#this could be written way better but whatever

[bullet-prooflove]

A Cold Day In Hell - Dennis Whitaker x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty @sargeant-sad-eyes @caffeinatedwoman @hooks-martin

Companion piece to:

Peppermint - The taste of peppermint will always have a special place in Dennis’s heart.

The Morgue Thing - A miscommunication between you and Dennis almost ends things before they begin.

Written In The Stars - Your first date with Dennis takes place underneath the stars.

In The Park - Dennis reveals a secret after the two of you spend the night together in the park.

Virgin - There's a rumour going around about Dennis.

Debauched (NSFW) - Karaoke night ends a lot differently than it did the first time around.

Symphony (NSFW) - Dennis has never eaten pussy before…

Pretty Boy (NSFW) - You and Dennis take the next step in your relationship.

Permanent Marker - You find out about the betting pool.

The Porn Boom (NSFW) - Dennis isn't like the other man you've been with.

Wild Flowers - A crown of wildflowers leads you and Dennis to discuss the issues he has with his family.

A Friend of Denny's - Your relationship with Dennis takes a turn when his parents come to town.

It’s been a week since the run in with Dennis’s parents and you’ve still not spoken to him. You won’t take his calls or return his texts, you don’t even look at him when your paths cross in the E.D. It’s like he doesn’t even exist to you.

It’s a shitty feeling, one he absolutely deserves.

“Feels like a cold day in hell Pussycat.” Myrna remarks, wheeling her chair up alongside of him as he watches you and Donnie steer the specialist gurney you use for the deceased towards the elevator. “Whatever you did to Queenie you’d better find a way to fix it.”

Queenie short for Queen of the Damned because of all the dead folks you work with. Myrna has a nickname for almost everyone in the E.D with the exception of Dana who she respects far too much.

Despite being a psych patient she’s right, it’s clear the giving you space approach isn’t working so he’s going to have to tackle the problem head on.

It’s at the end of his shift he takes the elevator down to the subbasement. The air is different down here, chiller. He feels the bite through his jacket as he strides towards the Viewing Room where he knows you’ll be. It’s the last thing you do before you leave, you like to make sure it’s in order for any families that may need to identify their loved ones when the nightshift take over.

Despite the lack of resources they have to contend with in The Pitt, money has been poured into the Viewing Room from the hospital’s charity fund. One of the board members had suffered a death in the family a couple of years ago and was shocked by the dourness of the original facility.

Now it looks like something you’d get in a high end funeral home with a false skylight that portrays a soft white clouds across a crisp blue sky, and warm spotlights that emit a soothing glow throughout the space. The walls are painted a light seafoam grey, instilling a sense of calmness as you sit in one of the plush grey chairs ticking off your checklist.  

“Get out.” You scold him, raising to your feet. “You’re gonna get yourself written up, you know you’re not allowed to be in here.”

The morgue is strictly off limits to any personnel who aren’t assigned to the area, that includes doctors. Part of that is to avoid any cross contamination when it comes to working with the deceased, and the other part is to give the families of the departed a safe space to breathe away from the rest of the hospital.

“I know, I just… it seems like the only place I could actually talk to you.” He says contritely, his hands clasped in front of him as his gaze flickers to the vacant viewing table in the centre of the room.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.” You tell him, hugging the tablet to your chest. “We never put a label on what we were doing and you certainly didn’t make me any promises so I guess that means you’re free and clear.”

“Lola…” He begins, his lips pursing together. “I don’t want to be free and clear, I want to be held accountable for my actions because I know how much they hurt you.”

“That sounds like you want me to assuage your guilt.” You point out, your hand coming to rest on your hip. “And I am certainly not going to make you feel less shitty over something that made me feel really fucking shitty.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” He implores, stepping forward into your proximity. “I did a horrible thing to you, I made you feel like less than what you are and that is unforgiveable. You’ve never been just ‘a friend’.” – He does the bunny ears for emphasis – “You’ve always been more, I just couldn’t tell that to my mom because then she’d know…”

He trails off, his gaze lowering to the white sneakers on his feet as he struggles to find the words to give context to the rest of his story.

“Before I came out here I made a plan with my mom, something to help her come to terms with the fact I was moving over a thousand miles away. I was meant to do my time in Med School, get through my clinical rotations and then come home and do my Residency in Internal Medicine where I would live out the rest of my days serving my community, the same way I would have done if I’d become a pastor.” He tells you before he tilts his head up to meet the eyes he’s spent every night wishing he was looking into. “But coming here to PTMC, it changed everything. I found my calling in Emergency Medicine and I found you, this compassionate, wonderful woman who didn’t see me as a farm boy from bumfuck nowhere, who made me laugh on the shittiest fucking days, who stole my heart from right out underneath me before I even realised it was happening...”

He tucks his hands into the back pockets of his pants because the urge to reach out and touch you is becoming unbearable. You're unreadable at the moment, a statue made of the purest marble with an expression that gives away absolutely nothing.

“If I had told my mom what you were to me, she would know that I wasn’t coming home to Nebraska. I wasn’t ready to break her heart but I ended up breaking yours instead and I am deeply sorry for that. I just floundered in that moment because the two women I love most in the world were standing in front of me and I felt like I was at this crossroads caught my past and my future.”

“You made me feel like I was nothing.” You whisper.

It’s the way your voice cracks that breaks his heart, his resolve snaps and he finds himself standing in front of you. His hand raises to cup your face, his thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek as he looks down at you.

