohnos

[bonesandthebees]

Hi hi! I was just wondering how you stayed motivated writing long fics?

Every time I try I'm always super excited to start and I have a great idea, but midway through I end up losing motivation and hating my writing. How do you avoid falling into this, or just writers block in general?

y'know I've definitely answered this before but I can't find the post on my tumblr so I'll make sure to tag it properly this time lmao. forgive me if this isn't super coherent, I've definitely answered questions like this more eloquently in the past.

this is long so putting it under the cut

basically, it took me a long time to figure out how to stay motivated writing longer fics. like, I've been writing fanfic since 2015ish (and I've been writing fiction stories in general since roughly 2013), and before I started writing for mcyt I'd only finished 6 multi chapter fics. Over the course of 5 years of fic writing, I had only completed 6 multi chapter fics. now, in the past year and a half (to nearly 2 years) of writing for mcyt, I've finished 13 multi chapter fics. quite a jump lmao.

so there's multiple reasons for this. one thing is that writing longer stories takes skill and stamina. you have to build up your stamina over years of writing practice, so that's one part of it. another thing I've noticed also is just the way your brain develops as you get older? like, I definitely have an easier time focusing on a single story for long periods of time now than I did when I was 16-17 and I do think just my brain developing is a factor. because even pre-mcyt, out of those 6 multi chapter fics I finished, 4 of them I'd finished when I was 19-20. compare that to the fact that I've been writing fanfic since I was 15, and yeah it's obvious my brain has done a bit more cooking which helps me stick with one thing for longer lmao

but there is also a planning method that I figured out that really skyrocketed my ability to complete longer works. despite having been writing on a nearly daily basis for 7 years, I didn't actually figure this out until I was starting clinic. and I'm not saying this planning method will work for everyone. you have to experiment with different styles of planning to find out what works for you. I experimented for years jumping between no planning at all versus planning everything out to a minute detail and still found myself growing bored. eventually I found a very happy medium that works perfectly for me, but again, it won't work for everyone. this is just a planning method that appeals to my own brain and ability to focus.

basically, I have to strike a balance between planning a little bit but not planning too much. when I'm going to start writing a story that I know is going to take me a long time to complete, I have two criteria I need it to meet:

1) I need to know what the beginning and the ending is going to be. When you break down a story to its bare essentials, you're trying to get your protagonist from Point A to Point B. Whether that mean in a literal sense of travel, or a metaphorical sense of trying to build a relationship between characters or have character growth. Something is changing in your character's environment, whether it's the world around them or themself, so I have to know what that end point will be before I start so I know what I'm working towards.

2) I need to have some ideas for the middle, but I can't know it specifically. Usually I'll have ideas for several scenes I know I won't be able to write until a bit later in the story because a certain amount of development has to happen for the plot beat to occur. I don't know where these scenes exactly are going to go, but I keep them in my head and add them in as a I plan out my chapters while I write. I think "can I include this scene yet at this point in the story?" and if I can, well, then that's a very exciting chapter for me to write.

if the story idea I have meets those two criteria, then I know I have a viable story. from there, when I actually start writing it, I only plot out 2-3 chapters at a time. this makes it so I don't know exactly how we're going to get from point A to point B in the story. I don't know what context exactly is going to lead up to the big dramatic middle scenes I have in my head. it keeps it exciting for me so I don't lose interest. I don't know exactly how my story is going to go until I write it, especially since I tend to stray from my outline and add a lot of scenes just as I write the chapter as well.

so just try and experiment with your planning methods and try to find something that works! but also don't feel pressured to stick with a single story if you don't want to. this is fanfic. you're doing this for fun and it should stay fun for you. that's what's most important!

hope that helped!

[hotdamnhunnam]

Hi, I haven't seen any request with Raleigh Becket, so him with🥶,☕,😚(kiss). (Also I'm sorry I barely ever request anything and I suck at picking characters and emojis or prompts). Hope you won't have much trouble with this.

