#what's the point. what is the goddamn point. yeah yeah draw for yourself but that shit isn't doing it for me

[femur-bandit]

I almost feel the need to apologise for my art. sorry it's like this. sorry it can't be better. sorry I made it. sorry that I uselessly hope you'll like it. sorry.

[clegfly]

points at this SO HARD. THIS. THIS IS CANON

Eight hours of work over four days later!!! say hello to Marzenie

A cold, quiet wasteland of inescapable familiarity, not a place to hide, but a place that is actively hunting you

You are not safe here. It’s just as bad here as it is out there

[cough cough … so in case this is your first time seeing me posting about Marzenie, the general idea is that it’s an omori au that shows things from Basil’s perspective- giving him his own inner world and a deeper look into what he’s actually going through, given omori is from Sunny’s perspective we don’t really get the most in depth idea of how things are in Basils own mind other then the vague idea that it’s really bad— Marzenie is an AU that hopes to elaborate on Basils character and inner struggle in ways that Omori does not. And yes that means sending him on a fantasy adventure in his own mind but like- when I say fantasy I mean In the same way as a game like Fear and Hunger is “fantasy”]

[strangerstilinski]

𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.5k warnings: none really, fluffy ending, steve is kind of a dick, mention of alcohol, gender neutral reader (pls let me know if i missed anything) based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her — with just a dash of enemies to lovers

It should go without saying that Steve Harrington is the bane of your goddamned existence. If the two of you aren't at each other's throats, it typically just means that you're both doing your best to pretend the other doesn't even exist.

And, sure, maybe it drives you a little bit insane that he seems to get along just fine with every person in your friend group except for you. It was like you pushed buttons that Steve wasn't even aware he had.

Nancy finds the whole thing amusing, says that Steve's clearly so in love with you that he doesn't know how to handle it. Eddie swears that Steve looks at you with hearts in his eyes, though any time you've caught his stare those ‘hearts’ tended to look a whole lot more like daggers. Argyle and Robin both insist that love and hate tread a very thin line, and eventually, a little push will have the two of you stumbling head over heels into each other's waiting arms. Johnathan tends to stay out of it, but then, he doesn't really need to say anything, because you've seen that look he gives you when he catches you looking a little too long at the moles dotted along the length of Steve's throat, or that stubborn lock of hair that tumbles over his brow bone, or the way his tongue pokes out and his eyes narrow cutely when he's concentrating-

You hate it. You hate Steve. Even now, you swear you hate him, regardless of the way you shamelessly ogle the curve of his bicep when he reaches across the back of the sofa to drape his arm loosely behind Robin's shoulders. You've accepted it. At this point, allowing yourself to admire his stupidly handsome physique was merely reparations for being forced to put up with him on a near-daily basis. Compensation for the never-ending bad attitude that he seemed to direct solely at you.

“Does anyone hear that?” Steve's voice speaks louder than your own suddenly, effectively cutting you off even though you'd been in the middle of a sentence. His eyes meet yours for just a brief second before his gaze is moving elsewhere, “It's like, this annoying buzzing sound?” He's sitting up a little straighter following his interruption, brows drawing together like he's listening intently for something.

His sudden line of questioning has thoroughly derailed your train of thought. The longwinded story you'd been regaling to the group about a customer at work is cut short, the words dissolving on your tongue as your try to work out what on earth Steve is referring to. Until his interruption, you hadn't heard anything.

“What are you even talking abou-”

“There!” He cuts you off once more, “There it is again! Did you hear that, Robs?” The fingers he nudges into his best friend's ribs makes her squirm away with a deep laugh.

You huff, “Are you seriously implying that I'm the-”

“God, you guys 're hearing that, right?” Steve interrupts with an irritatingly pleased grin on his face, “Like nails on a chalkboard-”

Though Robin's laughter isn't actually directed at you, your face burns hotly anyway. A pity-filled smile graces her lips when she meets your gaze after escaping the wrath of Steve's tickling, and his chuckles of amusement only serve to make you grind your teeth together in irritation.

“Real mature, dickhead.” You snap, snatching up the beer you'd set down on the coffee table when Eddie had actually asked you about your day a few minutes before. “I was in the middle of a story.”

“Yeah, no offense, honey, but I'm not sure any of us were that invested hearing you drone on about the ‘big tip’ some douchebag with a hand tattoo left you.” Steve grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “If your stories weren't so boring, maybe we wouldn't all be sitting here hoping for a hole in the earth to open up under us just so we don't have to keep listening to-”

“Steve. C'mon man-” Eddie tries, though his voice is drowned out by your own.

“Jesus, do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” You snap in Steve's direction.

“I'm just saying,” Steve shrugs, “Probably the only reason he left such a big tip was because pulled the wrong bill out of his wallet, alright? It sure as hell wasn't 'cause of your shining personality.”

“What, and just because you're a jackass, that means no man could ever possibly find me appealing?” You bite back.

“Yeah, well, your pretty face doesn't quite make up for your constant need for attention.”

“My need for attention?” You scoff incredilously, beer slamming back down onto the tabletop in front of you. The rest of your friends seem to fade even further into the background, the rest mist of your rage yet again blinding you to anything that isn't Steve fucking Harrington. “You're the one who can't stand when the focus is on me for ten fucking seconds.”

“So what, if I don't care that some prick hit on you at work-” Steve argues, “Sue me. If that makes me an asshole-”

“It does, as a matter of fact,” You interrupt easily, “Because I'm constantly listening to you whine about your conquest of the week, except I'm able to do so without acting like such a fucking-”

“Careful,” Steve hums, cocky little smirk reemerging on his lips, “You're sounding a little jealous, there, honey.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“'S my house,” He returns just as quickly, “How 'bout you fuck off.”

The blood in your veins is full of fire. Your face is burning with rage and your eyes prickle traitorously with frustrated tears, because that customer from your story? He'd been the highlight of your god-awful day. The rest of it had been a fucking disaster.

You'd slipped on freshly mopped floors and dropped an entire table's drink orders. Subsequently, you'd been forced to finish your shift with sticky, soda pop-soaked socks that squelched wetly in your shoes with every step. Your boss had given you shit for the whole mess, even though it was one of your coworkers who had failed to put out the wet floor sign in the first place. You'd proceeded to burn yourself on a hotplate, twice. And then, after all that, you'd had little choice but to take an ice-cold shower before heading over to Steve's house, because the hot water heater in your decrepit apartment building was apparently broken. Again.

“Y'know what?” You grumble in defeat, “Fine.”

You're already rising to your feet, wiping the palms of your hands down your jeans to dry the lingering condensation from your half-finished beer. You blink furiously to push back the tears that had been pooling at your waterline, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of your own emotional state.

“Wha-” Steve is watching you with something like concern in his eyes now, “Wh-Where're you goin'?”

“I'm leaving,” You announce, gaze steadfastly avoiding where Steve has removed his arm from around Robin's shoulders so he can sit at the edge of the couch, as if he's planning to rise to his own feet at any moment. “I, um. I'll talk to you guys later.”

There are scattered protests from everyone, but you don't bear them any mind. You're already turning on your heel and moving toward the entryway with hurried steps. The front door slams shut behind you before you've even gotten your jacket all the way on. You've still got one arm struggling to find the hole of your sleeve when you hear the door swing back open behind you.

“Hey! Wait up.”

You're not sure why, but Steve's voice makes you slow where you've begun to move down the driveway, though you don't turn around to face him. He calls out to you again as he finally catches up with you. He all but throws himself into your path and at the risk of running straight into him, your steps finally come to a stop.

“C'mon, honey. Wait, wait, wait-”

You blow out a frustrated breath, your arms crossing over your chest like that might somehow put up a physical barrier between the two of you.

“I really don't want to do this with you, Harrington. Alright?” An air of defeat laces your words, one hand coming up to rub at the headache that's begun to pulse between your brows, “Just.. Not tonight.”

You move to step around him and the heel of your boots click against the pavement once, twice. But then something hooks into the belt loop on your jeans and you're tugged back. You nearly lose your footing at the unexpected shift in momentum, knees wobbling unsteadily for just a moment before you're twirled back around to face him and then your palms are meeting a firm chest.

The adrenaline has your brain whiting out for just a moment, any and all thoughts screeching to a halt. Warmth seeps into your palms from beneath the thin cotton of Steve's tshirt. The racing of your own heart in your ears drowns out the distant sound of laughter and the opening trailers of a movie rental coming from back inside the house. Your eyes are level with Steve's chin, your wide gaze locked on his lips as they quirk up at one corner with his gentle smirk. You're still standing pigeon-toed between his own larger feet, a little off balance but held firmly in place by the wide hand splayed across your waist.

“I'm sorry.” Steve says quietly — unexpectedly earnest.

It's only been a second or two since he dragged you back into his space, and to your surprise, his head dips, just a fraction. Steve brushes his nose against your own, a gentle stroke that sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The cool mint clinging to his breath fans out over your face, smelling of the gum he's always chewing and smacking obnoxiously, but the scent this close is intoxicating. The hand he brings up to cradle your jaw is intoxicating. The loose flap of leather on his watch that tickles at the side of your throat. The way he's leaning in-

The passion he kisses you with, from the moment your lips touch, is intoxicating. It's all-encompassing. You can't think, and you're not entirely sure you're even breathing, but Steve's lips are moving in unhurried synchronization with your own. Your knees are weak. You're gripping the material of his shirt in your fists just for something to hold onto, but Steve' arm is curled tight around the curve in your spine now to hold you steady.

His tongue brushes warmly against your lips, licking softly at the seam of your mouth like he's asking for permission. The desperate sound that crawls up your throat at just that quick brush of his tongue nestles in the depths of Steve's brain where he files it away for later. He hitches his arm even tighter at your waist, pulling your stomachs flush until your chest heaves against his own.

Your head is a little fuzzy when you separate long enough for you to take a breath, and you're gasping almost comically in an effort to fill your lungs. Steve's quiet chuckle meets your ears, his hand sliding back from your jaw to cup the nape of your neck.

“You kissed me.”

The words fall from your lips in a whisper of disbelief. Your eyes are still closed, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. You’re terrified if you open them even a crack, the entire scene will suddenly fade away around you like some kind of dream. The airy cadence of your voice is partially due to your surprise, but also thanks to the far-too-easy grace with which you've been spun and manhandled and swept entirely off your feet.

“I did,” Steve agrees just as quietly, “I did do that.”

His forehead meets your own as your eyes flutter open and he simply holds you there for a moment, nose dragging across your cheek before he presses another quick kiss to your lips. His head tilts, thumb stroking soft over the side of your throat before his mouth finds yours again, and again. These kisses are different — Casual and tender, sweet and unhurried. Like he's kissing you just because he can.

“You-” Is all you manage to get out before your words are silenced by his lips slotting between your own, but you carry on with barely a pause as you click apart once again, “Y'r still doing it.”

“Mhm.” He hums easily, the sound rumbling beneath your hands on his chest.

“Why-”

Kiss.

“Are you-”

Kiss.

“Kissing me?”

Steve's breath mingles hotly with your own in the narrow breadth of space between your parted lips, “D'you want me to stop?”

“No, no, I- Hell no.”

And there's that perfect smile of his. Straight teeth make an appearance as his lips quirk up at the corner, a breathy spearmint scented laugh that sounds a little too relieved for the casual coolness that he's clearly trying to give off. His mouth opens like he's going to say something, but no words seem to come. Lips parted, throat bobbing as he swallows around the heavy silence weighing down his tongue.