“You are not nothing.” He says, his eyes blazing with sincerity. “You are everything to me and I should have told you that. I should have told you that I was staying here in Pittsburgh, that I wanted to make a life with you, a home with you-”

“What does your mom think about all of this?” You interrupt and he deflates then, a sad smile crossing his features as his hand slips away.

“She told me not to let my head get spun by the first pretty young thing that sat in my lap.” He says quietly, his palm rubbing over the nape of his neck. The words had stung because it showed that she still didn’t trust him to know his own mind, to make his own decisions even after all this time. “That I should remain focused on our community, on giving back to the people who raised me, who invested in me. She thought I was being selfish and maybe I am but I’ve earned that right to choose how I live my life and who I want to spend it with. She walked out after that. My dad says she just needs some time to adjust but I don’t know, it felt final.”

He's surprised when your hand grasps his. Your palm fits perfectly in his own, your thumb tracing soothing circles along the scar on the back of it. Even now your compassion astounds him, he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve you but here you are, reaching across the void, connecting with him.

“I think before this goes any further that we should talk about what we both want, make sure we’re on the same page before you make a decision about the residency. You have to do it for you, not for me and not for your mom." You say quietly, squeezing his hand gently. "We need to be clear and honest with each other about the future, no matter how much that may hurt.”

Dennis, he already knows what he wants his future to look like, a white picket fence, two rings, first steps. He has no idea where you stand on those things, if that’s something you’d even want but that’s the point you’re making, it’s time to figure it out.

“I think that’s a good idea.” He says, looking down at your joined hands, hope blossoming in his chest. “Let’s do it, let’s talk about our future.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[flutterbabee]

Typical creepy Joe/ Stalking/ Joe is a freak/ Voyeurism/ Joe is a creepy freak/ Masterbation/ The freak, creep, Joe/ Joe likes panties/ Kinda written from Joe's pov

Joe knew you pretty well; it was his duty to know you if the two of you were meant to spend the rest of your lives together. He knew when you'd leave and return home, what shows and movies you liked, and what your favorite kind of food was. He even found out when your period cycle started and ended. It was all necessities, things he had to know in order to be prepared when he would become your boyfriend and eventual husband.

He was just being polite; he was doing it for the right reasons when he followed you home so he could protect you from any lurking creeps and weirdos and make sure you got home safe, of course. He was just doing his due diligence when he watched you walk through the door, coming closer only to peek through your window so he could see you unwind and relax, taking off your coat, shoes, whatever accessories you decided to wear that day, only because he cared about your well-being and wanted to make sure your much overdue "alone" time was spent comfortably.

When you moved rooms, so did he, tripping on a few rocks and twigs as he watched you make and finish a meager meal for yourself; he'd make sure to cook for you when he became your boyfriend.

Eventually you finish, taking the dish to the sink and going off to watch TV, this show you had been watching for the last week or so. He'd sit through each episode "with you," and he even carried a small notebook so he could make notes of opinions and things you'd say for when you and he would finally talk about it and you would gush to him that you had the exact same thoughts and opinions. Of course a little healthy debate never hurt, so he wrote down his own opinions, pleased when they contradicted some of your own; the two of you could have a full and normal conversation about a TV show you both liked, just like any other couple.

After, when you'd finally head off to your room to change, he'd get to watch you strip yourself of your clothes, getting to see which pair of panties you picked out that day. It's only natural that his hand slips underneath his jeans, only to palm himself. He wanted to take his time; he wasn't in a rush, and neither were you, choosing to keep your pants off when roaming the room in panties that hugged your ass perfectly.

You really were tempting him, like you knew he was there; you had to have. Why else would you move that way, dressed like that? It had to be for him, so why shouldn't he relish it? Joe abandons all shame when he's "with you." It doesn't matter to him that he's stroking himself just outside your window, fogging the glass as he groans. Focusing, again, on your panties, their color, and the fabric texture, he was almost jealous of how they got to lay over your cunt and how they held at your hips. He was definitely coming back for that pair later.

He's panting now, curling in on himself and struggling to hold back his more noisy groans. He was close, just on the brink of release, but before he could finally tilt off the edge, he was interrupted; the two of you were interrupted.

Some lousy neighbor who didn't know how to mind their business decided to snoop around. Joe came here often, and he recognized them, always the same person. You'd think they'd give it up by now since they never do find the source of that "weird noise." But rather than grumble and linger, Joe reluctantly tucked himself back into his pants. He knew better than to sit around and wait to be found, so he, again reluctantly, decided to end his and your night together. Besides, there was always tomorrow.

[mintyys-blog]

idk if you've written for no goggles mark yet but I have a hc req for him, shiesty, sinister and mohawk who all have an s/o who embodies the word chaos. It could be any gender s/o actually, as long as their a menace to society and their marks are eating that shit up like breakfastlunchsnackANDdinner.

HEADCANON | no goggles, sinister and mohawk mark with s/o who is a menace

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: sexual themes, swearing

NO GOGGLES MARK

The first time Mark saw you set a rival’s car on fire and call it “performance art,” something clicked in him. Maybe it was how casually you walked away as the explosion lit up your silhouette, or how you licked a lollipop mid-chaos like it was just a Tuesday. Either way, that was the moment he knew he wanted you. Not just wanted—needed.

You’re unpredictable. One minute you’re cuddled up in his lap playing with the chain around his neck, the next you’re pouring soda into a gas tank because someone looked at him too long. And Mark? He eats that shit up. Watches you with this half-lidded gaze like he’s seeing god. His god.

