#trying to keep a positive attitude about it

[lushrue]

frozen hearts pt. 9

had to inject a little bit of angst in here, it was a little too happy :) we also get to meet our villains! i'm hoping that my workload will be a bit lighter next semester so that i can update this story more consistently! thanks for hanging in there, comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

cw: shoulder injury, hospital/emergency room,

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

price caught his breath as he skated to the center of the face-off circle. it was the middle of the second period, his team down by 2. they were all skating their asses off, pushing themselves to the limit of what they could do. simon had never hit harder, kyle and johnny were practically blurs on the ice. nearly every pass was successful, they were staying on their feet, and they’d managed to control the puck well all period. the Shadows were tough, though.

john knew they would be. he’d been preparing for this game all season, watching and rewatching tapes to study their playbook. they had some talented men, but the real weapon was their team captain, graves. he played dirty, unafraid to take a few penalties to rattle his opponents. he was aggressive as a defenseman, willing to lay it all on the line to keep his centers and wingers moving down the ice. his stats were impressive, more game-winning goals than anyone else in the league. still, Specgru had prepared. at least, john thought they had.

he found himself face to face with graves, a wolfish grin on his face as he lowered his stick onto the ice. “wish i could say i was impressed,” graves taunted, staring price down. “don’t run a very tight ship, do you, cap’n?” john growled low in his chest. he wasn’t usually hot-headed on the ice, preferring to stay cool and let the others fight it out when it got too much. something about graves just got under his skin. the snark, the attitude, the cockiness of the young captain grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “easy to win games when your coach pays off the refs,” price grumbled in reply. the referee shot them both a warning look, hesitating with the puck held in the air.

they stared each other down, gazes hard and set. with so much on the line for both teams, it was impossible to avoid the tension building. a win for Specgru would send them shooting up the leaderboard, guaranteeing them a spot in the playoffs. for the Shadows, it would earn them the top seed in the division, a nearly impossible feat for a team only established a few years ago. finally, the puck hit the ice, and they scrambled for control.

the rubber slid into a Shadow’s waiting stick, everyone skating into Specgru territory. price cursed under his breath, barking orders across the ice to johnny and kyle. “cut ‘im off! johnny’s open!” he called to kyle, who tried and failed to make a steal. as the puck slid closer to Simon, he swung his stick out to try and catch it, but came up short. price found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with graves as they both took up position in the center of Specgru’s zone. “fuckin’ pitiful performance tonight,” graves said, giving price a shove. “pitiful. that’s a big word for you Americans, isn’t it?” price quipped back, skating forward to try and take control again.

graves followed close behind, toeing the line between permissible plays and penalties. he let his stick swing towards price’s skates, but not enough to trip. he shoved and elbowed, but not hard enough to be roughing. it was frustrating price, his temper reaching a boiling point. his heart thundered in his ears, his muscles ached from how hard he was pushing himself. he’d been on the ice for nearly three minutes of play time straight. he could hear laswell shifting lines around on the bench, trying to accommodate. she’d tried calling out to him, cursing at him to “get his ass off the ice,” but he didn’t care. not when he’d put the weight of his team’s victory on his shoulders and his alone.

he tried for another steal and failed, cursing loudly as he let the momentum carry him around the curve of the rink. he glanced up into the stands as he skated by, his eyes finding you. your brows were furrowed, a slight frown on your lips. he hated to see you like that, all nervous looking and upset. he had to win, if only to wipe that frown off your face. as much as he hated to admit it, he’d become quite attached to you. he didn’t like catching feelings. it made him vulnerable, gave him something to lose and someone to disappoint. he wouldn’t disappoint you this time, though.

in the time it took him to shift his focus from you back to the game, he’d gotten himself up against the boards. that was all the opportunity that graves needed to throw his whole weight against price, slamming him up against the plexiglass. the first thing he felt was a blinding pain in his shoulder. it shot across the top of his chest and down his arm, setting his fingers tingling. something felt wrong, but he couldn’t quite place it. not while the pain was so sharp. he yelped, hitting the ice hard as graves skated away. his heartbeat pounded in his ears, the shrill chirp of the whistle muffled by the adrenaline. curling in on himself as he slid along the wall, he fought to get to his knees. he was sure that frown on your lips would be deeper if he didn’t get up. he had to get up.

a glove wrapped around his bicep, helping to pull him to his feet. with his good hand, he reached across himself, holding his arm in place. moving it hurt. moving anything hurt. slowly, a voice permeated the ringing in his ears, breaking through the haze. “john! are you solid?” kyle called, his grip on john’s arm tightening. all he got was a groan in response, price’s chest heaving as his face scrunched up. he finally raised his head, finding you in the stands again. you were on your feet, hands over your mouth in shock. he wanted to tell you he was alright, run his fingers through your soft hair and hold your head to his chest. anything to make that frightened look in your eyes disappear.

kyle helped him over to the bench, leaving him in the hands of the athletic trainer. the countless questions faded to the background as john saw you start moving his way.

sitting in the emergency department with john had to be one of the worst things you had ever done.

you’d always hated hospitals. they smelled sterile, the sting of disinfectant harsh in your nose. it made you think of illness, death, injury. nothing good ever smelled like a hospital. the room you sat in was bright white, fluorescent lights making your eyes ache and head pound. a dislocated shoulder, that’s what the doctor had said. it certainly didn’t look right, john’s arm hanging at an awkward angle at his side. the athletic trainer hadn’t had the equipment to safely push it back into place, so off to the hospital you two had gone.