He looks so pretty like this, you think. The streetlight light at the end of his driveway catches in his brown eyes, caramel sparking with flecks of gold and green that you've never noticed before, but you're sure you'll never be able to forget the sight of it now. You're still sharing breaths, faces so close that you can't avoid watching the way his full lashes blink at you dumbly. As if he isn't the one who spun you around and pulled you close and effortlessly gave you the best kiss of your entire life. As if, maybe, he didn't quite expect to make it this far, and now he's at a loss for how to proceed.

You release his shirt from your fist, the fabric crinkled and stretched with how tight you'd been gripping it, only to slide your hand up the back of his neck. The tip of his nose catches the bottom of your own, lips brushing faintly while your hand finds a new home in his hair. The soft strands tangle between your fingers when you give it a gentle tug and push up on your toes to draw yourself impossibly closer.

“If I'd known kissing you was all it took to get you to shut up, Harrington, I would've done it ages ago.” Your quip lacks its usual bite, but it breaks the silence between you, and it also seems to break Steve out of whatever spell he'd fallen under.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he searches for an appropriate response, “Maybe we'll just have to keep kissing then.”

You find yourself swaying just a little on your feet at the way his eyes flick slow back and forth between your own, “Yeah.. Yeah, Maybe we will.”

When his lips descend on your own again, it's ages before he lets you back up for a decent breath of air, and even then he parts from you with obvious reluctance. You're both breathing heavy, lips a little swollen and shining wetly. Steve's expression has a warmth that you realize you've never actually seen directed at you before. Steve smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and suddenly all you can think about is what Eddie has said a hundred times over.

It's like there are hearts in his eyes.

[tojisun]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8tQfwXt/

this with biker!simon 🤭 the way he just melts omg

OH MY GOD I YELLED

nono fr omg the way he melted as soon as he heard it and the way he literally looks like hes about to lose his mind on the highway??? SCREAMING

!! suggestive - minors dni; sexting ig // biker!simon mlist

thinking about how this isn’t really something you’d usually send—you’re so used to his friends snooping on his phone so of course you two have to be careful. discreet.

but.

it’s been a while since you two have done anything more than rushed make out kisses. even the last time you two tried to squeeze a quickie, it was still, somehow, interrupted by your conflicting schedules.

you’ve tried to hold onto your patience. tried holding back even when all you wanted to do was jump simon because there he always is, beautiful and hot and just overall so goddamn attractive, it should be illegal to be that good looking.

but it’s been a while now. and you’ve missed him dearly.

it didn’t help that his last meet was all over social media, getting mixed into edits because of fucking course he is a tiktok edit now. you really can’t blame anyone—you were there, after all.

you’ve seen, first hand, the way he unveiled his new shop project before pairing up with that guy who you all still call konig. god knows what his name is but honestly you’re not even curious anymore. not when simon stole the goddamn show. again.

then the asshole had the audacity to point at you, black leather gloves stark against all the flashing cameras, and you watched as he made a little fucking heart with his hands. if the cameras weren’t going ham on simon then, they sure were after that little flirty stunt.

you felt yourself be engulfed in flames so, yeah. you really can’t blame anyone for sharing every pictures and videos they have of simon that day all over the internet.

still, somehow, you want to monopolize him. possess him.

and, if you’re not blaming anyone for sharing every sliver of simon’s meet, well, you hope no one can also blame you for what you’re about to do.

-

simon grunts as he finishes rounding a corner and begins easing into the highway. he rights himself up and blazes past the straggling sedans to get into the thick stretch of the road.

it’s not too windy today but dusk is breaking out and simon’s just glad he’s finally en route to your place. it’s been a long day and gods he’s missed you.

he gets the notification a few minutes in.

“hey, baby,” your message starts. “i missed you.” there’s a pause. “i’m wearing that lingerie you’ve always liked, you know the blue little thing? i forgot how lace feels since it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

simon’s breath is suspended in the pathway through his lungs, his eyes going wide as your words draw on. not even siri’s robotic voice can shake away simon’s thoughts—the vivid imagination of coming home to see you in that lace bralette and panties and—he grips the hand clutch tighter—the matching lace choker it came with.

fuck-

“might start without you, lover boy. so drive home—to me—safe, okay? see you soon, baby. love you.”

fuuuck.

simon books it home.

AAAAHHHH SCREAMINNN no bc this is me w simon!!

[bluemerakis]

Imagine . . .

❝ Lover Boy Butcher ❞

This is my yapping ass session about what I think Butcher could be like when he’s smitten over you ~

Warnings: mentions of naughty bedroom stuff is all

All likes & reblogs deeply appreciated! Enjoy it my Butcher Babies ᡣ𐭩

Everybody loves talking about mean Butcher, and yeah, well that man is a grade A dick, let’s take a moment to imagine that once he’s actually quite fond of you: he’ll take the time to do the little things that he knows makes your day a little brighter — making you that extra hot cup of coffee/tea in the mornings when the sun’s still rising and the crisp air around your lips thaw with each breath; randomly throwing in a one-line reference of a book or movie you can’t stop talking about (and that you didn’t think he paid attention to) whenever the two of you banter; turning up the radio when a song he knows you love comes on—hell, sometimes he’d catch himself thinking of a snippet of the song you can’t stop randomly erupting into sing over whenever you’re mindlessly tending to chores. You’re all he wants to get back to when he’s out on a job, and definitely the last thing he wants to leave behind when it’s time to go.

When that man loves you, he LOVES you—against his hard-ass will and everything, and he’s still going to be comfortable enough to call you a wanker whenever you’re being a bit of a prude, but it’s never not followed by some form of Billy affection to soften the blow. . . even when you’ve one-upped him with some ball-bruising insult. If you fight—which can be often due to his impulsive brutish nature—he might storm off, or turn to short-lived alcoholism, but he’s always back in your shared bed come nightfall, taking you into his arms, even when you’re not ready to talk to his dumb face. It’s all right, though because depending on how mad you are, he’ll start caressing you in the places he knows you’re sensitive, and if he’s daring enough, he might go in to plant a kiss or two on whichever part of you is most accessible. He might even throw in a crappy, vulgar joke just to elicit some form of acknowledgement from you.

Let me not even get started on how he’ll act in the bedroom—jokes I’m going to tell you anyways: it’s rough—he’s a rough man, he’s unapologetically mean and abrupt in getting to the point, but he’ll slow things down for you. He’s not so much in the rush when it comes to you—why wouldn’t he want to delay every moment spent inside of you, on top of you, in and out, up and about every inch of your body? Come on, what a fucking zone of euphoria to get lost in! Consider him a goddamn hobbyist explorer when it comes to folding you over below him, or hoisting you onto his hard on, or pressing down on the small of your back until you’re wedged between the pillow he’d laid under your lower stomach and the greedy, propulsive thrusts of his hips. Oh, and he’s always going to simultaneously target that clit with a rough fondling of his fingers. This is a man that KNOWS how to pleasure a woman right, good god!

Initially, Billy was not the most educated on aftercare—he’s usually a hit it and quit it type of guy. But since being with you, he’s learning little by little on what he could be doing differently to make the post-sex experience as comfortable and as healthy as possible for you. After holding you close for a few selfish moments, he’ll get up to pour you both a glass of water and bring it to the bedside table before fetching a towel to dab yourself dry. He’ll take off the sheets while you fetch new ones, and you both work to equip the new, clean bedding. If you’re in the mood for it, he’ll draw you both a bath, or steal you away to the shower. But his favourite part? Settling back into the bed, arm hooked around you and pressing you as close to him as humanly possible—your fingers entangled as you chat about the day, about anything and everything, and of course about that one wanker Billy nearly laid to an early grave. Most of the time, it’s you doing the talking, and he’s more than content to listen on—he’s mostly just watching you exist, anyway because he still can’t believe you’re all his. All his. And god, does he love you. He’d do anything for you, kill anybody for you—lay himself down for you.

Okay I’m done now (for now). Enjoy these procrastination thoughts, this is what my brain juice went towards instead of studying because, you know, priorities!

This is not really proof read so apologies if there are any errors—but let’s be real, you just came here for a good wank (jokes?)

[stop-talking]

Wait imagine listening to music with clapton while in detention.. like sharing earbuds with him while yall sit in silence🫢 and then a cringe song comes on at the wrong time LMAO

BLESS YOU anon this is so cute

Saturday School

Clapton Davis x gender-neutral reader

Word count: 2k

Tags: fluff, a little cringe, romantic tension, older Clapton & younger reader

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

You'd managed to get through nearly 12 years of schooling without getting sentenced to detention.

Unfortunately, today resets your streak. Only a measly two weeks at this shitty school and you've already gotten yourself into trouble. Just your luck, huh?

God damnit. Surely, this is going to be absolute hell. I mean, it isn't even a regular after-school detention, but Saturday school.

As you take a seat in the meticulously-arranged circle of desks in the library, you spare a glance at the other students. You vaguely recognize some of them... the goth chick looks familiar, at least.

They all seem disinterested, so you copy their aloof attitudes and lean back in your chair. Yeah... that seems right. Just do what everyone else does, and maybe you'll survive this.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and slams against the wall. You turn to look, and see the principal himself storm through, dragging a boy in by the ear.

Oh great. Finally, someone you recognize, and it's motherfucking Clapton Davis.

"It's not fair! I don't even HAVE Saturday school!" He whines, wincing as he's roughly shoved towards an empty desk. The desk right next to you. Wonderful.

"Should have thought about that before coming to school on a Saturday." The older man growls, giving him what he probably thinks is an intimidating look. Honestly, he just looks silly.

Clapton groans, slinking back in the desk and letting out an exaggerated huff that blows his bangs around.

God, can't that guy just be normal? You only just transferred here and already you know almost everything about him. Not by choice... obviously. He's just somehow the center of attention wherever he goes. Even in goddamn Saturday school.

"And as for the rest of you..." The principal continues his rant, glaring at the small circle of students. No, prisoners.

"Just remember. I have eyes and ears everywhere. EVERYWHERE."

With one final less-than-intimidating-glare, the man stomps out, closing the door behind him. Is that it? He's just going to leave you here in a roomful of delinquents with nothing but a vague threat to keep you all in check?

You glance around at the other students, but no one says anything. Hm. Maybe that's normal. You have no idea, so you just lay your head down on your desk, determined to get through this mess as simply as possible.

Turns out, that sentiment might prove to be more challenging than you thought. You hear a quiet "thud", and shift slightly, peeking an eye to your left to see what the noise was. Are you crazy, or does Clapton look... closer?

Nope. Not crazy. With another soft thud, he scoots his desk over again, inching it closer to yours.

"Pssst." He whispers, extending a leg out to nudge your foot. He's less than a yard from you at this point. Though you can't see the other students with your head buried in your arms, you're sure they've noticed. Damnit. Why did this jackass have to draw attention to you?

"What do you want?" You grumble, shifting on the desk so he can see your face, but still trying to stay hidden from the other students.

"I haven't seen you around before. You new?" He gives you a sheepish grin, eyes flickering with mischief as he takes you in.

"Yeah." You respond dismissively, giving him a flat stare. Please just pick on someone else, Clapton Davis.

"Cool, cool..." He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling.

You watch as he restlessly taps his feet and tries to balance on two legs of his chair. He's so high-strung. Like a chihuahua. Small like one too. Hah. The thought makes you smile, which he unfortunately notices and takes as a sign of interest. Damnit.

"So... what are you in for?" He asks, treating the exchange like you're two inmates. Honestly, it's a fair comparison.

