#what to do when the only thing i really want to do (read a specific fanfic) is triggering. help.

[stoopidpigeonxx]

What is something that is completely random that the tuplar crew's s/o does that turns them on

( Basically just random things that turn the tuplar crew on )

goooood question! :-D

Curly

-You being.. innocent? I dunno. Whenever you ask a question that's obvious or pout your pretty lips, he's hard as a rock thinking about all the ways he could absolutely ruin you. He would never tell you this, though. He cares too much.

-When you play with his hair. Ohhhh my god. Not just the hair on his head, like, his chest hair. Twirling it on your finger and shit. He loves it. Bro is MOANING.

-that shit where you like.. nuzzle your face into his neck. It's so fucking cute to him, you're like a little cat or something. He especially loves it if you're doing it while super sleepy or just waking up.

Jimmy

-Sucking on anything. Could be a popsicle, could be a straw, doesn't matter. The only thing he can think about is that was my dick last night. This also works if you chew on your pens or something.

-Holding his hand. He relishes in the fact that you're so small compared to him. (plus, he likes knowing his fingers are so much bigger so they can hit all the right spots inside you ;b)

-wearing his clothing. Could be a hoodie or a shirt. Its a weird.. ownership/possessive thing. Like.. aw, they're wearing my stuff. They really belong to me.

Anya

-Nicknames/petnames. Especially If they're creative. She looooves personalized nicknames. It makes her feel like you really think a lot about her, and she just wants to kiss you silly <33

-Eye. Contact. She's not good at it herself, but if you are looking deep into her eyes while talking to her, she's folded more than origami.

-Little lesbian thingy, but she's a sucker for a woman with tattoos. Having a girlfriend who's inked up is her dream. She loves tracing the patterns, and if you get her initials tatted? Expect a wedding ring on your finger by tomorrow.

Daisuke

-my boy is young, so the most random shit can turn him on. Tying your hair up? Hard. Laughing at something he said? Bricked up. Wearing his hoodie? It's throbbing.

-but if we're talking specific things.. he loves it when his s/o is touchy. He's probably clingy himself, so having someone who matches that energy is such a turn-on.

-Playing. With. His waistband. Like, fidgeting with it, slipping your fingers under it a bit.. He's literally screaming in his head for you to just grab his dick already, PLEASE.

Swansea

-when a person can cook. No, not in some weird domestic 'a wife should cook for her husband' shit, he can cook himself something just fine. But a good cook is the easiest way to woo him.

-Good with kids. Oooh boy. He's past his baby-making prime, but if he wasn't, he'd have you knocked up by now. He misses his kids being little, so seeing you be sweet to little kids gets him going.

-Long hair. I read somewhere that he would be a sucker for someone with good hair, and I agree. Long Luscious locks are his favorite thing ever.

[burning-omen]

With Everything I Say and Do (part 1)

Jason Todd x Male!reader

(A/n: Unrelated to the fic but I love Jason's fuck ass hair from utrh. Also, this isn't meant to be one specific version of Jason, I pulled from several different canons and also made shit up while writing this. Also, also, peep the title, Brokeback Mountain reference, I know I'm so cool)

Ao3 ver.

Summary: Jason isn't stalking you, stalking would imply something more sinister than what he was doing- he was just...watching you in a completely non obsessive, platonic manner.

W.C: 6,486

Warnings: THIS IS A FLUFF FIC I SWEAR, PTSD, childhood trauma, mommy AND daddy issues (both reader and jason), child abuse, mentions of Jason and Bruce fighting, depressive episodes, anger issues, murders, child death, bombings, canon typical Gotham violence, stalking (affectionate), breaking and entering, Y/n's friends being cringe but I love them so shut up about it, Barbara and Jason being friends, homelessness and being kicked out (reader, pre-fic) mentions of Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Bruce Wayne (not really a warning just wanted to mention it), also, I didn't send this to my proof reader beforehand so if you see a fuck up feel free to mention it.

God, you forgot how ridiculous you were in middle school. Reading through your old journal- which had been shoved in a box once it was full, then shoved in another box when you moved out of your parents house-it really just showed that your avoidant tendencies had been festering for far longer than you’d care to admit. Seriously, were you actually that concerned about- you re-read the chicken scratch that was your writing back then, squinting slightly- the fucking moon landing of all things? No, you weren’t, but it had been April 28th and the day before had been a lot. So now you have a passage about the moon landing.

It had been closer to the bottom of the box, covered by old memorabilia from your early teen years. With a trash bag to one side of you and a pile of things you were keeping on the other.

It’s about time you went through it- the box has been sitting under your bed long enough, and really, when were you ever going to need an old hoodie from Gotham City Middle School? Never, so it went in the trash pile. You, of course, got distracted by your diary and have been reading through the pages for the past half hour- you really don’t remember being this edgy- good fucking lord. You flipped through the last couple of pages until you landed on what was supposed to be the blank, white card stock at the back of the book- only to see the word “LOSER” written in big, red letters. You blinked, now who the hell did that? Defacing your perfectly good diary. Under the graffiti, in smaller letters, was “-Jason”

You closed the book. Of course. Who else? 

Really. He’s the only other person you’d let have the book long enough for this kind of vandalism to make sense. He’s the only person who your adolescence self wouldn’t have thrown a fit at for touching your property- or making fun of you, even in a joking fashion. You smiled down at the book for a second before tossing it in the keep pile.

You pulled the next item out of your little memory box. It was your senior portrait- sorta. It was just a picture of you in your cap and gown- you’d skipped school the day the actual senior portraits were taken- not intentionally, you just skipped school a lot then, and happened to hop the gate that day- and every other day that week. You were smiling in the picture, but your eyes were far too dark and far too tired, you weren’t standing straight, slouching and leaning slightly- but it was good enough for your mom, so it hung in the living room of your parents house for the next 3 years. She’d tried to put makeup under your eyes, fussing with your hair and your gown until she decided to take the photo as you were. Some days you wonder where that patience had gone- that forgiveness and kindness that she showed to you that day. You sighed, you could reminisce and lament about your parents later, for now you needed to go through the rest of this shit.

You flipped the frame over, bending the little metal pieces back, and taking the picture out. Folding it down the middle and sitting it on your night stand- you’d find a place for it later- the frame went with the rest of the trash.

The box was almost empty- small knick knacks at the bottom, some more clothes, an umbrella- you picked it up, checking for holes in the canopy. It was old, but it was better than any other cheap umbrella you’ve ever had. Resisting the pestering urge to run your fingers over the bronze “J.T” inset in the handle, you set it in the keep pile. The rest of the box was pretty much trash- buttons and pins, crumbled class notes, more school spirit wear, and Gotham High School's Library’s one and only copy of Pride and Prejudice. Oops- you hadn’t meant to take that. Letting out a quiet sigh into your empty room, you thought, ‘oh well’ you doubted they wanted it back after the years it's been rotting- and you really didn’t want it either, it was dirty and had something inappropriate written on nearly every page. An unsalvageable childhood artifact- now bagged up with everything else you deemed trash.

The sun had set hours ago, and it was a weekend- Gotham’s crime scene was always overly active on weekends, and you’d rather not get mugged on your way to the trash shoot-

‘Not like I’ve got anything to give..’

–Still, you sat the bag by your front door. Walking through your dark apartment, the only light coming from the desk lamp in your bedroom, the loud, creaking floor covering the sound of your footsteps. You weren’t afraid of the dark- but you did live in Gotham- so you were more reasonably cautious of the dark than anything. You should be- you’ve had the literal Batman in your apartment before. Why that freak was in your bedroom, you may never know, but he left as soon as you woke up so you decided- after changing the lock on your door and buying a gun and deadbolts for every window and door in your house, that you weren’t going to worry about it. 

Even if you’re 90% sure he bugged your place- you’d just have to deal with it. He is Batman- invasive and mysterious is kinda what he does according to the Gotham Gazette. 

Back in your room, you shoved everything from the “keep” pile back in the box to be dealt with…eventually. You’ll get to it by the end of the week- probably- no, nope, no more procrastination, you’ll put it away in the morning- after breakfast and a shower.

Kicking your slippers off, stepping onto the freezing, wood floor for just a second before crawling into bed- your heater was broken and the city was just as cold as it always was, so you wrapped yourself in every cover and blanket you had in a nearly successful attempt at comfort. A bit of cold air would seep in every couple of minutes, but you could handle it, at least for the next few days until the building manager is able to get it fixed (turns out it's not just your heater, no it’s everybody's heater. So your entire apartment building is freezing, but you’re freezing together- how touching). You rolled onto your side, sticking an arm out of the burrow of blankets you’d created and turning off the lamp on your night stand, pulling your arm back in as fast as you could to keep any more heat from escaping before settling in for the night.

—

‘Damn, It’s cold out,’ Jason thought for the millionth time tonight, crouching down on the dingy, rusted roof of yet another warehouse- fifth one tonight- watching from the skylight as nothing happened. His helmets night vision didn’t show the slightest hint of movement, not even a fucking rat scampering across the ground. Just like there had been nothing in the last 4 warehouses. At least this one is somewhat familiar- his gaze wandered over to warehouse A-9 for about the hundredth time since they arrived. He knew the night crew was in, only a handful of people occupied a handful of buildings, mostly in the A buildings, where all the important shit was kept- Red Hood and Nightwing, however, were stationed on top of the B-16 building, as instructed.

Rising from a crouch, catching the attention of Nightwing, his knees popped.

“Feeling restless?” He asked.

At first Jason just grunted- obviously- he’s been sitting in one spot for 40 minutes and the hunch that Batman had them working off of seemed to be a dud, but he can’t just leave. He could, Bruce doesn’t control him- but after a few too many dramatic family feuds and attempted (and successful) murders Jason is just really, really fucking tired of constantly arguing and fighting. 

He’s “back to being the favorite” Dick had joked a couple times- after he decided that maybe there was some merit to a no-kill-rule, and maybe Tim wasn’t so horrible, the kid’s kinda funny actually, smart as shit too. And Bruce..things were..fine. For the most part. It wasn’t entirely Bruce’s fault- he still held a grudge- the clown lived entirely too long after, but Jason already knew that Bruce had no interest in playing executioner- judge and jury was fine- but he wasn’t going to kill. Jason could understand that, especially after going off the murderous deep end himself- once you start it feels like you can’t stop, like there’s no point in stopping. So sure, he gets why Bruce didn’t- doesn’t make it hurt less though.

“Any word from B?” He  mumbled, his voice made robotic and stiff by the modulator in his mask.

Nightwing silently fell back, sitting with his legs crossed, his attention now fully on Jason, “Nothing yet.” he sighed, stretching his arm, a amused grin on his face, “Not trying to jinx it, but I think we finally got a calm night in Gotham, who would of thought-?”

Right on queue, a deafening, blinding explosion went off- about two hundred feet away. Jason barely managed to not be fully knocked off his feet, couching down near his brother, one hand gripping his arm as the aftershock sent strong winds their way- mostly a comfort for Jason, but there was no time to think about that- because what the fuck just exploded and why?!

He glared at his brother through the helmet- and no, Dick couldn’t see it, but he still deserved it.

“See what you did? Now we have to deal with this shit.” Jason said, no real malice in his voice, mostly annoyance that his already long night was about to get even longer.

“Me?” Nightwing gasped.

“Yes, you- stop testing the universe, you know it doesn’t like us.”

The conversation ended there. Jason hopped off the roof, landing in an uncomfortable crouch- ‘My knees were going to be demolished in the morning...’ he thought before heading in the direction of the explosion- hearing Dick following behind him with his near silent landing.

__

Waking up to a hundred texts and calls was…new. Your friends, people you hadn’t talked to in ages, and most noticeably, your estranged parents. You blinked at the screen as more text rolled in. You decided you weren’t dealing with that. It’s entirely too early. Breaking free of your cover cocoon and rolling out of bed, phone discarded..somewhere in there.

You showered before anything, letting the shower run long enough for the entire bathroom to fill with a heavy fog before stepping in. Taking as much time as you physically could, until your skin was steaming and tinted red from the heat. Not even bothering with a towel as you walked straight back to your room, dressing warmly before flopping back down on your bed. You had a shift today. You used to take night shifts- sleeping through the day like a true night owl. But, in a desperate attempt to regain control over your life after what felt like a never ending downward spiral, you switched to the morning shift.

It was a win-win scenario, really. It paid just as much as the night shift, and you’d have the entire afternoon to yourself, and you would sleep at night, like normal, well adjusted people did.

You had planned on having a serene morning- getting to that box, having a nice well balanced breakfast, then heading to work, but your phone would not stop buzzing. Even under a mound of covers it was distracting as all hell.

“Ok..” You muttered as you dug it out, “What do you want?”

‘Y/n bby if you can see this I love you <3’

‘He’s in a better place now (hell)’

‘PLEASE stop joking like that its stressing me out’

Seems like your friends groupchat, aptly named “Gotham’s prison for whores”, was having quite the morning, hundreds of messages ranging from genuine expressions fear to half hearted jokes.

‘‘Tf are y’all going through???’’  you texted back

A collective group response came instantly.

‘‘He’s alive????’’

‘‘OH THANK FUCK YOUE NOT DEAD’’

“LETSGOOO”

‘‘*you’re’’ you responded without thinking, before fully processing what you’d just read, “why would I be dead??’’

‘‘Dude.’’

You waited for them to continue.

“GHL blew up last night, thought you worked the night shift????’’

Oh.

Ok, so you don’t have a shift today. 

“WTF no I switched to the morning shift a couple weeks ago what happened”

“Idk man shit blew up, Nightwing and the red one were out there.”

‘The red one?’ you paused to think of who The Red One was, not even near processing that your job had blown up- wasn’t Robin, he knew that one- and his cape covered most red in his costume anyways. Red Robin, despite his name, his costume was more black than red, and your friend was more likely to call him CondomMan or something, because of his head piece thing.

“Bitch, do you mean Red Hood??”

“IM NOT FROM GOTHAM LEAVE ME ALONE”

Followed by-

“THERES TO MANY OF THEM I CAN NOT REMBER THEM ALL”

You laughed for a second, before remembering that your mother had also texted you and suddenly any joy you felt was sucked away- fuck, why wasn’t she blocked.

“Are you ok?” She asked

“I’m fine.”

Simple, blunt, and definitely not an invitation back into your life. You closed out of her contact and moved onto the mountain of text you still had. How did this many people have your number- how did this many people know where you work- worked, past tense.

After an hour of assuring dozens of practical strangers and distant relatives that you were perfectly fine and no you didn’t need anybody to check on you- you decided to get to the bottom of your sudden popularity. Seriously, none of these people reached out when you got kicked out, or worse, some outright denied you when you asked for help. They weren’t obligated to, but they can’t come around acting like their hearts were absolutely broken and bleeding at your supposed death. 

With minimal digging, you figured it out. All you had to do was open any social media your mother had- it’s been, what? 4 hours since she first texted you, and she’s got two dozen posts about you up, with your number and your job posted for the world to see on each one, half of them posted over 5 hours ago, the others posted at random with the latest being only 12 minutes ago.

‘Fuck, this was so her, why the hell would she think this was ok?’ 

Another way to garner attention and sympathy and now she’s dragging you into it, like sure, you could have been dead, but her text didn’t exactly scream “I’m worried about you”.

You opened your messages with her again,

“Take the posts down, mom. Thanks.”

___

Why was the sun in his face?

Jason made sure the curtains were drawn so he wouldn’t have this problem. Cracking his eyes open he spots his brother- the traitorous bitch- standing by the window, opening the curtains just enough just to peek through. His personal cell phone pressed to his ear, talking quietly to somebody.

“I’ll uh- I’ll go check on him later today Mrs. L/n..”

‘L/n..?’ Jason pushed himself up. ‘Ah, fuck. Please let it just be a god damn coincidence.’

