#try n fuck w/ my motherfuckin crew

[uranometorias-blog]

when u cop the celestialbled url n brenda cops the flamebled url,

[heystuckstuck]

doll parts part one

eridan ampora x reader

part one ==> HERE

part two ==> coming soon!!! <3

YOU ==> WAKE UP

You do. You are sprawled out on your own bed, which is soft, softer than anything you’ve slept on in awhile. You are lying on your stomach, your arms crooked under your pillow to support your head. This is the way you almost always sleep. Your phone dings to the left side of your head, and you blearily shift to your side to check it. It would appear that someone is trying to get ahold of you.

cuttlefishCuller [CC] began trollling chumHandle [CH]

CC: )(-Ey t)(-Er-E, Y/N!

CC: )(ow ar-E you f-E-Eling today?

CH: im feeling fairly pleasant atm

CH: just woke up

CH: you?

CC: I’m FINTASTIC!!!

CC: )(-E-E )(-E-E

CH: cute

CH: glad to see youre still doing the fish pun thing

CH: why exactly do you do it?

CC: I lik-E fish

CC: SO!!!

CH: :?

CC: ar-E you coming to my party tonight?

CC: I r-E-Elly hope so!

CH: shore

CH: ;)

CC: Aww )(-E-E )( -E-E!

CC: You us-Ed a fish pun

CC: )(ow glubbing cut-E!

CH: thank you, fef

CC: And don’t fr-Et!

CC: W-E’ll have som-Ebody watch out for you!

CC: So what )(app-En-Ed last tim-E won’t )(app-En again!

CH: …

CC: I’m sorry!

CC: I shouldn’t )(av-E brought it up

CC: 38(

CH: no, that’s ok

CH: it happened

CH: it’s okay to talk about it

CC: )(ow was it?

CH: how was what?

CC: T)(-E )(ospital?

CH: it was ok

CH: im totally better

CC: I’m sure as s)(-Ell glad to )(-Ear it!

CC: Sollux and the cr-Ew will b-E t)(-Er-E to pick you up

CH: the crew?

CC: I’m not shor-E who it’ll b-E but Sollux is driving a bunch of our fri-Ends ov-Er

CC: I asked )(im to pick you up too!

CC: 38)

CH: thanks feferi

CH: youre the best

CC: I c-Ertainly try

CC: T)(-Er-E’s no way to wink at you wit)( my -Emoticon

CC: So just picture t)(at in your )(-Ead

CH: ;)

chumHandle [CH] ceased trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling chumHandle [CH]

TA: y/n

CH: sollux

TA: thii2 ii2 gonna be a really weiird que2tiion

TA: plea2e don’t get mad

TA: but

TA: would you fuck ed

CH: what why

TA: becau2e seniior year is almo2t here and iif he doe2nt lo2e hii2 viirgiiniity before hii2 biirthday ii can’t be hii2 friiend anymore

CH: what makes you so sure he’s a virgin

TA: y/n

CH: fair point

TA: ii ju2t know that you have 2ome pretty lax 2tandard2

CH: are you calling me a “2lut”

CH: is that what’s happening right now

TA: god no

TA: ii ju2t wanna get the ba2tard laiid

CH: fine, i’ll do it

TA: y/n you are a 2aiint

TA: 2eriiou2ly

TA: nobody el2e would touch that ugly fucker with a ten foot pole

CH: you and i both know that eridan isn’t ugly

CH: he’s actually quite handsome

TA: god gro22

TA: ju2t thank you

TA: you’re doiing u2 all a favor really

TA: ed fuck2 you and then he’ll 2hut hiis fuckiing iidiiot mouth about not fuckiing anythiing

CH: how many times are you gonna say fuck

TA: fuck

CH: that’s fair

CH: yeah i’ll do it

TA: cool

TA: fiinger gun2

TA: ii’ll piick you up at 6

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling chumHandle [CH]

Sollux is there for you promptly at six o’clock. You’re standing on the curb, waiting for him, when his familiarly tiny rusty red car pulls up alongside you. The music is so loud you can hear it through the closed doors and when you glance in the passenger’s side window, Aradia gestures her thumb back behind her. She must’ve called shotgun, or maybe Sollux got her first. You open the door to the backseat and clamber inside.