"I, uh... Accidentally lit my teacher on fire."

With a crash, Clapton tips back in his chair completely, hitting the floor. Hard.

"You WHAT?"

The sudden noise makes you jolt upright, and you can feel a blush creeping up your neck as the other students turn to stare.

"Accidentally!" You protest weakly, hanging your head in shame as Clapton scrambles to his feet.

"How the fuck do you 'accidentally' set someone on fire?" A dark-haired boy across from you scoffs, and a few other people voice similar questions.

"Okay so... Mr Jones's sleeve caught fire while giving me a demonstration with the bunsen burner..." You start, taking a deep breath and staring down at your desk to calm your nerves.

"I panicked and doused it with a vial of the closest liquid... apparently an extremely flammable liquid..."

"Is THAT why he went home early Friday?" A blonde girl asks, letting out a shrill laugh, like that of a hyena.

"Woah. Sick." The goth-looking girl just nods in approval before lying her head back down on the desk.

Before you can give any kind of response, you feel your desk jostle as Clapton's slams into it. Apparently he'd taken the initiative to get a little closer while everyone was distracted by your story.

"So, Grizzly Lake High has a new pyromaniac, huh?" He teases, propping his elbow up on the desk and resting his chin on his fist as he grins stupidly at you.

"New?" You scoff. "You mean you had an old one?"

"Hey, there's a lot of weirdoes here." He shrugs.

"Yeah... I can tell."

He pouts and tries to feign offence as you pointedly look him up and down. God, what a stupid fucking face.

"You're not in any of my classes, are you, newbie?"

"No. I'm a Junior."

"Ah. Well, maybe we'll have some together next year."

"Next year? Aren't you a Senior?"

"Yeah, but with the way my grades are looking..." He grimaces, shaking his head sadly.

"...you might be a Senior again next year?" You finish for him.

"Yeah."

"Bummer."

An awkward silence settles between the two of you, and Clapton starts to squirm, looking as if he wants to say something else.

"How'd you end up here? In Saturday school, I mean." You ask, if only to cut the tension. Not because you actually care.

"Oh." His face falls, clearly annoyed just thinking about it.

"Principal Verge confiscated my skateboard Friday... I was supposed to get it back at the end of the day, but I ended up getting detention... By the time I was done, he'd already left and locked It up in his office."

"Sooo... you came to steal it back?"

"Not steal! There's sometimes a few teachers here on weekends... I was just gonna ask one of them..." He mumbles, hanging his head.

"But stupid Verge caught me 'sneaking around' and threw me in Saturday school."

"Oh, so he just has it out for you, huh?" You tease.

"Exactly!" He hisses back, eyes wide with excitement.

"People just don't understand. I'm not a troublemaker... just unlucky."

Unlucky? He seems pretty damn lucky to you. Everyone likes Clapton Davis. Everyone but you, it seems.

"Pfft. Maybe you could try being quiet and sitting still for once." You muse, trying to hold back a smirk. He might be onto something though, honestly. He's a total trouble magnet... which is why you should probably just put your head back down and ignore him.

"Hey!" He pouts, feigning hurt as he reaches into his pocket.

"And to think, I was gonna offer to share..."

This piques your interest, and you lean closer to him, trying to get a glimpse of the object he's fiddling with under his desk. An iPhone. Great.

"Won't that just get you in more trouble?"

He rolls his eyes in return. "Look around. I'm not the only one."

Sure enough, when you look more closely at some of the other students... yep, at least half of them are on their phones. The way they slump over the desks sort-of hides it, but once you knew what to look for... damn. He's right.

"Why? What's even the point of Saturday school, then?" You're completely baffled by this revelation, shaking your head.

"What's the point of school at all?" He counters, shrugging and popping an earbud into his ear. His wired headphones are extremely tangled, but he offers you the other earbud anyways.

"So, wanna share?"

Damnit. You really shouldn't. But you hadn't brought your own phone, and fuck, that grin of his...

"Fine. What do you have on there?" You sigh and accept the earbud, scooting closer to him so it'll actually reach your ear. There's not much slack with how tangled they are, so the two of you are nearly cheek to cheek as you hunch in your seats and peer down at his phone.

"Here, I'll turn on my playlist."

He fiddles with the little phone, and you can feel his breath mixing with yours as he speaks. Eventually he gets some music playing, but you can hardly hear it over the beating of your own heart.

"What do you think? You like 90s stuff?" Clapton smiles warmly, turning to face you.

His smile is contagious, and you can't help but let your gaze flicker down to his lips... just for a moment. He's so close, his mouth just inches from your own.

"Uh, yeah. I-I mean, who doesn't?" You mumble lamely, feeling a familiar heat creep up your neck and tinge your cheeks. Fuck. He's not that cute, get yourself together!!

"I know, right?" Apparently that's the right answer, because he turns his attention back to the phone, scrolling through his playlist and pointing out his favorite songs.

His music taste isn't bad, actually. You find yourself nodding at his choices, and soon you begin to forget where you are. The other students fade into the background, and Saturday school starts to feel a little less grim.

That is, until the song changes and the vibe is completely thrown off. What the hell is this? Your brow furrows and you try to make out the nonsense lyrics.

Cat? I'm a kitty cat. And I dance dance dance And I dance dance dance Cat? I'm a kitty cat. And I dance dance dance And I dance dance dance

The lyrics repeat over and over, and Clapton nearly drops his phone in his scramble to change the song. In his rush, he gets his password wrong over and over, making it impossible to fix.

"Clapton, why the hell is this on your playlist?" You ask, putting a hand to your mouth in a failing attempt to stifle a giggle.

"I-it's catchy, alright??" He mumbles, still trying to change the song. He gets his password wrong for, like, the tenth time, and it locks him out of his phone for thirty seconds, leaving you both stuck with the nonsensical cat lyrics ringing in your ears.

You try to keep your composure, but when the man singing the song starts meowing, you completely lose it and throw yourself onto your desk in a fit of laughter.

Unfortunately for Clapton, you accidentally tug the headphone cord with you, unplugging it from his phone. As you bury your head in your arms and laugh uncontrollably, the silly cat song starts blasting out loud for the whole room to hear.

And he can't even do anything about it, because he's still locked out of his phone for the next 20 seconds.

"S-sorry!" He shouts, trying to cram his phone into his backpack to shut it up.

You can feel all eyes on the two of you, but this whole situation is so utterly ridiculous, you don't even mind the attention. A few other kids snicker, and you can't help but feel a little bad for him.

Your remorse fades as soon as the principal throws the door open, immediately turning his attention to you and Clapton.

"Both of you!" He roars, pointing an accusing finger. "Detention on Monday! And Tuesday!"

Damnit. You knew this boy was trouble, and yet...? As the cat song finally stops, you meet Clapton's gaze, a sheepish smile plastered across his face.

Maybe spending a little more time with him wouldn't be so bad.

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

Author's Note: Sorry if it wasn't fluffy enough...? I mean, the reader kind of hates him at first, and they don't even kiss... But the request was really funny, and I love putting Jhutch characters in awkward situations <3

Maybe I'll write a sequel? Probably not, though. Sorry it took so long to write, also. I wrote half of it and then let it sit in my drafts for weeks before writing the other half.

Hope y'all enjoyed, feel free to send in more requests!! I'll get to them eventually, even if it takes weeks. <3

[hugmeimtouchdeprived]

Pretty sure this has been done a million times before, BUT I am bored and have been sitting for 3 hours in a train and the internet is very bad and I desperately need something to do.

Tw: Some noncon elements? Nothing explicit or in detail. Fem! Reader

What if you're on a train, or bus, or some other form of public transport, so crowded you don't even question it when a stranger suddenly sits next to you.

Kyle would draw you in with his charisma and good looks. I mean, have you seen this man?? Even as he sits a bit too close, thighs and shoulders almost touching yours, you don't question it too much. Or when his hand touches your thigh. He apologizes, of course, with that goddamn pretty smile of his, excusing it as him being tired after a long day. Even when he does it again, giving your soft thigh a squeeze, you don't even mention it. Even when his fingers discreetly slip under the hem of your sundress.

Soap wouldn't be nearly as apologetic. He's got charisma, keeps yapping throughout the drive about whatever, askong you questions. Where are you going, why, ye got anyone waiting there? Come on, he doesn't mean anything by it, just some small talk! But sure, he understands your anxiety about sharing all that info with a stranger, he doesn't intend to make you feel uncomfortable (maybe he doesn't intend to, but he sure as shit doesn't really care when he does, squishing his thigh against yours and practically pressing up against your when he points at something through the window you're seated next to, his hand "accidentally" brushing up against your chest, whispering something in your ear).

Ghost would crowd you into that tiny seat for the whole drive, barely saying a word to you. You're happy to stay in your own little bubble as much as you can, with the slightly creepy man next to you with the black mask (what's it called in English, not his regular mask/balaclava but like a medical one?? Surgical mask? The type people wore during covid????). You swear he keeps staring at you, but every time you glance in his direction, he seems to be looking at his phone, or maybe reading something. The moment you turn you feel eyes on you again.

Would follow you after it, though, that man has no shame whatsoever. Doesn't even realize why you keep glancing behind you and speeding up your pace. He just wants to make sure you make it safely to wherever you're going, right? Won't leave until he sees you walk inside your apartment building, or hotel, or wherever you're headed.

Then again, nobody is going to even think about messing with you while you walk, not when they see the fucking giant following you from a small distance.

Price. Price Price Price. I don't intend to really write for him because I'm not as into him as I am into the rest of 141 (love him!!! Just don't feel like writing for him usually!!) but I am, still, very bored and have some thoughts. He'd follow you, just like Ghost, but unlike the lieutenant, he'd shamelessly walk right alongside you, keeping the now-very-one-sided conversation going. Even when you seem a bit uncomfortable and try to turn to another street, hoping he wouldn't follow, but he does. He's a gentleman, you know? No gentleman would allow a lady like yourself to walk home alone at this time of night, no ma'am.

Might even invite himself into your humble abode, politely removing his shoes at the entrance and asking you where the kitchen is so he can get something to drink. "You want anything, love?"

Yeah, you're not getting rid of any of them after meeting them. Even if they didn't follow you (as far as you know) you will bump into them again sometime later, laughing about what a coincidence it is when he asks you out for coffee or whatever.

Thank you for reading!🌷 I slept for one hour last night and haven't been able to sleep on the train, someone help me it's going to be a long day :)

[mdr-writings]

Streamer!Eren x reader pt.2

A/n: I'm sorry I took so long to get this part out. I was very busy with my classes, I had relationship problems, family issues, I was a hot mess. But after rewrite after rewrite I can finally put this out. How convenient that its on Final Aot day. Honestly, I'm also glad that I am putting it out today bc I'd rather be hot and bothered rather than sad and sobbing. Btw I am gonna fix the first part because I feel like it lacks a lot of things. If you still want to read it, it’s linked below

wc:4.3k

Part One

Cw: slight teasing of weight, oral ( fem receiving), overstimulation, heavy kissing

” So does Eren behave himself when he talks to you guys,” you ask the chat as you sat down on his lap.

“What? you know I always behave myself,” he cocks his head towards you grinning. “Sure you do,” you said rolling your eyes. You know that he rarely behaves himself when it comes to you. So, you could assume he’s the same in front of an audience. You point your finger towards the camera. “Look, seems like the chat knows you better than yourself.” 

Eren’s attention shifts to the screen to see the chat flooding with comments siding with you. “It’ll be your own people huh?” you let out a quick chuckle while picking at your nails.