Dick glanced back at Jason, a tired smile flashed across his face. Jason let him stay at his safe house for the night so he wouldn’t have to travel all the way to the manor, or worse, all the way back to Bludhaven. Laying back, Jason continued to listen in to the half of the conversation he could hear.

“No, sorry, of course not- I’ll call him right-” Dick let out a frustrated sigh.

“I will try Mrs. L/n. Right, thanks- bye.”

Despite the nagging feeling he knew exactly who was on the other side of that line, he asked, “Who was that?”

Dick sat on the edge of his bed, another irritated sigh leaving him.

“Remember Y/n?”

Ah, fuck.

“Yeah.” he said, doing his best to give the impression of disinterest and flippant-ness . 

“That was his mom- Y/n works over at the GHL Warehouses- well, he used to before last night. His mom wanted to make sure he was ok.”

Jason breathed out- you were fine. He knew you were fine because you don’t work the night shift anymore- when the bomb went off you should have been safely at home, sound asleep, trying to get some rest for your morning shift.

“Is he?” The deception in his voice was blatant this time, his thoughts having drifted to you and away from the mask he had perfected literally a second ago. Dick turned to look at him, a grin splitting across his face. Dick, who was just as much of a detective as the rest of the family, clocked that something was off immediately. 

“What?” 

“Oh Jason,” He said, all too happy to have been just talking about you potentially getting blown up. “Are you still into him?”

“Get out.” Jason responded, which only made Dick happier.

“You are, aww Baby Bird’s got a little crush-”

“Fuck off, I’m serious.”

Years ago, before his death, Jason had confided in his brother. During a quiet moment in the library of the manor, Jason told Dick that he liked guys, well, one guy, so far. He didn’t know what he was then and doesn't have the energy to label it now, but he does know that at 14 he had a massive crush on a boy his age that he went to school with– which only became a hundred times worse when he actually became friends with said boy. Y/n. You. One of his few attachments outside of his family.

When he came back he didn’t think about you for years, revenge, rage, and violence were the only things on his mind- but when he settled, you popped back into his mind. Just as much of a stalker as the rest of his family, he did some digging on you. It was invasive as hell, as he went through every bit of public (i.e., the stuff that was only slightly illegal to obtain) information about you before asking Barbara for more private(super illegal) information. 

Barb- whose closeness to Jason surprised everyone, including themselves (paralleling traumas, they supposed)- was more than willing. Her moral compass was a bit sideways, understandably,  but she couldn’t help but “play match-maker” as she had put it. He intentionally ignored that comment from his accomplice.

It’s how he knew about your work schedule, and just about everything else about you- and why he really, really hated your fucking parents.

He was…captivated. It wasn’t love, he didn’t love you. He didn’t even know you anymore. 

…

He should check on you, though. Losing your job so suddenly couldn’t have been easy for you. Finding a legal job in Gotham was hard enough as it was- he didn’t want you spiraling, or worse, getting involved with criminals- except for him. He huffed out a short chuckle. He wished you could get involved with him. He was, legally, still very, very dead. And you had no idea he was back. Which he’s somewhat happy for.

He killed…a lot of people, he got his ass handed to him in public by his father, and had lost his shit in PTSD fueled episodes of rage multiple times.

It was better if you stayed as far away from him as possible. Your life was just getting good, you had friends, an apartment of your own, you could probably fuck anyone you wanted- an unsurprising amount of people were into that independent, blue collar thing you had going on- Jason sure as shit wasn’t immune to it. He wouldn’t be mad if you did- you don’t. He has his ways of knowing. (your entire apartment is bugged thanks to Bruce’s almost unfounded paranoia, which was only a bit fair, Jason and Bruce were still on new ground in their… reborn relationship when he broke into your house for the first time, B probably thought he was trying to kill you, which- if it had been any other member of the family- would have been outlandish and entirely unfounded. But it was him, so…yeah, wasn’t really coming out of left field with that one) Which was a surprise, but a relieving one. 

Fucking hell, Dick was still looking at him with that stupid smile.

“You’ve got a boyfriend.”

Jason, as he did everytime a conversation steered in a direction he didn’t like, brought up his own death.

“I don’t have anything, Dick, can’t be anything to him if he still thinks I’m dead.”

“..right.”

A moment passed before Dick spoke again, “He’s fine, by the way. Barb sent a list of the confirmed victims earlier. He wasn’t on it.”

___

Fuck Bruce Wayne. No, really. This guy fucking sucked, you hated him and you hated that the only way you’d be keeping your apartment was by signing up for his stupid unemployment program. You’ve reloaded your inbox a dozen times waiting for the confirmation email, after spending hours upon hours reading through fine print and having to dig out your own documents, send proof of unemployment- you’re brand new letter of termination had been emailed to sometime earlier- and digitally signing your signature with your mouse pad and just wading through piles and piles of exhausting corporate bullshit-

You were really sick of this shit, to say the least.

‘It's been five minutes..’ You thought, glaring at your laptop screen.

Trying not to think about how this was literally the only way you’d be keeping your apartment and not go back to living in your car, you reloaded the page again.

And again and again until finally-

“Congratulations! You have been accepted into the Wayne Int…”

You didn’t even need to open the email, the preview told you all you needed to know, a long sigh of relief leaving you as you shut your laptop. 

Well, that’s over, now what. 

You’ve worked nearly every day since you’ve got this apartment, and when you weren’t working you were either catching up on sleep or, well, that’s it really. Despite planning on “having afternoons to yourself” when you switched schedules, you haven’t actually done anything with those afternoons, cleaning, watching TV, and texting more than anything. Because of course none of your friend schedules aligned for more than a couple minutes a day- usually early in the morning or really late at night.

You breathed in again- looking out the window, you could see the sun just barely peeking over the horizon, mostly hidden by the typical gothic skyscrapers that were found all over Gotham. Another heavy breath, you rolled out of bed, feeling a sudden pang of hunger after neglecting yourself all day. 

You didn’t bother taking your phone with you, even though your mother had pretty much announced to her loyal 1,267 followers that you were okay, you were still getting text and calls at random- you needed to take your mind off of all of this for at least a moment, cooking and then maybe a long, long sleep could help. You did a mental coin toss on what to eat, burger or pasta- either would do, really- conjuring up a slow, dramatic coin toss in your head, letting your subconscious decide. 

Heads. Pasta it is.

Rummaging through your cabinet until you pulled out the little pot you were looking for, perfect for a single serving. Filling it with water from the sink- completely forgetting for a moment that this was Gotham and you probably should have checked to see if it had been poisoned or tampered with- it was such a common occurrence that there was a whole app for it…Created and funded by Bruce Wayne of course. You sighed for about the millionth time today. That fucking jerk has his hands in everything- can’t even be in your own home without running into the motherfucker.

You huffed, it’d be fine. If there was something wrong with the water you would have seen it on the news. 

Putting the pot on the stove, repeatedly turning the knob until the fire lit. Putting a bit of salt in the water as it heated- staring into the pot for who knows how long as bubbles started to form. Thinking about things hurt right now. You lost half of your co-workers, your income, the first thing you felt you earned on your own, and on top of that you had to indirectly beg a man you couldn’t stand for money. It would only get worse from here. That was guaranteed- but you couldn’t spiral- because that would only make things so, so much worse. So, you’d face whatever the next couple of weeks brought with maturity and strength and when it was all over things would be semi-normal.

Hopefully.

You moved to the cabinet and pulled out a half empty box of bowtie style noodles and dumped them into the boiling water- then moved over to the fridge to see if you had any jarred sauce.

___

Barbara was just about the only person Jason actively texted- he didn’t need casual conversation with anybody else, not yet anyways. Roy maybe could have been the exception, but Roy barely responded, Jason doubted he even kept his phone on him. 

Leaving his bike in the alley before scaling your building- resting on the roof for a short moment as he texted Barbara.

“Think you can keep B out?”

She didn’t respond instantly, but when she did,

“You know he’s still home, right?”

‘Obviously, Barb’ he thought as he typed out a response

“I’m just checking on him.”

Then,

“He won’t see me.”

“You’re getting bold, thinking of saying ‘hi’ soon?”

No, definitely not. That would be a horrible idea. It would blow up in his face and he’d not only freak you the fuck out but would piss off his entire family (excluding Barbara, and maybe Dick- now that he’s thinking about it Tim would probably have been a good accomplice too- no, he’s not forming a little stalker crew, not gonna happen). It was, definitively, a terrible idea. Even if the infinitesimally small chance that you wouldn’t lose your shit and he was able to have any semblance of a relationship with you was calling his name like no other, he wasn’t going to take that risk. Stalking you- no, watching you in a completely non obsessive, platonic manner, would be all he did- and an occasional breaking and entering. But that was all.

“No” he finally responded.

She sent a sad face emoji back, then a middle finger, then,

“You’ve got 5 minutes.”

That jolted him into action, the sun quickly setting over Gotham as he crossed the building. He’s done this enough times to know just how to get through your window. Using a rope to scale down to the 4th floor windows- stopping right next to yours, closed, but unlocked for once. Good, he wasn’t looking forward to picking the lock.

As quietly as he could, he pushed your window open, cursing at the small creek it made about halfway up. Slipping inside, landing silently on his toes, pausing before pressing forward. Pressed against the wall of your nearly pitch black room, your bedroom door cracked open he could see the yellow-ish light emitting from outside it, he could hear you shuffling around out there, the faucet running for a second, and the ticking of the gas stove as you turned it on and off and on again. You were fine, you were up and active, cooking, not sulking. You were fine. 

Mission complete. 

Time to go..

He heard you open the fridge, let out a small sigh before closing it.

He leaned closer to the door, peaking through the small opening- your apartment small enough for him to see everything from his place in your room, including you standing in the kitchen standing over a boiling pot of whatever it was you were cooking. Ok, seriously, you were ok, he needs to go- he’s already been here for too long- he’s sure his time is up. You were fine, you are fine. 

“Fuck, ow-” You muttered to yourself, barely audible in the already near silent apartment. 

He pressed forward again, taking a step, then another, until he was standing just behind the door- half hidden in the dark room, illuminated by the kitchen light. 

—--

‘Stupid fucking cheap pot, why the fuck is the handle so hot?’ You thought as you checked your hand for any actual burns. You were fine, but dammit that hurt- first thing you’d when you got a new job, buy better pots and pans- ones that didn’t scorch your hands when you touched the handle. Turning around to face the sink, and run some cold water over your flushed hand-

What the fuck was that.

You paused at the sink. As you turned, you caught a glimpse of something…red. Just barely illuminated, standing in your bedroom. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, a feeling of impending doom washes over you as you turn to stare at whatever it is you just saw. Red and shiny, with stark white eyes- the rest of whatever the hell it was is hidden by the darkness of your bedroom and the door. 

A part of you wants to run- out of the apartment and into the street, scream for help at the top of your lungs until either whatever it was caught you, or one of many vigilantes showed up. Unfortunately, you lived in the absolute shit hole that was Gotham- so you were more likely to be an unsolved case than actually get saved. You really, really didn’t want to join the billion of unsolved cases already plaguing Gotham- you had so much more life to live, and shit was just getting good, well- not really but you still didn’t want to fucking die. Shit still could get good in the future! As long as you don’t get murdered tonight.

‘Ok, time to think rationally,’ You thought, eyes still locked on the whatever-the-fuck-it-is standing in the doorway, ‘I’m not dead yet, so maybe it doesn’t want to kill me, maybe it’s..I don’t know, trying to rob me or something.’

Robbed was probably the best possibility, considering all the other things that it could be. 

“I do not have any money, I’m poor as fuck I swear, can you please leave?” You tried.

You nearly tripped over your own feet, clambering backwards as the thing moved forward, stepping into the light and-

…

…Somebody is fucking with you, you almost immediately decide as your brain finally processes what you had been seeing this entire time. Fucking Red Hood. Every bit of fear is replaced with frustration and annoyance.

Taking a deep breath, you put your hands over your face, letting out a groan that quickly turns into a small, muffled scream.

Why? Why you? Huh? This is the second vigilante home intrusion you’ve experienced. You weren’t afraid of vigilantes, you had no reason to be- you aren’t a criminal and unlike certain organizations, they actually protect the innocent and whatnot. So, for you at the very least, seeing them was less of a terrifying experience than it was a wonder to behold…as long as they’re not in your fucking house. You just wanted to eat dinner. You just wanted to eat dinner and go to bed and then watch stupid 2000’s shows in the morning. But no Red Hood is in your house, and now your whole night is interrupted and you’re stressed and irritated and you really want to throw the nearest thing at him- but that’s rude and he might actually be here for a reason so you should really get out of your own head and hear him out.

You bring your hands down to your side, take a deep breath, and stare right into the eyes of his helmet.

“What do you want?”

—--

Jason has a very inappropriate answer to that question- he doesn’t say it, he doesn’t even give himself the chance to fully think it. But he does need to find an appropriate answer as to why he was in your house.

“You work at GHL?” He asked, his voice unwavering.

You rolled your eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck in the back of your skull. Fuck, you’ve always had a bad attitude, he hasn’t seen it up close in years. He hasn’t seen you this close in years either. During his…other illegal excursions in your house, he always kept a respectful distance from you, mostly out of fear of waking you up, but also because standing over you while you were asleep just felt…wrong.

You groaned, crossing your arms as your glare set on him.

“Yes, I worked at GHL before it blew up, no, I don’t have anything to do with the explosion, I was here all night, there are cameras in the halls, feel free to check them if you think I'm lying. Is there anything else or can you go now?”

Fuck- uh.

“No.” He said, before he could even come up with a reason why.

“‘No’?!” You were, reasonably, upset by this, “Why the hell not?”

‘Good question,’ he thought.

“I know-” Jason started without actually knowing what he wanted to say, his voice modulator making him sound a lot more sure of his words than he actually was, “-you’ve been very..vocal about your disapproval of the police in Gotham, they were temporarily holding a shipment of weapons and ammo there.”

Accusing you of being a criminal maybe wasn’t the best option, definitely wouldn’t get him into your good graces, but it was believable- his preexisting knowledge of you made it just that much easier, even if you look offended by the accusation.

“So what, you’re stalking me?”

You don’t even know the half of it..

“Investigating you.” He responded sternly.

You nodded, so clearly on the verge of losing your shit, “Right, right, ‘investigating’. I don’t care what you call it, I already told you I wasn’t involved in whatever happened so can you please-”

A sudden, blaring alarm shocked both you and Jason. You stormed back into the kitchen a pot of what was previously edible pasta sauce having been reduced to a soldering, smoking mess. Frustrated mumbling filled the space, you groaned and growled as you grabbed the pot handle with a towel and damn near threw it into the sink, turning on the faucet and letting it run. You turned to him, thoroughly pissed off at this point, so many thoughts and words festering in your mind- probably vulgar and violent- but you said nothing, clenching your fist at him and staring at his mask with an nearly dazed but somehow still enraged expression before turning to handle the fire alarm. Using a towel to fan smoke away from it until it stopped beeping. 

Then, you sat on the floor, facing away from him. Breathing deeply, rocking slightly. Jason just stared, there wasn’t much else he could do- 

He heard you sigh, the tension in your shoulder reducing until you were slightly hunched over.

“You owe me dinner.” You said, calmly.

Jason blinked behind his mask- that’s it? You were over it? Just like that?

He halfway expected to be yelled at, hell, he’s surprised you didn’t throw the pot at him. But the ability to just calm down wasn’t something that came easily, if at all to Jason.

“I can do that.”

You sighed again, pushing yourself up off the floor. Turning to him, you face tired and your eyes dark- he knows he just made an already hard day even harder for you, he knows the guilt is going to crush him later, too.

“I know you’re just doing your job and all but you’re kinda a jerk, you know that, right?” Your tone was flat and dim, “Look, I don’t know anything about what happened. I’m just…really fucking tired now so can you just go?”

I know

“I believe you.”