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! No need to apologize at all, this is great lol, and I’m glad to have gotten a Raleigh request! 💗

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Iced Coffee Kisses

Pairing: Raleigh Becket x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, Raleigh crushing on a girl & being the awkwardest turtle in the world Word Count: ~1.2k Emoji Prompt: 🥶☕️😚 (key words are in bold)

It’s fucking cold.

The frigid air bites through his coat as falling snow dampens his hair to darker gold. He really isn’t one to bitch about conditions, but he shouldn’t even be in this position. Though his shift is done, the officer in charge is in the middle of some speech, some protocol he needs to teach, and he wants everyone to listen. Raleigh Becket is a good boy so of course he feels compelled to do as told.

There’s a completely selfless reason as to why he’s fucking miffed: he picked up coffee for somebody at the tail end of his shift. It’s in a little paper cup with a cheap plastic lid, and cooling off with every passing minute. He’d have just gotten a new one, when this stupid speech is done—but as the officer goes on and on and on, it’s getting late and Raleigh knows, by now the cafeteria is fucking closed.

When he’s at last released he hurries to the dormitory halls—toward your room—rushing as briskly as he can without the risk of spilling cooled off coffee all over his balls. From all the cold his crotch is numb, so if this drink splashed from the cup and stained his pants he probably wouldn’t even feel a thing at all.

Maybe it’s good if his dick’s broken ‘cause whenever he gets close to you it tends to want to stand up stiff and tall.

When he arrives and softly knocks his frostbit knuckles on the closed door of your dorm… for the first time all day he finally feels warm.

Warm turns to hot now as the door swings open, and you’re wearing your pink panda bear pajamas just as he was hoping. Or not hoping, to be more precise—he always loves to see you looking so damn cute, till he reminds himself it’s rude, and has to turn away his eyes.

The pink of your pajamas pales against the rosy petals of his lips. He’s just a friend but times like this you wish that he would fucking grab you by the hips… slam you against the wall and claim your ass as his, with a big fat passionate kiss…

Of course that isn’t what he does. At least not yet. He’s still the same virtuous golden boy he always was, even more bashful and respectful now than back when you first met.

“Hey!” he greets you with a goofy smile as he holds the coffee up, big hand wrapped tight around the small white cup. “I, uh—I know you said that you’d be working on that huge project all day, most likely staying up all night. Figured some coffee couldn’t hurt, right?”

Beam at him sunshiney bright. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you!” I seriously love you.

“It’s… it’s more like iced, I guess,” he tells you with a grimace. “Got held up but tried my best.”

“I love iced coffee,” you reply honestly. “Thanks so much Raleigh, this—this is really sweet.”

You take the cup he came to offer you and all you feel is heat.

***************

“I like your dorm.”

He instantly regrets that you invited him inside ‘cause now he’s sitting here beside you on your bed and starts to squirm. He’s saying stupid shit and finds his mouth is spouting off impulsively before the thoughts can form. “It’s… really warm.”

You don’t want him to feel embarrassed or ashamed, but seeing him all shy and awkward is so cute you can’t be blamed. Your tone is playful and indulgent and you hope he knows that you don’t mean to mock him. You just really want to fuck him. “Leigh, you do know that our rooms are all the same?”

The only person in the world who gets to call him by a girl’s name.

Rolls his eyes, hoping you don’t notice the bulge between his thighs. “Obviously. But the, uh—pictures you’ve put up are really lovely.”

Gestures at the walls. You’ve been meaning to decorate a bit more but you’ve not gotten around to it at all. There are, like, two photos hung up but otherwise you can’t deny your room is ugly. Even more so when in contrast to the sheer beauty of godly golden Raleigh.

Though he knows your bed is just the same as everybody else’s, he can’t help but feel it’s extra fucking comfy. He feels home here on your mattress. Warm and fluffy. “How’s the coffee?”

“It’s… it’s iced,” you answer with a tender smile as you take another sip, lick the cool liquid off your lip. Shift closer toward him on the bed. “But like I said—I really like it iced. It’s nice.”