“Do you guys have anything you wanna ask her,” he questioned. 

You speak up, “Yeah, you guys can ask me anything “. You didn't know where this sense of comfortability came from. Maybe it was Eren's aura or the way he communicates with his audience. It’s a possible reason as to why he has such a big following.  

Eren has always been transparent about how he feels whether it’s about something or someone. The guy has a hard-on for conflict, but the way he is authentic with himself is admirable. “Anything?” Eren raises his eyebrows in amusement. The sound of a notification alert pops up on the monitor. A monotone robotic voice booms from the computer’s speaker” what is the freakiest thing you've done?” 

 “What do you mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows together. Of course, you were not going to show that side of you. Who do they think they were trying to ask a question like that? Perhaps you do tell them, then what? You become the biggest streamer’s slut? Smart remarks filled your head ready to be spat at the viewers. Though, integrity got the best of you and decided to remain quiet.

 “Aww come on, you can’t let the audience down now” he teases. Eren begins soothingly stroking your thigh. As he strokes, he draws patterns of circles, leaving you to accidentally shudder in his grasp. He then intriguingly raises his eyebrows. 

“Oh my god, I'm literally slipping off of you” you grab on both sides of his thighs to try to push yourself up. “Geez you’re like a fucking slip and slide, what did you do bath in, butter?” you mumbled. Eren looks down to your bottom half and notices your butt touching his knees. “It’s okay, I got you,” he murmured.

“Goddamn, you’re heavy as fuck.” You whipped your head to face him to strike him a glare. He then adjusts himself with you on top, making your bottom rub against his crotch. A low groan escaped his mouth. You felt heat brewing on your face. 

“Uhhh let’s see, is there any more questions?” you ask desperately looking at the screen. “Y/n you didn't even answer the first one” he raised one eyebrow and lowered the other. You stop your internal thoughts as you once again feel a hot sensation on your thigh moving. You try not to acknowledge the hand with clear intentions of riling you up. 

“You gotta toughen it out y/n.”

 “Actually,” you start. Eren eyes shot up in interest. “I can recall, the time I... you know... to a professor in a class,” you stammer over your words. Instantly, a wave of regret crashes into you. Somehow you forgot Eren attends this same college and classes you take. You silently cursed at yourself.

“Oh?” Eren’s lips curled up into a smirk. “And who might that professor be?” he questioned. Learning this fun fact about your sexual deviances aroused Eren's curiosity. In a millisecond, your ear is set ablaze as pressed his Eren's lips against it. “Would that be Professor Erwin or Miche?” His warm breath brazes your ears which ignites a fire in your stomach. “Or maybe Professor Levi?” his hand slithered its way towards your inner thigh. Your legs quickly squeeze together in hopes to stop the throbbing that started between them. Luckily, Eren was just in time to snatch his hand away from the trap. Your face was twisted up in frustration. 

This hasn’t been the first time that Eren has teased you. But this felt different, it’s almost as if you don’t want it to stop. The words he’s throwing at you don’t feel like feathers this time around. His hands on your thighs feel like it’s burning through your skin. The heartbeat in your core seems to pulsate harder and faster. You didn’t want it to stop but you were fighting to not look desperate.

Satisfied in your response, Eren clasped his hands together. “Alright I'm gonna end it right here make sure you share the stream with your friends, follow Y/n on her socials and repent, toodles” he sings. Eren leans over to hit a hotkey on his keyboard which he assumes ends his streams. He then swivels the knobs on the computer’s speaker on mute. He once again lays a hand on your thigh. You let out a short hum clearing your throat. He then leans back to take notice of your stiff position in his lap. Eren lightly squeezes your arm,” You, okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you pull away from his grip. Eren can tell when he goes overboard. He could just make it up to you by buying your favorite food like he always does. But for once in his life, he would rather be mature and talk it through.

“Hey, I know this was your first time on here and I know it was a bit overwhelming,” he breathed. “I do apologize if I made you uncomfortable.” 

“I said I’m fine Eren,” you raised your voice. Eren was taken aback by your sudden attitude towards him. His once loud and lively room was now clouded with silence. “I think we should head down now,” he placed his hands upon your plush waist. Gripping the chair handles, you turn around allowing your legs to lay against Eren’s waist. “I lost my appetite,” you whispered in monotone. 

You couldn’t understand yourself as to why you suddenly opposed his suggestion. Wasn’t your main objection being to take him downstairs? You could just walk away from him and have that same gut-wrenching feeling in your stomach. But your body wouldn’t allow you to move. Something snapped, those times of playful bickering started to build a form of lust and desire. Maybe now was the time to reveal the real reason behind the constant squabbles.

“Y/n, I said I’m s-”

“You know,” you started. “Our little fights always end up leaving me confused,” your gaze pandered between his dark forest green eyes and plump lips.

 From what you could remember, Eren constantly had some girl hooked up on him. Hell, he even got Mikasa wanting to try him out. But for some reason he could never really settle. His mind always seemed to wander to the same person, you. The squabbles could be played off as friendly but the feeling of wanting it to go further lingered. But as a result, it left you reaching for more, wanting him more. 

Eren’s heart pounds loud against his chest. He always felt as if going further wasn’t an option. He had his moments where he just wanted to hold you so close, as if he would die if he let go. Moments where he wanted to make you his. Perhaps if he did the things he thought of doing to you, how would he face the friend group, what about his fans, and Mikasa? He decided that acting upon his true feelings towards you was too risky.

“We’re friends Y/N” he confirms, his eyes soften under your gaze. Your eyes then pondered around his room. “Is that all you want to be?”

He huffs out an air of defeat. The sound of the ventilation buzzing was consuming the room.

“I-I” he stuttered as the pounding of his heart was breaking his sternum. He raises a hand to cover his rose-colored face.” Y/n what’s the point of this,” he audibly muffles. You reach up to pry his hand away from himself and hold it in your palms.

“I’m doing what I feel is right to me,” you reply with reason.

As corny as it felt, you no longer had interest in letting the feeling of desire leave you again.

“So, antagonizing me is what feels right to you? “Yup, that sounds just like you,” he speculated. Your face drops into a frown,” No dumbass.” Your fingers hook in the crevasses of his. Eren scrunches his eyebrows together in uncertainty. “Then what?” You place your intertwined hands over your heart that was protected by your flesh. “Us” you replied in a hush tone. It seems like Eren’s face couldn’t get any redder. Your hands enclosed over his, touching your chest, it felt as if he were in his recurring dream. This time, he was hoping there would be no interruptions to wake him.

“Are you fucking with me,” Eren interrogated in disbelief. Your skin began to spread warmth to your face. “Yes, I mean... no but I want to- if you know what I mean,” you ran over your words frantically. Still not connecting the dots, Eren’s head cranks his head to the side. You inhale a shaky breath” I can’t believe I’m saying this but…”

“Eren, I like you,” you sheepishly state. It was as if you could hear a needle drop on the floor. To make matters worse, the screaming vents were now hushed. “Well?” you quizzed. His eyes darkened as he stared through your soul. Your heart tanked to the lowest part of your stomach. Your confession has left you embarrassed and empty handed with no response.

That same damn feeling.

Your frustration grew as you started to pull your legs away from his waist. A hand jumped out to grasp at your thigh pulling you closer. You jump at the sudden movement. “I want you to say it again.” You could feel your blood pressure rising by the second. He got some nerve to try to humiliate you. “Hey, I finally have the courage to tell you- “

“Y/n, I want you to say it again,” he repeats while his eyes were capturing your psyche. You silence yourself as you can sense his serious demeanor. His eyes were dissecting every part of your face.

“I like you,” you whispered.

Suddenly, you felt your lower half become weightless. Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck for security. Eren’s arms gripped the back of your thighs as he moved towards his bed. It was like time was strolling through Molasses. You begin to study his face. So, tense and stern as if it was in concentration to finish a task. Just minutes ago, you were just stopping by to send a message from your friends. Now you were in his bed waiting for his next move.

Dropping you onto the bed, he stands in front of you, sighing while his eye sweeps over your face. You bite your lips anxiously not wanting to make any other part of your body move. Once again, the room continues its loud humming.  

 “I try so hard to resist, but you always seem to reel me back in.” You remain still as your thoughts race in your head. “Do you not care about what people will say,” He harshly grips his biceps.

“No”

His jaw clenches tightly. Why couldn’t you understand how risky it is for the both of you? The possible backlash of his viewers that was also used to seeing Mikasa on the stream. Mikasa possibly being jealous that the two of best friends are entangled in each other’s arms. He thought of the many outcomes of the situation which were all negative.

“Why can’t we keep it a secret, nobody has to know,” you crossed your arms against your chest. Eren walks towards you, stopping close as your legs almost touched. He leans over, his face nearing to yours. His minted breath tickles your nose.

 “Because Y/n, being around you, I can’t be secretive.” His closeness has you yearning, you crave him. Your eyes frantically search his, you could almost feel your heart jumping out your chest. Not waiting a second more, you crash your lips into his. Releasing years of tension and desire, you melt as your lips mesh together.

 He loses balance as you pull him on top of you. Regaining his composure, he leans in closer to your face. You hastily reach up to grab a hand full of his locks, enclosing his hair in your fingers. Eren groans as your grip tightens. His groan sends millions of nerve shocks to your core. You let out a soft moan into his mouth. A sudden wave of clarity hits you as it feels like you haven’t gotten his full approval. A quick smack could be heard as you pulled away from his lips.

“Are you okay with this, we can stop,” you inquire trying to steady your breathing. Eren chuckles as if your question were nothing but a joke. “I don’t think now is the right time to start asking questions.” You smile brightly leading him back to your lips. He then pushes harder into the kiss making you needlingly whine.

 He begins tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. He sweeps his tongue in between your lips, exploring your warm mouth.  You lower your hands towards his pants, rubbing his hard print. Eren quickly pulls away from your mouth while pushing you back flat against his bed.

He now feels the temperature of the room increasing by the minute. He pulls the hem of his shirt over his head. Your eyes scan his toned body as he studies yours. He decides he wasn’t going to be the only one shirtless. “Arms up,” he commands you. You lift your arms over your head as he pulls your shift off. Now bare breasted you cover yourself up. “Don’t be shy now, should I cover mine too,” he joked covering his tanned nipples. You let out a short giggle, rolling your eyes revealing your chest. Eren smiles as he trails his lips down towards your breast.

You shiver as you feel his tongue leave hot kisses on its journey down south. He latches on to your hardened nipple, sucking and licking as he flicks the other in his hand. You jolt up panting from his touch. The sounds of you moaning tighten the grip of print in his pants. “Eren” you whimpered; your core was leaking more of your slick.

“Feels good?” he asked with a labored breath. “Mmhm,” you moaned. His fingers began to run up and down the sides of your legs. Your head grew hot and dazed, the warmth of his touch scorched your skin. He then lowers his head to peck your thighs leading down to your heated core. Your heart rate spiked as you knew these course of events officially change everything about your relationship with him. Eren’s eyes reach yours to ask to continue. You harshly swallow the hard ball of saliva stuck in your throat.

You then nod your head while swiping your tongue on your lips as the heat made them chapped. Your legs felt a strong pull as thighs were raised to the sides of your stomach. Swiftly, your panties were snatched away from your body. Then you look down to see his head ducked below your thighs. A wet long stripe swiped across your lower lips. Your legs quickly try to shut but eren’s reaction time was faster, catching them in his hands.

“You want me to stop?” He asks. You shook your head side to side in desperation for him to continue. “Then keep still, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you responded.