You sighed, “Good, I’m going to bed now, good night.”

He watched as you walked past him, your shoulder bumping him and he tried to ignore how his heart clenched at even the briefest touch from you.

“Oh, and-” you glanced over your shoulder at him, “-if you’re going to come back, use the door.”

You didn’t give him time to respond, closing the bedroom door behind you.

He stood in your apartment alone, a minute passes, and then another as he attempts to process what had just happened and just how fucked he was when Bruce inevitably found out. But…

A small smile crept on his face, could have been a lot worse, you don’t hate him, hell, you invited him to come back in a way. Bruce might scream his head off at him and he’d likely be placed under some kind of suspension and heavily monitored for the foreseeable future. But none of that mattered right now, because he’s seen you, he’s talked to you, and suddenly he has a goal. 

—-

Last night felt like a fever dream, but you could tell it was real. Early in the morning, when the sun was just barely peeking through your window, there was a knock on your door- your bedroom door. You should have been freaked out by it, but you had a sneaking suspicion that a familiar red jerk was on the other side. Stretching  and yawning before getting up, your body was more tired than you realized, feeling heavy and anchored as you dragged your feet to the door. When you opened it, there was nobody there, but a little white paper bag sat on the floor just outside. You looked around, the living room and the kitchen were both empty and the big red jerk was nowhere to be seen.

Taking the bag in your hands, the familiar logo of the 24 hour cafe down the street plastered on it, as well as a note. Taped to the bag, a torn square of paper read,

“Not dinner, but I figured this was close enough. 

And I used the door this time. You’re welcome.

-R.H”

And for some stupid, unfortunate reason, you found it charming.

“Fucking stalker..” you muttered, fighting a smile as walked back to your bed with the bag.

[makethemhoesmad]

Souls Aren’t Supposed to Attract on Accident

“I was never the villain. You just chose to believe your hero.” -Azzi Fudd

Read Azzi Fudd’s Long Awaited Interview here:

Interviewer(I): So, Azzi, as I’ve heard, this is quite the long story. Any specific place you’d like to start?

Azzi(A): I’d like to start at the beginning of the end. 2025-2026 college season

I: Alright, let’s start there.

A: Well, obviously I wanna clarify the rumors first. Yes, Paige and I dated from 2021 all the way up until April of 2026. That’s right, ladies. Your heartbroken star dumped me right after I’d won a second championship, and right before my rookie season.

~

“Aren’t you so proud of me, baby?” Azzi asks, gleefully dancing around in championship confetti.

“Yeah, babe, mhm. Listen, Az, can we talk?” Paige asks, placing her hands on Azzi’s shoulders to still her. 

“What’s up?” Azzi questions. She knows what’s coming, obviously. She just really doesn’t want it to happen the same night she’s just won her second natty in a row.

“I just don’t think it’s gonna work between us, y’know? Especially when we’re in the W and playing against each other so much. Right?” Azzi hates the way she words it like she’s fucking stupid, like she’s slow in the head. 

“Let’s just talk about this later, Paige. I want to enjoy this.”

~

I: Do you believe that breakup impacted your rookie season play at all?

A: If it did, it was only for the better.

~

“Do you really fucking hate yourself that much?” Azzi nearly shouts. Paige backs away, hands up as if she’s calming an animal, as though she hasn’t just rationalized a breakup being because of competition. They’ve been competing for years now. Is Paige just afraid Azzi will win?

“Are you really so mad I won that you’re going to end what we have? You’re never getting something like this again, Paige!” Still, Paige stands, stoic. Azzi grunts, frustrated, turning on her heel to leave.

“Your loss, Bueckers,” she calls over her shoulder. 

As she leaves the hotel she now knows why Paige insisted on booking, she vows that no matter what Paige does, she will always, always have to be second to Azzi.

~

A: Back to my last season of college. Obviously, Paige and I had just started the whole ‘long distance’ thing. It wasn’t too awful, because her season ended right when mine started, so we had time for each other. Sort of, at least. We fought quite a bit during that last season for me.

I: What changed when you went to the W, considering that the Valkyries and Sparks are much closer?

A: Part of it, I think, was Paige’s ego. She’s supposed to be this huge UCONN star, and in her five years there, she only won the natty once. When I did it twice, it pissed her off.

I: So you don’t believe distance played a part in it?

A: No. I think we could have easily made it through the physical separation, if Paige weren’t so damn jealous.

~

“Good game tonight, Paige.” Azzi says respectfully in the handshake line, nodding at her former teammate and love. Paige only grunts in response, refusing to meet her eyes.

~

I: So, 2026, your first meeting with the Sparks, and your team wins. In the post-game press conference, reporters ask Paige how she feels about your success as a rookie, and she declines to comment. Was this significant to you?

A: No. She didn’t want to say that I was having a good season, because my rookie season was going better than hers did. It would have been like telling herself I was better, and that would have torn her apart.

I: Right, because Paige didn’t win Rookie of the Year in 2025. Sonia Citron of the Indiana Fever did, because they were the WNBA champions that year. 

A: Exactly. I was already on course for Rookie of the Year at that point, but the previous year, all eyes had been turned to Olivia and Sonia.

I: And then, of course, we can’t talk about your first WNBA game against Paige without bringing up what fans dubbed the “repost war” started by current Washington Mystic KK Arnold and Ice Brady of the Seattle Storm.

A: Yeah, my old teammates reposting about being children of divorce. To be honest, I wasn’t all that fazed by it. I know Paige went off on KK for it once, but I genuinely didn’t give a fuck.

~

“Azzi, I wish you could still call Paige off like a dog,” KK laments, flashing her phone screen at Azzi. 

“Damn, all that for a repost about being a child of divorce?” Azzi says, squinting to read the string of profanity Paige had texted her former teammate. 

“Yeah, she’s gone off the deep end. Someone’s gotta help her.” 

“Well, it’s never gonna be me.”

~

I: And then nothing really happened at all, right? Not until 2028?

A: I mean, not to the public.

I: What do you mean by that? Anything to do with the 2027 news article titled “Paige Bueckers Spotted Outside of Valkyries Hotel”? 

~

“Azzi, you don’t know what you’re doing to me!” Paige screams, backing Azzi into the wall of her own hotel room.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, Paige? I don’t know that my rookie season was about a million times better than yours, and you’re too fucking weak minded to let me be happy about it?” Paige recoils at the defiance in her voice. She expected Azzi to balk at her fury, maybe try and lick her wounds. She never expected Azzi to fight her on it.

“That’s a lie and you know it. You know how the media spins things, Az. I just really fucking miss you. I’m going crazy without you, really.” Azzi scoffs when Paige kneels down in front of her, groveling like it would change her mind.

“Get up, Paige. And make sure you close the door when you leave.”

~

A: No, nothing about that. One of my teammates said they saw her in the lobby, but I never saw her.

I: Then the next year, you were both selected for the 2028 Olympic team. 

A: The funny thing about that was, it didn’t even cross my mind that she was also on the team until we had the first meeting all together. I was just so over the moon about getting chosen.

I: Was there tension at said meetings?

A: Maybe some, but when we got onto the court it fizzled out because even after all that happened we still worked together really, really well.

I: Yes, and of course the infamous “Is Pazzi Back?” article.

A: I didn’t even read it. Sonia, who’s now my teammate, showed it to me, and I waved it off. Wasn’t too concerned.

~

“So,” Paige says, wiggling her eyebrows at Azzi as she thunks down onto the cardboard bed they’re given to prevent intercourse between athletes. “Is Pazzi really back?” 

Azzi snorts at the absurd suggestion, even if some small part of her heart is screaming for her to say yes and throw herself on top of Paige. “Yeah right. I mean, seriously? They create a rivalry between us since I get drafted and the second we’re back on the court they think we’re fucking again?” Her voice shakes ever so slightly when she says again, unnoticeable to anyone except for someone who knows her well, body and mind. Like Paige used to.

“No offense, but I think I’ll stick to teammates this time,” Azzi scoffs, pointing Paige out the door.

“Aw, baby, you want me to beg? I can beg, you know I’m good at it.” Paige kneels down in front of her, remembering the way she was in this position in front of Azzi in a hotel room, about a year ago. Azzi must be remembering too, because she kicks Paige in the side and strides out of her own room.

~

I: Some critics said that Olympic team was one of the best ever, but when they look to credit players, they mention the Citron-Fudd connection almost more than the Bueckers-Fudd connection.

A: Well, yeah, Soni and I play well together. We’ve proven that over and over on the Valkyries.

~

“I’m getting a call from a blocked number, what the fuck.” Azzi gripes, showing Sonia her phone. 

“Answer it, you only live once.”

Azzi slides the call to answer, then hits the speaker button.

“Azzi, I swear to God if you’re fuckin’ that straight bitch Citron you better just own up to it now,” a slurred, familiar voices crackles. Azzi’s eyebrows raise, but she’s spent some time around Paige Bueckers and alcohol, enough to know exactly what she sounds like when she’s drunk and jealous. Sonia looks insulted, but before she can say anything, Paige speaks again.

“She don’t even make as much money as you, Az, so I don’t know why you’re even goin’ for her. I bet she don’t make your pussy feel the way I made it feel, huh?”

“Paige, you’re drunk. Fucking go to bed and call again in the morning if you still care.” Azzi ends the call, immediately beginning to apologize to the very insulted Sonia on her couch. 

“I’m so sorry she said that shit, bro, sometimes she just calls and says that stuff.”

“And you let her? Girl, I don’t know how you don’t slap the shit out of her when we play.”

“Maybe next time I will, you know, ‘cause we’re buddies again.”

~

I: Then, July 2029 when Paige went onto a podcast for an interview, she told the camera “yeah, never date your teammate”

A: I watched that, and nodded along. She was right, it wasn’t really going to do much for our careers, though I guess neither of us realized that until later.

~

‘Never date your teammate’ huh? Is what Azzi types into Paige’s Instagram DMs at midnight after watching that podcast episode. 

“No way she doesn’t even fucking open it,” Azzi curses to herself. She’s mad, obviously because Paige mentioned her a frustrating amount of times in that interview, considering she has a girlfriend to go home to now. Yep, cute little LA up-and-coming actress. She’s 5’2 on a good day, and the sweetest little bitch you’ll ever meet. One time, she had the audacity to comment ‘you’re so gorgeous’ on Azzi’s Instagram post. But Azzi obviously doesn’t care

~

I: Basically radio silence from you for quite a bit after that season, no one saw you doing anything until you commented on a fellow Valkyrie’s post.

A: I took a long break from social media, because I felt like the toxicity of it was hurting more than it was helping anything. When I finally did come back, it was because I couldn’t resist supporting my long-time friend Kate Martin and her firstborn!

I: It was right into this past season then, right?

A: Absolutely, I’ve always had a very championship-based mindset. I want to be the best, and I want to do it well. Nothing really messes with my head during the season, I just get so driven.

~

Paige messages back three months later, with a snide comment about Azzi being easily distracted. Azzi doesn’t justify it with a response. Really, she looks down on three-months-ago Azzi. She’s matured a lot since then. She’s deleted every media outlet from her phone, gone ‘off the grid’, buried herself in workouts. She tells herself it’s because her team didn’t make it to the finals this year, and that she needs to. It helps her sleep at night. Sometimes.

~

I: And now here we are, where we can finally talk about this year’s riveting WNBA finals. Neck-and-neck until the end, with you putting up some of your best performances.

A: I love to win. Anyone who’s close to me knows that. It’s my number one source of dopamine.

I: So I bet a win like that, over a team like that, must’ve felt really, really good, right?

A: Oh, it felt like I was riding the world’s best high.

~

The handshake line of the seventh game is an emotional roller coaster every year, opposing players hugging each other, cheering, sobbing, confetti. Everything is going both 100 miles per hour and seems to stop at the same time. 

But when Azzi catches that brief glimpse of Paige, leaning down so, so low to hug her girlfriend, she knows the celebration won’t be what she remembers most. For just a moment, she lets a long-suppressed memory play, of the 2025 National Championship. When they were teammates, when they ran to each other, instead of barely grazing hands and inclining heads in the handshake line, as if they had never met.

~

I: And that brings us to right here, right now. What are your future plans? 

A: As everyone knows, the WNBA free agency trading period always gets intense. This year, my team is rebuilding and recreating, moving people around. While I will always love the Valkyries, I’m making a change. You’re looking at a member of the Los Angeles Sparks!

~

Azzi scrolls through DMs in the hours following her interview release. Some congratulatory, some spiteful, some simply conspiratorial. One name catches her eye, nearly lost in a sea of words.

paigebueckers: Welcome to LA, Az.

___________________________________________ taglist: @purple-paige-purple @overtimenatalie @fuddfanatic35 @azzilov @ldapper @forpsheturnpesbian @rhyxanwaters @bu3ckersgirl @rosemariiaa @paigebaby5 @tndaqlwifwy

[eempyreall]

I wanted to come by and first of all praise ur work because they're cool as fuck, I love dark themed blogs. Second of all, is it possible to ask for a Souya x reader where she complains a little that he's a bit stale in bed, so he just flips a 180 and is mean to her about it? :33 thanks in advance

Thank you for the request! I didn’t really know what you meant specifically by ‘mean’ so I hope this is what you were expecting!

༺————————————————————————༻

♪ 𝐵𝑎𝑑 𝑆𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝐽𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑠 ♪

༺ Bad Side༻

Oneshot ~ Boyfriend Souya x Female Reader

Summary ~ You underestimated who your boyfriend really is.

Featuring ~ Kawata Souya

Extra Notes ~ This is the fandom version of this story. If you want to read the non fandom that provides original characters, press this link.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Souya has always been gentle with you. Despite his rough exterior and the way he handled fights, he was careful with you. You find it sweet how he treats you so delicately, as if you were such a fragile thing. But you had a moment of slight frustration as you spoke with your friend over the phone.

“I just wish he wasn't so soft. I love that he's kind to me and takes his time in the bedroom to make sure I’m alright, but it'd be nice to see him a little jealous sometimes or even be a little rougher when we have sex,” you sighed. “Maybe I'm just toxic.”

You hadn't meant for him to hear it. You weren't even that serious about it—it wasn't that big of a deal considering you both were just talking about your boyfriends. You definitely hadn't expected his change in attitude.

What you didn't know was the inner turmoil Souya actually felt after hearing those words.

You had no idea what his true feelings were. You didn't know that he checked all of your social media apps and messages when you slept, using your face to unlock the phone.

You had no idea how many guys he's beaten till they're near death after they made a pass at you, whether it was the bartender, barista, or anyone else, all with tears streaming down his face at the thought of you leaving him. You had no idea that when he wasn't working at the ramen shop, he'd follow you everywhere you went.

You didn't even know that every time you're both in the bedroom, he stopped himself from marking you and bringing blood to the surface while wanting to completely ravage your body. He wanted to break your mind, make you cry out for him and mix your tears and sweat together as he thrusts into you.

That night, Souya was different.

His usual quiet warmth was replaced with a sharp edge that his usual scowl didn't produce. There was a dark undertone to his gaze as he stood at the bedside.

“Get up.”

Your eyebrow raised as you looked at him in confusion. “Souya? What's going on?”

You gasped as he snatched the front of your shirt and forced you to stand from the bed. “What the fuck?!” you exclaimed before he shoved you against the wall, the hard surface hitting the back of your head.

The pain in your head throbbed as you stared at him with wide eyes, noticing the tears building up in his own blue irises. Your hands reached for his grip, only for him to release you and wrap his fingers around your throat.

“So that's what you really think, huh?” His voice was eerily calm, despite the tight grip closing around your airway. “You think I can't handle you or somethin'?”

“S—Souya! What are you talking about?” You stuttered as you tried to pry his hand off your neck. “Just tell me what's wrong!”

“I was nice for your sake,” his tone laced with something sinister as the tears finally streamed down his face. “I held back... thought you were too weak to handle the real me.”