He doesn’t say much when you get that gleam in your eye, the one that means you’re about to do something you shouldn’t. He just stands there, arms crossed, letting you wreak havoc. The others warn him about you, call you reckless, dangerous. Mark just grins. “Yeah. That’s mine.”

When you mouth off to powerful people like you’re invincible, he doesn’t stop you. If anything, he leans into it—smirking while you talk circles around someone twice your size, daring them to move. And when the tension breaks and fists start flying, he’s right behind you, grinning like a wolf.

Sometimes he’ll catch you doing something utterly insane—like duct-taping knives to a Roomba or spray-painting graffiti on a government building—and he’ll just shake his head, snort, and say, “You’re so fucking stupid. I love it.”

You’re a menace. And Mark wouldn’t have you any other way.

MOHAWK MARK

You’re his little hurricane, and Mark loves standing in the eye of your storm.

At first, it was amusing. The way you argued with his generals just for fun, outsmarting them with petty logic and saying shit like, “Well if genocide’s so effective, why aren’t you doing it better?” His officers wanted you punished. Mark laughed in their faces. “They’ve got more balls than all of you combined.”

You’re chaos wrapped in sex appeal, always doing something reckless. Throwing yourself off high balconies because “you knew he’d catch you,” hot-wiring Viltrumite ships for joyrides, starting fights at political summits with your legs kicked over his throne like you own it.

And maybe you do.

He doesn’t try to tame you—why would he? He likes it when you’re mouthy, even if you’re cursing him out mid-orgasm or daring him to “choke you harder, you coward.” He likes that you test his patience. Makes taking control that much more satisfying when he pins you to a wall and reminds you who the Emperor is.

But gods help anyone else who tries to reign you in. He’s the only one allowed to handle your fire. He’s possessive like that—not because he wants to control you, but because your madness is his.

And when you sit in his lap after a long day of carnage, still grinning from whatever trouble you stirred up, Mark just kisses your cheek and murmurs, “You’re fuckin’ insane. Don’t ever change.”

SINISTER MARK

You’re like throwing a lit match into a room full of gasoline—and Mark lives for the explosion.

You’re not just unhinged, you’re proud of it. Walking chaos with a grin and blood on your shoes. Most people run from you. Mark? He watches, arms crossed and eyes glowing red, like he’s found the best entertainment this universe has to offer.

He doesn’t just tolerate your wild streak—he fucking encourages it. “What did you do this time?” he asks when you come home with that gleam in your eye and someone else’s blood on your collar. You tell him with a giggle, and he cackles like it’s the funniest shit he’s ever heard. “You’re insane,” he says, grabbing your chin. “And you’re mine.”

The two of you are a menace to the multiverse. Burn a city? He’ll light the match. Pick a fight with an intergalactic council? He’s right there, laughing as they scream. You once kicked someone’s teeth in for talking back to him and he nearly fucked you in the wreckage. He likes that you’re unpredictable, explosive, a fire he can’t snuff out.

But beneath the chaos, he’s addicted to the way you see him. Not as some twisted tyrant or monster—just your partner in crime. The one you always come back to, bloody knuckles and all.

“Don’t ever get boring,” he mutters one night, dragging his teeth along your neck. “I’d hate to have to break you.”

But you grin, licking your lips like the devil in silk. “You’d miss me too much.”

And he would.

SHIESTY MARK

Mark knew you were a little insane when he met you. The kind of insane that made his chest tighten with laughter and arousal at the same time. You weren’t just a menace—you were a walking, talking, chaos-fueled fever dream in lipgloss and an oversized hoodie, flipping off security cameras and sweet-talking your way out of war crimes.

You’d steal shit just because. Hide Mark’s weapons in the oven. Bite people for looking at you wrong. Break into places just to leave notes saying “I could’ve fucked this place up. Love, Y/N.”

And he loved it.

“Yo… you did what to their spaceship?” Mark choked out between wheezes of laughter as you explained how you hotwired it to play porn on loop. “You’re fucking crazy, I love you.”

You ride in his lap during villain meetings, lazy and smug, licking lollipops and doodling obscenities in the margins of evil plans. And if someone so much as side-eyes him? You’re already jumping across the table like a feral cat. Mark just leans back and watches with that slick-ass grin like you’re the sexiest thing alive.

He grabs your face afterward, kisses you hard, muttering, “My pretty little psycho. Always got my back.”

You’re unpredictable, impulsive, sometimes downright terrifying—and he eats it up like it’s gourmet.

He once watched you scream-laugh as you lit a diplomat’s coat on fire because “he looked like a bitch.” Mark just handed you a lighter and said, “Here. In case you want a round two.”

You’re his favorite problem. His partner in chaos. His spicy, unhinged disaster of a soulmate.

[mattslvrxo]

second series!!

{ hate how much i need you.}

part { 6 }

꣑ৎ { enemy user x matt sturniolo } ꣑ৎ

{ ! } contains: sex, blackmailing, nsfw content, adulatory , drinking, bars, swearing, .. etc

based on the song

╰┈➤ ❝ . ۫ . Love Hangover . ۫ . ❞۫

by JENNIE, Dominic Fike

{ your pov }

I wasn’t supposed to see him again. Not this soon. Not like this.

But then my phone lit up with a text: come outside.