“I like your eyes.”

Dude, what the fuck. He wants to hide under a rock. There’s not a rock in sight though so the poor guy’s out of luck. He wants to run but he’s forgotten how to even fucking walk. You touch his forearm through his coat and it’s as if you touched his motherfucking cock.

“I like yours too. They’re really blue,” you coo, sweeping a tuft of snow-kissed gold off to the side so you can see his blushing face in fuller view. “Leigh, you do know I’m really into you?”

He swallows hard and doesn’t think he’ll make it through, if you continue. He’ll combust to fucking pieces if it’s true. “…Into?”

You nod and set the nearly empty cup of coffee on the nightstand, freeing both your hands. “I’m really not that subtle with my hints to you.”

“What hints?” This blonde buffoon is seriously sitting here without a fucking clue.

Even that one time when you literally asked Raleigh if he wanted to take you on a date he thought you meant as friends or something and he still wasn’t convinced.

Leigh sees you as some kind of Disney princess way beyond his league—your bravery and brains and beauty make him weak—he doesn’t have a clue that he’s your fucking prince.

So you decide your hints are gonna have to get a little bold. “You know the coffee that you brought may have been cold… but you’re still super fucking hot.” You watch his eyes widen to take in what you’ve told. Whether he finds himself believing it or not. “Believe me, Leigh—I like you, like, a lot. I think about you every fucking night and get off on the thought.”

Oh my God what the fucking what. Now any chance he had at answering coherently is shot. He fumbles frantically for words and gives you what little he’s got. “I do… I do that when I think about you too?”

He says it like a question as if there was any doubt that you already knew.

“I know you do,” you purr. Lean in to finally kiss him hungrily and hotly—then shift suddenly—down to your knees before him on the floor. You love his kisses but you’d love to kiss him elsewhere even more. “You know I never thanked you properly, for that lovely iced coffee that you got me… thankfully that is exactly what this slutty little mouth of mine is for.”

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Emoji Fic Masterlist

Emoji Fic Tag List – below; if you’d like to be added or removed, just let me know!

@happyhunnams @band--psycho @est11 @edonaspanca @starbooty @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @coffeebooksandfandom @thesuicidalflower @flaireandsynch @helloheyhihowdyheya @gemini0410 @waywardodysseys @zozebo @bettergetusetoit @emilykjh @little-diable @rocketqueen @mrspeacem1nusone @miss-smutty @rayslittlekitten @abby-splace @chubbychubbs28 @miraclesoflove @tegggeeee @hunnambabe @missusnora @kesskirata @vixenrebellion @thexhostess @pomegranatearildreams @kandii395 @severewobblerlightdragon @itspdameronthings @niki-xie @cind-in-real-life @saweetspoiled @poge-life @few-proud-emotonal @samanthaisnthome @melodranas @soaharleys @charlie-hunnams-old-lady @simpmasterjr @nataliewalker93 @lovebarefootblonde @marvelousmermaid @tsukuyomi011 @sciapod @midnight-dreams-23

[aftqrglow]

A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.  

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence. 

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table. 

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you. 

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back. 

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky. 

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said. 

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual. 

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

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[saintshigaraki]

won’t you give me your cruelest smile

↳ DARK ACADEMIA TSUKISHIMA KEI 

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

excerpt: 

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” He sounds far too pleased for your liking.

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.”

a/n: @yamagucji​​ said dark academia tsukki and my brain quite literally short circuited 

tags: enemies-ish to lovers (more like academic rivals to lovers), tsukki being an annoyingly smart condescending history major, reader goes through the five stages of grief when they realize they might actually li- 🤢 like him, a reference to the classic ‘ooooh you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid’ 

If there is a single, minuscule, barely visible silver lining in having Tsukishima as a partner for your quarter project it is that, without a doubt, he is smart. 

You have to admit, begrudgingly, that his intellect borders on genius-level which is something you use as silent proof to attest to your working theory that there is in fact, no god, or at the very least not a kind one, because if there was they wouldn’t be blessing gremlins like the one sitting across from you with a gift like that. 