Karkat is on the far end, smushed into the door. He looks as disagreeable as always but he offers you a softer-than-usual smile as he adjusts his traditional black t-shirt. Eridan, in between the two of you, looks far more uncomfortable. You notice the way he is desperately trying not to look at you and in retaliation, you put a soft hand on his thigh. He looks as though he might faint, cheeks flushed and forehead beaded with sweat. He doesn’t say anything to you, but Karkat does.

“Alright, Y/N?”

Yes. Why wouldn’t you be?

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

Karkat shrugs although from the hunch of his shoulders, you can tell he wants to argue. Everyone knows that he’s lying. You know he’s lying. You know why everybody wants to know if you’re alright. And frankly, it’s nobody’s fucking business.

Not even if they stroked your hair and whispered soft little nothings to you all the way to the emergency room. Not even then.

As you walk into the party, you notice a tall, slim figure posed at the front of the grand entrance hall. He’s smoking a cigarette and he has sunglasses on indoors. Dave Strider. He greets your friends casually but when he gets to you he falters and peers at you over the top of his shades.

“All better, Y/N?”

“Yes, I’m totally better. I eat almonds and yogurt and soup.” He nods curtly, but you can see the tension in his face. It would be difficult to miss, as difficult to miss as those reddish brown eyes of his. You remember the last time you saw them.

You were lying on your back with the left side of your face caked in vomit. Your limbs were seizing up and you wanted to scream but it was like your voice was invisible. Dave knelt over you, eyes as wide as saucers as he begged you to stay awake, please stay awake, oh god, what did you do, why did you do this, god no, please no, no no no no no nonononononononononono.

And you put your hand on his face and said, “Hello David.” Or tried to. You’re sure that what came out was a flubbed version.

“What did you take?” He’s begging you please tell him, tell him so he can get you to the hospital and they can pump your stomach, god please.

“13 valiums and a bottle of gin.” You try to tell him that you were just trying to float and stop your misery and stop the not eating and stop stop stop stop stop. But he can’t hear you. He screams out a feeble and watery Karkat and then you’re in a car with Karkat petting you and his mouth was moving but all you could hear were sirens. You wanted to sleep more than anything but Karkat kept shoving you awake and talking to you and telling you stories and begging you don’t go to sleep, no.

So you suppose if anyone has the right to ask you if you’re okay, it’s Dave, and you’d better tell him too. So you do, but you can tell that he doesn’t fully believe you, but to your relief, he leaves it.

The music is loud. It makes your ears numb. You see Feferi but you don’t go and say hi because she’s kissing Sollux on his mouth and tracing her fingers up his arm and you know you shouldn’t interrupt, so you don’t and push your way further through Feferi’s house. The lights are all pink and blue and hazy and you can’t see through the smoke in the air and you can taste the acrid tang of cigarettes in the back of your mouth, which makes it feel like cotton. You stumble and trip over something-someone lying on a beanbag on the floor, who doesn’t try to catch you when you fall into his bony chest.

“Well hey there, little sis, how’s it motherfuckin’ hangin’?” It’s Gamzee, with his dark, splotchy face and lazy looking eyes and dopey grin. He doesn’t help you up, the idea doesn’t even seem to occur to him. His eyes are bloodshot and his left hand’s slender fingers grip a short, lit blunt, which he offers to you.

“You want a hit?” Nobody except him in your friend group smokes pot. They drink and snort crushed up pills but they don’t smoke weed. You’ve tried it before, but only a few times. You didn’t like how it stung your throat and made you cough.

“Nah, that stuff makes you hungry.” That was your least favorite thing about it. The last time you smoked pot, you’d woken up naked on John’s couch with your hands and chest smeared in food goop and no memory of how it got there. You didn’t need that again. Gamzee doesn’t seem to mind, and just takes another drag.

“It’s no problem sis, more for me.” You watch him as he puffs on it again, noting the way the slight orange glow offsets the neon lights in the room.

“Anyway, chica, long time no see. How’s it been?” You shrug and Gamzee laughs.