Settling back in between your thighs, you felt another long stripe now on your folds. “Oh fuck,” you cried. Your breath was hitching, you felt air being sucked out of your lungs. Eren could felt his cock get more sensitive as he rubs it against his pants. He towards the top of your pussy and puckered his lips around your needy bud, giving it several pecks.

“Oh my god, “ you moaned loudly. Your hands were clawing at your chest not having another place to settle. The sensation was overwhelming your body, the heat from the room and his mouth set you aflame. You felt a long intrusion prodded at your sopping hole, entering you slowly. You let a high-pitched squeal as you squeeze your eyes shut. Eren gazed up at your face turning in satisfaction. He lets out groan around your hard bud buzzing it into more pleasure.

“Yes, right there,” you screamed out. Eren works his fingers harder and deeper into your hole. Stretching and curling his long digits. The squelching of your dripping core and screams echoed around the room. Eren began to feel the grip of your walls tighten and loosening, letting him know you were close to your speedy climax.

“Eren, more please,” you needily whined pushing yourself closer to his face. He then removed his fingers and plunged his tongue into your hot core, swirling it around. Once again glancing up, he peeks at your pleasured face, lips falling into a perfect “o”. His fingers start to circle around your clit. Your feet curl up and down over his broad shoulders. While soaking and scavenging your hole, he brushed over a small plush button. Your thick arousal dripped on to his black satin sheets leaving a damp puddle underneath you.

You gasp hard as you arched your back off the bed. He smirks as he hits the sensitive spot over and over. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your stomach clenched.  “I’m gonna cum,” you panted wearily. You felt his pace on your bud and hole quicken faster than before. He presses deep into you, numbing the spot that weakened your senses.

“Ahhh, yess” you hiss in despair. The band in your stomach begins to ripple harshly. He pinches your clit tightly in between his fingers, yanking the nerves upwards. In an instant, your walls clench and stutter profusely.  Panting and crying out, as Eren decides to rub you through your orgasm making you whine in pain.

“Eren, no more, please!”

He shushes you while enthusiastically applying more pressure on your bud. The sensation of you needing to release again ached you. Fluids suddenly began spurting from your overstimulated cunt. You cry out as drool seeping out your gaping mouth.

“goooood girl,” he praises you, slowly drawing circles on your clit. As your breath settles, he slowly removes his fingers from you. Looking over, he presents his dampen fingers to you. “You might wanna get a- “

Eren slipped the wet digits into his mouth, licking and slurping your juices from his hand. Blood drained from your face as you watched him pop his fingers out of his mouth. He smiles at your astonished reaction.

“You taste good,” he smirked. “Shut up!” you angrily yelled. He then began moving closer towards you. 

“Wanna try?”

“Eren, I swear to god, get away from me,” you shouted grabbing the covers from underneath to protect you. “Come here~” he teases. He quickly makes his way to your side while cackling. You shriek, a gasp of wind grazes you as he rips the blankets away from your bare body.

“NO,” you scream out as his face is inches away from yours. Eren halted his body from moving further. “You actually don’t want to try it?” he questions. You slightly turn your head away from his deep green eyes. 

“Well, I- uhm”, you nervously stammer out. Eren softly smiles at your demeanor in enjoyment, “it’s embarrassing,” he finishes for you.

“It’s embarrassing,” you shyly confirm while nodding your head. His fingertips rest at the bottom of your face, tenderly pushing it back to face him. Your eyes attach to his, occasionally shifting to his plump lips. “Listen, I’m not gonna force you,” he assures.” But it was funny watching you scream,” his dimple forms on his cheeks as he breaks out in laughter. You frown in humiliation but soon, bits of giggles spill from your mouth. Your joined laughter filled your bodies with happiness, neither you nor he wanted it to fade into the abyss.

Eren laughter dies out as he focuses once again on your face. His thumb reaches your lips, gently brushing over them. Your eyes saturated with temptation, inching closer to his warm lips. He understood your command, closing the thin gap between the both of you, your mouths gracefully settled on each other. You could feel your chest twist and twirl in excitement.

 Could it be love? No, no, that’s a tad bit heavy to use the L word on the same day of your confession. It felt too light label it as a crush. Whatever it was, bonded the cracks of your heart that formed each day that came before this one.

Letting the kiss linger a second longer, you could taste a reminisce of a sweet and tangy flavor on his mouth.  You pulled back from him allowing a sigh to slip out, “I wanna try it,” you confessed. Eren’s eyebrows slanted in confusion, “You already did”.

“No, I did- OH!” You shouted covering your mouth. You jokingly smacked your lips together to taste yourself again, “you’re right I don’t taste bad”. Eren smiles at your blatant wittiness, it’s one of the things he most admires about you. The quick jabs you throw at him and the rest of the group, it seems he’s the only one who manages to keep up. 

The mention of the group assisted in his daze to drift to the main purpose of you being here. “Y/n, we should probably head down now, it’s been while since you left them”. You slid your shirt over your head as you hummed in agreement. He follows your lead and begins to put his shirt on.

Time seems to pass on fast, in a span of minutes you were introduced and teased on his stream, let out your confession and allowed the man you have been eyeing out on for years to devour you.

“Dammit,” you stoop down to look under his bed. “What are you looking for”, he inquires also tilting his head down. Your hands blindly wander under his bed frame, “I can’t find my underwear”. The constant slapping of your hand against his floor was tiring and the lack of light in his room didn’t help with your searching.

 “Oh, you mean these”, your head turns up towards the brunette boy. His hands hold the panties, balled up and enclosed under his fingers. You stride towards him quickly as he grins, eyeing your exposed lower parts.

 “Eren, give it to me,” you warned sternly. He backs up raising the panties behind his head, “it was so good you’re begging for more huh?” he taunts.

You angrily step closer to him, “Eren!” you gritted your teeth. “I don’t know I think it’ll kind of be exciting to free ball it, don’t you think”, he laughs still steps backwards. 

“Fuck you,” you angrily retort.

“Ah, we’ll get to that another time, don’t wanna be too needy”.

Finally reaching him, you stare with dagger in your pupils. Not a peep could be heard as he stares back with levity, seeing this as nothing but fun. Your eyes shift between the parallel green ones, fury congests your stomach. Eren fights the urge to grab your face and push your soft lips on his. 

“Whatever”, you huffed out in defeat, going to put your shorts back on. He smiles lightly, retreating his prize into his top dresser drawer. You make your way towards his door ready to exit but something still nagged at your thoughts.

“Eren, what is this now”, you questioned in concern. He slides the band out of his hair, making the brown locks frame his face and shoulders. “You mean, what’s going on between us,” he asks with vagueness. “Mmhm” You hummed wanting him to continue. 

“Oh yeah, your mine for sure”, he carelessly raked his fingers through his tresses. You felt heat flash across your cheeks, flustered by the fact that you were now in his possession. 

Eren then bites the band while gathering his hair into one fist in the back of his head. The back side of his biceps strained; veins flexed as his grip tightened on his hair. You stare at the voluptuous muscles that fought against his flesh. The boy finally places the band in his other hand then ties it into a somewhat presentable bun.

“Even in front of them”, you questioned referring to your joined friend group. The door was now ajar, the light of the hallway bled into his room making the luminesce shine on your body. “We’ll talk more later, let’s eat,” he mumbled nodding his head into the lit-up hall. You whispered a quick “okay” as you made your way out and soon, he follows right after.

Darkness had absorbed every spec of light in the room, except one blinking spot of red on Eren’s desktop.

   ⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ 

“And I even got the chance to hold one”, Armin boasted proudly. The other remaining friends gathered around the table excited to hear about Armin’s oceanic studies. Food was placed on the counter waiting to be consumed, mainly waiting to be consumed by Sasha as she anxiously stared at the thinning steam that rose from the pot.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit dangerous to only be for a general research assignment”, Jean asks in genuine concern for the blond. “No, not at all”, Armin answers while swiping between photos on his phone of the sea animal he held. Jean sighs in defeat, what a way to be reckless for an extracurricular class.

Mikasa sat in between the 2 blondes, patiently waiting for you and eren’s arrival. She pondered at clock resting against the wall. It’s ticking reminding her every second and minute goes by without the appearance of her 2 friends up the stairs. 

“It’s going on fifteen minutes now”, she informs the group. “I'm sure they’ll be down in a sec”, armin reassured while glancing at the time on his phone. 

“Yeah whatever, who’s idea was to wait for him anyway”, the food fiend groaned.  Armin and Mikasa accusingly pointed their fingers towards Jean. “ I thought it would be a nice way of gathering together”, his face painted in pink.” “Mama’s boy”, Sasha muttered under her breath. 

“ Hey, I heard that! ”

Connie, too consumed by his phone to engage in conversation decided to do a check up on his socials. Twitter was the first choice, he laughed obnoxiously at a couple of tweets from people he followed closely. Afterwards, he viewed the current top 10 trending topics.

 Elon Musk, a copycat.

Megan thee Stallion, she can step on me.

One Piece Live action, mid.

Jaegermeister exposed, about damn time.

 It wouldn’t be surprising if eren did a tip slip, that wouldn’t be the worst thing he could’ve done. Connie, not anticipating the unexpected, lazily pressed the bolded subhead. Automatically, the top video began to play out, his breathing came to a sudden pause; pupils dilated in shock.

  “No way”

Tagged:

@sofamochi​   @bootlegroach   @nafi-2004  

[falconfate]

Hello ranger’s apprentice fandom can we talk real quick about the stupidest thing Flanagan ever wrote

It’s about the bows. Yanno, the rangers’ Iconique™️ main weapon. That one. You know the one.

Flanagan. Flanagan why are your rangers using longbows.

“uh well recurve arrows drop faster” BUT DO THEY. FLANAGAN. DO THEY.

the answer is no they don’t. Compared to a MODERN, COMPOUND (aka cheating) bow, yes, but compared to a longbow? Y’know, what the rangers use in canon? Yeah no a recurve actually has a FLATTER trajectory. It drops LATER.

This from an article comparing the two:

“Both a longbow and a recurve bow, when equipped with the right arrow and broadhead combination, are capable of taking down big game animals. Afterall, hunters have been doing it for centuries with both types of bows.

However, generally speaking and all things equal, a recurve bow will offer more arrow speed, creating a flatter flight trajectory and retain more kinetic energy at impact.

The archers draw length, along with the weight of the arrow also affect speed and kinetic energy. However, the curved design of the limbs on a recurve adds to its output of force.”

It doesn’t actually mention ANY distance in range! And this is from a resource for bow hunting, which, presumably, WOULD CARE ABOUT THAT SORT OF THING!

Okay so that’s just. That’s just the first thing.

The MAIN thing is that even accounting for “hur dur recurves drop faster” LONGBOWS ARE STILL THE STUPID OPTION.

Longbows, particularly and especially ENGLISH longbows, are—as their name suggests—very long. English longbows in particular are often as tall or taller than their wielder even while strung, but especially when unstrung. An unstrung longbow is a very long and expensive stick, one that will GLADLY entangle itself in nearby trees, other people’s clothes, and any doorway you’re passing through.

And yes, there are shorter longbows, but at that point if you’re shortening your longbow, just get a goddamn recurve. And Flanagan makes a point to compare his rangers’ bows to the Very Long English Longbow.

Oh, do you know how the Very Long English Longbow was mostly historically militarily used? BY ON-FOOT ARCHER UNITS. Do you know what they’re TERRIBLE for? MOUNTED ARCHERY.