you sat in the extra chair by john’s bedside, pulling up your group chat with all of the boys. kyle had chased the both of you back to the locker room, making you promise to keep them all updated. honestly, you weren’t sure how any of them were still playing. it seemed like your messages were getting read instantly. john huffed, the sheets on the hospital bed rustling as he shifted. you were on your feet in an instant, phone discarded on the chair behind you. he held up his good hand, shaking his head. “‘m alright,” he said, tongue heavy in his mouth. they’d given him some pretty strong painkillers while he waited for a doctor to free up.

you still hovered by his side, helping him adjust the pillow under his head. pity made your eyes water as he winced. you couldn’t imagine the kind of pain he was in. “i’m sure the doctor’s coming soon,” you said, trying your best to be comforting. you weren’t always the best in a crisis, but you had held your own so far. john nodded, relaxing as much as he could on the stiff mattress. the two of you were silent for a long moment, just listening to each other breathe and relishing in the knowledge that, for now, everything was okay.

“had worse,” john said, breaking the quiet. you looked down at him, taking a seat at the edge of the hospital bed. “yeah?” you prompt, and he nods. “my first rookie game. got a bit overzealous, wanted to prove myself to the recruits in the stands. ended up in a fight with a guy twice my size and got a broken cheekbone for my troubles. not to mention the black eye and crooked nose.” you hiss, shaking your head to rid yourself of the image. your cheek pulsed with imaginary pain and your hand raised to rub it. “worst I’ve ever done is break an ankle,” you replied. john hums, shrugging his good shoulder. “still painful.” you nod, folding your hands in your lap.

your phone buzzed again on the hospital seat, reminding you of what you’d been doing before you got up. the chat was lighting up, asking for updates. you grabbed your phone and smiled down at it before raising it to show john. “the boys are worried about you.” he smiled softly in response, laying his hand on your thigh. an idea sparked in your mind, opening your camera and flipping it to selfie mode. “proof of life,” you said simply, which earned a chuckle from john. he raised his good arm with a thumbs up and you smile, snapping the photo. you lower your phone, thumbs tapping away at the keyboard.

“[image]”

“Still waiting on the doctor, but pain meds are keeping him in good spirits :)”

your phone vibrated again almost instantly, kyle sending a simple thumbs up. he’d been the most nervous of all of them, hands shaking as he passed john off to you. you weren't sure if it was anger or anxiety. maybe a bit of both. none of them seemed particularly at ease. simon was the next to reply. you read his text, an unattractive snort coming from your nose.

“tell him to bring some of those meds home for all of us to enjoy”

you shared the replies with john, reading each one out to him. his cheeks flushed with each one, the reminder of how much his boys cared for him making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. he knew he was loved, but sometimes it took something like this to remind him just how much.

the final score was 5-3, Specgru taking the win. john’s injury had lit a fire under the whole team. they’d played like they never had before, skating harder and faster and making riskier plays. it all paid off, the team moving up multiple spots in the division ranking from this match alone. kyle hadn’t left the ice without spitting at graves’ skates, icy glares shot his way from each of the men. they all hated playing the Shadows, but now it was personal.

none of them even bothered to shower; it was a miracle they even took off their pads and gear before rushing out of the rink. simon was given the keys, simply for the fact that they wanted to get there faster. simon wasn’t known for being the safest driver, but he was more willing to run some red lights and blow some stop signs to get to his destination a minute sooner. 

the drive to the hospital was silent, all three of them buzzing with tension. kyle was bouncing his leg in the passenger seat, a hand occasionally coming up to rake through his curls. he’d been there when john went down, had seen the pain in his eyes, knew how bad it was. johnny sat in the backseat, picking at the seam of his jeans. even the pop tune playing on the radio wasn’t enough to raise his spirits. simon’s knuckles were white around the steering wheel, mind fixed on getting to john as soon as possible. he’d seen john injured before, but it always felt worse when he couldn’t be there.

you nearly jumped out of your skin when johnny busted in the room, glancing up from the feed you’d been scrolling on your phone. you hadn’t expected them to be there so soon. john was laying in the hospital bed, his injured arm in a sling and eyes peacefully shut. everyone’s expressions tightened at the sight, simon moving on instinct to john’s side. kyle and johnny bore holes into you with their gaze, silently demanding an update. “he’s fine,” you said, raising your hands like you were placating an aggressive animal. “just sleeping. they gave him some pretty strong pain meds after they set his shoulder.”

everyone seemed to relax, a collective sigh easing the tension in the room. simon pulled a chair up to john’s bedside, taking his hand and stroking his thumb over his knuckles. they’d told you before that simon and john had been the original two, but you’d never really gotten to see their devotion to each other. it was heartwarming to see the usually stoic simon so warm and caring. johnny came over and gave you a hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. you didn’t hesitate to hug him back, giving him the comfort he no doubt craved. you thought you might have even felt his breath hitch in an aborted sob. “thanks for takin’ care of our cap’n,” he said softly, pulling back to press a kiss to your cheek. you feel your face heat up, a soft smile curving your lips. “anything for him,” you reply. “anything for all of you.”

the boys quickly settled in the hospital room, pulling in chairs and situating themselves with an unobstructed view of john. you smiled softly, wondering to yourself if john knew just how much he was loved. it certainly wasn’t a common thing to have your hospital room full for just a dislocated shoulder. before them, you weren’t sure that anyone besides your mother would’ve come to stand watch at your bedside. 