“Y-you're scaring me, Souya. Please calm down!” You pleaded.

You froze as he leaned closer to you, bowing his forehead against yours, the palm of his free hand flat against the wall. “Tell me what you want, Y/n,” he whispered.

“I—I don't know. I don't know where you're going with this, Souya, and it's throwing me off. Please, calm down and just tell me what I did to upset you,” you pleaded with a shaky tone, tears pricking your own eyes in confusion.

“That's alright, 'cause I know exactly what I wanna do to you.”

Your eyes were rolled into the back of your head, tears mixing with the sweat on your face as you pressed your head against the bed. His balled-up shirt was used as a gag to muffle your screams and whimpers. Fabric was tied tightly around your wrists, strapping you to the bars of the headboard as your body rocked violently from the impact of his thrusts.

The bloody scars and bites across your body burn, the intense feeling of overstimulation taking over as your vagina numbs around his thick cock. You’re pinned into a mating press as his grip tightens around your legs. The safe word is useless as your body is forced into another spasm of a painful orgasm.

“That’s fucking right. Look at you… so weak and full of my cum,” he pants as he continues to grind his hips against you—your vaginal walls clenching around his length. He groaned at the pressure, biting his lip as his hips rolled harder against you.

He stops for a moment to lean over, fingers curling around your jaw after gently smacking your face to catch your attention. You look up at him with teary eyes as he snatched the fabric out of your mouth.

He didn’t give you a chance to lick over your dry lips. “Stick out your tongue,” he says with a low voice.

Once you comply, he drags his own tongue over yours slowly before giving you a hard thrust and holding the head of his girth against your g-spot. You grunt in response.

“You’ve lost the privilege to go anywhere on your own, if it’s not work. I don’t give a damn about your slutty friends or whatever plans you have. You don’t go anywhere without me, got it?”

“B—but, Souya—hah!” You cry out in pain when he smacks your thigh with enough force to bruise the skin.

“Got it?”

You nod in response as he continued to fuck into you until you faint.

[sidekick-hero]

Here it is, the third and final chapter of my fic hold me close (I'm shaking apart) - it only took me 1,5 years to finish this fic. This whole fic started off thanks to @dreaminginpencil and their amazing fanart. This chapter specifically was inspired and refers to this second piece of art from them. Also much love to @pearynice for being my cheerleader and reading this over - your comments were the best motivation 💜

Summary:

Of all the unlikely friendships Eddie had formed during the literal apocalypse, the one with Steve felt the most unlikely. Hawkins High's freak and king. But those titles had stopped meaning anything, they were just names and had nothing to do with him or with Steve.

It all came down to one simple truth: Steve Harrington was not at all what Eddie expected him to be, and it was confusing him to no end.

Or: Steve asks Eddie if he wants to experiment. Eddie wants so much more, but he takes what he can get and tries to not let it break his heart.

Have a little sneak peek under the cut and read the rest on AO3 💜

That had been another first Eddie had given his former-high-school-nemesis-turned-best-friend.

“Seriously, man, what’s going on?” Steve’s voice pulls him from the memory, grounding him back in the present. His body, however, lingers very much in the past, judging by the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans.

“Huh? Sorry.” Eddie shakes his head, trying to clear the haze of his thoughts. “I must’ve drifted off.”

Steve, honest-to-God, pouts at that. “Am I boring you?”

The absurdity of the question almost makes Eddie laugh. Steve does a lot of things—annoys him, mystifies him, terrifies him sometimes—but boring him? Never.

“Quite the contrary, Stevie,” Eddie says, a mischievous glint in his eye. He shifts closer, angling his hips deliberately so Steve can feel just how far from bored he is. “I’ve just been thinking about last week and how you blew my mind.”

That is apparently the right thing to say because Steve leans in, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. “I see. Although, if I remember correctly, neither your mind nor mine was the only thing that got blown that day.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asks, feigning innocence, though his grin betrays him.

Steve’s lips curve into a slow, deliberate smile, and Eddie realizes he’s been staring at them since the conversation veered into suggestive territory. “Mmhmm,” Steve hums. “It is. Maybe I need to refresh your memory?”

And oh, isn’t that an offer Eddie can’t refuse?

“I think you might,” Eddie murmurs, already leaning in to capture those lips in what he’s sure will be the prelude to something much more scandalous, when a blaring horn startles him so badly he nearly tumbles off the roof.

Only Steve’s quick reflexes save him, an arm snaking around Eddie’s waist and pulling him tightly against his chest.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, his heart hammering.

“Nope,” Steve quips, unfazed. “That’s Jon and Nancy with the kids.” He glances down at the driveway, confirming it. “I almost forgot—we’re supposed to take Dustin and Max and pick up Robin on the way to the theatre.”

“Shit! You think they saw us?” Eddie’s voice pitches higher, nerves tightening his chest at the thought of their friends catching on to what exactly they’ve been doing. It isn’t that he’s ashamed, not of Steve at least. But of himself. Of how he’s taking Steve up on an offer that Steve probably doesn’t mean the same way Eddie wants it to. He wants too much—more than Steve is willing, or maybe even able, to give. Yet, he takes whatever scrapes he’s given and he’s not sure if that makes him greedy or pathetic or both.

It’s not just that, either. Eddie trusts their friends. He really does. Despite everything in him screaming not to, he knows they wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t out him. But they’d look at him differently, and he isn’t ready for that.

Steve shakes his head, still maddeningly relaxed. “No, I don’t think so. They probably just saw us sitting up here. That’s why Nance honked. And anyway, it’s just her and Jon and the kids.”

Eddie wisely keeps his mouth shut, clambering back inside the house through the window. At least the situation in his pants has solved itself.

Steve follows more leisurely, still unconcerned. Eddie doesn’t get it. How can he be so unbothered, so uncaring as to whether or not they get caught? Steve has more to lose than Eddie, at least from Eddie’s perspective. People already think Eddie’s a freak. Hell, they call him worse things—Satanist, murderer. What’s a little sodomy on top of it?

But Steve? The golden boy, the fallen King who rose from the ashes like a phoenix. The unsung hero, the heart of their ragtag group. He has so much more to lose, and Eddie doesn’t want that—would rather deny himself than risk Steve losing the family he’s always wanted, the one he deserves.

Eddie has it bad. He knows.

Still. “What about Wheeler?”

“What about her?” Steve’s brows furrow, his head tilting slightly, a gesture so puppy-like it almost makes Eddie melt.

“If she saw us! How are you not getting it?”

Steve steps closer, confusion deepening on his face. “I have no idea what’s going on here. What’s Nance got to do with anything?”

“So you’re not worried that she’ll think—that if she and Jon—but then she saw us and thinks—y’know, then how will you get her back?”

And okay, now that he says it out loud, it does sound…well, weird. Steve seems to think so too, because he just blinks at him a few times, clearly contemplating how to react to Eddie’s word-vomit.

Finally, he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep, measured breath. “Eddie—” he starts, then stops, his eyes scanning Eddie’s face. “I never wanted to read someone’s mind before I met you, y’know? You’re a fucking enigma, driving me crazy.” The fondness creeping into his tone softens the sting of his words. “Also, I already told you: me and Nance? That’s not gonna happen. She’s happy with Jon, and I’m—happy too. Really. I think I was missing the idea of us, not the reality of Nance and me. There was a reason things didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, monster from another dimension.”

“No,” Steve says, his voice patient as ever, shaking his head. “Not the Upside Down. Sure, it sped things up, maybe, but only because I wasn’t what Nance needed in the first place. And I needed her to break my heart so I could realize what a massive dick I was. I like who I am now—someone with real friends. Friends like Nancy, Jon, Robin, and you.”

The human heart is a strange thing, Eddie thinks, because it manages to feel both warmed and utterly wrecked by the sentiment of Steve’s friendship.

“So, to answer your question, I don’t want to ‘get her back,’ so it doesn’t matter what she saw or didn’t. Would you please stop worrying so we can finally go watch that kids’ movie you and the twerps are so excited about?”

“‘Stand by Me’ is not a kids’ movie!”

The glint in Steve’s eyes tells Eddie that his outburst is exactly what Steve was aiming for. “It’s a movie about kids, so it’s a kids’ movie.”

Eddie throws his hands in the air, huffing like the Big Bad Wolf about to blow a little piggy’s house to bits. “You are so wrong, and I’m going to tell Dustin what you said so he can explain exactly how wrong you are in excruciating detail.”

“No! Eddie, please—” Steve begs, reaching for his arm, but Eddie’s already bounding down the stairs toward the front door.

“Dusty Bun, you need to hear what Steve just said!”

[mydirtyvalentine]

my radio malevolent theory

this is my masterpost for my malevolent radio theory which includes heavy spoilers for the series featured below the cut.

so as you may have guessed by the name of this post I have this working theory that malevolent, and what we hear of malevolent, is all, a radio show.

now before i go further explaining my theory I wanted to say that I do not want this to be the case and I don't want my theory to be right. I'm not a fan of narratives that end with a twist of, everything you just witnessed, this entire world, these characters, all of it was fantasy or a dream. i don't want malevolent to share that same narrative. but given things with the dream world and just cosmic horror in general it wouldn't be entirely out of the realm of possibility for either the entire narrative of pieces of it to not be real. (also just clarifying I know malevolent is a work of fiction when I talk about things not being real its in reference to canon events in the show not having actually taken place within the world of malevolent)

with that out of the way, let me share my woes with you all.

so this theory started to take root for me after listening to part 43 the witch, and then following that immediately after with my listen of part 44 the deliverance.

the way that arthur is brought back to life, screaming after his brief time in the waylay, and his screams are immediately cut off by a lyric-depraved tune of "come easy, go easy love" by hoagy carmichael just haunted me for weeks and I couldn't stop thinking about it and out of that this theory was born.

i think music in malevolent is incredibly important. both diagetic and non diagetic music has an extensive impact on the way listeners perceive the events of the show.

malevolent literally begins with radio, the static shifting between stations until we land on "you call it madness" setting the tone for the narrative we are about to embark upon. this paired with the way that every episode fades out with radio static really cemented this idea of mine that what we are listening to had the potential to be a radio show. perhaps we stumbled across the broadcast, we are sitting by a radio, shifting through channels and come across this story that's unlike any we've ever heard before.

circling back to part 43 the witch, I think its incredibly interesting that the episode ends being cut off by that song, "come easy, go easy love" specifically, cause if you listen to part 34 the butcher one of the songs playing on a radio during the butcher's hunt after arthur is "come easy, go easy love". to me the ending of part 43 felt like such an interruption, it wasn't just arthur screaming and cut off or the sound fading away with static like most episodes but his screams being cut short by a song that in canon has been shown only explicitly playing on the radio. almost as if the 'broadcast' was being cut out and overlayed with a pleasant tune, to mask the horror and shock of hearing the screams of our beloved protagonist.

another big part of my theory is kayne and his overall narrative awareness. when it think about my radio theory I remember his line about fate in part 20. "it's not your choice, or his choice... it's fate, it's alllll predestined, everything you believe in and you desire you feel its allllll true." to me this reads as arthur and johns journey as something that has already been constructed, they are puppets on a string. they, very much so in their world and the world they perceive as true and real and their own feel that they have choice and control over their fate but the way kayne frames this, hell, even the way the show itself operates shows this isn't true. it isn't arthur or john's choice in the end, it's the listeners. we are the ones who are the masters of arthur and john's fate, the captains of their souls. weekly patreon members vote upon what choice arthur and john will make and of course in the narrative arthur and john will feel as if those choices are their own. they don't see that everything is scripted for them.

it reminds me almost of benevolent in the way that they are operating in a narrative that has already been prepared for them.

also benevolent is a small part of this theory cause it's fairly common for shows and radio shows to have a Christmas special and I think benevolent was a great example of that. the entire episode reads like a weird radio radio play you tuned into, it even features a musical guest who performs an entire song, very much like something you'd hear on the radio.

another big part of my theory is when we hear radio static/sounds. there are three cases where I have notated that we hear these sounds, the first being at the beginning and end of every episode, the second being whenever john touches a dead person/being, and the third being whenever the hand of malevolence is used.

all of these are instances in the show that deviate from the reality of what john and arthur are experiencing. all of these instances are reaching beyond the narrative of what's actually happening. i find this really interesting especially when looking at the ladder two cases. both when john touches someone dead, as well as when the hand of malevolence is used, both of these are instances where john and arthur are striving to look or 'be' beyond the current world they're in. they are trying to witness or experience a narrative that is not the one they are currently experiencing, hence this static sound, hence this 'interference'. they are challenging the very structure of what they are trapped within. it's in these moments that I feel arthur and john are the closest to being masters of their own fate.

there's more i could add to this theory that has to do with patreon experiences of the show but the only thing I'll add here which I find fascinating and that isn't a spoiler for anything in the show is that he's called 'booth john'. something about that title just screams host/recording booth. again this figure with narrative awareness.

this is a very clunky collection of my current thoughts about my radio theory. i know in the future I want to make a more organized post and I will definitely add to this post with more ideas of mine as they develop.

if you read all this thank you so much, I adore you.

I hope you enjoyed the chaos of this post and if you have any thoughts or a similar theory i'd love to hear them!

[moontheoretist]

Funny how you were hidden in my reblogs and I didn't even notice you for 2 months. I guess ignoring you would be my best option here BUT I want to say a thing or two about your lack of fandom etiquette:

I know very well why the situation in the canon happened. That's why what I'm saying in my post is a HEADcanon. It's a headcanon because it's not canon. It doesn't have to be canon for me and others to enjoy this ship. I like it that way, you don't have to.

Don't like, don't read. Ship and let ship. You dislike the ship, I really like the ship. I like when people start at odds and then slowly grow to understand and care for each other. It's an interesting ship dynamic. With Nathaniel and Castiel there is a bonus of them having a past where they respected each other, but Deborah destroyed it all. So for them going from hateful to cordial to romance is just thrilling. (Not to mention how they flipped their aesthetics / personalities later in My Candy Love: University). It's just one of the ship dynamics I enjoy. It's not a crime to like it.

I specifically wrote "it's probably unpopular opinion" because this ship is a minor ship and not many people ships it, so obviously it's not very much popular. Still, if someone wanted to start shipping them, that episode is the best opportunity to start the romance.

It's actually hilarious how you flared up at the mere sight of the ship. It's also so hilarious that your blog has only 2 posts and both hateful.

Stew in your very rude and very "I don't deserve fandom" rage.

I won't "stop trying to do bad ship" because I don't want to.

And I don't have to. It's my blog. You are a pest here.

Die mad about it I guess 😘

It’s probably unpopular opinion, but if you do not romance both Castiel and Nathaniel, episode 33 is where it becomes clear that those two are getting closer (their convo in Thomas’ room was very private and very calm) and that Nathaniel was showing off his muscles for Castiel, because it was his attempt at flirting.

And it goddamn worked.

[independentanon]

"EVERYTHING IS NORMAL" "THEY'RE █████████ THE INTERNET!"

Sometimes you'll notice changes being quietly made to your favorite internet services. Be it a video platform, your search engine of choice, your favorite social network, or wherever you go to buy the things you need or want. Sometimes you'll also see changes in advertisements that were, suspiciously, only relevant to your own unique situation.

You know it in your gut that something definitely changed, but it was only worth mentioning in conversation. "This changed for me, did it happen to you too?" Some of these changes are experienced by everyone all at once, but others are limited to specific groups, and sometimes are rolled out in staggered waves, meaning only some people are affected at different points in time. By the time the change is fully implemented - when every person targeted for this change is affected - it doesn't even matter anymore. The companies making these changes could report them publicly if they wanted to, and all people could do in response is be annoyed by it but eventually accept it and move on. The idea of "boiling the frog" comes to mind.

Our services have been getting worse in some ways, better in others, but there's undoubtedly some changes that are bad for everyone but the companies supplying these internet services (and sometimes, secretly, the governments of various countries around the world).