“That’s so motherfuckin’ righteous, sister. Seriously, be all up and motherfuckin’ careful. Don’t want anything bad happening to you or anything.” You’re dumbstruck by the fact that Gamzee of all people, slow-witted, slow-reacting, oblivious, with a brain half-ruined y marijuana knows. God, how does Gamzee know?

“I saw you, all up and covered in that puke. Shit, y’know, it fuckin’ scared me. I love you and I don’t want you to die or anything. You were shaking and crying and everyone was all just sitting there, not knowing what to up and do. It was the opposite of a miracle. But maybe the fact that you’re not dead is a miracle and whatever god exists kept you alive for us. I’m motherfuckin’ happy about that. I’d miss you if you were dead. I think everybody would, even if they pretend they wouldn’t.”

Gamzee then punctuates his profound statement with a soft belch and he gives you a watery, peaceful smile, close-lipped, with his eyes shut. You return the smile, though yours is more strained than his because god just stop fucking talking about it.You get it. You don’t really want to be dead anymore but you wish everyone would stop reminding you of it. You want to forget as much as anybody else. You never wanted everyone to see you, shaking on the floor, eyes rolled up into the back of your head with foam oozing from between your lips all over your white tanktop, staining it pink. You want to forget. You want to forget Feferi screaming and and Sollux saying, hush, hush, FF, it’s okay, and Dave’s tears dribbling onto your face and getting into your mouth. They were salty on your numb tongue.

Gamzee’s hand begins to snake down the front of his sweatpants and you decide to leave before this gets awkward. You abandon Gamzee and trip on your way to the stairs, which you clamber up, on your way to Feferi’s second story bathroom. You don’t have to go, you just want to inspect Feferi’s mom’s medicine cabinet, see if she’s gotten anything new since the last time you were here, before. Before. Before you took John’s grandmother’s pills out of the kitchen and fell on the floor and Feferi screamed and Dave cried and Karkat crooned in your ear and you felt more loved than you ever had before, which was bullshit because of course everyone loves you when you try to die.

She doesn’t have anything new, you note with mild disappointment, pocketing some old pills that haven’t been touched since the last time you were here. You read the label before hiding them. Oxytocin. Pain pills. You shove it, along with your hands into your oversized maroon jacket, and just in time too, because the door you were certain you locked opens to your right. You turn and meet an abashed-looking Tavros, his face alcohol and embarrassment-flushed.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that anybody would be in here. I just needed to, um, well, yeah, you know.” He stumbles over his words and looks flustered, so you smile at him.

“Oh, that’s alright, I was just leaving.” You grab a tiny white paper cup, designed for mouthwash and fill it with water before exiting the bathroom, brushing past Tavros’s shoulder. He closes the door and you pull out the pills and take two with the shot of water you have. You aren’t addicted to popping pills, but it is an outstanding interest of yours. You wait a few minutes and then you feel fuzzy and it’s a bit like you’re walking on the ceiling as you trample down the hallway. You walk back down the stairs on watery legs, trying admirably not to fall on your face, which you don’t.

You walk to the kitchen, where Vriska is leaning with her back and elbows resting against the counter. Terezi and John are with her and you notice them eye you suspiciously as you open up all of the cabinets and count the cans inside.

“Hungry?” John asks, voice shaking a little bit. You remember seeing him, driving the car, speeding down the freeway, pedal to the metal. He kept frantically glancing back at you, blue eyes enormous, even more so than usual. Hs too-large front teeth were worrying his bottom lip and his knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. You know why his voice is shaking. You’re starting to get tired of this.

“No.”

“What’re you doing then?”

“Counting.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding uneasy. God, why can’t people just stop being fucking worried about you? Why does John have to quirk his perfectly arched and adorable eyebrows at you like that? Why does he have to bite his lip and why does goddamn Vriska of all people look worried about you? You know perfectly well the reason why, but you don’t care. You don’t care that they all saw you. That everyone knows. You couldn’t care less.

You exist through the backdoor in the kitchen because you need some air, jesus. You can’t stand the way they all look at you, with such pity and fear. It was a mistake and you’ll never live it down because you scared everybody shitless. You take a deep breath of untainted air and somebody sighs right after you exhale. What the hell?