And like a fucking idiot, I went. I told myself I wouldn’t. Told myself I was over this. Over him. Over the way he looked at me like he hated me and wanted me in the same breath. Over the way he touched me like he needed me, then vanished like I meant nothing.

But I still stepped out into the cold air, heels clicking on the pavement, heart beating too loud in my ears.

He was leaning against his car, arms crossed, jaw tight. The passenger door was already open.

“You always this dramatic?” I asked, voice flatter than I felt.

He didn’t answer. Just looked at me. And somehow that was worse.

I got in.

We didn’t speak the whole drive. Not until we ended up in the hills, parked on some overlook above the city, lights blinking like a heartbeat.

“You good?” I asked finally, turning to him.

His mouth twitched. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re the one who texted me.”

“Yeah. I know.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Fucking mistake.”

Silence settled in the car like fog. Thick. Cold.

Then he said it—quiet, like it hurt. Like it cost him something.

“I shouldn’t be thinking about you as much as I do… and I shouldn’t be thinking about you the way I do.”

And just like that, I couldn’t breathe.

I looked at him, really looked. The way his hands were clenched in his lap. The way his eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

This wasn’t just about fucking anymore.

“Then stop,” I whispered.

He turned his head slowly. “i really wish i knew how to, but gosh you keep driving me insane baby.”

I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know.

“baby.”

⸻

{ matt’s pov }

She didn’t say anything. Just sat there, staring out at the city like it had the answers. Like the skyline could fix whatever the fuck this was between us.

It was supposed to be simple. It was simple. She was annoying. Hot. Off-limits. And I liked making her squirm. I liked hearing her beg. I liked how she talked shit and kissed me with the same mouth.

But then it got complicated.

Like when she cried in my mouth once and I didn’t stop.

Like when she left her hair tie in my car and I kept it in the glovebox without thinking.

Like right now—when I couldn’t stop looking at her, even when I told myself to.

“I think about you when I don’t want to,” I admitted. “When I’m trying not to. When I’m with someone else.” She flinched.

“I know this is fucked,” I continued, quieter. “But it’s not just sex anymore.”

She still didn’t look at me. “Then what is it?”

I didn’t know. All I knew was that when she wasn’t around, everything felt off. My chest felt tight. My bed felt empty. And when she was around, it wasn’t any better—but at least I could breathe.

“It’s not nothing,” I said. “That’s all I know.”

⸻

{ your pov }

I turned to face him, finally. “So what do we do with that?”

He looked at me, eyes darker than night. “We stop pretending.”

I swallowed. “And then what?”

He leaned closer, so slow it made me ache. “Then we figure it out. One fucked up night at a time.”

And when he kissed me, it wasn’t rough. It wasn’t angry.

It was careful.

Like he was scared of losing something he never thought he’d want.

And for the first time, I didn’t kiss him back out of spite or lust or boredom.

I kissed him because I didn’t know how to stop, i didnt even think i wanted to.

written by adeline!

to be continued

[angelshizuka]

Seeing someone on YouTube refer to Stolas as “Bojack Horseman if his habit of playing the victim was validated by the narrative”

First of all, Bojack Horseman is a six-season long COMPLETED series that everyone looks at fondly, one because it is a great show, but two because we SEE where everything was leading to because the show is DONE and has been done for YEARS.

Helluva Boss is STILL ONGOING, and we are 20 episodes into a 50-episode-long story, barely over a THIRD of the way done.

But also the claim that the show “validates his victim mentality” it literally DOESN’T???

I could see this argument being a thing when Apology Tour was still the latest episode to have come out, but now that the season is done, the narrative has literally forced Stolas into a situation where he has to address the problems he has put off and address the ways he has fucked up with the people he loves.

He took a gamble at freedom, he fucked up along the way, and his recklessness cost him EVERYTHING. If the narrative validated his “victim mentality” he wouldn’t be estranged from his daughter right now, who called him out on how badly he hurt her.

Is it because the show still wants us to feel bad for him, because not to pull a “back in my day” like a boomer, but I thought people used to understand that a show can ask you to feel bad for someone and STILL hold them accountable for their actions?

Us feeling bad for Stolas doesn’t mean we don’t get how he fucked up. Blitz comforting Stolas at the end of Sinsmas doesn’t mean he thinks Stolas handled things correctly.

Is it because Stolas spent Sinsmas “whining” and not doing anything about it? Because first of all, the guy is off his meds, he’d be homeless if it weren’t for Blitz, he has no money, his daughter hates him, and his abusers got everything they wanted from him.

He is at the lowest he has ever been, so YEAH he’s gonna whine about it!

Second of all, this is what we call a character flaw. Stolas has grown up on a silver spoon never having to worry about basic necessities because it was all handed to him. So to go from that to living in a cramped one-bedroom apartment where the bedroom is already occupied is probably gonna make him a little bratty, and Blitz gently but firmly shuts that down: “You know what’ll fixed that privileged little attitude of yours? Paperwork!”

Third of all, to reiterate my first point, the show is STILL ONGOING! Stolas is in the MIDDLE of his character arc, he’s not gonna snap his fingers and become a better person just like THAT, and S3 is going to begin with him in a place where he needs to rebuild his life and learn from his mistakes.

I swear to fuck these people would never have survived ATLA with Zuko’s redemption arc.

I've never seen Bojack Horseman, so I can't comment on that, but everything else you said is definitely correct.

These "critics" have made up their mind on Stolas long ago, making up whatever arguments they feel justify their hatred for him, and even now that the narrative has full blown debunked their arguments, they're too stubborn to let them go.