“how was the game?” you asked, trying to break the worried silence that had fallen over the room. kyle spoke up, seemingly as desperate for a distraction as you were. “we won it,” he said simply, his eyes still trained on john. “made sure Graves spent more time in the penalty box than he did on the ice.” johnny scoffed, tapping a bruise on his cheek. “one of the Shadows got a couple hits off on me, but he got worse than he gave.” you smiled, shaking your head at johnny. with him, you didn’t doubt it. johnny was particularly ruthless in a tussle, both with his tongue and his fists.

“what is the deal with those Shadow guys?” you leaned forward on your knees, your back starting to ache from the uncomfortable chair. simon scoffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “bastards, tha’s wha’ they are,” he said bitterly, his jaw tight under the surgical mask he wore. johnny reached over, laying a hand on simon’s bicep to steady him. the Shadows were a sore spot for them, especially after the events of today’s game. “they’re our rivals,” Kyle explained. “but they’re a bit more than that. there’s some…bad blood there, been there a while.”

you cocked your head to the side, curiosity brimming. you’d noticed the tension before the game had even started. everyone seemed antsy on the bench; john was the most tense of all of them, but it clearly wasn’t a normal match. “got an asshole of a coach over there. shepherd,” johnny said, fire brimming in his bright blue eyes. “nasty bastard. doesn’t play fair.” “he chose graves as team cap’n ‘cause he plays dirty,” simon chimed in. “doesn’t care about hurtin’ anyone, just wants to win.”

you shook your head in disbelief, your own anger starting to build at the explanation. you’d seen what being overly competitive could do to a sport, especially to the teammates. an athlete who only wanted to win could be an asset, but it could be dangerous if it got out of hand. graves seemed to be one of those athletes where it had gone too far. “how has he not gotten penalized for it? surely this isn’t the first time he’s hurt someone else like this.” johnny shook his head, his grip on simon’s bicep tightening. “got all the refs in ‘is pocket. shepherd pays ‘em out to make sure ‘is men dinnae get a penalty.”

you knew how that felt. when you were younger, a fresh face on the competition scene, there were allegations that someone in your division was paying off judges. it was a horribly-kept secret; the skater bragged about it in the locker room and always managed to get top marks, no matter how bad their program was. still, when their family had all the money, nobody seemed to bother raising a stink. “at least you kicked their ass,” you said, trying your best to sound motivating. kyle smiled a bit, his gaze admiring. “yeah, pretty. we kicked their ass.”

after what felt like hours, the charge nurse gave john his discharge paperwork and care instructions, releasing him into the capable hands of all his partners. it took all four of them to get John to the car as high as he was. compliments were given freely and he made an attempt to get into more than one pair of pants before they’d even gotten to the parking lot. you begrudgingly split ways with them, offering assistance if they needed it before returning to your own car.

daily updates came through the group chat, selfies of the boys helping john with his daily routines and pictures of him trying to cook or write with his left hand. what was almost better were the texts from john himself. they’d been bad before, but now that he was typing with his non-dominant hand, it was downright comical. john would text an indecipherable string of letters, followed by a translation from one of the others once they’d figured out what john was trying to say. besides this, life went on as normal, except for one thing. you hadn’t had your last date.

john had planned an evening for the two of you at the apartment they all shared, complete with a homemade dinner and a rom-com. with the injury, though, you assumed it was all on hold. you’d seen through photos that he couldn’t exactly cook at the moment and you doubted that he wanted company while he was in pain. when the night of the date arrived, you settled yourself on the sofa with a glass of wine and your latest romance novel, content to ride the night out with your vibrator. you’d barely gotten cozy before your phone began to ring, buzzing insistently at your hip. glancing at the screen, you saw John’s name pop up on the caller ID.

“john? is everything alright?” you answered quickly, fearing the worst. maybe he was alone and needed help. maybe he’d reinjured his arm. “everything is most certainly not alright, dove,” he answered. you bolted up from the sofa, dashing for your nearest pair of slip-on shoes. “what’s wrong? what happened?” you ask quickly, fumbling for your car keys on the entry table. worst-case scenarios flooded through your mind, anxiety curling bitterly in your stomach. he chuckled on the other side of the phone, which stopped you in your tracks. “what’s wrong is that you’re late for our date.”

your brow furrows in confusion, pausing in your frantic rush to get out the door. the date? “but your arm-” “i couldn’t care less about my arm right now. i asked a pretty thing on a date and they’re standing me up.” your cheeks warm with embarrassment, sheepishly grabbing your purse from the hook. he didn’t sound angry, but you supposed he had every right to be. “sorry, i, uh…i thought we’d reschedule or something. but i should’ve asked. i’ll be right over.” john hummed, almost amused. “take your time, pet. we’ve got the whole night.”

without a second thought, you hung up the phone, heading out your front door. no need to keep him waiting any longer than he already had.

taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew @kaoyamamegami @lolly145 @linaangel @bestbookfriends @callsignang3l @livingoutsidethetardis @msecho19 @aylitgirl @vvs-dlxodyd @bollzinurmouth @rafaelacallinybbay @namgification @cameron1-1-1 @kee-0-kee @klerns-birdie

[becomingthatgirl111]

The mindset of 2025

Happy New Year to all of you! I know I was inactive for a long time in 2024, but I'm going to start up again little by little. I have learned a lot of things during the year and when I feel inspired or ready to write about it I will.