“What the hell?” You glance around and huddled at your feet is Eridan, his floral short-sleeve button down too tight in the arms. He’s wearing slacks too, which is such an Eridan thing to do and you are filled with an overwhelming surge of affection toward your friend. This is all he is, your friend. Your friend that might fuck you later, according to Sollux.

You flop down next to him. He doesn’t react, just takes a long sip from his red plastic cup. It’s probably beer, which you’re sure upsets his sensitive palette but he’s actively not complaining in dramatic, emotional theatrics for once so you don’t question it.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing out here, ‘Dan?”

“Everywhere else was full.” It’s true. All of your friends are rambunctiously partying in every corner of Feferi’s party. Except the bedrooms, you suppose. But maybe Feferi and Sollux have already made their way there, you know they will eventually and Feferi will call you tomorrow and tell you all about it. You know every detail of her sex life. She knows every detail of yours and while you are always supportive, sometimes she frowns at you and shakes her head.

“Ah.”

You’re both silent for awhile, the only sounds being of your breath and Eridan sipping his beer solemnly and yet, delicately. Feferi has a trampoline in her backyard and you haven’t jumped around and just had fun in god knows how long so you get up and offer your hand to Eridan. He accepts, although with a cocked eyebrow, and his hand still firmly in yours, you guide him to the trampoline.

“Really, Y/N? You wanna play on the goddamn trampoline? That’s fairly, just, it’s juvenile, don’t you think?”

“Yes, absolutely.” And you take off your shoes and fling your body onto the black netting and bounce a few times. Eridan hesitantly follows you.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Let them. We’re young and you’re drunk and I want to fly,” you say, leaping into the air and coming down with a spring. Eridan doesn’t jump at first, not until you grab his sleeve and tug on it and oh, Danny, I’m having so much fun, I’m flying, this is like the fucking Notebook, I’m a fucking bird, tell me I’m a bird like the Notebook. You’re laughing hysterically at yourself and Eridan is fucking giggling at you and then he starts jumping too and you dance in circles with only the soundtrack of summer cicadas to keep a melody. You grab his hands and his fingers twine with yours and suddenly he’s falling and you’re bouncing your back against the trampoline, narrowly avoiding hitting your head as Eridan lands on top of you and bounces off but only after squishing the life out of you.

You’re laughing so hard no sound is coming out and you’re gasping and so is he and you grab his hand from where he’s laying beside you.

You look up at the stars. You haven’t seen the stars in over six weeks. You missed them.

“So, how are you, Y/N? I’m sure sorry that I couldn’t come an’ visit you.” You do the best shrug you can while lying down.

“Nobody was allowed to visit me, except in the ER.”

“Still, I should’ve come. Fef went. John went.”

“They’re the only ones that did.”

“Really?” His voice is incredulous.

“Everyone texted. Until I had to go to the psych ward. Then I wasn’t allowed texts anymore.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You don’t want to be sad anymore so you change the subject.

“Eridan?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to fuck me later?” He chokes, a loud spluttering cough, and jerks up to lay on his arm, staring down at you.

“What?!”

“Sollux told me that you were going to.”

“God, oh fuck, he told me-he-he said-he told me you didn’t know!”

“I know.”

“Well, I know that now!”

“It’s okay. If you want to, I’m okay with it.”

“Okay with what?”

“You fucking me.”

His face flared red, which was a feat in and of itself because his skin was soft brown. He looked beautiful in the starlight: his eyes, a gorgeous golden-hazel with long, dark lashes, his nose sturdy and strong, his lips fairly thick and soft and most especially the freckle he had, on the left corner of his bottom lip. His hair fell in his face, dark brown and highlighted by a thick bleached streak in the front. He wasn’t just pretty, not just beautiful, he was gorgeous. You wouldn’t mind snagging his virginity. Not one bit.

“I don’t think-I mean-well-I-I-I want to but I just think that maybe we should wait on that.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his eyes, fighting down a pang of disappointment, “But if Sollux asks, you can say you did.”

His eyes narrow a bit and then he’s nervously looking at anything but you.