For me, personally, I've noticed changes to Meta (Facebook), to Google (and its services, Google Maps and YouTube), to ChatGPT, to Twitter - oh sorry, to "X", and many more. These changes are relatively small and are mostly unnoticeable... but I noticed them, just like all the other little changes they've quietly rolled out over the years. However, these changes feel a bit more insidious.

With Meta (Facebook for me), it was that they started suppressing accounts that frequently posted political content. This became most obvious during and after the 2024 election.

With Google, it was how it seems to bury certain content that's relevant to your given search, such as proof - one way or another - that something was happening with our politicians that's valuable knowledge to the public, but apparently isn't relevant enough to be on the very first page (or is simply hidden away entirely). This isn't even mentioning that Google modified its maps service so The Gulf of Mexico now reads The Gulf of America...

With YouTube, it's how it prioritizes click-bait, rage-bait, heavily-one-sided discussions of political topics, rather than pushing the very proof (or at least the very best evidence) that paints the clearest picture these overblown discussions are about. It's clear they're prioritizing watch time and engagement instead of truth.

With ChatGPT, I knew they had to control their generative text AI behind-the-scenes for certain situations (naturally you don't want your service to be generating stuff like "kill yourself," hate speech, lies, etc...), but recently it seemed to change its sources when looking up news online, to the point that it now paints a favorable image of Trump and his people.

And Twitter... sorry, with X... well, I shouldn't even need to explain this one, but I will try. The richest man in the world bought Twitter, changed how some of the back-end works, dramatically changed which voices were suppressed and which ones were heard, allowing hate speech and misinformation to spread freely on the platform, even promoting misinformation directly by retweeting it... there's a lot to it, but just know that Twitter used to be less shitty than it is now. Now it's really bad.

The point I'm making is that a lot of these changes happened around or soon after the 2024 election, and the people controlling these companies showed up to Trumps inauguration. On top of their million dollar donations to Trump, they're also doing work on his behalf to mask what awful things him and his people are doing while simultaneously promoting the things that make them look good. In short, information is becoming less accessible.

All of this, of course, is ignoring what Trump and his people have done to our government-provided websites and services, like removing the constitution and more from whitehouse.gov, how they're scrubbing decades of data from the CDC, etc...

The worst part about all this is I don't know if I could even prove anything anymore. These changes have made it difficult to know what services can be trusted going forward.

These are terrifying times. If the censorship was bad before, it's so much worse now.

Although I'd usually go out and protest with these signs, I've decided not to do it with these ones. I'd practically be an actor or an NPC, repeating the same visual joke over and over. These are my first signs I won't protest with. At least, for now.

Nonetheless, don't forget to fly your flags upside-down, boys and girls and non-binary types. Stay safe, and fuck Trump & Co!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Not a request I just would really love to know how you come up with your ideas? You put out a lot of content and it always unique! How do you do it??

Oh my gosh! Hi! Yes! Of course! I'd love to answer this question.

Ha. Okay. This is going to take some explaining, so hang in there as I ramble (because I will ramble.)

If you were to crack open my skull and peer inside, you'd find a nest of noise. It's loud in my head (it's anxiety and likely something undiagnosed) and I am thinking about anything and everything all at once. Really, I should be medicated, but since I'm not, I channel all that energy into being productive because I literally cannot be alone with my thoughts. I require constant distraction.

Writing is that distraction for me. It's very soothing for my brain when I take all that noise and focus it on something I really love, and it always produces productivity and creativity as a result.

My best friend is always like "how the fuck do you write so much??" and it's because it's a coping mechanism. It's a bit like therapy in a way.

When it comes to the What If & Imagines series, I cannot take all the credit. All except a handful of prompts have come directly from reader requests. While those specifically don't come from my head, they do act as a great starting point. I think about possible angles by considering how I believe the characters would act in those scenarios. I start small, and then expand if I think I need to. I also go into them knowing that I do not want to rehash the same thing four times, and I go out of my way to make sure each is different.

But beyond that, I'm always thinking and questioning and considering how I can turn something on its head. And I don't mean that just for my CoD work. I take that mentality with all the fandoms I write for. I carry a little notebook with me, my iphone's notes app is a literal jungle, the Google Docs app on my phone is also abused, and I write down anything that I'm like "I need to keep that." Sometimes if all I can grab is a sticky note, I'll use that and then shove it in my purse. And if I'm in the car, I'll dictate my thoughts through Siri to add them into my notes app or send an email to myself (through Bluetooth y'all; don't text and drive.)

I also schedule time to write, and I make a to-do list of what I want to accomplish during that writing session. It helps focus my brain.

I also stay heavily organized. Like heavily organized. I have lots of spreadsheets that are color-coded, and I purposefully assign "due dates" because it tricks my brain into thinking "you must get this done because it is assigned" and WHAM, I'm plugging away at the keyboard.

When I get stuck, I only ever reach out to my bestie. Sometimes I just need a fresh pair of eyes when I'm rolling ideas around in my head but something is missing and I have no idea what it might be. She's great about throwing a few suggestions my way that has me looking at the story differently, or considering a prompt from another angle.

But it's important to note that what works for me isn't going to work for everyone. I'm sure one of you reading this right now is thinking "Poppy, you need to fucking chill." And friend, I wholeheartedly agree. But if I'm not being productive through managing my anxiety-induced head noise, then I'm running on pure rage and spite.

Anyway! I hope that answered your question! Thank you so much for sending it in, and also kudos to y'all who read through all that. <3

~ Poppy

[retrospacejelly]

can I get a bully!Miguel Ohara and brat!nerd!reader fic? This is completely free range so whatever you want. ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: bully!Miguel O’Hara x brat!nerd!reader

Summary: Miguel O’Hara, the resident genius and playboy of Alchemex Academy, seems to have it all - the stellar grades, a full ride scholarship, plenty of girls, and a cute little thing to torment - you.  So why can’t he stand seeing you get insulted by some loser? He’s supposed to hate you, right?

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Insults,

A/N: Such a great request! I am so sorry for not posting/responding for so long. Hope you enjoy the read :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To say she disliked your organic chem class would be an understatement. She dreaded it. It wasn’t because of the immature freshmen, or the unmotivated professor, no. It was because of the student who sat in the far left corner of the lecture room, not paying attention to a single thing the professor was reciting.

To most, he seemed like the typical frat guy - the ones that didn’t have a single thing to worry about because mommy and daddy were paying for everything. All he had to do was pass his classes and all would be good.

However, this was Miguel O’Hara we’re talking about. Sure, he seems like a frat guy, but he’s the smartest student at the academy. And that absolutely infuriated y/n. Not that she really needed to be jealous of him. Her grades did rival his after all. 

And for whatever reason, Miguel couldn’t just leave that be. Oh no. How dare someone try to compete for his spot at number one? And why did this person have to be so breathtaking? Miguel at one point had thought about asking her out; an idea that had soon gone down the drain after hearing her reject multiple guys. Guys who were pretty attractive. But not as attractive as Miguel. He couldn’t give them credit for that.

So yea, maybe he did push her around a bit. And maybe he did find out where she worked from a friend of a friend, just so he could give her hell when ordering such specific drinks. And yes, maybe he did sleep with her roommate while she was trying to study for midterms, just because.

Long story short, Migurl O’Hara made it his life’s goal to torment y/n for as long as he deemed fit. 

--------------------

“Jones and Latchel! Ray and Thomas!”, the professor called out, reading from her paper. As more names were being partnered for the group project, y/n started to tap her pencil anxiously. If her counting was correct, there were only four students whose names hadn’t been partnered up, hers and Miguel’s included. She quietly groaned to herself, praying to whatever being was out there that she could partner up with any of the other two people there.

“Jacobs and Emmerson! O’Hara and L/n!”

Well, there goes wishful thinking. It wasn’t really the end of the world. She had to admit that Miguel wasn’t a partner who’d dump all his work onto someone. But maybe he would for her. How annoying.

“This spot taken?” a familiar voice asks, not waiting for an answer as he plops his bag onto the desk.

She responds with a short hum. 

“What?” Miguel asks, narrowing his eyes.

Y/n shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d be over here so quickly. Glad you missed me that much.” she teases, blinking up at him. He gives her a scowl in return, grabbing the rubric and looking over it.

“I would dump my work on you, but I’d like it done right, so I guess we’ll be stuck actually working together.”

The girl scoffs. “Right. This is coming from the guy who got a C on his midterms. That pussy whipped for my roomie? Guess your little sabotage plan didn’t work, because what did I score again? Oh right, an A+.” she snaps, looking over her own copy.

Oh how she loved rubbing that in his face. She always got a reaction from him every time. 

Miguel’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed as a smug smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “Congrats on the A+ princesa. Must feel good knowing grades are the only thing you’re good at.” He gives her a once over. “Too bad all that brainpower can’t land you a date, huh?” he hisses, his voice low.

Y/n laughs, turning to face him. “Actually, my brain power and good personality did land me a date. With Peter Parker - he’s your roommate. Right? At least I know that my looks aren’t the only thing that people are interested in. Unlike you.” she replies, smiling wickedly.

For a moment, his tough gaze seems to falter, before he turns to face the front. 

“Whatever. Let’s just get this project over with so I don’t have to talk to you anymore than I have to.” 

Y/n didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. Both knew who had won that argument.

--------------------

After class had ended, and the two exchanged numbers, they both agreed to meet up at the library to start on their project.

The campus library was usually empty on a wednesday afternoon, the only people being the librarian, and the coding club congregating by the computer tables. Y/n and Miguel sat at one of the tables in the back, not saying anything to each other unless absolutely necessary.

Despite hating each other, both had to admit that they worked pretty well together. As Miguel was discussing a possible topic for their project, someone walked up to their table. The two looked up to see someone from the coding club, fidgeting nervously. Y/n mentally groaned.

“Hey Y/n.” the person said, smiling sheepishly.

Y/n nodded, smiling politely. “Hi Nate. Anything I can help you with?” she asks, her leg starting to bounce under the desk. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. 

“Well…I was just wondering if you changed your mind about Friday? I know you said you weren’t a fan of horror movies, so I looked and they’re playing a rerun of Grease.” he stutters out, not sparing Miguel a glance.

“I already told you no, Nate. and my answer will remain the same. I’m flattered, but I don’t see you the same way, and I wouldn’t want to lead you on. Besides, I have a project that will be taking up a lot of my time.

Nate didn’t seem to like that answer, his brows now scrunched.

“Oh, come on! I’m a nice guy. I have a great rap sheet, excellent grades, and I’m a decent looking guy. Why can’t you just give me a chance?”

Miguel, now very annoyed and feeling weirdly protective, opens his mouth to speak, but y/n beats him to it.

“Your point? Miguel’s all those things, yet you don’t see me sucking his dick now, do you? Get a grip, man. You’re embarrassing yourself.” She says, pointing to the man next to her. He let out a quiet and offended, hey!. Before looking back at Nate.

Nate glared at her with a red face. “Tch. Whore.” he mutters.

As soon as those words come out of his mouth, Miguel shoots up from his spot, grabbing him by the collar. 

“Want to repeat that, tough guy? Think you actually deserve someone like her?” he asks, gripping the fabric of Nate’s shirt tightly. “I better not see you talking to her again, you hear me? Now, scram.” he commands, releasing the guy, and watching with a satisfied smirk as he runs off.

Miguel sits back down at the desk, heaving out a sigh. “Who knew you got such attention, princesa? Maybe I was wrong about you.” He teases, only looking back at her when she doesn’t give him a witty comment.

“y/n-”

“Shut up.” she says, not looking at him. “You had no business doing what you did. I could’ve handled it just fine.”.

He chuckles. “Oh really? Because it looked like-”

“What? Looked like what?” she interrupts again. “You don’t understand what it’s like to have to deal with shit like this. Every girl you go out with or sleep with doesn’t say shit like that to you. Everyone loves Miguel O’Hara. When you reject a girl, you aren’t insulted or accused of being a prude. Because god forbid a fucking nerd has standards, right?”

Miguel looked at her wide eyed, not saying anything as she started to gather her things. 

“We can reschedule later. I have to go.” She says, briskly making her way out of the library.

Miguel only had one thing in his mind - What. the. Fuck?

--------------------

By the end of the week, they had completed their project and submitted it, albeit with an awkward tension surrounding them every time they interacted.

Neither had brought up what happened at the library, and thankfully they wouldn’t have to talk to each other anymore.

Miguel was dying.

Well not actually, but it felt like it. Something about that day didn’t sit right with him. Like, how the whole time, he hated the fact that some piece of shit dared to insult you. More specifically, he hated how it bothered him so much. 

He also hated the stupid humming that was coming from Peter as he brewed his morning coffee. Why the hell was he so happy?

“Peter? What gives?” Miguel asks, flipping through channels on their shared tv. Peter chuckles and plops down next to Miguel. I scored myself a date! And with y/n. Can you believe it? I thought she would reject me, but she actually said yes!” he exclaimed, taking a drink of his coffee.

Miguel’s eye twitched. “You’re what?”

Peter just nods, not noticing the growing anger coming from his friend. “I know, right! We’re going to that new restaurant down on Sixteenth Ave. So you’ll have the dorm to yourself, man! Perfect for bringing over a hot girl.” He says, nudging his shoulder.

Miguel stands up, grabbing his keys. “I’ll be back.” he states, before leaving their dorm. The door slamming shut behind him. Peter flinches before shrugging and turning to the tv.

Y/n was lounging in her bed, scrolling through social media. She hadn’t been feeling the best mentally the rest of the week. Too mad at everyone to think straight. She contemplated many times whether she should block Miguel and ignore him forever. Unfortunately, him and his teasing wouldn’t allow that in a long shot.

Suddenly there was a knock on their door, her roommate announcing that she’d answer it. When she opens the door, she lets out a squeal.

“Miguel! It’s so good to see you again!” Her roommate exclaims, jumping into his arms.

What?

Why the hell was he here? But, y/n guessed it made sense. Her roommate and him did sleep together. 

“I’m actually here to talk to y/n. It’s for a project.” he tells her roommate. Damn these paper thin walls.

“Oh.” she says, dejectedly. “Yea, she’s just in her room. Come in!”

No don’t let him in, you idiot!

There’s a knock on her bedroom door. 

“I don’t want to see you right now. Scratch that. Ever.” y/n says, not moving from her spot.

“I don’t care.” Miguel replies through the door. She could already imagine his smug face right now.

She sighed, opening the door. She didn’t look like a complete mess - just pajama pants and a baggy shirt. “What could you possibly want?” She asks, crossing her arms.

“I wanted to talk to you.” he says, which earned him a nod to continue. “I…I think I like you.” he confesses, looking her in the eye.

Y/n’s mouth dropped open, before she shook her head. “You seriously came all the way over here for this? What kind of sick joke is this?”

Miguel stood there, not knowing what to say. Not having the patience, y/n moved to shut her door, but he caught it with his hand.

“Y/n. I like you. And I am sorry for how horrible I’ve been. I didn’t realize until my stupid roommate raved about going on a date with you that I finally realized how much of a fucking asshole I’ve been to you. Well, actually, it was when I had to scare off that punk in the library, but that’s in the past now. Please do not go on that date with Peter. Let me prove to you that I can be a man deserving of you.” 

Y/n blinks up at him, silent. “Miguel, I-”

“Forget it. I’m sorry, just forget all of this happened, yea? We can go back to hating each other.”.

“I don’t want that.” she says, quietly. “I don’t want to hate you, Miguel.”

He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “You, you mean it?”

Y/n nods. “I’m sorry too. I haven’t exactly been the nicest to you either…” 

He smiles and pulls her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head.

--------------------

“So, you did tell Peter that you weren’t going on the date with him anymore, right? Because he seems the same, not depressed or anything.” Miguel asks, leaning back against her bed. The two had officially started dating a couple days after his confession, and were now lounging in her room.