I want to tell you that even if you didn't meet your goals one year it doesn't mean that they won't be met or that you are a disaster. Nowadays we are oversaturated with information and content from people who idealize their life to the maximum and although on one hand I think that is positive because it can help us to motivate us and learn new things on the other hand I feel that everyone's life is not the same and that each of us have different situations and sometimes we do not know how to handle them or we focus on the wrong thing and forget what we had planned or what we wanted to accomplish, but everything leaves us a lesson and something that I have learned this past year (the last few months especially) is to stop worrying and live life as you would like, no matter the circumstances, because the circumstances that you are going through right now, that which is preventing you from doing something you want to do will only keep you stuck in the same place.

Many times you don't have to do a thousand things or have a perfect routine but change the approach with which we see things, we worry about things that don't really deserve our attention and forget those that are important.

So for my part this year I want to develop a more stoic attitude towards certain situations and live for me, not for others. And I say this for many people who write me looking for advice, which I am grateful because you trust me but I always say it and I also apply it to myself because in the end we are people and there are things that bother us but do not give so much attention to those people or situations that you do not like, the solution will come, but trying to solve it or looking for a thousand answers you get nothing, better focus on what makes you happy or the goals you want to achieve.

What I want to say with all this is that for this new year it is no longer useful to continue suffering, to be bitter about people or things that we cannot change, when we change our attitude, when we stop giving so much attention to them, they will surely be resolved. and leave behind everything that you don't like and move forward, that's when you will see the real change.

Ideas for starting the year off right, manifesting and focusing

Write in your journal: ins and outs for 2025, the learnings you gained and look at them in a positive light, what you want to let go of, new habits you want to implement little by little, how last year made you feel and how you want to feel this year.

A meditation to kick-start the new year and visualise your goals or wishes.

Reorganise your space. Get rid of anything you have that no longer serves or pleases you, make changes in your room (or house) and make that space something nice that makes you feel comfortable to be in.

Start your plan. Set one main goal for this year and smaller goals that will lead you to achieve that goal in the end. A small habit you set today can lead to big results in the long run.

Nourish your mind with content that motivates you and helps you learn things to improve yourself. Not just personal growth but any area of your life that you think needs a boost. For example if you have problems with your relationships read or listen to podcasts on how to improve on that, positively influence others, learn about non-verbal language, that sort of thing.

And finally, don't wait for anything to change if you don't change yourself first. It's hard at first but change your mindset, act like an improved version of you. Think differently than you are doing now. Commit yourself to all your goals and if one of them is not achieved, it doesn't matter because you will have learned a lesson or you will have opened the door to something new and better, you never know. What has helped me the most to think differently have been the videos and podcasts about personal growth and other related topics. Because it opened up new ways of thinking that I didn't know about, and I was able to face things in a different way, but in the end you have to do the work yourself.

So I hope you have a good year and that everything goes well for you.

[rizardofether]

I got an idea for one of those talk about your characters prompts:

How would your Commander/other GW2 characters react to being stuck in a time loop?

[lesbiansanemi]

I'm so tired

[morticiankisser]

i might of got my hours cut but im looking forward to being able to play a bunch of my sonic x shadow generations game once i get home today at least I’ll be able to make some progress :)

[thesmokinpossum]

Why are HR people the most annoying fuckers on the face of the Earth?

[victory-cookies]

I wish I could handle myself in an argument without fucking crying

[turtelini]

sigh

[warriorprincesstramp]

guy who didn't take their stop getting panicked and freaking out at everything and having unbearable heart palpitations and being unable to sleep pill voice guess who's feeling panicked and won't stop freaking out at everything and is having unbearable heart palpitations and can't sleep!! el oh el!

[nochepsicodelica]

"Really?" Toji asks, nudging your shoulder to wake you up, when he gets a good look at your back turned to him. His voice is slightly raspy with sleep, low in volume from its lack of use.

"Mm..." you hum in response, eyes shut as you try to ease back into slumber. You're in a curled position, your limbs wrapped around one of your extra pillows.

"Really?" Toji repeats, pawing at your shoulder, again.

"Yes, Toji," you say, quietly, not understanding what he's talking about, but agreeing just so that you can get back to sleep.

"Be serious, ma. Really?"

"What?" You ask, your tone somewhat laced with irritation, now.

It goes quiet for a few seconds, and then out of nowhere you hear the sheets rustling and the bed feels lighter. You're thinking there's no way he's so upset that he's leaving the room to sleep on the couch. He's the one who seemingly didn't want to cuddle, so you made do with what you had and grabbed a pillow.

You're snapped out of your attempt to go back to sleep when you feel your pillow trying to be yanked out of your arms.

"Let go of it," Toji mutters.

"What-" you grunt as you pull back and attempt to keep the pillow in your grasp. "What are you doing? Get back in bed, Toji." You hold on as tight as you can to the pillow that is slowly being torn out of your hands. "You're not gonna like when I let go and you're flung towards the wall."

"And you're not gonna like the punishment you earn if that happens. Let go of the pillow. Now."

You stare Toji down, holding your own against him. You know this isn't all of his strength and that he can easily rip the pillow out of your clutches, if he really wanted to, but like a dog with something it shouldn't have in its mouth, you're unwilling to do what he says.

"Listen up, doll, if you don't let go in the next five seconds, you're in for it."

"You're the one who pushed me away."

"Five."

"I need to hug something to sleep comfortably."

"Four."

"It's a pillow, Toji," you say, incredulously.

"Three."

"You're gonna take away my source of comfort?"

"Two."

"Toji."

"One. Let go."

"Oh my god," you groan, irritatedly. "Fine." You release the pillow, allowing Toji to take it away. You watch in disbelief as he throws it at the door so you can't get it without leaving the bed. You huff and scoot as close as you comfortably can to your end of the bed without falling off, before he returns to his side.