“But I wanted to know. Could you, maybe-I don’t-just-kiss me?” You smile, a full grin with teeth showing an everything.

“Yes, Eridan.”

And then you get up to your knees and pull him up to meet you and your lips are together and his lips are soft, a bit firmer than you imagined, and they’re clumsy and he accidentally clips your teeth together. You wrap an arm over his shoulder and he puts his hands at your small waist, pressing on your hips with his fingertips. You reach your other hand down and take his. You guide it over your breast and his whole body stiffens. His fingers begin to itch around and grope at the soft flesh under his hand and you slip your lips down to his neck. He makes a noise that is a cross between a purr and a croon and you push him down beneath you. The two of you break apart and he stares up at you, fingers touching his swollen bottom lip like he can’t believe what just happened. You realize suddenly that you just bagged his first kiss. You gently kiss his cheek and roll off of his abdomen.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re inside on the couch with Eridan spooned up behind you. A shirtless Equius lays across the floor with Nepeta’s head on his belly. Terezi’s legs are sprawled across her chest. Everyone else is still asleep but you can feel Eridan start to stir behind you. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and mumbles a quiet good morning into the skin.

“Morning.”

“Mm.”

“Eridan?”

“Hm?”

“Your stiffy’s digging into my back.”

“M’sorry.”

“S’okay.”

[salora-rainriver]

Gaycoding and You: a Useless Ramble about Milkshakes and 1950s Humor

Ok lemme just start out this Disk Horse by saying that y’all are fuckin fakers. There’s no fuckin way my whole dashboard was secretly hardcore Archies Comics fans who read every motherfuckin issue and have been following the exploits of the Riverdale Crew for years. Shut the fuck up, we all read the comics casually while waiting in line at the grocery store, and now that a dude is confirmed ace, you all basically did the discourse equivalent of pullin’ an all nighter the night before the midterm. 

I’m calling your fucking bluff, you ain’t intimately aware with ANY archies comics characters. Do y’all even know the name of that old lady who’s the teacher who has to deal with Archie n Juggy’s shit? the one who looks like a pencil with a cotton ball slapped on it? Cause I fuckin don’t. For all I know, she’s one of the fuckin Pearls from Stevens Universe, and she took a teaching job in this obnoxiously idyllic suburban neighborhood because she’s a masochist. 

So now that we’ve got that out of the way let’s move on to this alleged “gay coding,” 

Aight so in all the times I’ve read dem Archies Comics, Jughead’s basically been the dude who has 2 things on his mind: burger and nap. That’s it. Sometimes hes thinking of havin a milkshake with that burger. Nice cold 1950s diner style milkshake. His favorite napping spot is a hammock under two trees. It’s probably in his backyard or by the lake in the park and he just has that hammock permanently set up. Maybe he has multiple hammocks permanently set up around Riverdale and no one takes down the Jughead hammocks because that would be rude. In the carefree high school world of Archies Comics, where girls wanna date boys and boys wanna date girls (seriously there’s fuckin PAGES detailing the lighthearted yet completely overdramatic conflicts of archie, reggie, betty, veronica, and their Hetero Drama), Jughead is the quintessential Man Who Doesn’t Give A Single Fuck. As far as we know, he’s not even aware that schoolwork and romance and jobs exist. He literally doesn’t even look once at anything that other people build whole story arcs about. This is his character, this is the comedic trope he fills. He’s the straight man to Archie’s Hetero Bullshit, but he’s also the clown who’s amusingly uninterested in things he should be interested in. like his grades. get it together, Jughead. 

At least, that’s the impression I get from all those years casually readin Archies Comics while my mom loads the veggies on the conveyor belt. Who tf knows, maybe Mr Happy Meal Crown batted his eyelashes at Reggie and blew him a kiss like a big fat flami- aw who am i kidding, the only reason Jughead would bat his eyelashes is during Masochist Pearl’s class cuz he’s bored and wants to sleep. 

Anyways, Jughead’s character out of the way, we need to talk about this weird-ass idea that every single example of a male character refusing to date women is Gay Coding. 