Y/n shrugs, plopping down next to him. “I told him that I couldn’t make it, but since the reservation was already set, I would send my friend instead. And they hit it off pretty well. Which is why, we have the dorm to ourselves tonight~” 

He looks down at her with dark eyes, leaning in to kiss her.

“Smart as always, princesa.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello! I hope you enjoyed reading this! The ending was a bit rushed, so I might edit the fic in the future. 

[goodlucktai]

tossing pennies in the pool

rottmnt word count: 4k pairing: mikey & OC, mikey & woody title borrowed from the 1 by taylor swift part of the archer au  i had initially started to write this for someone who requested mikey & gio in the good timeline. but i managed to completely miss that they had specifically requested the good timeline and wrote this in the true neutral timeline instead. 'what is the true neutral timeline?' good question :)

He was ready. The sooner he left, the sooner he could come back. Mikey on the other hand looked so pale and miserable that Gio couldn’t help but tell him, “If you really don’t want me to go, I’ll stay.” 

in the true neutral timeline, Mikey asks Gio to stay.

x

Gio’s late. 

Mikey’s trying not to be an insane person about his little brother missing an unofficial curfew. Teenagers do that sort of thing all the time. Especially fiercely independent teenagers who practically raised themselves, who chafe at structure because at the wrong angle those supportive struts and load-bearing beams probably look a lot like a cage. 

It’s just. His fiercely independent teenager doesn’t do that sort of thing at all. 

Gio is a lot of things, and somewhere at the very top of that list is ‘traumatized’ in bold, italic, underlined, all caps, size twenty font. Mikey doesn’t know the details, but he knows that Giorgio is terrified of breaking rules that don’t exist. He’s always searching for that line he can’t cross, that step too far that will put him in that dangerous familiar territory where the unwanted end up. He is certain that the line exists. 

When Gio says he’ll be home by ten, he’s home by ten. He’ll make it home like his life depends on it. 

Mikey heroically manages not to look at the clock for a full three minutes. A spiteful 10:43 stares back at him from the stove range when he does look. He refocuses on the pan he’s scrubbing, and doesn’t think about the calls and texts that have gone unanswered, because then he really will lose what’s left of his composure. 

It’s hard. Mikey’s trying to find the line, too. How much attention is too much? When does Mikey go from supportive to overbearing? He wants Gio to know that there’s someone thinking about him, someone who worries about him when he’s late, but he never wants the little spotted turtle to feel smothered or dread walking through the door. 

Gio was looking forward to dinner. He didn’t say it, but Mikey’s gotten pretty good at reading his microexpressions. The kitchen smells like baked mostaccioli and garlic bread and all of it’s untouched and going cold because Mikey’s stomach is in knots. 

Footsteps down the hall announce Raph a few seconds before he leans through the doorway. His eyes slide from Mikey to the empty seat at the island Gio usually occupies and he blinks. 

“Where’s the kid?” he asks. 

Mikey jerks one shoulder in a shrug, buried elbow-deep in soapy water. He doesn’t want to talk about it to someone who doesn’t care. The thought instantly feels mean and unfair, an ugly shape where it sits in his head, but at least it’s ugly where only Mikey can see it. 

In his periphery, he sees Raph frown. Whatever he might have said is cut off by the sound of a call coming through on Mikey’s phone. This dream isn't feeling sweet, we're reeling through the midnight streets—

Gio’s ringtone. Mikey looks urgently at Raph as he wrestles his wet rubber gloves off. After half a second of trepidation, his older brother picks up the phone and accepts the call. 

“Hey,” he says, uncertainty evident to anyone who knows him. To anyone who doesn’t, he just sounds largely disinterested, like he’s greeting someone he’s familiar with but not close to. It’s not the way Raphie, of all people, is supposed to sound while talking with his baby brother. Then his tone changes abruptly, brow furrowing. “Who is this?” he rumbles. 

A wailing klaxon and spinning red lights are going off in Mikey’s brain. That’s Gio’s ringtone, that’s Gio’s phone calling, who has his phone?

“Put it on speaker,” he manages to say normally.  

“—in pretty rough shape,” a stranger’s voice is in the middle of saying, audibly nervous. Mikey’s heart is pounding in his ears. “It was supposed to be an easy job, a simple delivery—building supplies for the festival next month—but no one told us the lumberyard was cursed. We strolled right in like a troupe of clowns.”

There’s a lot to absorb here. Apparently when Gio isn’t home, he’s working in the Hidden City. Which—fine. He’s allowed to do that, if that’s what he wants to do. Nevermind that he doesn’t need to, that his needs will all be provided for from now on, that he doesn’t have to scrape survival together all by himself anymore, because that’s what his family is for. 

He’s eighteen—or so he says. Mikey would never call the kid a liar to his face, but he has never shaken his first impression of Gio, which was that he looked like an underfed fifteen year old.  

Any kid passing through foster care in the yokai world, whatever that looked like, would have plenty of reasons to lie about plenty of things. Trying to pass himself off as older to age out faster is not beyond the realm of possibility. It even makes an unfortunate amount of sense. But if that’s the truth, Mikey hasn’t earned the right to hear it yet. 

All of that goes on a shelf in the back of his mind for the time being. The more pressing matter is—

“Cursed?” Mikey demands. Something rattles in the kitchen and Raph looks at him sidelong. “Gio?”

“Oh, hey, are you Mike?” the stranger says, apparently hearing something in his tone that they didn’t hear in Raph’s. “His emergency contact is saved as a Mike. He didn’t want us calling anyone for him, but, uh, I don’t make a habit of leaving teenagers passing out on the side of the road? So I stole his phone. Temporarily.” 

The rattling gets louder, and Raph’s sidelong look turns into a head-on stare, but all Mikey can think about is his kid. His Georgie. Vulnerable and unwell and at the mercy of people he doesn’t really know. Too stubborn and far too careful to trust the goodness of anyone’s heart, to let them close enough to help. He’d rather crawl home. 

It’s not Gio’s fault. That unkind world he got shunted off to when he was a baby chewed him up and spit him out and left him in the shape it left him in. What’s left of him is what survived. 

“He’s in and out of it, but I’ll tell him you’re coming next time he wakes up?” the voice says. “You, uh, you’re coming, right?”

Another Krang invasion couldn’t keep Mikey away. 

Several things clatter to the counters and the floor all at once and Mikey barely notices. He steps on a loose rolling pin and lurches gracelessly, saved by the huge hand that catches him by the back of his shirt. Raph lets him go, only to snatch the keys he’d been beelining for off their hook before he can get to them. 

He passes Mikey his phone, but not the keys, and leads the way to the garage. 

The good samaritan promises to stay on the phone until they arrive, agreeable and unbothered by losing a good chunk of the rest of his evening after a pretty shitty day at work. Gio rallies once or twice, but not for very long, and he sounds very grumpy when he does. His pissed-off turtle noises in the background are adorable, and do more to soothe Mikey’s worries than anything else. 

The curse was temporary and largely harmless, according to the representative from Witch Town who arrived on the scene to put out metaphorical fires. The sawyers had incidentally cut down a copse of trees they shouldn’t have, and the spirits who lived in it took issue with being soundly and unfairly evicted. They put a mean-spirited spell on the timber that caused disorientation like the kind they had felt when their homes had suddenly collapsed—but, the voice on the phone reports to Mikey, the spirits did feel bad about it when they saw a kid was involved. They coughed up the remedy pretty quick after Gio hit the ground. 

The whole thing is so typical of the chaotic, quasi-lawlessness of the Hidden City that Mikey almost wishes it had been a nefarious scheme just so he could feel something constructive, like anger with somewhere to go, instead of just dizzying, directionless panic. 

“But he’s okay? He’s fine?” he presses for probably the fifth time. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s one tough little turtle,” the stranger says at once.“I thought he was gonna take my whole arm off when I tried to help him up. Like, genuinely, it scared the hell out of me.” Somewhat distantly, the tough little turtle in question grumbles something Mikey can’t make out, and the stranger replies, in a tone that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on April teasing Donnie a lifetime ago, “Yes, you. You’re scary. All five feet of you.”

In his periphery, Mikey sees Raph lose to a reluctant smile. 

They’re in Hidden City limits within twenty minutes, following both S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s pin on the GPS and the stranger’s somewhat unhelpful attempts at directions. The road they’re on ends in a gravel lot, vehicles blocked from going further by a traffic barrier. Mikey’s out of the van before Raph has a chance to put it in park, off like a shot, looking for landmarks. 

“You—uh, I think—I’m not trying to make assumptions, I know families come in all shapes and sizes, but I just saw a turtle with a ponytail, like, fly past me, was that you?”

Mikey backtracks, taking the left he initially skipped over. Down a narrow, winding city street, past closed shops and open bars, all the lit windows creating a checkerboard pattern on the street, blocks of yellow light that Mikey moves through one after another, only slowing when he’s right in front of a miserable pile of spotted turtle curled on the bottommost step of an employees-only entrance. 

There’s a tall yokai standing guard from a careful arm’s length away, but he may as well be a part of the scenery at the moment. All of Mikey’s attention belongs elsewhere. 

Gio’s forehead is pressed into the side of the handrail, spotted brow furrowed. Given that his resting expression gives the impression that he’s perpetually ticked off, Mikey can understand why a stranger might think he looks mean. But all Mikey can see is a sick kid who didn’t quite make it home before his legs gave out beneath him. 

Every molecule in his body is compelled urgently to scoop Gio up off the ground. He knows better.

“Hey, Georgie,” he says, cramming his phone into his pocket. “Are you with me, buddy? Can you hear me?”

When there isn’t an immediate response from his little brother, the stranger pipes up, “He comes out of it every few minutes. Here’s, uh, his phone?”

Remembering the other yokai exists, Mikey turns without standing, putting a protective shoulder firmly between his brother and the stranger, and takes stock of them. 

They’re tall and broad, with a distinctive square head, canine snout and floppy ears sticking out of a haphazard mass of yellow curls. Later, Mikey will know the coloring of their fur is called orange belton, common in setters. For now, he just thinks the warm brown and white splotches competing for space across their face are cute. Like an enthusiastic painting project. 

Most disarmingly, they’re wearing a vintage orange and blue Knicks hoodie. 

“Oh, shit,” Mikey says without thinking, accepting Gio’s phone from their outstretched hand. “You’re a New Yorker.”

Their uncertain smile slackens a bit in shock, then widens. “Yeah, man! Queens, born and raised.”

Now that Gio is safe in front of him and he has an iota of brainpower free to think of anything else, Mikey can hear the accent loud and clear. It’s stupid, but it causes a big chunk of his guard to go right down. This guy’s practically his neighbor. 

Since they aren’t going anywhere until Gio rouses enough to give anyone permission to touch him, Mikey settles in. To his surprise, the dog mutant settles in on his free side. 

His name is Woodrow Dirkins, he’s a year older than Mikey, and he mutated when he was fifteen. 

“I used to walk dogs around my neighborhood for extra cash,” he says with a remarkable amount of good humor about the whole thing. “Something stung me, and the next thing I know—well, getting Daisy back home to my neighbor without getting the cops called on me was, uh, not easy.”

“That must have been scary,” Mikey says softly, what’s left of his heart going out to that poor kid whose life got turned upside down without warning all those years ago.

“Definitely wasn’t how I’d have chosen to spend my summer,” Woody admits. “But it would’ve been a lot worse if I didn’t have my sister.”

He’d gone home eventually, because he was fifteen and he had to go home. His sister caught him climbing through the window, furious at his disappearing act first, and then horrified at the state of him. But his frightened, tearful stammering restructured her initial panic into older sibling caretaking mode that superseded everything else. She dragged him into her arms and locked him in a hug until his shuddering breaths evened out. 

Her first words about it had been “That goddamned Daisy.” And it surprised Woody into laughing. And they had figured it out together. 

“Finished high school online, got my bachelors in English the same way. Virtual tutoring helps in a pinch, you know, when there’s too much month at the end of the money, but gigwork in the Hidden City is what really pays my bills,” the dog mutant says, folding his gangly legs so that a passerby doesn’t have to step over them. “So no judgement, genuinely, I’m literally in the same boat. It’s just—Gio here is, uh—he works a lot, huh?”

Mikey’s mouth firms into a thin line. “Which is news to me.”

At that point, a deer yokai trying to leave the building they’re loitering at shuffles down the employee steps and then hovers awkwardly behind them. Mikey looks up at her and she immediately clambers over the railing and goes around them. 

“You’re kind of intense, huh,” Woody says. He’s smiling as he says it, curls falling into his eyes. 

In another life, they probably could have been friends. 

A quiet noise next to him steals all of Mikey’s focus. Gio lifts his head from where his forehead was braced on the railing. It takes him a minute to find Mikey’s face. His eyes are dark and muddy, slow to focus. When they do, his mouth turns down a little more in the corners. 

He looks the way Mikey looks when he’s trying not to cry. That’s how Mikey knows for certain that the poor kid isn’t feeling like himself. Curse remedies tend to cling like a bad hangover. 

“Sounds like you had a big night, Clementine,” Mikey goes on, his voice low and calm. “Ready to go home?”

“Didn’t want him to call,” Gio says, matching Mikey’s volume. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

Mikey’s little brother, everyone. He got cursed and didn’t think that was worth a phone call. Painfully self-conscious and overly cautious, lingering on the fringes of belonging because he wouldn’t know the first thing about barging right in and demanding his brothers’ time and attention, the way all of them grew up doing. 

It’s yours, Mikey wishes he could make Gio understand. You’re supposed to have it. We’re supposed to take care of you. 

“You never bother me,” Mikey says instead. Leo used to have a specific tone for wheedling Mikey out of a funk, a sternness that was so absolute it looped back around into silliness. It always made grumpy box turtles laugh despite themselves. Mikey tries to sound like Leo as he adds, “And even if you did, even if you were the most grumpy, annoying, high-maintenance little brother on the planet, I would still break a million laws and burn down the entire Hidden City and become the yokai’s most wanted just to get to you two minutes faster.”

Woody snorts. Gio doesn’t look convinced, because of course he doesn’t—but he untucks his fists from his tightly folded arms and takes Mikey’s hands when they’re offered. 

“Don’t burn it down,” he says seriously. “I work here.”

“So I’ve heard,” Mikey replies. “And we’re gonna have to have a fun talk about that once I’m a hundred percent certain all your insides are where they’re supposed to be. But for now, how ‘bout we blow this popsicle stand? There’s baked pasta at home with your name all over it.”

Gio blinks, eyelids heavy and sticking, and follows his hands toward the one holding them, leaning until his big brother is the only one responsible for keeping him upright. Task assigned, Gio’s eyes slip closed and the tense line in his shoulders go lax and the whole of him gets abruptly heavier as he falls asleep. 

Sometimes Mikey is forcefully reminded of how much Gio trusts him, even though he’s done laughably little to deserve it. He didn’t not call because he didn’t think Mikey would come for him—just the opposite. And that’s not ideal, it’s something they still need to work on, but—

Mikey wraps his arms around the smaller turtle the way he’s wanted to since the second he first laid eyes on him, snug and tight and safe. 

It’s not ideal, but it matters so much. 

“The witch had us all put down our phone numbers so she could contact us about side effects to look out for,” Woody said quietly, “but that tough guy of yours took off as soon as we got the all-clear.”

“Of course he did,” Mikey said with exhausted affection. 

“I could forward the text to you when I get it?” Woody offers. He manages to look flustered through all that silky fur. It’s so easy for him to be kind, to take the risk and reach out. He’s painfully likable, the way Mikey used to be likable. 

Mikey presses his cheek to the top of Gio’s head and holds onto what sometimes feels like the only person he has left to hold onto and tries not to think about used-to-bes. Tries not to think about all the ways he falls short anymore. Tries not to think about all the people he’s let down. He failed once when he was a teenager in such a big way that he got stuck in the rut of it and never stopped. 