Trust me. Go look up right now “mounted archery longbow.” You’ll find MAYBE one or two pictures of some guy on a horse struggling with a big stick; mostly you will actually see either mounted archers with RECURVES, or comparisons of Roman longbow archers to Mongolian horse archers (which are neat, can’t lie, I love comparing archery styles like that).

Anyway. Why are longbows terrible for mounted archery? Because they’re so damn long. Think about it: imagine you’re on a horse. You’re straddling a beast that can think for itself and moves at your command, but ultimately independently of you; if you’re both well-trained enough, you’re barely paying attention to your horse except to give it commands. And you have a bow in your hands. If your target is close enough to you that you know, from years of shooting experience, you will need to actually angle your bow down to hit it because of your equine height advantage, guess what? If you have a longbow, YOU CAN’T! YOUR HORSE IS IN THE WAY BECAUSE YOUR BOW IS TOO LONG! Worse, it’s probably going to get in the general area of your horse’s shoulder or legs, aka moving parts, which WILL injure your horse AND your bow and leave you fresh out of both a getaway vehicle and a ranged weapon. It’s stupid. Don’t do it.

A recurve, on the other hand, is short. It was literally made for horse archers. You have SO much range of motion with a recurve on horseback; and if you’re REALLY good, you know how to give yourself even more, with techniques like Jamarkee, a Turkish technique where you LITERALLY CAN AIM BACKWARDS.

For your viewing enjoyment, Serena Lynn of Texas demonstrating Jamarkee:

Yes, that’s real! This type of draw style is INCREDIBLY versatile: you can shoot backwards on horseback, straight down from a parapet or sally port without exposing yourself as a target, or from low to the ground to keep stealthy without banging your bow against the ground. And, while I’m sure you could attempt it with a longbow, I wouldn’t recommend it: a recurve’s smaller size makes it far more maneuverable up and over your head to actually get it into position for a Jamarkee shot.

A recurve just makes so much more SENSE. It’s not a baby bow! It’s not the longbow’s lesser cousin! It’s a COMPLETELY different instrument made to be used in a completely different context! For the rangers of Araluen, who put soooo much stock in being stealthy and their strong bonds with their horses, a recurve is the perfect fit! It’s small and easily transportable, it’s more maneuverable in combat and especially on horseback, it offers more power than a longbow of the same draw weight—really, truly, the only advantage in this case that a longbow has over the recurve is that longbows are quicker and easier to make. But we KNOW the rangers don’t care about that, their KNIVES use a forging technique (folding) that takes several times as long as standard Araluen forging practices at the time!

Okay.

Okay I think I’m done. For now.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Get Well Soon

Eddie Munson x reader

Masterlist

Summary: Steve got sick. You wanted to make a get-well-soon basket. Eddie took that idea very seriously.

Word count: ~1.3k

Warnings: Some fluff, some swearing. Eddie being his funny, dramatic self. Reader’s gender/pronouns not specified.

A/n: Just a funny little idea for Eddie if Steve ever got sick. I hope you enjoy, thanks for reading <3

--

Steve got sick. You would’ve accused him of having the “man flu” had you not seen how pale he’d looked and backed up ten feet after the scratchy coughs he let out. Steve had blamed it on one of the kids for getting him sick, but Dustin had said it was Steve’s aging body at fault.

Either way, he was bedridden with a fever, all of you taking turns visiting him and helping him through it. Yesterday, after grabbing the mail for Steve, you’d suggested to Eddie to put together a basket of sorts to help him feel better — medicine, soup, chocolate, tissues, maybe a card. It hadn’t meant to be much, just something to help him recover and show that his friends were here for him. You hadn’t meant for it to become this…

“Christ, Lucas. Do you want Steve to throw up more? Cause that’s what this is going to do,” Eddie said, peering over Lucas’s shoulder. You were all sitting at the dining table at the Wheeler house. Your boyfriend had his arms crossed, having quickly taken over the mom role from Steve in his absence.

Lucas had drawn a thermometer with an ice pack on its head for his get well soon card, and while it was a little bit crooked, it wasn’t bad. You knew Steve would appreciate it anywa-

“Robin, you’ve seen a VHS tape before, right?” Eddie asked, his hair falling along his shoulder as he moved next to her.

She leaned back in her chair to look him in the face, rolling her eyes. “I literally work on a video store, Munson.”

Eddie pursed his lips, nodding as he brought a finger down to the basket she was decorating. “Yeah, thought so… Then what in the everloving hell is this you’ve made?” 

One of the crafts you thought could be nice was to draw designs on the basket (really just a cardboard box). You’d all chosen some movies to include in there for him to watch, so Robin had decorated the box with sketches of VHS tapes. You couldn’t quite tell what was wrong with it, but you had long since given up on stopping Eddie’s tirade.

Robin continued her drawing, saying, “It’s literally fine, dickwad. Steve’s too hopped up on meds to even care!”

She definitely had a point. But you just sat there, continuing to redesign the label of a Farah Fawcett hairspray bottle. Instead of her name and face, you thought Steve might find it funny to have his name and face on it — he’d become the epitome of great hair in this town anyway. You were cutting his face out of a picture when Eddie walked up behind you.

For a moment, you braced yourself. But he bent down to kiss you on the head, whispering, “Sweetheart, this is perfect. He’s gonna love it.” His thumb stroked across the back of your shoulder as he kept walking past. Internally, you smiled while ignoring Robin’s playful glare.

Before Eddie could make any more remarks, Dustin came in through the front door, holding up a shopping bag. “Okay, I think I got all the snacks and meds for Steve. How are the arts and crafts going?”

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you listened to the silence that followed Dustin’s question. Just scurried sounds of colored pencils and tape ripping filled the room.

Meanwhile, Eddie took the bag, rustling through its contents. “Henderson…” he said, and all of you looked up, waiting for his next words. “Are these goddamn Red Vines?” He pulled out a pack of Red Vines licorice, holding it up with shaking fingers.

“Uh, yeah?” Dustin muttered, his eyebrows scrunched together.

Most of you ducked as Eddie threw the Red Vines toward Dustin, who just barely dodged it. “I said Twizzlers. Twizzlers. I…” He pressed his finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply. “We’d said we wanted to make a get-well-soon basket for Steve. How is he supposed to get better under these conditions!?”

By this point, you let out a soft laugh, unable to hold back your amusement any longer. Maybe the power had gotten to his head too much. He’d even convinced your parents to make some of their homemade soup for Steve.

“Are you going to do any work besides yelling at children?” Max asked from the couch, her eyebrow raised as she worked on her nearly completed card.

Eddie put his hands on his hips, and you had immediate flashbacks to Steve. Silently to Robin, you copied his pose, setting your hands on your waist and pretending to lecture while Eddie spoke.

“I already made a card and a personalized tissue box because I’m efficient, so I have the time to ensure the rest of you don’t poison Steve with these measly gifts.” 

Max gave him an unimpressed look, but a hint of a smile showed when she saw you. Robin had started copying the pose too, both of you hiding your laughter. You quickly stopped when Eddie turned around, but he still saw the way your shoulders shook. Thankfully, before he could say anything, Mike walked in with the stack of VHS tapes for the basket.

“Finally,” Eddie said, looking at all the gifts. “We should be pretty close to done now, even with its faults.” He pointed the last words toward Dustin, who flipped him the bird from across the room.

With a tired back and aching wrists, you yourself were nearly finished with the hairspray. But just as you fixed the new label onto the bottle, Mike bumped into your shoulder as he walked past with the tapes. Your hands flew forward, knocking the bottle and its cover off the table. As it hit the floor, you heard the snap of the bottle’s nozzle breaking off.

Complete silence followed, none of you moving as you stared at the damaged hairspray. In the process, the picture of Steve had ripped too, just leaving half of his face on it. There’d be no way to fit the nozzle back on.

“Mike…” Eddie said, the word tight like it could snap at any moment. You barely breathed. “Go get another one. Now.”

Mike sputtered an apology to you, but then turned to Eddie. “I can’t even drive, man. We could–”

“Figure it out, Wheeler!”

“Eddie, it’s really fine,” you told him, walking up to him and running a hand down his arm to calm him down. “It doesn’t need to be perfect. Steve would probably cry even if we’d just gotten him one card, let alone several.”

You watched his jaw tick as he thought, his weight leaning into your touch. “Fine. I’ll save my artistic vision for another time. We can be done, guys,” he muttered, waving a hand through the air.

A collective sigh of relief went through the room. You grabbed the different gifts from everyone, trying to set them up in the basket just right. Then Eddie took over, twisting things this way and that until it looked perfect — minus the Red Vines, according to him.

Yeah, he was dramatic. But Eddie cared for others with his whole heart, and you wouldn’t trade that for anything. And you were right about Steve. Surrounded by his closest friends and delirious with a high fever, Steve took one look at the wonky, mismatched get-well-soon basket and teared up. You pretended not to notice the watery look in Eddie’s eyes either.

[epithet-beloved]

Hi I'm shimmying in here awkwardly but can we have some ideas for Jericho x Dixon for the 3 starving jerixon fans please

MEETING HALFWAY

synopsis… Dixon and Jericho both need romance advice, and the only people they can ask are their cellmates, who are coincidentally both terrible at it.

ft. Jericho Felocity, Dixon Roughhouse, Ramsey Murdoch, California Slim, Alcatraz

tags… anime campaign, epithet erased spoilers, Slim and Ramsey give awful romantic advice, pre-relationship, mutual pining, straight up painful pining they are both so oblivious, Dixon sorta has a nervous breakdown

word count… 1284

a/n… this is my first time writing Dixon I hope the fandom approves of me ✧ 🦄

“Well, at least it’s not Ramsey.”

Was the first thing California Slim said when Jericho told him he had feelings for Dixon.

“Yeah, but what do I say to him?” Jericho was frantically running on his treadmill to blow off some steam, a clear nervous energy about him. In clear contrast to his normal, everyday frantic running on his treadmill. “I’m not really that great at talking. You think he even notices me at all?”

“Oh, don’t listen to Slim, Jeri!” Alcatraz was much more enthusiastic about this matter than the murderer he was attached to, and saw fit to float next to Jericho trying to calm his nerves. “Dixon seems like he’s got a lot to say himself, I’m sure he just appreciates you being a good listener!”

“Yeah,” Slim scoffed, “a lotta crazy bullshit to say.”

The ghost turned to glare at his companion, but with no face, the look of disappointment on his face was left entirely to the imagination.

Jericho, lost in thought about his current dilemma, seemed utterly oblivious to the argument going on behind him. “Yeah, maybe it’s better if I just let him talk. I don’t want him to think I’m weird or anything.” Almost as if to demonstrate his point, the man’s body phased partially through the front of his treadmill whilst he continued to ‘run’ in place as if nothing were wrong.

“Jericho, everyone in this place is goddamn weird. And Dixon’s a nut — guys like him can’t afford to be picky about their company.” Slim just watched his cellmate for a few seconds, then sighed and massaged his temples. Usually, Jericho was an alright guy to bunk with, but sometimes he could be a real headache……. “You sure a relationship in prison could even work? You guys only see each other during lunch time.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Alcatraz quickly said, as he did after pretty much everything Slim told people. “I’m sure you two will find a way! You’re such creative souls!”

“That’s sure a way to put it…..” The actual murderer eventually stood up, finally deciding to do something about his poor friend’s predicament. “C’mon, man, you got yourself all outta sorts.” Thinking it would help somehow, he gave Jericho a hearty slap on the back to try and force him out of the treadmill, but this only created a bigger problem.