These people need to understand they don't have to make themselves look media illiterate just to hate a character, sometimes you just don't vibe with them and that's okay. I have plently of HH/HB characters I find overrated, but just don't bother with, because people are allowed to have fun with them.

But yeah, it's like saying Zuko is a godawful character when we were only 1 season in, or just got to the s2 finale. I get being worried about a character not being written well, because I definitely have my fair share of getting emotionally invested in a character with so much potential, only for the conclusion to be literal ass. But when a show has a clear finish line in sight that we're clearly still building up to, you need to acknowledge your arguments on the matter can change when new information/developments are presented.

(The main reason I said "a clear finish line" is because one of the reasons I salt about Miraculous so much is because it just keeps going and going and going and going, so there's never a satisfying conclusion, because "there's always more to come".)

Speaking of, just imagining ATLA airing in modern day and the discourse that would've come with it... I mean, it already happened when it came to the US Netflix some years ago. I'm so happy I just peacefully watched it as it aired on Dutch TV and even if there was online discourse going on, I wasn't aware of it.

[the-haven-keepers-collective]

Unreasonably long post about plural shit

So I'm gonna be honest and uncharacteristically vulnerable for a second because I think people might relate or have internalized similar things. My name is Pyre; at least that's what I'll be going by on Tumblr. I'm a fictive, some of you might've already seen me sign off on comments or something using my source name but I don't really care. Also I'm not Techno, he's open about his source. Thought I'd get that out of the way for those of you who know us. Pyre is a very Techno name though and I just stole it faster.

Anyway, to the point: We've seen posts shouting out systems/collectives who are "too similar," particularly median systems and such who experience a lot of internal fakeclaiming and imposter syndrome because of that. This is for the non-median systems who are "too similar," though. This is part a post to point out their validity, and part a post talking about my own experience so far with that.

In my source, I'm kind of a badass. I was admittedly an asshole, and very misguided, but at least within my canon (within the shows canon is questionable, we never did finish it rip) I was fighting for what I believed was right. Fighting for those who fall through the cracks for no good reason, for those that get hurt for things they can't control. If I were brought here, in this world, in my own body, I wouldn't afraid of shit. I'd gladly punt a transphobe. I wouldn't shy away from conflict; sometimes conflict is how progress happens.

In reality, I don't have my own body. And one of the things about our body is, well, its nervous system is wired to treat any small amount of conflict as a threat. We're incredibly risk averse, and this isn't a personality trait, it's built in. No one in our collective is likely to ever take an opportunity, no matter how well laid out, to call out someone being an asshole or have some witty comeback to a transphobe or whatever. We won't even think of one. That's wired into our nervous system, it's just how our body reacts to danger. We stumble over ourselves if we try to do anything other than freeze.

This isn't a fault. This wouldn't be overwritten by sheer personality and willpower in a "real system." Some systems, maybe, but not all. So for those of you who feel like you "should" be a certain way and just can't because it's built into the body you're in to act differently; you're not any lesser for it. Whether you're a fictive, sourced in some way, have a certain role that "should" be different, your personality is just like that, or some other reason I can't think of- don't be too hard on yourself for things you can't control. The body you're in just wants to protect you.

Even if sometimes, you (and I) strongly disagree with it on what exactly that means.

-Pyre

[right-there-ride-on]

Gyjo in the fandom

cw: light discussion of ableism

Gyjo… what am I thinking about gyjo…

I like them. I like them a lot, actually. They have paralleled narrative arcs, they complement each other nicely, the romantic subtext is incredibly obvious to the point that even the most homophobic fan you know will admit they understand why people ship it… so why do I also have a problem with it?

There’s a lot of good fanart. Hell, I’ve reblogged plenty. Maybe it’s just something that’s more pronounced in fic.

I’m trying to word this correctly. My issue with gyjo has nothing to do with the text itself. I think my problem is just how people portray it in the fandom.

Maybe it’s because it’s so popular, or maybe it’s the sheer prominence of applying ‘Character A’ and ‘Character B’ dynamics without considerable regard for the characters involved, but I feel gyjo is very prone to flanderization. I believe the intersection with how ableist people are toward Johnny (intentionally or not, subtly or not) and the old tropes these two get shoved into makes it so I have trouble enjoying fics in the fandom.

I’m not saying it’s bad to enjoy certain tropes. I’m not saying headcanons are bad either. What I am saying is that writing is hard, but if you’re going to write fanfiction please have consideration for the characters you’re writing. The arcs of these two are complex and multilayered, which is why I think they have such staying power, but I also think they also provide a good opportunity for us as writers and artists to examine our biases when it comes to the portrayal of certain groups, personality types, mental illnesses, queerness, disability, etc. and maybe come out better people for it.

[ratcandy]

Should I reread Camouflage of Great Renown,,? 👁️👁️

Wrong person to ask . CoGR has entered Old Writing territory in my brain and thus I am physically incapable of looking back on it without writhing and hissing and spitting as though I'm being burned

[mantisgodsdomain]

Now that we are being followed by people, we need to make some thoughts and opinions clear so that people are not later Shocked And Disgusted or whatever by thoughts we have held for many years. We think it's weird and also bad to treat queer people like they're a different species from cishet people, and we think that treating things like Having A Sexuality makes a character better than if they have a different sexuality is bad no matter what way you put it.