He’s quiet now (after about an hour of telling you all the ways your interpretation was oh so very wrong) and content to stare at you lazily, his eyes half-lidded and filled with his specific brand of cruel amusement that leaves you wanting to do nothing more than smack his black-rimmed glasses right off his smug face. 

You take a deep breath and try desperately to quell the utterly unique type of rage he elicits in you, although as always, nothing you do ever quite manages to bring your boiling blood to a simmer. 

He’s twirling his expensive black pen between his stupidly long fingers. Every once in a while the light catches on the onyx stone of his pinky ring which somehow manages to flash directly in your eyes every time. He notices, of course. He notices everything. Which makes you think he’s doing it on purpose just to be an ass.

Which, admittedly, is perfectly in line with everything else he does so, you come to the frustrating conclusion that he most definitely is doing it on purpose. 

“You’re embarrassingly easy to rile up,” he says, interrupting your silent seething, his voice deep and smooth and absolutely dripping with condescending satisfaction. 

Your eyes flash up from the book you’d been only barely processing just to be met with his own golden-brown ones. He’s smirking down at you, of course. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear any other sort of expression. 

You want nothing more than to glare at him but that would just be proving his point so instead, you snap your book shut. It rings out loudly in the empty library. 

“It’s late. Let’s start this backup tomorrow.”

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” he sounds far too pleased for your liking. 

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.” 

He tilts his head back, exposing his long neck, and laughs. It’s so deep you feel it in your own chest. You just barely manage to suppress a shiver, which thank fuck, because he would’ve most definitely noticed it and you don’t think you’d be able to live that down. 

You make your way towards the front doors but not before he manages to slip on his wool coat and catch up to you, with ease of course, his long legs have become your number one enemy over the quarter because he always, always, catches up with you when you try to speed walk away from him. 

The autumn chill immediately settles into your bones, your skin prickles unpleasantly. You can see your breath in the night air. A shitty end to a shit day. 

You both head down the cobbled street in strangely comfortable silence. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he radiates and you’re silently thankful for it. 

You get to the fork in the path where he takes his way back to his dorm and you take yours but instead of peeling off left like he usually does he sticks to your side. 

You stop immediately and eye him up warily. “What are you doing?”

He rolls his eyes. “Asking idiotic questions doesn’t really suit you, you know.” 

You say nothing, content to narrow your eyes. 

He rolls his eyes again and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m walking you home, try not to be a brat about it.” 

“You never walk me home,” you point out, suspiciously. 

“You are rather good at pointing out the very obvious, aren’t you?” and before you can respond he already had turned on his heels and started walking. You have to half jog to catch up. 

You watch him out of the corner of your eye with the intent of trying to read his motive but you get stuck on the fact that his cheeks are flushed rather prettily from the cold. 

“You sure do love to stare, don’t you?” he asks rather conversationally. 

You’ve never wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole more in your entire life. Your cheeks burn hot even in the frigid cold. 

He notices. Of course he does. What does Tsukishima Kei not notice?

“No need to be embarrassed,” he needles cruelly. “Denial can be a brutal beast.”

You only barely manage to stop yourself from asking what exactly he means by that, what exactly he thinks you’re in denial about. 

But you know he wants nothing more than for you to ask so you take a sweet sort of satisfaction in not questioning him further, at least on that front. 

The rest of the walk back to your dorm is spent in less comfortable silence than before. There’s an odd sort of tension in the air, like a rope pulled so tight you can physically feel it starting to fray, getting ready to snap.

It comes to a head when, after getting to your building, instead of immediately going inside you find yourself looking down and shuffling your feet.

You know you should thank him, even if you didn’t ask him to walk you home. You guys never worked this late, you’d lost track of time (it’s scarily easy to lose track of time when arguing with Tsukishima) and you know it was nice of him to walk you home when he’d have to double back another 15 minutes in the freezing cold to get to his place. 