“Oh, that’s not good!”

“No fucking shit, Sherlockatraz!” The two unfortunate souls were currently faced with their friend lodged halfway through the cell wall, legs dangling in a janky position. Slim first pressed his ear to the wall, trying to make out if the speed runner was suffocating to death like he did last time. “You breathing in there, dumbass?!”

“Oh,” came Jericho’s voice from the other cell. “Hi Dixon!”

California Slim turned to the ghost with a tired expression. “Never mind. It’s worse than we thought.”

Not like things were going much better in the cell next door before that, anyway.

✧ ✧

“I dunno, I just, I just—“ Dixon was pacing back and forth like the madman Ramsey knew that he was. “I feel like he’s the only one who gets me, but like, what— what if he doesn’t get me? What if he’s an alien? Or a spy? Or— or an alien spy?!”

“Dixon,” started Ramsey, who was laying on his bed like a teenage girl while drawing another commission of a certain inmate’s fursona. “He avoids clipping to the front of the lunch line every day just so he can stand next to you. I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

“But what if he’s just like that with— with everyone?!” From the corner of his eye, Ramsey saw Dixon hunched over with his hands in his hair. If he got any more nervous, he was pretty sure the guy would start pulling his hair out.

“You’re overthinking it.”

“And why shouldn’t I overthink it, man?!” In the split second that Ramsey looked away, Dixon had rushed over to his bunk and was now aggressively shaking the poor rat man by his shoulders. “I finally have the first good chance with a guy in years, he doesn’t treat me li-like I’m crazy, and I could— I could just fuck it all up! ‘Cause crazy fuckin’ Dixon fucks everything up!”

“Hey, hey, relax…..” Worried for his cellmate, Ramsey would slowly raise his hands and place them on the bespectacled man’s shoulders. “None of us ever said that about ya.”

“Slim tells me I’m a nut.”

“Slim’s a dick and he does not speak for us.” Ramsey took a pause to sit up properly, not slouching as he gave his friend a serious look. “Listen, Dixon. My man. If you’re crazy, then so is everyone else in this damn place. And Jericho is the sweetest guy I know, there’s no way in hell he isn’t happy to listen to you. I’m happy to listen to you. So even if stuff doesn’t work out, look at me.”

Dixon, who had stopped shaking, flickered his eyes up from the floor to Ramsey’s face.

“You’ll always have me. We’re buds! I mean it.”

There was a long pause where neither man said anything, and the conspiracy theorist’s eyes resumed darting around the room at high speed. Always thinking, considering, analyzing. Perhaps a bit too much sometimes.

“Y-yeah,” he’d eventually stutter out from between clenched teeth. Finally noticing how tightly he’d been holding Ramsey, he pulled back like he’d just touched a hot stove. “Sorry….” He held one of his wrists and watched his own hand as he flexed it lightly. “Guess I’m just used to all the sorts of stuff….stuff my family—“

A loud crash and the room shaking made both men yelp, interrupting whatever was about to be said in favor of whipping their heads around to the first and last person Dixon was hoping to see.

“Oh, hi Dixon!” An awkward, smiling Jericho was what awaited them, waving with one hand while the other dangled uselessly. Only his upper half graced the room with its presence, the other presumably stuck in his own cell.

“Oh,” Dixon mirrored, suddenly laughing to fill the silence. “Hey! Need, uh…..need some help there?” Shit, he was repeating his words again. Was he weirding him out?

“Nah, I’m alright for now.” Wait, was he worrying him? Now Jericho almost felt bad for showing up. “Just, uh….haven’t talked to you in a while. How’s it been?”

“FINE! I mean uh. Fine!” Dixon lied. “Was just talking…..talking about……”. The man made the mistake of glancing at Ramsey for guidance, who was of no help and instead chose to gawk at Dixon helplessly. “…..alien spies!”

With a conversation hook, Jericho now felt less nervous. He liked it when Dixon talked — it was like the only side quest dialogue in the world he wouldn’t skip. “Wow, I love aliens! Like in Metroid!”

Dixon pointed at Jericho and nodded rapidly, too nervous to do anything but blindly agree and go off of what the other man was saying. “YES, it is exactly like Metroid! You are SO right! Y-you know, it’s kinda like how— how jellyfish are ancient alien parasites that’ll create the zombie uprising!”

“Really? I’d love to be a zombie, because then I’d be the fastest one!”

✧ ✧

“You know, they really are just painful to listen to.”

“Slim, be nice!” Alcatraz chastised. “I for one am glad that they’re bonding! You should stand to be more like them!”

“Mmm, no thanks.” The murderer peeled himself off of the wall and skulked back to his bed. “I’m just glad I’ll get to say I called it when they start dating in a few weeks.”

[saintarmand]

multiple popular blogs in the iwtv fandom have a documented pattern of behavior of saying anything ranging from "could be interpreted as a bit racist but only if you're looking for it" to now literally "the real racism is actually against white people" and other alt right talking points. LOOK AT THE PATTERN.

you see the same people constantly complaining about how they keep getting called racist by black fans over and over again, and instead of asking yourself "why do so many black fans think these people are racist? could they be onto something?" you zero in on how polite they are about it and go "well, they put some naughty words after the word racist, looks like there really is a woke mob of big bad black bullies terrorizing the fandom, sounds legit!"

the thing is, something like about a year ago, i actually posted an absolute garbage take i can't believe i ever thought was acceptable, and got rightfully called out for it. i had some other white people agreeing with me, but THANK GOD someone i followed reblogged a post talking some sense. i freaked out at first of course. "someone is vagueing about me? that's not exactly what i said verbatim. i'm being misinterpreted unfairly! what if everyone finds out and starts hating me?" i got defensive, though i avoided throwing the classic huge public tantrum by simply logging off until i cooled down a little, so i managed not to draw that much attention. it's probably only because it was people that i already thought seemed really smart who were saying it, that made the voice at the back of my mind go, "what if they're right and i'm wrong?" so i really thought about it. at first i thought it was just my phrasing that was bad and if i explained it better it would be fine. but now that i've had over a year to think about it and listen and learn, i've come to realize just how stupid that was. and it's probably not the only dumb racist post i made, just the one that i saw called out. i've since deleted the whole blog so i can't check. which i admit i did in large part so other people couldn't check anymore either.

and what were the only consequences i faced? there are users that i think are really cool, and even some i was following, who have me blocked. i go :( about it for a second when i can't reblog a post. iirc like 3 anon asks i've gotten in total, only one of which was even mean at all. oh the horror, someone called me a racist bitch. i literally WAS. and even if i wasn't, so what? it made me feel a little bad, yeah. it would probably actually feel LESS bad if i thought it didn't apply. it would just be confusing and a little funny. it did apply, and it probably still does, i got a lot of shit to unlearn. in my book, me feeling bad is absolutely worth it if it brought whoever sent it even a smidgen of satisfaction. them having to witness my bullshit was undoubtedly worse.

the only reason i'm able to be as polite as i am is because as a white person this does not affect me personally. this fandom has been racist since before the show even started. if i saw popular blogs in my fandom being, say, lesbophobic for more than two years, constantly, and getting away with it, still being popular, receiving praise, and every time i said anything about it i had their followers come after me, while consoling them, i'd be pretty fucking pissed. i'd get tired of being nice so fast. and that's not even mentioning the trauma from a lifetime of racism in real life and online that black people have to deal with. i can't even imagine.

"racist" is not a goddamn slur. anyone who tries to tell you that it is has an agenda, and it's not that hard to figure out what that agenda is.

OPEN YOUR EYES AND LOOK AROUND YOU. really look. and when you see it, STAND UP AND SAY SOMETHING. i'm ashamed it's taken me this long to do that.

[chaitantei-ao3]

3

Dennis slams the accounts book on the table. “Look here, Frank. If you think we need your goddamn money, think again. The bar’s doing well. Sell you share… leave for all I care. We’ll handle it.”

Frank hops on the stool and leans his head forward, “Son, do you have any idea how to run a business?”

Dennis feels a tremor run down his back. “Oh yeah, I learnt from the best.” Then he shuts down that image and points the book at Frank, “Look here. I don’t see what the problem is. We’re making cash.”

“Barely.” Frank says, “I’m burning a crazy amount of cash to get that trickle you have there. And that’s when half the accounts aren’t cooked.”

“I told you not to cook the books, Frank! Let us see how it goes. Maybe we could get a loan or something.”

“A loan?” Frank snorts, “There’s no way you can milk a cow when it’s nothing but bones. This bar has bled cash and has only made losses from the day it’s started.”

“Look, Frank.” Dennis says, putting down the beer mug on the counter and lifts his hands. “It’ll work out alright. These things… they just take a bit of time. Now we might currently be in a loss making position but we can see that thanks to the fact that someone smart and clever enough among these idiots made sure you didn’t inflate the books.” Frank rolls his eyes, “Now that we can assess what the actual problem is. The solution is in sight!

That’s right. There is no need to worry as long as I’m here-” Dennis says, raising his voice glancing at Mac who stood, back turned, by the jukebox, stretching out his arms and examining the wall, tilting his head from one side to the other. “ I am going to fix it. Every problem. Big or small. We have survived till now because of me but now… now the time’s come for Paddy’s to thrive, baby. No long running business is an overnight success. So get off our backs.”

“All my businesses were overnight successes.” Frank puffs out his chest.

“They were also scams.”

“Scams?” Frank removes his glasses and wipes them with the corner of his shirt, “The shit you think happens. Every business runs on the simple principle of needs. People-” Frank slaps one hand, “Have needs, you have needs. They need things, you need things. You just gotta make sure that you don’t give up more than what they give you . That’s it. It’s all about who ends up standing last. Just like my days in the ring.”

“Frank for the last time, you were never in a ring. There were no days in the ring.”

“What are you talking about? ’11 Just a week before I came to check on you both, I had my last fight. Made the other guy bleed.”

“You came here years before that.”

Frank scratches his head, “I didn’t come here in 2011?”

“No.”

Frank’s forehead creases, he looks around and lets out a long whistle that slowly dies on his lips. Taking a slip out of his pocket he draws a long red line across it, crumples it and throws it on the ground. “And my money’s still in this thing?”

“What?” Dennis looks at him, “What the hell was that? What did you do?”

“Writing it off my investments. I won’t get anything selling these shares.”

“Excuse me?”

“Even the law writes off debts after a 10 year period, Dennis. Who are you kidding with this now?”

“Hold on. We…” Dennis grips the edges of the counter, “We are on the cusp of a grand success, Frank. Success that would line your pockets in gold if you wanted it to, success that -”

“Gotta take this” Frank says, picking up his phone. “Hey, Artemis. Check your pantry, did I drop a page- yes I meant pantry . See if there’s a list on-”

“You- Hold on! Wait right there Frank. We will soon reach the peak of greatness mankind has never seen before. Prepare yourself to witness splendor in such astronomical proportions, that even celestial bodies would pale in its shadows, the-” The bell chimes and Dennis sees Frank leave.

Read more

[sketching-shark]

Bangs head on my desk. Its sooooo fucking hard I have literally most of the LMK fandom blocked and I still can’t fucking escape that mid ass pairing I want to explode. Honest to god it sucks because I actually like analyzing LEMH and Sun wukong’s dynamic when it comes to the original story and like the idea of a character trying so hard to be this other person they just fundamentally erase any aspect of who they could be. That shit is interesting (especially if you interpret the two as actual family bc there’s a level of. Tragedy there) but NOOO mfs wanna focus on shipping clones/siblings together instead and painfully writing both characters ooc instead of just making an oc good fucking god. ( that being said I really like the art you draw of LEMH. It’s really cool. Keep up the good work 👍🏾👍🏾👍🏾)

fregarewargtfds I once saw someone describe the LEMH & SWK ship as jttw retellings's reylo and. hm. yeah.