He already wishes for a hundred impossible things in a day, so what’s one more? 

“That’d be great,” he manages. “Thanks.”

He senses Raph before he hears him—even if he hadn’t, Woody’s faint “holy cats” would have been enough of a cue. Mikey doesn’t know how long his big brother has been hanging back, waiting for the right moment to approach, but if he had to guess he’d say probably since about ten seconds after Mikey got here. 

His silent offer to take Gio while Mikey exchanges numbers with Woody is perhaps the most surprising thing that’s happened all night. He cranes his head back to stare up at him, trying to remember one—even one—instance of Raph willingly reaching out to their formerly-estranged little brother. 

Raph’s expression is complicated, too many things going on for Mikey to parse before it smooths out again. “I got ‘im, Ange,” he says, more rueful than anything. “I know a thing or two about relocating sleeping turtles.”

Words notwithstanding, it’s been a long, long time since Raph has carried a smaller turtle anywhere, and he’s remembering how to do it in real time as Mikey passes Gio over. One big thumb brushes over a spotted shoulder. Raph at twenty-seven is a giant of a mutant, and Gio is next to nothing next to him, and holding him probably feels like being slingshot back in time. The slim curve of his black shell fits in Raph’s arm perfectly. 

“Don’t drop him,” Mikey orders. 

“Hey,” Raph says, only slightly too brittle to pass as playful, and Mikey doesn’t know which one of them he’s trying to convince when he goes on, “Raph would never.” 

And he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. They make it back to the van without incident, Mikey’s phone feeling oddly heavy in his pocket, weighed down with one new contact. Raph doesn’t speak up again until they’re halfway home. 

“He seemed nice,” Raph comments.

“Do not,” Mikey shuts it down. 

“Okay, okay.” A blissful fifteen seconds of some Top 40s song goes by, and they stop for a crosswalk light, and Raph says, “He did, though. Seem nice.”

Woody was nice. He looked out for Mikey’s little brother, and stuck around to keep Mikey company when it would have made more sense for him to wash his hands of their whole situation the second he was free to. He didn’t question any of the things Mikey was halfway braced for him to—the black snaking marks on Mikey’s arms that he didn’t think to cover up on his mad dash out the door, the dozens of faded scars on Gio’s hands and arms that wouldn’t look out of place on a profession pit-fighter, the overly-cautious way Raph handled Gio, like he was a bomb that might go off any second. He just made light-hearted conversation and let Mikey exist beside him. He didn’t know who Mikey used to be, he didn’t need anything from the person Mikey was now. 

“The nicest thing I could do for him is stay far, far away,” Mikey says to the passenger seat window since he isn’t brave enough to look anywhere else. “Since the only thing I know how to do for people is let them down.” 

“That has never been true,” Raph says immediately. The raw hurt in his voice makes Mikey feel wretched and small. “Everyone who knows you is so lucky, Mikey. And we all know it. We know how lucky we are, sunshine.”

Mikey curls his shoulders up to his ears and turns his face more firmly away. He’s too old to cry but the window won’t tell anyone.

Much, much later—after Gio has been herded into the living room and bundled onto the sofa, a big bowl of reheated pasta in his lap that he manages to soldier through—after he mumbles, halfway into the Lou Jitsu DVD Mikey put on, “I thought I heard Raphael. Was he here?” and then dozes off again before Mikey can come up with a good answer—after Donnie makes a frowning appearance in the doorway, observing the pile his two little brothers make on the sofa like he’s conducting the world’s easiest headcount before wordlessly taking himself away again—after all of that, Mikey’s phone chimes.

Woody🌼🐶 I told my sister about being literally cursed at work and she spiraled and ordered like ten dozen cookies as restitution???  <attachment> Woody🌼🐶 She says half of them are for your brother and i cant stress enough that she is the type of person who chooses violence at the earliest opportunity so like I need you to come get these before I eat the wrong one and take my life into my own hands

Against his will, and despite his better judgment, Mikey smiles.

[sukunastoy]

Only Love Can Hurt Like This, Chapter 1, Part 2 (CEO! Sukuna x Fem! Reader, MDNI)

Continuation of Part 1 of Chapter 1 Here

⬇️PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING THE STORY! ⬇️

Modern age AU, no curses. Sukuna still has his tattoos, but his face ones are carefully hidden. This story is set in Japan, and I've done my best to implement real life into it. For example, tattoos in Japan are still taboo, and people associate them with the yakuza, so its not normal to see everyday people have them. Though I know I won't have all the details of modern day life in Japan correct, I hope you still enjoy.

Pairings: CEO Sukuna x Fem Reader Content/Trigger warnings: In full on the Prologue chapter Wordcount: 4.1k+

This chapter is a backstory of how Toji and Reader met. Since Toji is not necessarily a main character in this story, I don't want to focus on a lot of detail for this backstory. But it needs to be told.

Toji and Reader are in high school, Toji is a senior, and reader is a freshman. Though I don't specifically put anything into detail, since everyone is a minor, you get the basic idea. Toji is not a good guy.

Since this is part of a backstory, Sukuna isn't mentioned or appears in this chapter at all.

Trigger/Content Warning, please read!:

⭐This chapter specifically mentions drugging, underage sex, underage drinking, rape without knowledge, filmed during sex without consent, morning after pills/abortion drugs, and manipulation.⭐

Trigger/Content Warning, please read!:

⭐This chapter specifically mentions drugging, underage sex, underage drinking, rape without knowledge, filmed during sex without consent, morning after pills/abortion drugs, and manipulation.⭐

"And one more picture of that pretty, ruined pussy. You'll probably make me a decent amount of money." Toji smirked while snapping the seventh or eighth photo on his phone. -"Hey, check this one out. Ruined her spoiled little virgin cunt."- -"Damn, you sure know how to pick the best ones."- -"Doesn't take much. Make them feel special and they'll drop that guard of theirs."- -"Well, drugging them also helps." -"I thought she was gonna just let me, but she wanted to wait for the right moment I guess."- -"It's so lame. I dunno why bitches need sex to be anything more than just sex."- -"Oh well. She's just a dumb, used whore now. When she finally lets me fuck her, I'll let her pretend its her first time."- -"Do your thing man, and let me know the next time you get her drugged up, I want a piece of that. Its so much easier when they're unconscious and not crying or squirming."- -"Just drop that money into my hand and you can fuck her whenever."-

Saturday, 4:37 AM

Everything ached. And your head was absolutely throbbing. A dazed whimper fell from your lips as you struggled to open your eyes. Your eye lids were almost unbearably heavy, as if they were being held shut. Sitting up, you weakly reached an arm to your head, trying to rub your eyes so you could wake up. Everything hurt so incredibly bad, like, bad... A bit of dread filled your mind as you looked around your bedroom. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet everything felt off. Your phone was nearby, and you grabbed it, looking at the time. Only 4:37 in the morning. You went to your messages, texting Toji to see what time he ended up leaving, and if he noticed you acting weird before he left. -"Hey! I just randomly woke up, but I have like a massive headache and everything is really sore. What happened after I got home last night?"-

You waited a moment, hoping for a reply but none came for a long while. By the time you did get anything back, you had slowly spiraled into a panic. Of course the worst consumed your mind, only imagining horrible outcomes of what might have happened the night before. Surely, Toji wouldn't have done anything bad to you, right?

-"Hey princess. Gave you some tea and you were relaxing on the couch. But, you seemed to be a bit buzzed still, you started passin' out on your couch so I put ya to bed and left."

He put you in bed? Well, it did seem quite nice of him. You rarely drank, so it's no wonder you felt like crap. It was certain parts of your body being sore that was a concern to you however. -"We didn't like, do anything, right? I know you kissed me in the car, but you didn't do anything else, did you?"- You nibbled your lower lip in worry while seeing the three little dots of Toji's reply appearing and disappearing before anything was said.

-"Of course not. Why would I do something like that? You were basically passed out, what are you implying?"-

The back of your throat burned as anxiety bubbled up in your chest. Oh shit, you basically just accused him of doing something to you!

-"I'm sorry, that didn't come out right, I'm certainly not accusing you of anything! I wasn't trying to make it sound that way."- You gripped your phone with sweaty palms as the three little dots popped up again, but then disappeared. Leaving you on read.

-"I'm really sorry, I'm just feeling weird and not thinking right."- No reply, and it wasn't even shown as read, only delivered. Several minutes passed and you stared desperately at your phone, awaiting a reply to ease your conscious, but none ever came.

And nothing ever came for the rest of the day either. Though you walked around with a small limp from a pain in your hip, all you could think of was how Toji must have felt for you basically accusing him of doing something to you. He had been nothing but nice and charming the entire night, and then you insult him with that accusation? Stupid.

Monday, 7:37 AM

Monday only brought more worry as you still hadn't heard from him. You were probably going to see him here at school soon and after not hearing back from him just sent tremors through you. How fucking awkward it will be. You waited for him near the lunch room, hoping things wouldn't be tense. What if he completely ignored you? When someone flicked your ear from behind, you quickly whipped around, only to see Toji standing over you, a charmed grin on his face. "Hey there. Ready to eat?"

A little smile crept across your face at his good attitude, but it was still a little nervewracking. "Hey, yeah, but, why didn't you ever text me back?" you wondered, pulling your bottom lip as you looked up to him hopefully. "Oh, I fell asleep and then just forgot." he shrugged it off, that smile never leaving his face as if there wasn't a single problem. You studied him, trying to decipher what he was really feeling, but his expression never faltered. You probably were just overreacting and then panicking, everything seemed fine.

When he invited you out to another party for the next friday, you immediately accepted, wanting another chance to be around him the way you were before. It was mostly the same as before, the only difference being some new faces, but you were still one of the very few freshmen to be among the crowd. You did your best to not drink as much, not wanting to wake up the same way you did last weekend. Dropping you off back at home, you looked over to Toji a little expectantly, licking your upper lip as sublty as possible in anticipation. You wanted him to kiss you like that again, to pull you into his lap and kiss you as if he was craving you. However, he got out of the car, and walked over to your doorside, opening it for you. "Hope you had another good time." He simply said, ushering you out of the seat. You didn't press it, not wanting to seem desperate or confused. This almost became a normal thing, every friday night. There'd be some party, you'd get to go, but Toji didn't try to kiss you anymore. He didn't act any different towards you, but he wouldn't touch you. Had you honestly hurt his feelings that bad where he was afraid to touch you now?

Friday, 11:47 PM

By the fourth friday of him not touching you in any way at all, you took matters into your own hands. As soon as he put the car in park, you climbed over into his lap, gripping onto his shirt desperately as you pressed your lips against his. You whimpered in delight when you felt his large hands settle at your waist, fingertips pushing into your skin. Instead of him returning your kiss in earnest though, he pushed you back, looking at you in an almost confused way. "What's gotten into you all the sudden?"

Your cheeks flared with embarassment, and you weren't even sure how to react right now. "I...I'm sorry, I..." He sighed heavily while turning his head and opening the car door. "Look, I like you but you basically accused me of doing something to you. Thats pretty shitty. You know how much trouble I could get into for some shit like that? You drank too much, and I put you to bed." "I truly didn't mean it like that." You pleaded as he placed you out of the car before getting out. Your short frame stared up to him nervously as he stood up and ran a hand over his face, sighing out in the process. "Please, Toji, I was still mostly asleep when I messaged you, so I wasn't thinking properly." You basically begged, reaching out and holding his hand with both of yours. You did really like this guy, and ruining it already was torturous. He seemed to ponder in his mind, his expression changing slightly as if trying to decide how to proceed from here. "You really want me to kiss you again?"

You nodded quickly, your eyes searching between his as he looked down to you. "Your parents home?" "No, they're out of town again for a couple weeks." "If I come inside again, you're not gonna panic if you wake up tomorrow with some headache, right?" "No, no of course not."

Even if you did wake up feeling like shit again, you certainly weren't going to say anything to him. The last few times you woke up from attending the parties, you hadn't been sore or felt weird. You also had made sure to drink way less than you initially did on the first party night. It was probably just too much alcohol.

Toji brought you another cup of hot tea, you and you fondly watched him sit down next to you on the couch. The butterflies in your stomach were strong as he placed an arm along the back of the couch behind your head, and you couldn't help but scoot a little closer to him, wnting to be against him if possible. Seeing your actions, he smirked and gestured you closer, now wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. 

"Thank you." you softly said, resting your head onto him.  "For what?" "Staying with me. I've just been a little lonely lately, and I don't want to lose you either." He smirked while holding you closer to him. "Trust me, I don't plan on leaving your side anytime soon at all."

"Just relax. It might hurt just cause you've never done anything before, but thats normal. The more we do it, the less it will hurt and better it will feel. I promise."

As Toji crawled over you in your bed, your heart beat against the inside of your chest. You weren't sure if you really wanted this right now, but what were you supposed to do otherwise? If you turned him down, he might lose interest. And with the recent move, losing your friends and your parents never being home, the last thing you wanted was to be alone. Toji had been nothing but nice to you since your first day in the new school. Putting out for him shouldn't be that big of a deal. It's just sex, teenagers do it all the time. But why did it feel so, scary?

After he had started making out with you on the couch, you felt this aching desire in your core that you couldn't explain. When Toji's hand came in between your legs and felt the warm, damp fabric, he said it was time for you two to just break the ice, cause you clearly wanted him in this way.

You stared up at the ceiling in the dark, your eyes trying to focus on anything. Quietly wiping some of the tears from your cheeks, you wondered, was it supposed to hurt? Was it supposed to make you feel, used? You imagined it was supposed to be a little more, romantic. Well, he did say he was bigger than average, and you heard that the first time is kinda painful cause it's new, so, maybe that's all it was. Looking over to Toji, you studied his sleeping form, still embarrassed that the two of you were naked and up against each other. He did have an arm wrapped around your waist, and his fingers held softly into your skin. The smell of sex was still in the air, and it wasn't pleasent as you had always imagined it. You've snuck some romance novels into your collection of books over the past year, curiosity of intimacy pulling you in, cause you wanted to know what it was like to be in a real relationship To be mature and have fun, casual sex like a normal teenager. 

Fucking hormones.

The way the words described how someone's first time might be seemed to be an overdramatic lie now. Maybe it was your own fault for imagining it to play out like some fairytale. You were kind of excited for that big high that seemed to elevate women from this plane of existence, but, it never happened. Toji certainly got his, there was clear evidence of that, a mess he obviously didn't care to clean up from you. Wait, you weren't that ignorant to how babies were made. Oh, fuck. You quickly sat up, breath nearly escaping you as you started to panic. You had already been on your period for a year or so, and obviously that meant you could get pregnant. Pregnant, at 14? What a fucking disgrace you'd be to your parents! You already just started having sex with this guy you recently met. What was wrong with you!? "Oh god, oh god!" You cried out, clutching your hand over your chest as you feared what might be happening inside your body this moment. Toji groaned and looked up at you with an aggravated yet concerned look. "What? What's wrong?" "I-I could be pregnant!" You whined, whole body shaking with that terrible idea. You were too young to have a kid. You'd have to drop out of school, have to figure out how to be a mom, you're be such a degenerate to your family. The humiliation!