"Geeet back here." An arm is thrown over your waist, dragging you closer towards the center of the bed, until your back meets his front and his legs are tangled with yours. "Where are you going, huh? Still chasing after that pillow?"

"All of a sudden you wanna be close to me?" You scoff, in disbelief.

"So much attitude," he murmurs. His hand goes under your shirt, gliding up your warm skin to rest on your tummy. "Need me to give it to you all seven days, now?"

"No," you grumble.

"Well, that's what it's sounding like, to me." A kiss is planted on your shoulder. "Fix that tone, mama."

"You're so unfair. You're the one who didn't want to be held, but as soon as you noticed that I wasn't holding you, you took away my source of comfort. What did you want me to do, Toji?"

"I didn't even push you away, I rolled away in my sleep. It doesn't count."

You just hum in response, no longer in the mood to bicker about something so trivial when you could be working on getting back to sleep. A few seconds of silence go by, a spark of tension formed due to your lack of words.

"Ma?" He calls, barely pinching your soft, warm skin.

You sigh, blinking your eyes open. "What?"

"You mad?" His hand flattens on your tummy, rubbing slowly, as he waits for you to respond.

"No," you say, quiet and icy, even in its subtlety.

"That's a lie," Toji says, chuckling. "Come on, doll. What's got you all hot?"

It's hard not to melt into his touch. The kisses he presses to your shoulder only add on to the difficulty.

"Doesn't matter," you say, still trying to remain stoic.

"Yeah, it does. Now, tell me," he insists. "You're really gonna make me beg at almost two in the morning?"

"I was sleeping, and you woke me up 'cause you were butthurt over me hugging a pillow. There. Does that satisfy you?" You respond, and Toji has the audacity to laugh. You want to laugh too, but your stubbornness and pride will not easily allow you to.

"Poor baby," he coos, a mocking lilt to his tone. "You wanna tell me how to make it better?"

"You're an ass," you bite, no sharpness in your tone whatsoever.

"Ooh, I can hear that pout. You want a kiss? 'Cause I can give you one," he whispers, in your ear.

"Shut up," you mumble, trying not to give away the curling of your lips.

"You want a baby in here?" He asks, gently pressing into your stomach with his index finger.

"No! What?" You say, your giggles finally beginning to surface.

"Gotcha. Made you laugh," he says, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. He presses a kiss to the area before squeezing you in his arms, tight enough to make you groan until he eases up. "Now, tell me how to make it better. Come on, ma. It's not good to go to sleep mad."

You sigh, not wanting to argue with this annoying, yet, charming man, anymore. "Just help me get back to sleep," you mumble.

"Oh, I can do that," he says, a low chuckle homing into your ears. His hand lifts your shirt up more, aiming to get more access to your chest.

"Not like that, you perv!" You chide, pinning his hand on your mid-center. "Can you do that thing you always do?" You guide his hand down, until it rests just above your navel. He knows what you mean, and if this is what it takes for you to not be mad at him, he'll do it.

"You're like a baby that needs to be soothed to sleep," Toji murmurs, as he begins caressing your tummy, drawing little shapes on your skin that fuel your tiredness.

You huff out a laugh. "Acting like you don't drool and snore the second I start playing with your hair when you lay your head on my chest."

[atlantus]

YESTERDAY WAS FUCKING CRAZY! I GAVE AN EXCELLENT 15 MINUTE ARTIST TALK AT THIS LIKE LUNCHEON AND I WAS TOLD BY A COUPLE PEOPLE IN THE AUDIENCE MINE WAS THE BEST ONE. I SENT IN A MAJOR APPLICATION TO A PRESTIGIOUS RESIDENCY and and and and TO TOP IT ALL OFF: I HAD MY FIRST DUO EXHIBITON OPENING IN A REAL GALLERY!!! LIKE 200 PEOPLE WALKED THROUGH AND I ONLY KNEW LIKE A QUARTER OF THEM!! JUST MOSTLY RANDOMS OFF THE STREET FOR FIRST FRIDAY!! HOLY FUCK I AM A REAL ARTIST. I HAVE BUSINESS CARDS AND I SHIP ARTWORK ACROSS THE COUNTRY AND I GIVE ARTIST TALKS AND THIS IS CRAZY!! AND I'M SUFFERING MAJORLY FROM IMPOSTER SYNDROME AND I AM SO EMBARRASSED BY MY SUCCESS AND I REALLY NEED TO SEE A THERAPIST!! HOW ARE DAYS LIKE THAT REAL?

[rafesangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ oh, nothing! just bitchy!kook!reader walking around the house in nothing but rafe’s favorite heels after he decides talking on the phone with his friends is more important than paying attention to his girl..

warnings: bratty behavior, rafe being sexually frustrated lol, groping, heavy teasing, suggestive ending

a/n: just a little something on the shorter side because these 2k+ wc fics have done their number on me lol

you rolled your eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips as rafe’s laughter echoed from upstairs. he has been on a three way call with kelce and topper for going on an hour now, and while you usually didn’t care, he had you waiting for him downstairs in full glam and an empty tummy. this is what you get when you try to play nice and put your catty attitude to the side for one night; a negligent boyfriend who had no care for anything else in the world except for what him and his idiot friends were rambling on about. your impatience is what lead you to be in the position you were in right now; naked and ignoring rafe as he followed you around the house, begging you to give him the slightest amount of attention.