BUT YEAH YEAH YEAH to this day one of the things I find most baffling about the western monkie kid & jttw fandom is this widespread refusal to even recognize LEMH's actions in the og classic. Because it's like: here we have what could very well be one of literature's first instances of the "evil twin" trope and it's being done SPECIFICALLY in a way to create the maximum amount of conflict and uncertainty for SWK!

Because on one hand the false monkey of the true and false monkey king arc is essentially the very embodiment of everything that SWK ever wanted; LEMH, in copying SWK so completely, does it in such a way where he gets to be both a yaoguai warlord with a loving family AND a holy pilgrim bound for glory at the exact same time, whereas SWK is constantly being forced to choose between the two! But LEMH's also doing it in the worst way possible! He beats Tang Sanzang into unconsciousness, steals their stuff for his own use, and in so doing drives a serious rift between SWK and the pilgrims!

He clearly doesn't give af about the Mt. Huaguoshan monkeys outside of how they can serve as his personal tools to fulfill his own aims! He just wants them to use their own powers of transformation so that they can serve as his own obedient group of pilgrims! He even eats one of them as part of a merry feast he throws for himself after a violent encounter with Sha Wujing, and immediately has that monkey replaced with another! And he's doing ALL of this wearing SWK's face and adapting SWK's mannerisms! EVERYONE thinks that it's SWK doing these things! It's like LEMH's very existence is throwing it in SWK's face how this horrible version of himself is closer to achieving ALL of SWK's desires than SWK ever was, and that no matter how much SWK tries to change for the better even the two sides of his beloved family automatically think even this version which would inflict such violence on them is the "true" him! No wonder SWK hated him so much!

And AUGH the possibility of LEMH either being a manifestation of SWK's worst impulses or of being his brother just ramps the tragedy and horror of this situation even more! Like if it was part of SWK inflicting all this pain on the people SWK loves most, well there is truly something messed up about this situation where even if it's not technically "you" going along with your worst impulses they will still hurt people! Could you ever trust yourself again? Should you? How much of the blame for this situation lies with you? And can it be enough to fully acknowledge you have violent impulses but don't act on them?

And yes @the-bitter-ocean even in interpretations where LEMH is some random yaoguai who decides to commit identity fraud the story from his point of view of him throwing away his identity so completely that there's basically nothing left of him is just...goddamn. In his ambition he literally reduced himself to one part of SWK's story, just one more obstacle for the Monkey King to overcome.

And SCREAM if LEMH was SWK's brother? Imagine this situation where for SWK he's confronted by what is essentially the culmination of his failures to protect his family, where his beloved brother (I'm saying beloved because SWK loved all members of his monkey family very much) ended up despising SWK so much that he has essentially destroyed everything that he was or could have been in his bid to be the "real" monkey king and bring glory back to that name, but does so in the worst way possible to the point where SWK feels he has to take down LEMH himself. And then for LEMH, you can see how love and admiration for his brother would be twisted into resentment, envy, obsession, and hatred due to the series of atrocities the Mt. Huaguoshan simians faced in large part as a consequence of SWK's challenge to the heavens and his own sense of entitlement, so that eventually he convinced himself he would be a more "true" monkey king than the monkey king himself, and thus completely discarded his own identity to take on that of his brother, and in doing so basically tossed his own morals given how his "version" of the monkey king cares for no one but himself.

Sorry for the rant! But all the pieces for a whole series of interesting tragedies are! Already! Right! There!!!!! Why are we all so hellbent on ignoring/rewriting them!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

ok so I mean this with utmost respect for but please please don't position yourself above people who want the characters to fuck. your previous post, the "i want top neuvillette who's still femme and a crybaby my god is that so hard" one, is literally in the very usual style of sexy headcanoning. which is good! I just don't want you to alienate other people who also think both about that and the Problems

it really is the biggest elephant in the room, the way Fontaine is as a whole, isn't it. I think genshin fandom involves some kind of derealisation mode. they feel even less... existing than characters usually do. which is, bizarrely, very fitting for Fontaine?

I have no intention of positioning myself above people who want characters to fuck, so I apologize if it comes off that way. Because yeah you're right, I do have sexy headcanons. I'm just some guy as well. I literally drew Wriothesley with his tits out ( and I have more WIPs of Wriothesley with his tits out, by the way. Neuvilette too. But he's usually flat as a board in my stuff lmao so it doesn't really.... well he's still sexy even as a twig. to ME).

My point mainly is that it's not my Main form of engagement with media. I do not develop interest in stuff through finding characters attractive first, then becoming interested in their story after. Meanwhile, Genshin Impact as a model heavily bets on you becoming attached to the characters on their concept/models/kits alone, but the character writing is very much secondary to them. You don't recommend Genshin to people who want artsy fartsy hard-hitting narratives, exploration of trauma/mental illness, culturally sensitive representation, and character-driven stories. You might recommend Genshin to people who like gacha but aren't too susceptible to predatory gambling mechanics, enjoys expansive world building, open world, beautiful graphics, fun/straightforward gameplay, and hot anime people.

And Mihoyo as a whole do not value and uphold the things I value (my lukewarm leftist-aligned politics), therefore, I am just very much not the target audience. There isn't much else to say to that. Attraction isn't the hook to fish this krill (me), which is why I said I'm... not the target audience. It's fine if OTHERS are. I don't see myself as any better or worse for it. If anything, I WANT to be the target audience. I WANT to be in a fandom that engages with the stuff I enjoy more. Not for any moral reason, I just want to have fun too, like goddamn y'all look like you are having a blast over there. I don't think it's a bad thing that people who want character to fuck.... gets characters who are designed, encouraged and sold to be shipped (fucked). It's just a thing that happened.

Additionally, I also don't engage with fandoms (end of sentence. Actually, I kid) mainly because the majority of people (not you in particular. Just Generally. Amorphously) are here to see characters have sex and that's it. That's Fine. It's okay to just want your favs to have sex. I just happen to want a lot of other stuff as well, and the sex bit is just not my main thing. Once again, I am not the target audience. It's like I shouldn't drive up to the chips shop asking for ice cream, but I live in a town that only sells chips, so I'm sitting on the curb complaining about how there's no ice cream when I should move out, probably. But the economy doesn't allow me to move out (I am hyperfixated) and the only job I can do is make ice cream disguised as chips so the chips lovers come to my shop (I write fanfics and draw Wriothesley with his tits out).

So like. Ultimately who cares. I'm just some guy who feel what I feel, and I want to say it as I feel it

[poorlittleyaoyao]

in which my tarot deck maps out Jin Guangyao's self-damning career choices

Tarot cards are a fun way to facilitate self-reflection. Human brains love patterns, and the images, symbolism, and meanings associated with each card provide rich narrative potential. Generally speaking, no matter what cards you pull, you'll be able to create a story with some application to your own life (or the life of the person for whom you're reading).

But sometimes, if you're me, your deck gives you something buckwild that makes ZERO sense for you. You pull an additional card for clarity and it only makes the meaning more obscure. You pull a second clarity card, and the cards are spelling out a very clear arc but it does not apply to you in any way--thankfully, because YIKES.

And then you realize that your tarot deck has spat out an in-depth reading for Jin Guangyao. Again.

COME WITH ME ON A JOURNEY~

If you read tarot at all, you will have noticed and been troubled by the THREE MAJOR ARCANA CARDS HAPPENING, one of which is THE GODDAMN TOWER. This is bananas. If you as a real-life regular human get something like this for yourself and it actually applies, you are really going through it.

So! This started as a regular three-card spread. Read left to right, this can be construed as "past, present, future" or "cause, outcome, consequence."

PAST/CAUSE: The Tower reversed

The Tower is infamously the "oh shit oh fuck" card. Remember the "2020 Tarot Deck: Oops, All Towers!" meme? Yeah. The Tower means a major upheaval, often a calamitous one. Reversed, it's still major, but a bit less dire: an upheaval is happening/has happened, and you need to accept it.

For Meng Yao, this could apply to both his exile from Qinghe and the fall of Wen Ruohan. I'm inclined to say the latter because of the reversal He's not being cast out of this Tower; he's upending it himself. Still, he's reached a point of no return. What comes next?

PRESENT/OUTCOME: Ace of Wands reversed

Wands are about ingenuity, change, and action, and aces are about new beginnings. Thus, the Ace of Wands is about taking chances and making some big moves... except it's reversed here, so those big moves might not turn out the way you anticipated.

Wow! Meng Yao--excuse me, Jin Guangyao--is a war hero and got officially acknowledged by his father! He's even got a shiny new name to show for it! Sure, the name implies that he doesn't belong to the generation of potential sect heirs, but that's probably just an oversight. His dad will definitely reward him if he works hard and does his very best! Right? Right???

FUTURE/CONSEQUENCE: Four of Cups upright

Cups are about emotions and interpersonal relationships. The Four of Cups means that something is off with those things: you're discouraged, you're depressed, and you're prioritizing the wrong things. The artist for this deck illustrates this with a woman who sits with her eyes closed and her hands tucked up against her, either unaware of the cups around her or unwilling to reach for him. "It may speak to disappointment in a specific person or situation," says the book.

WHAT'S THAT, A-YAO? DID SELLING YOUR SOUL TO YOUR DAD NOT WORK OUT THE WAY YOU THOUGHT IT WOULD? ARE YOU PERHAPS HAVING A BAD TIME IN A HELL OF YOUR OWN CREATION?

It's worth noting that Pentacles--the minor arcana suit about security, wealth, and material success--do NOT come up anywhere in this reading. Given how crucial these are to JGY's motivations, their absence is curious. Perhaps the lack of Pentacles is because wealth and success aren't the problems here; the issue is his increasingly fucked-up personal life. Or perhaps there are no Pentacles because poverty and that fundamental lack of security is what led him here in the first place and nothing can be done about it.

If you're left scratching your head after reading your initial spread, you can draw additional cards to clear things up! In the Doylist sense, this cleared things up for me because I realized oh, this is about a blorbo. In the Watsonian sense, let's imagine these cards getting pulled because JGY needs more info about what's wrong.

CLARITY CARD 1: The Moon upright

The Moon is basically "THERE ARE TWO WOLVES INSIDE YOU" as a card. It shows up when the querent is dealing with profound uncertainty, "grappling with doubt, deception, illusion, or a lack of focus" as the book puts it. It represents a choice between emotion+intuition or intellect+rationality, neither of which is an inherently "better" option; it depends on the situation.

So our boy JGY is torn between the rational choice and his gut feelings... and in JGY's case, I'd argue that he follows his gut impulses more than he thinks he does. It is not rational to commit unforgivable crimes at your father's behest, thus putting yourself fully at his mercy. It's not rational to knowingly marry and have a child with your sister and never tell her you're related. (In CQL, that is; in the novel, with the child coming before the knowledge, his choice has more merit.) It's also not rational to leave so many loose ends alive. He's not making chessmaster plays here; he's acting out of fear, sentimentality, and a deeply flawed schema. "Please stop," says this card.

Hmm! Not great! Maybe a new card will help?

CLARITY CARD 2: The Chariot reversed

The Chariot is about willpower, progress, and victory! Except it's reversed, which means your victory was a destructive one that completely ruined you.

Sorry, bud.