"Oh, shit, I meant to give you something for later anyway." He said with little worry, like this wasn't some big deal. He rolled over and sat up from the bed, grabbing his pants from where he tossed them over your desk chair. "Here. Just take this." He offered, handing a small pill to you. "A, drug?" You stammered, looking at it in confusion. "It's a morning after pill. Keeps you from getting pregnant." He gestured with it, and you took it carefully, trying to understand how a pill could stop such a thing. "Why is it called a morning after pill?" "Uh, cause ya' usually take it in the morning after fucking through the night." Your cheeks flashed but you stuffed the pill in your mouth, enough saliva building from your panic that you could just swallow it as is. "And just like that, no problems." He chuckled while  setting his pants back down and messing with something near your desk. He finally got back into bed, his larger form crawling over yours, making you cower down into the blankets as he planted kisses on your neck and chest. "Let's get as much use out of that pill as possible." You tried to smile in want as his hand came up between your legs, preparing you to take him again. You wanted to feel mature and interested in all this, but in reality, it felt off putting. Probably just cause it was new and you weren't used to it. Everyone who ever talked about having sex seemed to not be able to get enough of it. Like it was as needed as eating and drinking was. You just had to get used to it. More practice. So, you certainly weren't going to turn Toji down. At some point you knew you'd have to start loving it as much as everyone else, and how the women in your hidden romance novels loved it. Though you couldn't stop the tears from flowing as pain rattled your lower half. Patience, you just needed patience. Surely, Toji wasn't hurting you on purpose. But you didn't want to make him feel bad and tell him to stop when he was clearly enjoying himself and saying how fucking good you felt. But... It hurt. It fucking hurt so bad. A deep ache in your guts that just seemed to intensify with every passing second. Every pained whimper that escaped your lips was immediately matched with Toji's low groans and deep moans of pleasure. Yet, he'd also plant gentle kisses to your teary cheeks, praising your intimate areas for making him feel so good. It made your heart flutter, but you couldn't stop from digging your nails into his back, silently begging him to hurry up and be done because you felt like you were going to break. He lifted your legs up to his waist, encouraging you to wrap them around his body so he could go even deeper but you internally sobbed at the thought. Of course, you noticed how much more he seemed to enjoy it when he could basically get as much of you as he wanted. You suffered through it for that reason, and that reason only. You liked knowing he was happy, liked knowing you could make him happy. You had his attention and you were doing something that he praised you for.

Unfortunately, you weren't aware of just how many other guys attentions you had in this moment. It might have just been you and Toji alone in the room, but the little camera he had placed on your desk broadcasted this moment to whoever was in his circle. They sent texts to Toji, offering their small wads of cash for a night with you, his new little toy. Some even in groups of two or more, the ones that liked to take turns on a girl's unconscious body. He'd get to them later, deciding who would pay the best, and you'd be none the wiser.

"Good morning, beautiful." Tojis deep voice pulled you from your exhaustion, and your dazed features made him chuckle. "Sleep well?" Your vision focused on him, and you offered a weakened smile. Honestly, no. It feels like your insides were punched for hours, leaving you battered and bruised in a place you couldn't comfort.

But as he gently kissed your lips, and held a hand softly to your cheek, the pain eased up a little. "You are so perfect." He breathed out quietly, moving his lips up to your forehead. Warmth filled your cheeks as he lay next to you, holding you with comfort against his warm body. "Honestly, I've never enjoyed someone as much as you." You wanted to have some witty comeback, that of course you were the best, trying to sound confident, but it was hard to speak right now. Probably because you just started crying. Tojis face softened as you just let your emotions out. "What's wrong?" He asked gently, holding you even closer. "It, it all just hurts. And I'm confused, my head is full of worry." "Worry? About what?" "I don't know." You admitted, tucking your self into Tojis arms. Honestly you didn't know. Everything felt weird. You were supposed to like this, weren't you? You liked him, he definitely liked you too, and he was super hot. So weren't you supposed to be madly in love?

I hope you enjoyed! I'm so sorry this is a week late, life got in the way. I wante this first chapter to only have two parts, but I didn't want this last part to be extremely long, so I decided to make one more part after this. So there will be three in total. The next part will happen this week so Im not so far behind on my personal schedule.

Comments and likes are truly appreciated!! <3

[morganski-19]

Ryan Guzman's interview with Jeff Conway came out today, and I have a few thoughts, so I'm writing them down here. If you are interested reading the article yourself (which I think you should because it was a very good article and there many moments in which I did not talk about here), this is the link.

First and foremost I would like to reiterate that this is a good, well thought out article from both Conway's questions and Guzman's answers. And I think there were many responses that show the love that Ryan has for Eddie, and the work he puts in to make his portrayal of Eddie so impactful.

And as always, I take each article that comes out with a giant heaping of salt, as they can't talk about things before the actual episode airs.

Now I'm going to talk about specific quotes, the first of which is this one.

A few of my mutuals over on bluesky were freaking out about this quote, thinking that this meant that Ryan was either thinking of leaving the show or starting to wind down his involvement, but that is not how I interpreted this. Along with many other of his quotes from this article, it's clear that Ryan is just a live in the moment kind of person, and this is a very live in the moment kind of answer. He's simply saying that he is proud of the work he's done with Eddie, and still feels honored to play him, but if the world decided that Eddie's character has come to a close, he is proud of what he has done.

So no, he doesn't currently have plans on leaving the show.

This excerpt really confirms that Eddie's storyline will be big in the second half of the season. Which I have to say, thank fucking god. The fact that this article is the one they are pushing before the spring premiere is only further proof of this, but this quote really solidified it for me.

The biggest change of all is of course the fact that Eddie will be leaving for Texas in the beginning of the season. From his language and demeanor from the first half of the season, this is a necessity as going to Texas and being able to work on his and Chris' relationship one-on-one is crucial for that. So going to Texas in some capacity was necessary.

Now the decision to fully move to Texas is not going to go over smoothly. Not to mention that that in itself is a big change, but can bring other changes along with it.

Now we get to where Conway asked about the possibilities of Buddie, and how Ryan feels about it. To which (to no one's surprise) he gave a very vague answer that I can see being read in a few different ways.

Firstly, he is kinda saying what he has before about how Buck and Eddie's relationship as is, them being a bisexual man and a straight man respectively, is important as it shows how two men of different sexualities can still have a close bond without there being any weirdness about it. Which is true, especially, like he said, with the current political climate.

Secondly, I think his wording here, especially when he clarifies having friends who are homosexual and not bisexual, is sort of leading. On the one hand, he is further saying that he draws from his own experience of interacting and loving them, which he then applies to Eddie with his relationship with Buck. On the other hand, he could be drawing from his friend's experiences a bit when doing a gay Eddie storyline. And I think the specification could further emphasize Eddie's sexuality, as I personally headcanon him to be gay and not bisexual. But this leads further into speculation.

Overall, what I got from this is that Ryan wants to put focus on the relationship that him and Buck have, and not lead audiences into thinking that there could be more. This doesn't outright confirm or deny anything, and from my interpretation, leads me to think that he does not agree with the shipbaiting that is currently happening. Which fair, I too do not enjoy ship baiting for the purposes of promotion.

And lastly, I'm going to talk about this quote.

Which is something that I think Eddie desperately needs to hear. He is constantly unsure of himself, and needs to trust himself more.

I think that him saying that everything inside of him is innately who he is, and that is more than enough, can be leading as that phrasing is something that us in the queer community use when describing ourselves. But this is also true for Eddie's character as we know now as well. He needs to trust and believe himself, and that the decisions he makes are ones that he should be proud of.

Overall, like I said above, this article is very good and if you like to read the interviews released about this show, you should go give it a read. Considering that this came about before the show aired, I wasn't expecting it to confirm anything, but I am also glad it didn't outright deny anything either.

I think that there are some lines here that will come into clarity as the show airs and more interviews come out. But overall, I love Eddie as a character and am glad that the show has decided to use him in the build-up for promotion as the show comes back. And I can't wait to see where his storyline goes.

[lucktv]

OMS HIII!!!! Thank you @star-lights-up For tagging me!! I had honestly seen this before and thought "Oms Id love to participate in this" AND HERE I AM. I will mention that Im very new to tumblr so Im sorry if I'm doing stuff wrong and please tell cuz I will never learn if I never know (;

Now Get to know your mutuals!!

What's the origin of your blog title? Well... Long story but basically my real name is pronounced differently than whats written down (Because native language just pronounce the letters differently) And so I was quickly like; 'hmmm I need to find something thats still pretty close to my own name, but also everyone knows how to pronounce' And quickly I came up with the name 'Luka' Which is only once letter removed from my own. And then I just kinda wanted to have a cool username for it, so I had thought of many different things until I came up with "Luckalot" And that just kinda stuck. However, people I met online started calling me "Luck" Because of it, and honestly I have grown very fond of that name!!! SO anyways I might change my name to 'luckalot' on here because its 'lucktv' rn cuz I just kinda quickly made this account not knowing I'd be X-Men obsessed 2 months later. But its lucktv becuase (Taylor's Version) for those wondering!! :D

OTP(s) + Shipname: Honestlyyyy I dont really get obsessed over more ships than one at the same time soooo right now it's really just Charles/Erik - Cherik :3

But I also have been obessed with Sylvie/Loki - Sylki for a while (Some people get so mad about that But I just love em)

But that's about it when it comes to marvel, there's not many marvel ships I have actually been obsessed with for some reason...

Big Remus Lupin/Sirius Black - Wolfstar Shipper too tho!! My marauders phase was long ago but Id love to go back to it any moment :D

Favourite colour: Yellowww!!! Mostly just like the yellow yellow yk, like the chrome logo yellow, basically the yellow used whenever yellow needs to be used :3

Favourite game: I play lots of Minecraft!!! aaannnd Im one of those roblox players :3 I play little word games to improve my english on there and also Royale High because I LOVE Fashion and I played DTI for a bit but after all the updates I kinda stopped idk

Song stuck in your head:

The entire soundtrack of Wicked

Weirdest habit/trait? Good question! I do a lot of weird stuff that Im just kinda not aware of actually. But one I can think of right now is that I always lipsync to my music and its not only my lips but Im very expressive with my eyebrows so I kinda weirdly move my eyebrows with my singing... and yes this happens in public too, I can't help it (,:

Hobbies: Drawing, quite literally any type of art; writing, painting, graphic design, fashion and the list goes on

Im also OBSESSED with reading, but most specifically Fanfics and RN Cherik fanfics (Like literally I just finished a 180k fanfic in 2 weeks AND IM DYSLEXIC) I sometimes get a little too obsessed and just sit in my room ALL DAY reading fanfics in the weekend (If I even have time) And Im a big music listener! Music is very important to me and I love to listen to my playlists every moment of the day C:

If you work, what's your profession? Im a full time Media Design Student :3 But I have done a painters study for one year so I do lots of little painting side quests for family and friends (And they pay me (sometimes))

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? I would LOVE to be just an overall illustrator, for like Book covers but also comics and storyboards, I would love to do something like that and just switch it up from time to time!

Something you're good at: Painting and drawing!! I enjoy it A LOT and I think I'm pretty good at it!! I'm also getting into shirt designs and so far I am quite proud of my creations :D

Something you're bad at: staying calm, I stress about quite literally EVERYTHING, Im a very anxious person from nature and am almost chronically stressed (,: I also have social anxiety which is big reason for my awkwardness most of the time... Idk Im just low-key a loser but Im a somewhat happy loser :p

Something you love:

X-MENNNNN< Specifically CHERIKKK!!!

And also very much Taylor Swift!! Her music is everything to me and Im a Proud swiftie

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: ANY and I say ANY of my hyperfixations; Cherik, Taylor swift, Arcane And also about deep life stuff, idk if it's with the right person I could talk HOURS about life and everything around it C:

Something you hate: People who hate and judge others for being excited about things they like???? Like huh??

Something you collect: rocks, rings, necklaces, earrings, more rocks, shells, literal trash, stickers, erasers??, just lots of useless stuff really...

Something you forget: everything... no but like; art ideas, writing ideas, where I left my shoes, where I left my phone (Its in my hand), what class I have first, What my teacher is called, when I promised my friend to hang out, texting people back, homework.... Everything BUT that one time I accidentally said "you too" To a person working at a cinema telling me "Enjoy the movie"

What's your love language? Quality Time and Physical touch both recieving and giving :D People always associate physical touch with weird stuff for some reason?? but I just REALLY like hugs and shoulder pats and pokes and tickles and elbow bumps and high fives and CUDDLLESSS :D

Favourite movie/show: X-Men First Class, Beauty and the Beast, Miss Americana, Arcane and The Amazing Spider-Man

Favourite food: I really enjoy Watermelon and tuna! But I like lots of foods!!

Favourite animal: Tigers, theyre absolutely adorable cute little big cats and they have STRIPES!

What were you like as a child? Overall very energetic (With my friend and family)! I was very shy and anxious as a child too, thats kinda always been like that XD I was also very good at being very very dramatic :3

Favourite subject at school? I have this little extra class I chose to do because I like painting so much, and it's basically just 2 hours of painting :D So that's deff my favourite

Least favourite subject: Maths.

What's your best character trait? I am very empathetic! I often understand others better than I understand myself

What's your worst character trait? Im a 24/7 stressed overthinker :p

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? anything that would gain me more time for the stuff I actually like doing, making cherik art, writing cherik fanfics... you know it

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Idk if this is weird but Im just gonna pull a Charles Xavier and I'd say my past self? I just have so much I wish I could say to her <:

Tagging some of my mutuals! You don't have to respond if you dont want to :D (Or if u already did) @swiftie-as-a-coursing-river @faerlycertain @veevil @vvividlyy

Get to know your mutuals! Thank you to @joyful-soul-collector for tagging.

What's the origin of your blog title? I have a bunch of sideblogs dedicated to my most active fandoms and I am an insomniac. My first ever fandom sideblog started the trend as a joke and I just carried on the tradition!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Jayce and Viktor is the main one right now. I also love Ed and Stede from Our Flag Means Death.

Favourite colour: Iridescent white

Favourite game: Dungeons and Dragons for sure! I also like playing Jackbox games with friends.

Song stuck in your head: To Be Seen - Searows

Weirdest habit/trait? Sitting and doing things in the dark. I just prefer existing in dim light because lights can be overwhelming and the darkness keeps my mind calm. Doesn't help I'm stuck in fluorescent lighting all day haha!

Hobbies: Writing, Singing, Crafting, and Baking

If you work, what's your profession? I'm a medical laboratory technician in blood sciences!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Since it specifies realistic, I'd like to be a biomedical scientist in immunology. It would mean getting another degree but I don't mind that too much.

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing! I recently wrote my first children's book and intend to write more when the inspiration comes back. A poetic style of writing is my favourite to do.

Something you're bad at: Socialising. I'm quite awkward but I still like chatting to people.

Something you love: Snails! I adore snails, I used to have pet giant African land snails for a few years.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: The immune system, pathogenic disease, my fifty million apocalypse stories, etc.

Something you hate: Willful ignorance and anti vaxxers. Both suck very much.

Something you collect: Pins! I have so many. They're on my lanyard, my dunagrees, my pinboard, and my ita bag.

Something you forget: The thing I was meant to be doing.

What's your love language? Gift giving and quality time. Also words of affirmation.

Favourite movie/show: Arcane for sure at the moment. I also love The Walking Dead, Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, and a bunch of apocalypse/zombie shows.

Favourite food: Pizza

Favourite animal: Snails! 🐌

What were you like as a child? Strange is the best way to describe it honestly.

Favourite subject at school? Science! All the science.

Least favourite subject: Religious Education. No thanks.

What's your best character trait? I'm very passionate about the things and people I love.

What's your worst character trait? I tend to keep things bottled up inside until they come out all at once, I'm still working on not doing that.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Being able to sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow! That would be amazing.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? I'm not sure, I'm not particularly enamoured by anyone in the past. Maybe Oscar Wilde.

Tagging anyone who wants to!

[welcometogrouchland]

I'm going to be so real I do not understand tim & steph shippers who feel that Steph dating Tim again would save her character. You can make an argument that giving Tim a more compelling love interest would be beneficial for him! And you can at least make an argument that the fujo mischaracterization of Steph would stop. However she'd still, inevitably, be treated as a prop character/extension for someone more popular 😭 it also wouldn't make her appear in more books! Tim doesn't have many frequent appearances at the moment either! You can just say you like the couple and want them back together without acting like you have some kind of moral stance

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0