We also think that, if in your setting queer folks are widely accepted and straight isn't a "default", it may be worth noting that, say, a straight woman might need just as much self-discovery to work out she's straight that a lesbian does nowadays. In the same manner that, in Ace Attorney, Larry Butz needs to tell Phoenix that no matter how many photos of handsome men he shows him, he's tried, he's just not attracted to men,

[starlight-bread-blog]

Alright now let's go back to blaming Viv for this shitty writing in the latest episodes.

[silverhand-j]

24 hour old unrefrigerated potato can’t be too terribly bad for the body, surely…

[skid-the-mighty-poet]

[cephaloph0re]

we're going back to the first thanksgiving

everyone lets do this ok? play touys

[tbaluver]

AH-AH-APHRODISIAC?!- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader, caleb x fem! reader summary: you and your lover accidentally eat chocolates with aphrodisiacs on valentine's day night tags: small plot, p in v , desperate hot n needy a/n: hihi my lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡ here are my (late) chocolate gift to you for valentine's day! this one is a lil rushed bc i wanted to have a fluff and a smut written for this holiday so apologies! thank you to my beta reader @ilovemitsuya mwah ily (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ anyways i hope you all enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ cr. to the banners cafekitsune ! any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He closes his eyes, parting his lips slightly as you gently place the chocolate in his mouth, watching him savor the taste as he guesses what flavor the luxury Valentine’s chocolate box. With each correct guess, a kiss is exchanged but whoever gets it wrong has to eat another chocolate that they didn’t like. As the game progresses, each sweet kiss becomes more lingering and more urgent. The box sat untouched and the game remained forgotten as you both have something better to eat in mind.

-

It’s hard to think about how much exactly chocolates you and Xavier ate when you he’s fucking into your swollen pussy. He groans, spreading your legs to expose your wet cunt, your inner thighs coated with his cum. Your clit glistening in the moonlight as he circles it softly with the sensitive head of his cock, dragging it up and down. It hasn’t even been a minute until your bodies are set ablaze again, growing intense with every passing second you two aren’t connected. You both were so needy for each other, your senses completely heightened than any time you two were intimate. His hot girthy dick stretches you out so deliciously that it's gonna leave an imprint on your stomach. 

Both your bodies are on fire as he desperately thrusts in and out of you as hard and fast as he can, tangled limbs just holding on to whatever you can hold as long as you’re touching each other.

His cock, pistons in and out of your weeping cunt at a relentless pace, both your visions fogging up with no thoughts other than relieving each other. A chorus of obscene noises spill out of both of you, all of it incoherent. Remnants of his cum seeps out of you due to the pacing of his thrusts, your cunt mercilessly filled.

You’re clamping down on his cock with so much desperation as you feel your orgasm approaching. They way you’re creaming on his cock, clenching around him with trembling legs, was sight only he can see and hear. He planned to make you see the stars but he saw them shining in your eyes instead, the tears welling up your eyes as he sets the animalistic pace over and over again until the burning heat dies down between you both.

Zayne:

Valentine's day, the day where you exchange and share one or two or maybe the whole box of chocolates together. You and Zayne swapped a few sweets and chocolate gifts but on your end, you ended up letting him indulge in his sweet tooth, giving him more than just a couple boxes. Neither of you gave much thought to the luxury box cover when you picked it up. One by one, each chocolate disappears from the box as you pick one up, taking a bite as you pass him the other half as he does the same for you.  It didn’t long for the sweetness of the chocolate to go away, the heat in each other’s bodies growing every second as you both craved for something much more sweeter, abandoning the box of chocolates.

-

Clearly one or five more rounds wasn’t enough for this burning ache to go away. Minutes turned into hours as he poured his cum into you, dripping down to his balls and down to your thighs. No amount of position could put an end to the heat that seemed to crawl deeper into your core every second he pulled away from you. Your body temperatures together were so high it turned you two into a muddled mess. How could he possibly ignore his lover sobbing for him, begging for more, when he needed you just as much as you needed him?

He hovers over you, trying his best not to crush you in his hold. The once composed and restrained doctor has vanished tonight, both your senses completely heightened as he desperately explores the familiar path of your body. 

His delicate, practiced and precise hands from years of surgery, rip and tug at your clothing, the urgency from the heat building in him. Each one of Zayne’s and your clothing were carelessly thrown across the house, leaving a messy trail to your shared bedroom. Marks and scratches cover his body as you try to reach for more, as if the hold you had on him wasn’t enough.

Your lips constantly chase after each other, pulling away just to catch your breaths. He rolls his hips against yours, the room filled with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythm of your entangled bodies. His cock makes you spill sounds that you didn’t even know could come out of your mouth. Chest pressed against each other, everything had your head spinning, both of you full of primal need. His cock strokes all the right places inside you, his heavy balls smacking wetly against your cunt with every deep thrust he gives you. His thick pink sensitive head of his cock rubs your sweet spot so perfectly, sending waves of pleasure over your body. Hours and hours with no other thoughts than anything other than making you feel good and making that heat go away was his only priority.

Rafayel:

He bought you the most expensive box of chocolates, not looking at the brand or the printing on the packages but because he saw it was filled with pictures of assortment of sweets you’d love. He thought they were overpriced because of the luxury design and the fact that it was for Valentine’s day but with each bite, he found himself caving in for more. You both felt so warm, the warmth surging through your bodies that traveled down to your lower half. The more you both indulged, the more you both seemed to need something that was a much more sweet temptation.