Now I’ve mainly read only the Classical Literature that my middle n highschool teachers gave me to read, and not much else, but BOY HOWDY did I read the SHIT out of those. You’re talking about a girl who cried her ass off at the end of Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, in a hotel lobby where people were starin at me like I was a weirdo. Point is, I paid more attention to those verbose messes than most ppl my age, cause I’m a nerd. 

And let’s get something straight. Lack of APPARENT attraction to a character of the opposite gender ISN’T gaycoding. And no I’m not saying this because of modern-day conceits like “someone not attracted to the opposite gender could simply not be attracted to ANY gender”, no you wet blanket, listen to me. 

If Mr. Hooke isn’t interested in marrying Ms. Fairweather, there’s three main reasons for that, and you can usually tell which one it is right off the fucking bat: 

- Hooke is Gay as Shit, and in love with his assistant, Sir Appleseed. You can tell because he’s always seen hanging out with Appleseed, and the two of them spend a lot of time together and regularly express affection for each other with words of praise. Also Appleseed’s like a decade younger and he’s very pretty. Very very pretty. A paragraph is written about how Appleseed has a lithe yet muscular body and nice abs. Any modern reader will giggle at how obnoxiously gay this is. People will debate at length on whether the author intended Mr. Hooke to look like such a fuckin flamer. 

- Hooke is straight, but he’s a misogynist intellectual who sees the advances of Ms. Fairweather as a distraction from his Deeply Important Work. Whenever someone mentions Ms. Fairweather or women in general, he speaks at length about how he refuses to give in to their succubus wiles, and how he has a greater purpose. He may also mock Fairweather’s perceived shallow desires. The modern reader soon starts to feel intense hatred for Mr. Hooke, because the dude is so fucking obnoxiously CONCEITED, SHUT THE FUCK UP, but victorian guys probably deeply respected the dude for his chosen celibacy. 

- Hooke is just a weirdass loner introvert. People confusedly ask him why he won’t marry Ms. Fairweather, and he just kinda ignores the question. He doesn’t seem to have a single opinion on the woman’s advances, and seems almost oblivious to them. The intent of the author was, of course, to portray Mr. Hooke as an eccentric man, and also maybe to push the idea that women are a drain on mankind’s intellectual pursuits. Or maybe the author just wanted to show how “weird” Hooke is for not wanting to get married. Either way, the modern reader will start desperately wanting to shake said author by the shoulders and shout “YOU WROTE AN ASEXUAL CHARACTER, YOU NITWIT!!!” 

The point I’m trying to make here is that merely not wanting to date the opposite gender isn’t gaycoding, it’s too fuckin ambiguous for that. Either the character’s gay, or they’re straight and also illustrating weirdass misogynistic cultural standards, or they’re just a fuckin weirdo, in a way that was probably meant to imply neurodivergency, let’s be real, but any modern reader would unanimously agree it’s probably just asexuality, written from the perspective of people who don’t realize that’s a thing that can exist, and it isn’t a weird nameless “fuck marriage” disorder. 

Anyways, 1950s is a bit different. In the context of Post WWII Oldies, specifically comedic comic books set in a suburban high school, if a dude doesn’t want to date, it’s more likely that the authors saw him as someone who was too dumb, ugly, lazy, or nerdy to ever get with a girl, so they made him uninterested in women just because it’s not very funny to see a dude get sad bcs no one will date him. We can feel better if we imagine they’re just uninterested. And That’s Jughead. He’s not coded gay, he’s coded as a nitwit food-obsessed lazeball, and if we’ll be honest, the original writers PROBABLY wrote him with Stoners in mind. 

Jughead’s not running through a literal maze of women to get to his precious delicious milkshake because he’s gay, my dudes. He’s doing it because he spent all morning fuckin Blazing it, and he’s got a fierce case of the munchies, and munchies waits for no girl. He’s got that in common with Norville Rogers, AKA Shaggy from Scooby Doo. WE HAVE SEEN THIS TROPE BEFORE.

Point of the matter is, when the writers made him ace, it’s because they decided maybe Jughead should be more than a cheap stoner joke who’s friends w/ Archie. He’s still a stoner joke, of course, but now he’s a stoner joke that also cleverly doubles as an example of the ace community injoke about cake. You know the one I’m talkin about. 

And that’s all folks.