“we can go get dinner now, okay?! i was just listening to topper vent about ruthie, i swear i wasn’t ignoring you!” he refrained from stopping you in your tracks, his cock stirring in his pants when he watched the way your hips swayed with every step. “oh, really?” you spun around, your boyfriend’s eyes falling down to your bare chest, “not responding to me when i called you downstairs like a thousand times wasn’t you ignoring me?” rafe opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when you walked away from him again. this time he watched you round the corner of the hallway, making your way into the kitchen before cursing under his breath.

you could tell you were driving rafe insane by the way he was gripping the kitchen island, his knuckles white with tension. “so, what? you’re just going to walk around like that?” he asked, his eyes burning into your skin. you shrugged, bending over the counter with a look in your eyes that made him want to wrap a fist in your hair and take you right there. “too bad you were busy with your friends earlier.. i actually wanted to be the sweet girlfriend tonight and give you dessert after dinner. oh well..” you pouted, walking past him as you flipped your hair over your shoulder. why were you like this? toxic, bitchy, mean, but still irresistible, sexy, and perfect?

“it won’t happen again, i promise.” rafe was hypnotized as he watched you walk into the living room, your heels clicking against the floor as your boyfriend pleaded with you to let him take you upstairs. “maybe the neighbors would appreciate the view a lot more than you do—” you barely touched the curtains before your boyfriend snatched you away from the large window. “that’s enough.” he said through gritted teeth, his gruff voice just right below your ear. suppressing the butterflies from fluttering in your tummy, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “that poor excuse of an apology isn’t gonna get you anywhere.” rafe chuckled, his hands feeling like fire on your hips.

“let me show you how sorry i am..” he turned you around, his cock aching as he could now feel your tits pressing against him through his shirt. he was making it really hard for you to keep up your act. “acting like a little brat, i know exactly what you need right now.” you gasped when you felt him take a handful of your ass, his bruising grip only exciting you further. “and what is that?” you leaned in, feeling the last of your resolve crumble when he took your hand to feel him through the denim of his jeans. “it’s so hard for you, baby,” he nearly moaned, lowering his tone, “and i’m still so hungry..”

[gojosprettyprincess]

Tw - Katsuki is soo mean, rough sex, degradation n manhandling. Not proofread!

One thing about Katsuki, he's an impatient man, that's for sure. There wasn’t any “Katsuki can i try to ride you” or “pleaseee just let me do it by myself” none of that. He had enough of your shit.

He tsks mockingly, a derisive sound escaping his lips the moment his keen eyes detect that the rhythm of your alluring ass that’s bouncing on his cock becoming duller and slower. He's so fucking disappointed in himself for even giving you the chance to try and ride him.

How dumb.

What a waste of time.

He quickly grabs both of your supple asscheeks, his strong hands creating a sense of urgency as he firmly squeezes them, preventing you from moving away. He impatiently starts thrusting his hips up into you, entering you in one complete motion. The sudden force of his entire length, which you weren't even able to fit by yourself, invading your little pussy so easily made you squirm to quickly get a hold of his broad shoulders to steady yourself because you knew how fucking crazy he was when it came to with manhandling.

His crimson-red eyes locked onto your contouring features, swallowing up your adorable reactions with pure joy. He just loves bullying you like this. Katsuki was a wonderful partner, devoted, wealthy, and maybe not the most mature, but he was unquestionably aware of right from wrong when it comes to relationships. The only thing is, he’s just so so cruel and vulgar to you sometimes, especially during sex. Bakugou always had a huge ego and prideful personality so you can't say you were surprised before tangling yourself up with him.

When the early morning light streamed through the window, his routine began before even taking a bite of the breakfast you made, pumping your warm cunny full of cum before heading off to fulfill his manly responsibilities as a pro-hero. "Better keep my cum buried in this pussy, you got it?" he commanded sternly, his warm breath fanning against the delicate skin of your neck as you mewled at the harsh way the edge of the dinner table was digging into your poor abdomen. Crossing your thighs together so you could avoid any spillage of his sperm because you know he’d check when you go deliver his home-cooked lunch at his agency later in the day. And if you make one wrong move, you’ll be limping your way out of his agency.

Whether you like it or not, katsuki will always be mean when he’s fucking you. It’s a part of him, you’ve known that just by the way he acted. Always had an feisty attitude and angry issues with everyone around him but the difference is you fucking loved it, and of course he knew that, that’s why he indulges in it and constantly reminds you every single time how much of a horny little cock-whore you are, pussy slobbering uncontrollably all over his pretty cock like a nasty slut. The rim of your hole clinging onto his dick as if your life depended on it. It hasn’t even been five second since he walked through the door from work, still clad in his hero costume before his hard dick is nestled in his housewife's warm, runny sex.

Your pink panties slackly pulled to the side, revealing your tight hole for his vicious assault as he ruthlessly positioned himself to take advantage of your vulnerable state.

His gears and pants rubbing against the smooth flesh of your thighs, harshly marking it red. Poor Katsuki he couldn’t save a civilian from a villain attack today and now he’s so frustrated and mad so what better way to vent than abusing his pretty housewife’s comforting cunt? :(

“Tight fucking pussy, yer creaming all over me already. Bet you were thinking about my cock splitting you open the entire day, weren’t you princess?” He laughed tauntingly, his angry cock curving right into your g-spot making your toes curl in the air as his strong, big hands held an astonishingly tight grip on your waist to keep you off the floor while you bent over his marble counter. You always found it so sexy when Katsuki showed off his strength to you, after all, he’s one of the most strongest pro-heroes so of course he’d be unbelievably strong. You went crazy over it.