You know you should thank him. It’s the reasonable, polite thing to do. But it’s just so fucking hard to be reasonable and polite when Tsukishima Kei and his galaxy-sized ego are involved. No one in your entire life has been able to get under your skin as he has. It’s like he was perfectly crafted to be your own personal headache. 

You brave a glance up at him and find that he’s standing very, very close and staring, rather intensely, at you. A curiously amused gleam in his eye. 

Your mind stutters and then stops completely, going painfully blank. 

He’s so stupidly pretty. 

His skin is flawless, you’ve never once seen him with even a single pimple, his hair is the nicest pale-blond you’ve ever seen and it falls in perfect tufts against his forehead, but it’s his eyes that always make you shift from foot to foot. They’re such a unique shade of golden-brown, and now, shrouded in the dark and mere inches away from your own face, you’d swear on your life they were practically glowing.

“You’ve got something on your mind?” he asks, his tone anything but sweet. He’s so close you can smell the warm spice of his cologne and the ever-clinging scent of ancient books that seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

“I-” but you can’t seem to put together a coherent sentence. You don’t think you’ve ever hated someone so much in your life. 

Somehow, he’s managed to push in even closer. “You know what I think?”

No, you want to say, and I don’t want to know. Your heart is beating far too fast and you can’t explain why. 

(You know exactly why)

“I think you want to kiss me.”

And just like that the rope snaps and you’re viciously tugging him down by the collar of his too-nice coat so you can smash your lips against his. 

The kiss is brutal. Far too mean with too much teeth. At one point you taste the sting of iron and you can’t tell if the blood is his or yours. 

He backs you up against a wall without breaking the kiss. When he bites at your lip, no doubt cutting it open, you grab a fist full of his hair and tug cruelly and his responding groan tastes so sweet on your tongue. 

He doesn’t pull away until your lungs are screaming for air. 

He’s inches away from you, pupils blown wide, lips swollen (and a little bloody), and his hair is a mess. It’s the most out of sorts you’ve ever seen him. 

If you thought he was pretty before, he’s absolutely beautiful now. 

His smirk widens into a full blown smile and you understand now why he doesn’t show it often. It shows too many teeth, it’s downright wolfish. Predatory, even. 

You don’t really have time to think on it though before he pulls you into another bruising kiss. 

have some dark academia tsukishima headcanons while you’re here

he is without a doubt the most pretentious asshole you will ever meet and and you will HATE yourself for eventually finding him weirdly charming in any capacity

he is, of course, a history major which. if you have ever met pretentious male history majors you will know that this means he is a literal walking, talking, annoyingly tall headache

interrupts professors constantly. does it like he’s getting paid. will argue and argue and argue with them without that dumb condescending smirk ever, ever managing to slip off his face

(the worst part is, he’s honestly probably making a good point most of the time. but you’d quite literally rather die than admit that to him)

he is always walking around campus lazily flipping through leather bound books so old they’re cracked precariously at their spines, all on different ancient civilizations. you’d think that’d mean he’d be running into people but the student body collectively parts like the red sea for him which sets your teeth on edge.

he’s unbelievably arrogant and the worst part is its not baseless like you find yourself so desperately wishing it was

he IS smart, wickedly so. disgustingly, cruelly intelligent and he will use it to pick you apart piece by piece while that stupid fucking smirk stays glued on his face.

(you start to seriously question whether or not he’s even human because how can anyone keep the same, perfectly calculated expression for that long?)

always looks like he stepped straight out of some dark alternate universe vogue photoshoot with his constant rotation of black turtlenecks, long coats, and oxford loafers all tied together by the same 5 rings he’s never seen without, two of which are set with hefty onyx stones

you will be unlucky enough to be paired up with him for a project that will take all quarter long and multiple meet ups a week. when your professor announced your partner, you genuinely consider dropping the class and when you find out you wouldn’t be able to drop the class without switching majors, you genuinely consider switching majors

you don’t. and by the end of the quarter you’re really starting to question whether that was a good thing or not