-

You both were so hot, more than you two have ever been that the heat was enough to stop the cold weather from making you shiver. His eyes clenched shut as hot pants slip past his pretty lips, his mind fogging up as he feels your warm cunt wrap around him so perfectly, like always. 

The only thing in his mind is you, your sweet cunt squeezing his cock like heaven sent and how you roll your hips against him oh so right. 

He thinks you’re truly a work of art, filled with marks of him. You look so perfect whether it’s in front of him or behind him, painting such a pretty picture with your face in all the right angles as your face contorted in absolute pleasure.

You both roll and shift on the blanket, finding the perfect position that hits the right angles to relieve the throbbing heat between your legs. Everytime you take his buckets of his white warm seed, the burning ache always seems to come back. There is not a single part of your body that isn’t drenched from your mixed sweat, arousal or his cum.

Did someone bewitch you two? Did they think- Nevermind, he can’t think properly when you’re clenching down on him like this. He feels the way you flutter around him. Every squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, every drip of your arousal that coats his length, is as if he was truly part of you. 

His skin tingles irritably, aching desperately for your touch even after a second without it. Even the small sounds that escape past your lips lure him in like a sailor listening to a siren's song. ��His thrusts grow faster, his hips slamming over and over again against yours as if his life duty was to repopulate Lemuria.

Sylus:

The night grew uncomfortably hot for you two, the ache between your legs was relentless and impossible to ignore. The cold breeze from the new city you two traveled too for a small getaway was not helping at all. You two didn’t drink much but the chocolates you were both gifted, disappeared between you both. Each bite melted in your mouths but soon the warmth settled over you both. The anticipation back to the suite was palpable, both of you greeted by a romantic rose trail scattered across the floor that led to a heart-shaped arrangement on the shared bed. As much as you wanted to appreciate this, you both seek- craved a remedy only you two could provide each other.

-

It didn’t take that long for that rose petal trail to be forgotten, scattered and kicked aside as you both stumble towards the bed, your lips hungrily chase after each other. Needy hands rip each other’s clothes off while your blazing bodies smash against each other, the rose petals jump off the bed once it feels the weight shift of you two fall onto it. He groans into your lips, pulling away to leave a wet trail down your neck, collecting the expensive perfume he’s gotten you on his tongue.

Sylus loves to take it slow with you, his favorite thing to do is explore your body as if he hasn’t before. But tonight, tonight his movements are rushed, desperate to see you, to feel you. Pure love still in his eyes, needy hands never really able to linger on spot for too long. No other thoughts but just you and how his body craves more and more.

The tip of his cock pushes his hot sticky mess back into your sopping cunt, groans escaping past his lips. Your walls were so sweet, so velvety, so intoxicating that the thought of those chocolates has given him an addiction from how much he can’t seem to pull away from you, brushes away from his mind.. How overpowering his deep thrusts would be, not caring at all if this bed broke or how the building shook.

His thick cock engulfed into the warmth of your clenching walls, his large hands intertwined with yours as he swallows all the sweet and pretty sounds that escape past your lips with the shove of his tongue, taking him deeper than you possibly could. His balls ram into your remorselessly, placing hot wet kisses down your neck. Your words are jumbled due to his cock pumping and out of you relentlessly from your heat as if it were to split you in half.

Your orgasm hits you hard, his following right after. His face contorts into pure pleasure, one of the best images to grace your eyes and ears as you breathlessly chant his name. While you take your time catching your breath, he’d let his fingertips graze your arm, hand cupping the side of your face while his thumb rubs along your cheek, feeling his dick twitch inside you again.

Caleb:

Dinner was going by smoothly, key word was, until something shifted in both your bodies. The special Valentine’s Day meal he prepared for you was devoured, your bright smile whenever you bit into the food was proof enough that each bite hit the spot. Until you both got to the desert, the chocolate covered strawberries recipe he found online he rushed while prepping dinner. A few bites in, the room seemed to grow hotter, your appetites shifting and craved something much more enticing.

-

He’s already a whimpering mess once you pull away from his lips, feeling like the distance between you two were a million miles apart. The touch of your needy hands to try and rip his clothes off was painfully slow. He needed more and he knew you did too. 

What was in that recipe? How much did he eat? His dick is so hard he thinks it might just explode before he even has a chance to feel your soaked walls. His desperation was so palpable that his needy whines ring in your ear as he slips it in, ripping off your panties beforehand while babbling ‘sorry sorry need you please please’ and that he’ll promise to get you new ones next time. You barely catch any of his words, your mind fogging with each drag of his cock against your sweet spot. Breathless praises for you slip past his lips, fanning your ear with his warm breath, making your velvety walls flutter and tighten around him in response.

His hips increase in speed and power, his name breathlessly escaping your lips as he knocks the air out of your lungs. His cock rubbed your walls so deliciously, making you forget the heat for a second, just for a second.