“Sukii– m’gonna fuck! Cum” you cried out, tears streaming down your eyes as his fat cock delved deeper into your core, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot over and over again, sending you into a daze as you lose your mind. “No, you fucking slut— always being such a greedy bitch. You’re not cumming until I’m ready to fill you up, ya hear me?” his tone was so serious, it sent shivers down your spine.

You quickly gripped the edge of the counter. Your soft, plush ass bouncing back against his hard pelvis with each forceful thrust. God, he loved the sight so much, he licked his lips at the delicious sight of the creamy mess you were creating, completely coating him and his balls with your juices. It made his cock throb against your walls at the lewd way your quirkless pussy was rightfully swallowing him in.

“Katsuki I–“ you stammered, struggling to find your words as fear washed over you. Your hole fluttered around him, you were seeing white at this point. Your inner muscles involuntarily clasped tightly around his length. You couldn’t help it, his cock was just so fucking long and thick, and well he knew how to skillfully use it that it made you become undone within five minutes. Your eyes bulged open with fear as the streaming white liquid from your cunt spattered onto his cock and thighs and onto his expensive marble floor. The action didn’t go unnoticed by him resulting in him quickly placing you down on the slick floor and violently smacking your fleshy ass, making it recoil against his touch as he groaned. “God, you’re such a dumb fucking slut, what did I tell you? Can’t even understand simple instructions that I give you”.

He swiftly extracted his cock from your soaked pussy and hoisted you over his huge shoulder before making his way to your shared bedroom. You cried out as your cunt twitched in anticipation as echoes of his firm, resounding spanks on your bruised ass reverberated through the room with each step he took, “M’gonna teach you a fucking lesson, better make sure this is the last time you fucking disobey me”.

[ozzgin]

I'm in my parody mood again. I'm so sorry. You have to attend a yandere school: quite literally, an academy designed to train you into a proper yandere. Except you're terrible at it. So pathetic, in fact, that all the yandere-to-be students and teachers have to help you. And now they're slowly but surely falling for you. Content: gender neutral reader, horde of yanderes, parody

"For the last time, (Y/N)..." the teacher sighs, mild frustration creasing his features. "You can't be a cool and aloof yandere if you look this tense."

"I thought I'm supposed to obsessively stare at my crush from the window", you argue, waving away some cherry blossom petals that were blown by the wind straight into your face.

"Yes, but no one can tell you're a yandere yet. Your gaze must be indifferent, idle, bored. Do you understand?"

You're a lost cause. The older man readjusts your body's position with pursed lips. You'll never be a proper yandere with this attitude. He should be angry about it - Yan Academy dons an unmatched reputation of flawless success. Every student graduates with impeccable results. Well, except for you. And yet, he's almost enjoying the repeated efforts, the daily observations, the additional training you require.

A thought crosses his mind: what would you even do without his help? You'd be lost. You need him to succeed. He shakes his head in embarrassment, swiftly shoves his glasses further up the nose, and coughs.

"Meet me after class. I'll be in my office."

"Again?"

The words escape your lips before you can stop yourself. His brows furrow, and he lifts your chin with his index finger, responding in a deeper voice:

"Yes. Until you learn to act properly, (Y/N)."

“What’re you doing now? We were going to hang out at my place, so we can practice efficient stalking methods.”

Your classmate smiles at you, almost pleadingly. Oh, if only you’d join them. How else will you manage? He can already picture your confused, innocent expression as you try to keep up with them.

You were made to be stalked, not the other way around.

“I can’t”, you whine. “Teacher wants me to stay behind again.”

The students stare at you with a peculiar glimmer in their eye. This bastard…is he trying to keep you all to himself? He should be minding his damn business and leave such matters to people who’re closer to you. They know you better. They’d do a much better job at…training you.

You feel a tug behind you. The classmate removes your backpack and throws it over his shoulder.

“Fuck that. You’re coming with me.”

[More parodies original work] | [Part 2] | [Part 3]

[hyperions-light]

Someone was being a fucking hater on my explicitly positive DATV post AGAIN (u all know I can see your tags right. They get delivered to me express mail style) so here’s an essay about how I thought the Grey Warden plotline was great:

First, it was extremely lore-consistent. I don’t know how to tell people this, but the Grey Wardens simply are sort of shady— it’s part of their charm. In DAO alone we found out they:

- kill anyone who refuses the joining

- are definitely using a blood magic ritual to induct people

- tried to usurp the throne of Fereldan

In DA2 they:

-Forced Malcolm Hawke to perform a blood magic ritual against his will to contain Corypheus, by threatening to kill his family

- Built a giant prison in the mountains they didn’t tell anyone about and that someone could wander into and not be able to escape

- the entire Corypheus thing. They didn’t even tell the other Wardens like what he was or how dangerous he was.

DAI:

- the demon army thing was pretty bad

And that’s not even mentioning any stuff from the books or comics or shows! That’s just stuff in the games!

So they’re shady. It’s okay! They’re my little woobie guys, idc if they’re sort of shady!

But the plot in DATV is about all of those previously established issues coming back to bite them in the fucking ass, as they should! Knock knock, it’s the consequences of your actions, baby! The chickens are home to roost

(Which is just good storytelling. Like if you set up a bunch of issues and then never pay them off or anything that’s bad.)

Destroying Weisshaupt was inspired! Firstly bc Davrin is Weisshaupt, metaphorically (bulwark against the darkness, etc, I already made a post) so it serves his character arc. But also because it strips away the pageantry and the grandeur from them; no more castle for you! No more myth!

Davrin explicitly tells you that the First Warden is a traditionalist; he represents the historical attitudes of the Wardens. They do not accept help, they do not give up their secrets, they are standing alone against the dark. And it doesn’t work! He’s fucking wrong (and very punch-able). Being secretive and isolationist is a mistake that costs them nearly everything.

But also, and I’m not sure how many people experienced this on the first go-around, the game does ultimately come down on the side of the Wardens always trying to do the right thing. You CAN talk the First Warden down, because in the end he’s a Warden, and he might be stubborn and curmudgeonly and miserable but he CARES about the world. He came to do good. He admits he was wrong and he helps you. Because the heart of the Wardens is about selfless service to other people. In Death, Sacrifice.

Stripping away Weisshaupt and the glory and pageantry leaves the Wardens at their most vulnerable and forces them to return to their fundamental principles: helping people. That’s what Lavendel is about. Helping individual people and preserving every life possible even if it doesn’t feel that glamorous or heroic. Lavendel isn’t a significant place; it doesn’t matter, but it matters so much.

And then, the Cauldron.

First off, do not at me about Last Flight. I don’t think people should have to read external materials to play this game and understand it. If the information is vital it should be presented to the player in the text.

The Cauldron is the repository of the Wardens’ secrets; it’s where the keep the bones of the Archdemons, the secret to the Joining, ancient and dangerous weapons, as well as the bodies of the griffons, which represents their most shameful errors. Isseya is the avatar of the Wardens’ mistakes; she’s been hurt by what they made her do, and her pain was never acknowledged by them. They buried her story and her suffering like they bury everything they don’t want to deal with and are ashamed of. They left the bones of the griffons, whose deaths they directly caused, to rot because they were too sad to acknowledge them.

But it was wrong to walk away, it was wrong to bury it. Isseya makes sure that they can never do that again, that they have to own what they did and take responsibility. By discovering who she is and by restoring her personhood to her, by reminding her of her love which drove her to her anguish in the first place, Davrin saves her and he saves the griffons. He doesn’t do it using violence, because another sin of the Wardens is just assuming that they can kill their way out of their problems, which the game disproves by revealing the origin of the Blight. You can kill as many darkspawn as you want, you will never fix it! The Titans’ dreams do not need to be slain, they need to be healed.

Isseya is in so much pain because of her incredible love for both the griffons and the Wardens, and because of her guilt. Look what she builds! An alternate Weisshaupt, a distorted reflection of her home. She entreats both Davrin and Assan to join her, because she doesn’t think she’s trying to destroy anything. She’s trying to save them! She wants them to come home. “I am their mother,” she says, and she’s right. She saved them, then, and she ends up saving them now! Because she made Davrin and the other Wardens look, unflinchingly, at what they had done, it will never happen again. She was going about it wrong during the game, but she was ALWAYS trying to save them.

Davrin, Antoine and Evka represent the Wardens’ commitment to being different. They let Flynn undergo the Joining without becoming a Warden, they reveal secrets to non-Warden Rook, they offer to help the Viper without asking for anything in return. They ask for help and offer it freely. If the Wardens are going to persist into a world without Archdemons, they HAVE to change. They can’t be what they were anymore. The game is asking what a Warden is when they have to be more than their oath, when they have to live. It’s a great exploration of and expansion on previously established lore.

Anyway, my advice if you hated the plot and the game and the characters is to a) make your own post b) don’t bother me about it, because I have the time and I will be loudly positive in response!

[mythvoiced]

@misassumed | " here I am, not sure if you should take a chance " ( for 4 ambrosius from ballister @ misassumed 👀👀👀 ) ✧˚ · . so much (for) stardust - fall out boy

---

It's the past that defines the future.

As loathsome as that mentality may be in given contexts, so long as it reigns over literally the entire world, no amount of active fighting against it will make the world suddenly spin in the other direction. Fix your own mentality and still watch society around you collapse on the heaps of corpses it itself had put there, while all you can do is stand beside it and watch all the signs that had hinted to this outcome be trampled on like the voices of the innocent in a never-ending stampede.

Ambrosius is stuck in the very middle of it.

He's got voices of upbringing, his own name muttered in awe in his ears until they ring and threaten to bleed, his own face smiling so very self-assured, a beam of light, of hope, splattered on any campaign that will hold him.

He's more face than he is himself, he's more a slogan than he is a voice, he's more a symbol than he is a man, and he's all of those things willingly, he's all of those things because too long has he been told that it was and always will be the right thing to do.

He is what he is.

But according to that logic... he never should have fallen in love with Ballister, should he?

Even now while his fists clench and unclench, skin and familiar plates clanking against his bones so uncomfortably as though he'd finally woken up and realized he'd stolen the Ambrosious of this world and stuffed an impostor into it, whatever he is without any of the glitz and glamour and obedience, Ambrosius wonders...

If he is what he is... then Ballister is what he is, too.

Then Ballister should be all that they've been told him to be for all their lives.

But he's not, he's so much more, he's the only fruit tree to have grown on these soils that don't look chromatic, painted over by Alice from white to red, the only rose to have naturally grown in such a desirable colour.

He wishes he could answer easily.

He wishes there were an easy answer.

He wishes he could reach for it if there were. He wonders, could he, if he saw it?

Is the 'right choice' easier to take than he'd assumed?

And if so, which one is it?

"Bal," a breath of a name, a thousand confessions and a million implorations in a single syllable. His hand lifts, reaches out, more hesitant than half-hearted, unsure of how big the distance between them has grown at this point.

"I've always been on your side. You know that. That doesn't have... If... If you just came back and..."