Spurts of his hot white cum into your body was not enough to please the ache in your bodies. Caleb only whines your name, pounding into your poor pussy with a merciless pace. He feels so guilty knowing he takes his time, he always takes his time with you but he’s chasing a high so desperately that his body is on autopilot, moaning pathetically into your ears. The sounds of wet skin and skin fill the kitchen for hours and hours, the special dinner he planned in mind growing cold but the one he held in his embrace growing hotter by the minute.

a/n extra: hihi again! here is my fluff valentines day headcanons and kinda where the scene in the story takes place: Valentine's Day

my past works: masterlist pg. 1 , pg. 2

[duskgryphon]

fun? update on my neocities i've been figuring out how to implement modals the way i want them which means a little pop-up post type thing ^ both for information about each individual piece that isn't utilising alt text (not what it's for) and also to separate the thumbnail image and modal's image to reduce loading time issues.

which means i've finally learnt css! initially i implemented the pop-ups solely using html but that doesn't work very well in the end ^^". significantly faster this way and different images simply use different class tags (? what is this called) to set them in correctly.

this whole thing has so much of me butting my head against little issues in the code and digging around for solutions (nightmare!) but it's a lot of fun. the modal itself needed adjusting the same way as the pop-up for it to sit in the centre of the viewport but that i sorted out first thankfully.

i still have to figure out how to get the images in the pop-up itself to sit centred and have them take into account the fact that none of the images are exactly the same which is... hopefully possible. it's also incredibly broken with any screen on portrait mode (or at least phones....) but there's not much i can do about that (for now?)

[navybrat817]

Game Nights

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Game nights in the tower are unpredictable.

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Humor, mentions of violence, the team loves trolling on John, kissing, implied smut, team bonding (kind of), Thunderbolts spoilers, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Silly headcanon set in the same world as Not Exactly a Secret and part of my Tower Shenanigans. I'm not at all sorry. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Game nights typically take place on Saturdays since Fridays are reserved for movie night. Snacks and drinks are a must, but there is a drink maximum, so things don’t get too crazy or emotional. 

Bucky purposely gets John the generic brand when it’s his turn to go snack shopping and tells him to deal with it since the quality is just as good. Everyone else gets the name brand of whatever they want. 

There's a huge board with all of your names and the games listed. The tally marks are in various colors, and sometimes names are erased and replaced with affectionate nicknames. 

When John demanded to know who changed his name to “the man with a punchable face”, Bob was ready to confess, but Bucky took the blame, followed by Yelena, you, and Ava. It was a real “I'm Spartacus!” moment. 

Anyone caught cheating is on clean-up duty. You and Bucky have both cheated on the same night so you could clean up together. 

There are occasional tournaments complete with medals and trophies. The gang insisted that participation ribbons were not allowed, but you found a funny last place trophy that you had to get and everyone agreed.

The gang tries to switch it up between classic games, video games, and children's games to keep things interesting. No matter what you play there is a level of competitiveness. 

You try not to rub it in when you win a game, but you will have a subtle smirk on your face when you catch Bucky’s eye. Alexei, on the other hand, loves to yell, “In your face!” while doing air thrusts and Yelena has come close to banning her dad from game nights because of it.

If it’s girls versus boys, the girls win almost every time. The boys can't figure out how, but it might have something to do with John and Alexei both trying to be the leader, Bucky being done, and Bob just wanting to have fun. 

Bucky picks you for any game that requires a partner or teammate outside of girls versus boys, even if there is someone better suited. He doesn't care because he always wants you by his side. 

Bucky also picks two-player games for the two of you to play while the rest of the gang plays something else. Yelena often does the same thing with Bob. 

Weapons aren't allowed. That rule should've been enforced from the beginning, but John insisted after Bucky threatened to stab him during a game of Uno. 

To be fair, John kept playing Draw 4 cards and everyone knew it was a dick move. Even John knew it. 

Bucky will switch to Russian when he gets frustrated or really into a game. He didn't realize it until Yelena and Alexei replied in Russian. 

Hide-and-Seek is banned. Ava kept phasing out of her hiding spots, and you and Bucky got caught fooling around in the coat closet. 

Truth or Dare is also banned. Too personal with the questions when it was meant to be a fun night and Ava kept daring you and Bucky to kiss each other, which you did.

Bob got nervous the first time you all played Among Us, but Yelena assured him it would be fun. It ended with a chair flipped over, which is considerably tame.

Bob also goes into any shooting game prepared to lose because look who he’s playing with? He still has fun with it.

You once sweet talked Bucky into playing Dance Dance Revolution and he did well, surprising no one. So did Yelena and Ava, and not a single one of them cracked a smile while they danced.

John takes Pictionary way too seriously, and you threatened to break the easel and stab him when he raised his voice at Bob. Bucky fell in love with you a little bit more. 

Ava encouraged you to flash Bucky once when he was winning at Mario Kart. You did and he looked, but he still managed to win. 

Yelena argues with Alexei during Jenga. She doesn't need him to tell her which block to move or distract her. 

You and Bucky always end up choosing each other's cards during Cards Against Humanity. You just get each other, and you love getting a laugh out of him every time he reads your card. 

Alexei insists that karaoke should be considered a game and he always wants to sing first, which embarrasses Yelena. He once serenaded you and Bucky because, well, he’s one of your biggest supporters. 

Card games are tense and Yelena usually ends up with the most money by the end of them. She prefers Poker to Blackjack. 

Bob was so happy the first time he won Clue that he almost cried. Everyone hugged him, knowing he never got the chance to have fun game nights growing up. 

John recently made a casual comment about wanting to play games like these with his kid. No one gave him a hard time because everyone could see how much he longed for it. 

Some game nights end with yelling and broken furniture, but more often than not they end with smiles, laughter, and a sense of normalcy. It’s a nice change of pace from some of the horrors you’ve faced, and a great way to bond. 

But Bucky will still find a way to stab John if he can if only to keep him on his toes. 

BAHAHA. What do we think? Any other games? What other shenanigans do we think they get up to in and out of game nights? Let me know! Love and thanks for reading.

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi