#which is what i've been doing all this time but like

[amirasainz]

hi! Could you maybe do something like reader is Lando's baby sister and it's her first time at a GP so he shows her off to all the drivers?

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl 🧡

Proud big brother

Lando was bouncing with excitement as he led his six-year-old sister, Y/N, through the paddock at the Silverstone Grand Prix. It was her first time attending a race weekend, and he was beyond thrilled to have her here. He'd been talking about it for weeks, sending her little videos of the track, the car, and the crowd. He’d told her everything he could think of to help her understand what a race weekend was like.

Today, though, seeing her tiny hand in his, wide-eyed with awe as she looked around, he felt a mix of pride and protectiveness. He was determined to make this the best day ever for her.

Lando grinned as they entered the McLaren garage, and his engineer shot him a look of amusement, clearly surprised to see him accompanied by someone so small.

“Y/N, meet the team!” Lando gestured with a grand sweep of his hand. “These guys keep my car fast and safe.”

Y/N looked around with big eyes, giving a shy wave, which earned a couple of chuckles from the engineers.

Just then, Lando spotted Carlos walking by, and his face lit up. “Oh! Y/N, you have to meet Carlos.” He crouched down beside her, whispering, “He used to be my teammate, and he's one of the nicest guys on the grid.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as Carlos approached, his expression softening immediately when he saw the young girl.

“Hola, Y/N!” Carlos crouched down to her level, extending his hand for a handshake. “I’m Carlos. I've heard so much about you already, niña"

Y/N giggled and shook his hand with both of hers, looking up at Lando as if to say, isn’t he cool?

Lando chuckled, ruffling her hair. “You know, Carlos is really fast too, just like me.”

“Like a race car?” she asked, eyes widening as she looked back at Carlos.

Carlos laughed. “Exactly like a race car. Maybe even faster than Lando.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Lando teased, giving Carlos a playful nudge.

As they chatted, the crowd around them started to notice the heartwarming scene. Cameras from media outlets and phones of fans began focusing on the Norris siblings. Lando noticed the flashing cameras and shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at Y/N, who was too enthralled with Carlos’s explanation of “how to go fast” to notice.

Oscar walked over, intrigued by the gathering. “Who’s this?” he asked, bending down to give Y/N a warm smile.

Lando's eyes sparkled with pride. “This is my little sister, Y/N.”

Oscar’s face lit up as he crouched beside her. “Hi, Y/N. I’m Oscar.”

Y/N looked up at Oscar, studying his soft hair, and before anyone could say a word, she reached out and began gently petting his head as if he were a small animal. She tilted her head, seemingly fascinated by the texture.

Oscar froze for a second, clearly surprised, but then he let out a soft laugh. “Guess I have soft hair, huh?”

Carlos burst out laughing, clapping Lando on the shoulder. “Looks like you’ve got some competition here, Lando. She’s already got a favorite driver.”

Lando’s face flushed, caught between amusement and a sudden urge to shield his sister from all the cameras and teasing.

“Y/N, don’t bother him too much,” he said gently, giving her a small, protective smile. “Oscar needs to save his energy for racing.”

Y/N giggled and looked back at Oscar, who just winked at her, clearly enjoying the attention. Lando could feel the eyes of the media zooming in on their little interaction, the moment drawing attention from fans and reporters alike.

Max strolled over, smirking when he saw the scene. “So, this is the famous Y/N I’ve heard so much about?”

Y/N looked up, wide-eyed. “You’re the one who’s always beating Lanno!” she said with innocent frankness, making all the drivers burst into laughter.

Lando groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Thanks, Y/N. I feel the love.”

Max chuckled, bending down so he was eye-level with her. “You know, it’s only because I have more experience,” he explained, trying to keep a straight face. "And because I'm just a bit better than he is right now," he teased gently.

Y/N tilted her head, looking from Max to Lando. “Will you beat him, Lanno?”

Lando nodded, trying to sound confident, though he was smiling at her earnest expression. “Of course I will, Y/N. I’m going to win a championship one day.”

Y/N’s face lit up with excitement, and she threw her arms around him. “You’re my favorite driver, Lanno!”

The other drivers couldn’t help but chuckle at the sweet interaction. Charles had joined the group by now, observing everything with an amused smile.

“Don’t worry, Lando,” Charles teased, folding his arms. “Y/N’s loyalty clearly lies with you.”

“Yeah, for now,” Carlos chimed in, smirking as he watched her go back to petting Oscar’s hair. “But give her a couple more races with us, and she might just change her mind.”

Lando rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. He gently tugged Y/N’s hand, leading her away from Oscar. “Alright, alright, don’t get too comfortable with my teammates. You’re here to support me, remember?”

Y/N nodded, but her attention was soon stolen by a nearby display of miniature cars in the McLaren hospitality area. She tugged on Lando’s sleeve, pointing at them with wide, sparkling eyes.

“Oh! Look, Lanno! Tiny race cars!”

Lando chuckled, letting her excitement distract him from his nerves about the media coverage. “Want to pick one out? Maybe we can find one that looks like my car.”

As she eagerly examined the toy cars, the other drivers exchanged grins, clearly entertained by Lando’s newfound protective side.

“Just wait until she wants to attend all the races,” Charles teased, nudging Lando. “You’ll be too busy babysitting to focus.”

“Right, and she’ll be rooting for Oscar,” Max added, giving Lando a playful shove.

Lando gave them all a playful glare. “You all wish,” he shot back. “She’s my number one fan, right, Y/N?”

Y/N looked up, clutching a toy car that she’d chosen. “Yep! Lanno is the best driver in the world!”

All the drivers exchanged looks of amusement, sharing a laugh, but Lando’s expression softened as he glanced down at his little sister. She didn’t understand the rivalry, the pressure, or the spotlight. To her, he was simply her big brother.

And in that moment, as he held her hand and watched her excitement, he realized that he wouldn’t trade this for anything.

[whumpster-fire]

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in my seminary program, and I've been involved in numerous secret missions, and I have over 10 confirmed blonde childbirths. I am trained in converting and marrying outsiders and I'm the top birth giver in the entire LDS Church. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with zeal the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with spreading defamation of the Mormon Church over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of progeny across the state of Utah and they are sharing the gospel with their schoolmates, coworkers, and neighbors right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and proselytize to you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only do I have fair, youthful genes that I will pass on to countless blonde, Mormon children, but I have access to all the church houses, baptismal fonts, and temples of the Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter Day Saints and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what holy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. You will die, bitter and alone, surrounded by your hollow books and haunted by memories of the few good times in your life. You're fucking dead, kiddo.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)

Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language

A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado… More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

“Honey! I shrunk the kids!” 

Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.

You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that? 

“You what?”

Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”

“Jesus, Wanda.”

Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles. 

“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.

Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.

“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.

Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.

Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.

Where are they coming from?

Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where?”

“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.

You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.

“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.

“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.

Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”

The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.

“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.

“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.

“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”  You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.

Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.

Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.

You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.

Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”

“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.

A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.

Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.

“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”

She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.

You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.

“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.

You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”

Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.

There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.

Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”

You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.

“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”

–

“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse. 

“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town. 

Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.

But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.

Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”

Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”

“Like what, for instance?”

Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”

Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.

“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”

Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”

“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.

Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.

Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”

She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”

“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.

Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”

Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”

“He’s yours too?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.

“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”

Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”

Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.

“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”

“Yep.”

Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”

–

You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you. 

And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.

“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”

Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”

You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.

Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.

“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.

Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.

It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.

“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.

“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.

You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her. 

Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms. 

As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.

“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.

Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.

“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.

“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.

“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.

“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.

All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.

“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.

“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.

Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.

“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”

Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need. 

“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”

With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.

Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.

“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it. 

“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.

“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”

“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.

You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”

“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.

Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.

With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.

[alchemistc]

Dipping my foot in the mpreg pool to give you all:

They used a condom every time. Even after they'd gone to get tested, it was a fling for both of them, and it wasn't supposed to mean a damn thing.

Only Buck's three months along and Jason won't answer his calls.

Four months, and Cap sits him down and tells him at six he's gonna have to accept being man behind.

Five, and he runs into Jason at the supermarket and tells him he needs his family history. Jason looks spooked, but he overnights it to Buck's loft a week and a half later and Buck sends him a text letting him know he's off the hook.

Jason blocks his number.

Six, and Buck's back to stress baking, just at the firehouse now. He's not allowed to clean much, there aren't a lot of chemicals that are safe, and the probies from B shift bitch about it but they're not carrying a fucking bowling ball around.

At seven, Tommy rounds a corner with his face tipped behind him on a laugh and nearly runs smack into Buck.

When he turns back around he stops dead. Buck can see him doing the math, but even if he was ready to pop it wouldn't quite add up.

He saw Tommy on a call before he started showing and it was the most cordial interaction he's ever had with another firefighter.

---

They say hi. Tommy introduces him to his friend Henry. Buck gestures like he's got bigger plans than going home and eating a pint and a half of ice cream. They say goodbye.

---

Tommy calls him an hour later and asks if he can stop by.

---

"So he's just... not going to be involved?"

"He's twenty-five and a terrible person, so no. It was a fling. The sex was hot."

Tommy grimaces. "Do you need anything?"

"You got a spare bladder?"

---

At eight and a half they put Buck on bed rest and he throws an absolute fit about it. Eddie spends three days watching him furiously clean the loft with the natural shit he'd bought the day he saw those two lines. Hen threatens to bring Mara over to sit on him. Maddie listens to him rant for an hour and then brings him peanut butter banana toast with pickles in bed.

Tommy drops by with his massage gun and swears up and down he actually consulted an OB about which muscles it was safe to use on.

"How do you know an OB?"

Tommy looks shifty. "Do you want me to stay?" He ignores Buck's goggle eyes. Nods his head decisively. "I should stay."

---

Tommy camps out on his couch for two and a half weeks and already has the go-bag in his hands by the time Buck gets down the stairs.

Buck asks him if he wants to be in the room and despite the panicked look in his eyes, Tommy says yes.

---

"They asked me why I wasn't listed on the birth certificate," Tommy hisses, little baby Buckley dwarfed in his arms. He's been staring at her button nose for half an hour now, and Buck keeps trying to remind himself that this isn't permanent.

"What did you say?" Buck asks, genuinely curious.

Tommy's gaze is sad when it meets Buck's. "I didn't."

Like he can't quite help himself, he reaches a free hand in and boops her nose. She's out, though. She likes the sound of Tommy's voice.

Buck sighs. "She recognized you immediately." He's read the books. A million and two of them. Babies know the people that are around, the people that are close.

Amelia knows Tommy.

"It's not just me anymore, Tommy," he intones, and Tommy turns back up to look at him. Startled. Hopeful.

"I've been babyproofing my house like a lunatic for two months," he whispers, and Buck reaches out to rub a hand over the thin skin of Amelia's forehead before he catches Tommy's fingers in his own.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

>I've said it before, and I'll say it again: one of the most successful alt-right psyops 4chan ever pulled was sealioning leftists in general and feminist women in particular to such a degree that, in response, we started reacting to every polite, 101-level question about feminism or leftist politics from men with anger and hostility, thereby driving said men directly towards the sympathetic arms of the alt-right, which was the entire fucking point of conditioning us to do that.

The concept and predominant use of the term "sealioning" is "it's wrong to politely ask me extremely basic questions about my publicly stated beliefs if they make me uncomfy".

Feminists have had hostile reactions to questioning and disagreement - from men or women - for a very long time. Just ask Erin Pizzey. She opened the first women's shelter in the UK and the world.

And then when she realized lots of men were being abused by women, she tried to get support for them too. The era's feminists harassed her, her family, and her publisher, up to and including death threats.

Not to mention the countless posts I've seen from feminists who say women owe feminism their support because of what it did in the past, even if those women have issues with what it's doing now.

This was not some sort of double reverse backflip gambit. The call was coming from inside the house.

All 4chan did, if anything, was get feminists to expose their own flaws.

And 4chan weren't responsible for the 2013 protests by feminists at the U of Toronto, when people tried to talk about men's issues.

Or the time they falsely blamed MRAs for a "misogynist" mass murderer named Elliot Rodger.

He had nothing to do with MRAs, and feminists erased the fact that he hated, killed, and injured twice as many men as women.

Just the existence of the term "mansplaining" is ironic (and sexist), considering feminists condescendingly tell men what men's lives are supposedly like, all the time.

Even when obvious evidence shows they're wrong.

>which is where the role of radfem/terf shit in furthering the same gender essentialism espoused by the alt-right really needs to be acknowledged:

I love how so many progressives and leftists are determined to ignore that TERFs, by definition, are just further along the same line as regular feminists. The biggest difference is that they openly hate men, directly.

And TERFs just consider trans women men.

>: because as necessary and overdue as #metoo was on a cultural level, the framing of so many subsequent discussions as Yes All Men is radfem brainrot, not because patriarchy doesn't exist (it does!), but because patriarchy is an institutional and sociocultural problem rather than some inherent, indelible facet of masculinity, and that distinction matters, because you cannot solve the problem of patriarchy by treating it as fundamentally unsolvable.

Minor issue with that. #NotAllMen predates #MeToo by several years.

"Stop negatively stereotyping men" is the single most common criticism of feminism.

Also, "patriarchy" just means "rule by patriarchs". Feminists were the ones who associated it, indelibly, with sexism and misogyny.

Heck, you're still implying that it's somehow inherently wrong. Which is, um, not so different from the people you think you're criticizing.

You're almost there, but you're still refusing to admit that some of this was, and always has been, feminism's fault.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[marzipanandminutiae]

the one thing I am full-bore conspiracy theorist about?

daily contact lenses

or, well, not their existence, period. they're a valid health option that is best for some people, medically. but the sheer aggressiveness with which they're being pushed nowadays

the last few times I went to the eye doctor for my annual check-up, she was HEAVILY on my case to switch to dailies. like, to the point of arrogance and condescension when I said I preferred to stick with monthlies (I've worn contacts since I was 12, for reference). I also posted about it on a forum and got massive negativity in response, as well as being talked down to by someone claiming to be an optometrist himself

now if this were like...anti-vaxxer sentiment I'd understand that reaction. but from what I've heard, while monthlies do carry a higher risk of eye infections and such, they're not medically unsound or unsafe across the board. I'm willing to accept that risk, and since science has not found that they're terrible and should immediately be discontinued, I feel like my wishes should be respected and not belittled

point two: plastic waste. they say it's somehow less than using monthlies, but frankly I just don't see how that's possible. 365 of those little eye chips- times two! -and their packaging, add up to less than a case and a bottle of solution every few months, plus 24 contacts and their packaging? it doesn't make sense to me, and it doesn't help that I mostly see contact lens websites repeating this "fact." of course all contacts produce plastic waste, and I'd be perfectly willing to accept this as one of those You Have To Consume; You Just Decide What Areas Of Your Life Are Optimal For Minimization of Waste And What Aren't things, if dailies weren't being pushed so hard

(also I found two studies showing that monthly-replacement soft lenses produce less plastic waste than daily disposables. which, like. yes, this should be obvious, but here we are. granted, that's only two, and both studies emphasize that dailies and their accoutrements can be recycled, but see below)

some big companies have "contact recycling programs" but like. who's to say that's not greenwashing? where's the oversight? where are the investigations into what these programs actually DO? god knows we've been there before with recycling and corporations trying to pull the nylon-poly-blend Vegan Wool(TM) over our eyes

they're also more expensive than monthlies, which like. does not lend a positive slant to optometrists pushing them so stridently

on top of that, I and some other monthly users have noted that our contacts aren't lasting as long as they used to. for me, it was 17-18 years of smooth sailing with barely any problems, and as of like a year ago my contacts barely last two weeks without clouding up, ripping, chipping at the edges, causing my vision to blur, becoming uncomfortable...my brand did change around that time, so I hope it's just that, and the sample size of other monthly users I've pooled is VERY small. but it sure seems interesting that they suddenly started pushing a product that doesn't last long enough for people to notice low quality, around the time that at least some users of the longer-lasting version start having problems

you're pooh-poohing all of my concerns- which are indeed backed up by science, it seems! -with a "fix" that relies on big companies being honest about recycling, to push me from a non-ideal but still medically sound option to another that makes you more money?

I'm normally a pretty grounded person but I'm full-on tinfoil hat about this one

[starcatchingsnake]

Okay, Dandadan is probably one if the stupidest plots for an anime I've ever watched, but DESPITE THAT-

It still manages to have extremely compelling characters, an awesome rom-com of the two MCs, awesome supernatural powers, and a surprisingly tasteful portrayal of the main plot.

Like, I know anime, I've watched food wars. I know how anime can be, and suffice to say: I'm honestly happy with how the writers are treating the plot.

It's not overtly sexual, they haven't turned the missing balls into some sex-fueled fantasy that can only be solved through fanservice and the main characters getting it on. Instead it's been treated like it is: a circumstance thats so fucking ridiculous it is legitimately hysterical, the idea that a ghost stole your balls is honestly comedic, and I'm glad that the anime (I haven't fully read the manga so I can't speak for it) is treating it as such.

Plus, the Opening, and artstyle in which the anime is being produced with is so fucking incredible, from the designs, angles, and action sequences to the actual character movements, each scene feels so alive and every personality really pops through the character's motions. I don't feel like there is a stagnant moment in the anime so far, and it's really fucking awesome to just sit and take in the art that is being blasted into my retinas.

So all in all: do I contemplate my life choices every time I think about the plot of the show? Yes, but do I also take into account that it could've been worse, and what we got is actually really fucking amazing all things considered? Absolutely.

[barkbarkboy]

its taken me a WHILE to think of any interesting lore lol

- i had to save my sister once when she was really little. she took off her gloves, touched the snow for too long, and started getting a lot of pain in her hands, and the fastest way to get her to warmth was to pick her up and carry her home. we had a huge backyard so imagine carrying like a small 4-6 year old human across a huge field of snow thats at Least 3 ft deep. she had frostbite but i managed to get her inside in time to warm up her hands. she caught pneumonia a while later i'm not sure if it was related.

- i'm the only one in my family who WASNT taken to the hospital regualrly for medical issues. my brother basically lived there (born with a cleft palete and asthma, so, yeah), my sib had asthma and knee issues (their knee would dislocate randomly based on the smallest activity), and my sister had asthma, split her head open and had to get it glued shut, and shes a horse girl now so she goes pretty regualrly to check if she broke this or that. so far every single injury hasnt been worse than a sprain thank god. also my mom and dad both have so many medical problems its insane. i was supposed to be the "normal" one with no problems. needless to say, the only "doctors" i've seen regularly are counsellors for "therapy".

- i have a huge attachment to plushies of animals because i love animals so much i want all of them but i cant have all of them </3 so a stuffie will do. my nanna used to work at a hershey factory in our hometown and they had free reese's and hershey beanie babies for us for easter and stuff :)

- i learned what gay peoole were due to mean girls (2004), i basically saw 2 girls kissing in the background (unsure if this is actually in the movie or i made it up) and i asked my mom why they were kissing, and she said sometimes girls kiss each other! and i remembered telling her that i was definitely someone who liked girls and wouldnt mind kissing them. YEEEARS later (despite having memory problems) she recalled this and found out i had a girlfriend in high school, which is how i ended up coming out. because of this, everyone automatically assmes i'm a lesbian even though i've told them i'm bisexual like 600 million times since then.

- (fucking obviously) i grew up going to catholic school from kindergarten to 6th grade. not because my parents are super religious, just, there were rules about which schools we were allowed to go to. my dad's side was catholic and my mom's side was assimilated into catholocism, but eventually broke away. my great aunt does geneology and traced back our ancestors to native roots, so she basically went from catholic to following native teachings immediately. we were taken to pow wows since i could remember, so, we definitely had it better than they did. despite the whities trying to take our culture from us, we're still here <3 still sharing our language and stories and music.

- i was raised by the tv and computer. quite literally. i had an incident when i was younger that caused my dad to distrust people, so i wasnt allowed over at friend's houses or to hang out with them unless they knew them super super well. because of this, i tried to understand social interaction through tv shows like dawson's creek and charmed. on the internet i would watch smosh and... (sigh) sh*ne d*wson and dan and phil and would treat it more like an entertaining break. i swear i was on the family computer for so long sometimes my dad would tell me to go to bed 900 times and i'd stay on until at LEAST 1 or 2 in the morning talking to the friends i made over the internet that i wasnt allowed to have in real life. those friends actually helped me learn how to talk to people like a normal human being!! i'm greatful to them every day and i still talk to them all the time ^_^

- i pretended to hate girly stuff when i was a kid to overcompensate my masculinity, but theres so many "girly" things i really like! i really liked playing house, i really liked playing with baby dolls, i really liked sundresses and nail polish and stuff, i just never liked when all that made me a "girl" according to others, and i didnt realize that was why at the time. egg moment 🥚🏳️‍⚧️

theres way more fhat may or may not be interesting but ^^; i think thats enough for now

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[storiesfromafan]

Or Something - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: I want to say a MASSIVE thank you to everyone that follows me. On Tuesday (my time) I woke to find out I hit 600 followers!! 🫢

I know majority are those that follow me for my Mattheo works, and a lot of new followers are for Austin Butlers character works I've been writing. I am still thankful for all of you!!!

I also want to thank those that I recognise reblogging, hearting and commenting 💜💜💜 I see you and it always makes me smile to see you, and all of you too!!

So, to celebrate I wrote a Mattheo x Reader for the occasion 😁😁😁

Warning: briefest drug mention, fluff

Prompt: “So, are you seeing them or something?”

Mattheo didn’t like how guys looked at you. He didn’t like how they talked to you. Hell, in general, he hated them. Why do you ask? Because they weren’t your best friend, and secretly in love with you. That was him, his life.

Watching guy after guy talk to you, flirt with you, shoot their shot. All the while he hoped one day you would see how he saw you, wanting him like he wants you. Always and forever. But till then Mattheo had to endure this endless nightmare.

“Mate, you should just tell her!” Groaned Theodore passing his friend a joint. “No doubt she fells the same”.

Taking the joint, Mattheo sighed. “How can you be so sure!? I can’t risk ruining my friendship with her!”

Lorenzo looked to the two and said, “I get where Mattheo's coming from. What if she doesn’t exactly feel the same way? Things will be different in our group, and it would be awkward for all parties".

The three were sitting by a large tree, far from the Castle on this fine afternoon. Both boys had seen how worked up Mattheo had been after another guy decided to talk to you. Rather then Mattheo getting detention for beating up or cursing the guy, both Theodore and Lorenzo dragged him away. Once at the tree Mattheo opened up and told them everything, and in depth. How it pissed him off, how he felt for you and how he was a hop, skip and a jump from murdering so many male students.

“Yeah, alright" retorted Theodore. “But what if she did feel the same way? And by not speaking up is just hindering your happiness together?”

Lorenzo leant around Mattheo to give the guy a surprised look. “I am shocked you know how to use hindering, and are the voice of reason for once”.

Theodore rolled his eyes while flipping off the chuckling boy. Mattheo remained quiet, smoking the joint and hoping it will calm him, and his frazzled nerves. They both made good points. And were like an angel and devil on his shoulders. He just needed a scrap of conformation that you felt the same as him, and he would put himself out there.

“I can’t tell her without knowing how she feels, even just a tiny bit" Mattheo sighed, passing the joint to Lorenzo.

Both boys looked to their friend before both saying, “then we’ll find out!”

Mattheo didn’t know if he should be relieved or scared. For those two finding out information can go either way, such as they could do the job right or fail and blab. He truly hoped it was the former. Because the idea of you learning about his feelings, from them and not him, terrified and annoyed him.

The following day, during morning break, you were sitting in the courtyard in the suns warm rays. You were helping Pansy with some last minute Potions homework, not wanting her to be subject to Snape’s wrath. Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo and Draco were near by, sitting around talking shit. Which was annoying Pansy. Who eventually told them all to shut it.

Theodore stuck his tongue out at Pansy, while Mattheo and Lorenzo laughed. Draco didn’t do or say anything. With a huff from the girl next to you, you smiled returning to the book and parchment before you. Yet, you found yourself sneaking glances at Mattheo. Admiring his boyish smile and laugh, as he pushed Theodore for something he had said. Noticing how the humour reached his chocolate brown eyes, happy to see him having fun.

“(Y/N/N)!” Pansy whined, “I need your help!”

Focusing back on your friend and the task at hand, you had to put staring at Mattheo on the back burner. There would be plenty of time to admire him. To day dream of being more with your best friend. And yet, it was just that, a day dream. You doubted he saw you any more than a friend. He might care, but not enough to be more then what you both were right now.

With some frustration you finally managed to get some of the homework through Pansy's thick head. The pair of you packed up your parchments and books, relived to be done. And with time to spare before your next class, which was potions. You both stood, stretching while your friends remained where they were. Of course Mattheo was watching you, always watching you. Just not when you’re watching him.

“(Y/N)!” Called a Hufflepuff guy from your year, his tone warm and giddy.

You turned in the direction – as did Mattheo – and you smiled seeing Andrew. You waved to him, then said something to Pansy before walking over to him with your bag over your shoulder. Mattheo watched how you bounced over to Andrew, and how you both smiled, laughed and talked.

Lorenzo and Theodore noticed it was only them that were talking, upon looking to Mattheo they noticed his gaze. And following it they saw why their mate sat quietly, eyes a blaze with jealousy. All three sets of eyes watched the interaction between you and the Hufflepuff. And to really get on Mattheo's goat, was the fact Andrew was on his houses Quiddich team. And their last match against each other had not gone well. Andrew got a lucky shot on him, and Mattheo was knocked from his broom.

So, his hatred for the guy was next level. First the Quiddich match, and now talking to his girl. And you were happily chatting away with him. Were you into the twat? Were you dating him? All the possibilities just added fuel to Mattheo's hate and jealousy.

Getting to his feet, and ignoring his mates, Mattheo moved towards you and Andrew. Only the Hufflepuff was lucky to have left before his arrival. Andrew was laughing with his mates as they headed back to the Castle. You smiled, only to jump when turning to find Mattheo beside you.

“Oh my God, Matty!” You exclaimed in surprise, before playfully hitting his arm. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

His gaze – which had still been following Andrew – turn back to you, heated and not happy. It was jealousy, but you didn’t pick up on it. “So, are you seeing them or something?” Came his annoyed question.

You blinked, confused by Mattheo's words. “Huh?” you paused, before registering his question. “Oh! No! Oh my gosh, no!”

He didn’t buy your words. “Really? Seems like it, or something’s going on...”

“No Matty, really there’s nothing going on!” You said in a rush. Flabbergasted that he’d think you and Andrew were a thing.

Sure, the guy was nice. Kinda funny. But he was also full of himself and cocky, in an annoying way. Unlike Mattheo, who’s cockiness was charming, if that even made sense. Your best friends full of himself and cocky nature was fine to you, not bothering you. But Andrew, it felt forced. Like he was over doing it. It did nothing for you. Unlike when it was Mattheo, it checked all your boxes.

Your best friend show you a slightly dark look, which hurt you. “Honestly, I don’t care who you spend your time with. Date whoever you want!” He spat.

You were surprised, and saddened by his words. “Matty...” you said softly, voice cracking a little. “I’m not dating him, or am interested in Andrew...or any one. Well, except for one guy, but...forget it".

The way you spoke, the tone and the look on your face broke Mattheo. His face dropping into a guilty look. Before he could say anything – mostly apologise and beg for forgiveness – you took off for the Castle. And he swears he saw a tear or two. Pansy knocked into him as she rushed after you, looking back to shoot Mattheo a death glare.

Running a hand through his brown locks, he sighed in annoyance with himself. How could he do that, let his jealousy and anger get the best of him? And upsetting you. He wanted to kick his own ass at this point. His mates came up and offered a sympathetic look, before they too headed to the Castle. Mattheo straggling behind, dragging his feet.

The previous day you had avoided Mattheo. Choosing to keep your distance. It was safer then dealing with his mood. You didn’t get why he said what he said, and looked at you the way he did. Why did he care so much about if you were dating Andrew? Honestly, it’s none of his business whom you date.

Shaking your head you went back to the large book before you. You’d taken to hiding in the library this evening. Thinking that studying would be a smart way to distract yourself. Unfortunately, it didn’t offer much of a distraction. For your mind wondered to Mattheo, or Theodore and Lorenzo. It had been almost a whole day of avoiding them all. And you were getting bored, missing them all.

You wish you could say you knew this chapter on poisons, but even reading over it numerous times, the information never sticking. Brown curly locks and warm chocolate eyes plagued your mind. He always had. These feelings you had for Mattheo never went away, even when you tried your best to push them to the back of your mind.

With a sigh you closed the book. It was pointless. Getting up from your seat in the back corner of the library, you grabbed the book and moved to the rows of shelves to put it back. It was getting late also, which mean it would be time to head back to your house. Reaching a quiet section, you read over the books until you found the space for the book in your hands. Once it was in place you smiled softly running your hands down its spine.

There was something about the feel of an old book and its cover. Paired with the silence of the library, you felt content. Turning to head back the way you had came, you jumped, hand flying over your chest. Leaning against a shelf behind you was Mattheo. His eyes watching you, the way he looked at you was like a wounded animal. Leaning back against the wall you took a moment to calm your racing heart, and taking a few deep breathes.

“Sorry I scared you...” he said softly, almost like he’d spook you if he was too loud.

You nodded, unsure of what to say.

Silence filled the gap between you both. Mattheo’s gaze on you, watching your every move. While you look down, yet snuck a look every so often. How could almost not seeing each other feel longer then it was? A day felt like a week to both of you. Mattheo missed your laugh and sweet words. While you missed his presence and Mattheo’s smell; aftershave and cigarettes.

Finally, slowly, Mattheo push off the shelf and took a few steps before you, but stopped before getting too close. “(Y/N/N), I wanted to apologise for how I acted yesterday...I shouldn’t, nor did I have the right, to act the way I did or say what I said".

You could hear the genuineness in Mattheo's voice. You could see it in his eyes. He truly was sorry.

You nodded. “It’s alright Matty...” you replied softly.

He nodded. “Just promise me...promise me it’s not Andrew that you like, yeah?”

You looked at Mattheo confused. “N-no, I’d never be interested in him" you paused a moment, “w-why did you say that?”

He shrugged, looking down at the ground like it was fascinating. “You said there was a guy you are interested in...” his tone was tight, a bitterness to each word. “There’s a small list of guys I hate, please don’t let it be any of them".

You listened, processing Mattheo's words and his tone. You weren’t sure but it sounded like he was angry, but then it hit you. “A-are you jealous!?” You gasped in shock and surprise.

His eyes flew up, looking to you in a panic. “W-what!? N-no!” He stammered, taking a step back. Panicking because what you said was true.

You took a step forward. “Y-you are...why?”

Mattheo remained where he was, eyes blown wide as his mind and heart raced. You were close to learning the truth. And he couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have you knowing the truth. How he hated other guys giving you attention, wanting you. Or how it was him that wanted you, needed you, loved you.

You studied the boy before you. The frightened look up his face, how he acted, the words he’d said. Slowly the dots were adding up. And you think – hoped – you’re conclusion was right; that Mattheo Riddle liked you. Your breath caught at the idea, heart picking up its pace. You were excited at the idea, yet you still needed confirmation.

Slowly and shakily, you stepped up to Mattheo. Both your eyes watching the other. This was it. What you were about to do, about to say was going to make or break your friendship. And you hoped he felt the same way as you, and finally you could be happy taking your friendship to the next level.

“Matty...” you said softly, just for the both of you to hear. “D-do you...d-do you like me?”

“O-of course! Your my best friend!” Was his rushed reply. Frightened that your question was you making sure he didn’t like you in a way that could break your friendship.

Yet when a sad, hurt expression crossed your face, did he think for a second he was wrong. Did you want it to be more then friendship between you? Did you like him as more then a friend? You slowly nodded your head, stepping back. Which broke Mattheo's heart. So without thinking, he reached out a hand and grabbed your wrist. Halting you from putting anymore distance between you both.

Your (colour) eyes snapped up, meeting Mattheo's chocolate brown ones. Silently pleading to be let go, yet he wouldn’t. Not till he knew for sure. Moving forward, he brought you closer to him. His other hand moving to cup your cheek. Mattheo searched your eyes for any hint of you wanting him to stop, that you didn’t want him like this. But to his surprise he didn’t see any objection. Surprise and hope. That was all he needed.

Taking that last step, one that he couldn’t come back from. Mattheo leaned in, lips hovering over yours. You could feel his warm breath upon your lips, his eyes looking to yours, giving you one last chance to stop this once and for all. Feeling a surge of confidence, you were the one to close the last sliver of a gap, lips finally meeting.

It was a soft, gentle kiss. Lips press together for a moment, before pulling back to hovering once more. You both looked at the other, seeing the joy and wanting in the others eyes. Mattheo finally moved the hand holding your wrist to your waist, before wrapping his arm around you and bringing you flush against him. Chest to chest. The hand cupping your cheek warm, his thumb caressing your cheek.

Mattheo then he pressed his lips to yours again, only this time harder. He tilted his head as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. Without hesitation you opened your mouth, his tongue entering just as quickly. Your tongues met, moving together in quick caresses. Your eyes closed enjoying this passionate kiss with Mattheo. Without realising it, Mattheo moved forward, which had you moving backwards, until your back hit the wall. He caged you in, as well as hiding you both a little more.

After a while, you both had to pull back, your breathing heavy as Mattheo rested his forehead against yours. You both looked to the other, silly smiles on your faces. Giddy with how much you had longed for that moment.

“It was you...” you said softly, “the guy I like...”

Mattheo chuckled. “Yeah, I figured that now...”

Guess he didn’t need his mates help after all. All it took was him getting jealous, upsetting you and apologising for this to happen. Mattheo doesn’t regret it, or your first kiss. But he wish he’d known sooner that you felt the same way, so he wouldn’t have had to be jealous of Andrew.

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (1/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 2k pairing: leo & oc i've had this idea rattling around since the rise farewell comic earlier this year made it canon that the turtles had another brother and a sister floating around somewhere. we know who their sister is, so this is my take on that 5th brother. i hope you enjoy meeting him <3 big thank you to @soldrawss and @mykimouser for enabling my insane behavior (and thank you again to sol for drawing the art i included in this chapter!!!) title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2020

Leo regretted his last words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Hero moves are totally your style”? As if Raph doesn’t have enough issues already.

But what he meant—what he would have tried to explain if there was time—was that Raph is his hero. He’s always been Leo’s hero. And if Leo could be anything like him, even for a second, even if it was the last thing he ever did, then he could be satisfied with that. 

It’s a silly thing to be stuck thinking about, laying on a torn up chunk of earth with a monster ominously lumbering somewhere below, looking for where it threw its toy. Laying there, feeling every bruise and broken bone, and hoping that he didn’t hurt his big brother’s feelings.

They’ll be okay, Leo thinks, trying to make it be the thing that gives him courage instead of just more homesickness. They’ll miss me, maybe for a long time, but they’ll be okay.

Leo’s supposed to be fighting for his life, but it’s all he can do to keep a grip on the photo in his hand, the only thing in this entire dimension worth holding onto. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open when every blink is longer than the last. 

It feels like enough of a rebellion. The Krang looked annoyed that he was still breathing the last time it batted him through the void like a fly, which gives Leo the idea that he should probably be dead by now. He feels a detached sort of pride at how grown-up he’s being about all this. Better late than never

Leo waits for the Krang to come for him, dripping his blood and sneering his daddy’s nickname for him hatefully as it does, and hopes he made his family proud. 

Leo hopes he’ll go wherever Gram-gram is. It would be nice to know someone when he gets there. 

Movement in his periphery snags Leo’s attention. His brain starts throwing up warning flags, signaling danger—anything moving around in here is another parasite, or a Krang hound, nothing he’ll want to be sprawled out on a silver platter for—but he can’t summon any urgency. 

He turns his head and finds himself looking up at another turtle. 

It’s the very last thing he expected to see. They both just stare at each other for a moment. 

The newcomer appears to be a few years older than Leo, based on the broadness of their shoulders, and half a head taller. Their skin is more gray than green and their plastron is so pale it’s closer to white than yellow. Their carapace, what Leo can see of it, is a deep blue-black and they’re covered, skin and shell both, in white spots. Two of the spots on their face give the impression of eyebrows lowered in a glare, but they don’t seem angry at him.

The turtle is completely unfamiliar to Leo, which is saying something. He thought he and his family had the monopoly on… this whole situation. 

Disquieted, Leo remembers that he’s supposed to be the only turtle here. That was a very significant part of the decision he’d made. 

It must be a hallucination, he decides, instantly comforted by his own reasoning. That makes sense. He just wished that if his mind was going to conjure him some dying company it could at least be someone he knows. An imaginary Mikey or Donnie or Raphie for one last hug. One last affectionate forehead bonk. An “I still love you,” if that wasn’t asking too much. 

Don’t you cry now, he scolds himself sternly when his eyes start to blur and burn. It’s not about you. 

With a resounding crash of metal against stone, the Krang finds them at last. He’s snarling something that Leo is too slow to piece together before he cuts himself off—surprising the hell out of Leonardo by acknowledging the hallucination. That’s not how that works. 

“Another pest ,” the Krang hisses. His serrated teeth glint when he draws his gummy lips back in an ugly smile. His tone is oily and unpleasant when he adds, “You’re less colorful than those other ones. I would have remembered seeing you. Where were you when your accomplices were fumbling about in my Technodrome like the stupid creatures they are?”

“We won,” Leo reminds the alien, even though it makes him cough. His lips are warm and wet now but he won’t think about why. “Blew up your ugly ship. Who looks stupid now?” 

“Shut your mouth!” the Krang roars, going from slimy to homicidal in about three seconds. Leo cringes, every ounce of animal instinct in his body urging him to hide in his shell and ride the rest of this nightmare out. 

The spotted turtle snaps, “Don’t talk to him.” 

It would have made sense if he was looking at Leo when he said it. Don’t engage, don’t bait the big monster that could kill you with as much effort as it takes you to blink, et cetera ad nauseum. If only he’d had a nickel for every time he heard that. 

But instead the turtle is looking at the Krang, and he’s radiating the kind of cold-blooded murder that you mostly only see in movies. He has one arm flung out in front of Leo like he actually means to use it to stop the Krang from getting any closer. 

“Don’t even look at him,” he goes on, sounding seconds away from baring his teeth. 

This guy is significantly unaware of the danger he’s facing, and Leo ought to warn him about what enormous clusterfuck he’d just wandered into. Leo ought to say he appreciates the reptile solidarity, but you should definitely run, new guy. 

But this probably isn’t actually happening outside of his own head. And besides, Leo has to focus really hard on his numb fingers so he doesn’t drop his photo. 

“I’ll look where I please,” the Krang says, as unbothered by the hallucination as he was by Leo’s entire family. “Starting with that fool head of yours. I’m interested in whatever backdoor led you here. If it’s my way out, well —”

Adrenaline surges through Leo, and he’s hardly aware of moving before he’s lurching up and shouting out, “No!” 

He can’t get out, he can’t. Leonardo won’t be able to trick him again. He won’t be there to help this time. 

“I do have one thing for you,” the spotted turtle interrupts to say, reaching over his shoulder for what turns out to be a compound crossbow strapped to his back. 

Leo doesn’t know a lot about archery so it’s weird his fictional turtle does, crank-cocking the weapon like it’s an extension of his arm. He watches cluelessly as the turtle slides something very purple out of his jacket pocket and notches it into the groove where the bolts are supposed to go. It’s definitely not a bolt, but it’s a piercing-type projectile of some kind, and it fits in the crossbow like it was designed with crossbows in mind. 

The turtle aims the bow at the Krang, who clicks the claws of his metal suit on the ground the way Splinter would drum his fingers on the kitchen counter when he was waiting on the microwave. The Krang looks condescending and mildly curious, like he’s watching dumb little animals do something they’re not trained to do. 

“He told me to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t be here to see this part,” the spotted turtle says, and then shoots without a second of hesitation or unnecessary dramatics. 

The Krang bats the projectile away, or tries to, but it explodes on contact with his armor, and suddenly all Leo can smell is burning metal. Then burning meat. 

The Krang begins to scream, clawing at something defiantly purple with a mind of its own that eats straight through him the effortless, immediate way corrosive acid chews through soft tissue. It moves like nanotech, covering as much of the Krang as possible in a manner of seconds and clearly designed to consume whatever it touches like a school of cartoon piranhas. 

Donnie would love it, color scheme and all. 

The Krang stumbles drunkenly, howling like a creature possessed, and Leo and his turtle companion both watch silently until he tips over the edge of the hunk of torn earth they’re on. Gravity is nonexistent in this dimension, so he doesn’t so much fall as sort of drift in another direction while he’s distracted with the purple stuff that’s doing its best to eat him alive. 

The last handful of minutes have been so bizarre that it’s actually going pretty far in convincing Leo that none of it happened for real. The Krang hasn’t actually found him yet. This is clearly a dream. Or a pre-death electrical storm as the neurons in his brain fire up to fizzle out.  

He tips his head to the side again to stare up at the archer, who is putting his bow away with perfect confidence that whatever that purple thing was, it will do the job. 

“Who are you?” Leo asks stupidly. 

“Gio,” the probably imaginary turtle replies.

Leo’s mouth runs off before he can stop it. “Just Gio? Like Cher?”

God, he thinks. That was stupid, Leo. Not the time or place, Leo. You’re in the prison dimension. You’re dying here and you can’t even cut the jokes now? Raph was so right about you.

But the imaginary turtle surprises him by smiling slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling just barely upwards in a way that somehow completely transforms him. Not the time or place for jokes or smiling at them but here they are. Like company.

“Giorgio Hamato,” ‘Gio’ says. That lands in Leo’s ears as something remarkably worth making a lot of noise over, but he can’t begin to unpack it. And after a second, he forgets what the remarkable part was. His mind is a deck of cards that got shuffled too enthusiastically and ended up scattered all over the floor. Gio doesn’t seem to mind when Leo just blinks at him, adding, “I’m here to take you home.”  

“Pretty sure Uber doesn’t come out this far,” Leo mumbles, the words a paint smear, all thick and wet and muddy. One of his teeth feels broken and it’s keeping him awake, a blistering ache that cracks through the back of his mouth like lightning. “And I’ve got, like, zero bars.”

This is how I cope, he thinks, watching the bigger turtle absorb the second bad joke in as many minutes. Leo’s blinking fast so he doesn’t cry. He’s trying to focus on anything but the pain radiating through his whole body, and the swallowing darkness all around him, and the ruins of ancient metal ships looming where they float unrestricted by gravity, and the ballistic howls of a pissed-off pink alien still dealing with whatever the heck this Gio guy did to him.

He can’t focus on any of that because all of that is scary and he’s already terrified. He needs to not be terrified because he doesn’t want to be that kind of ghost when he haunts his family. He wants to be the friendly, funny kind, the kind that gets to stay at the end of the movie, the kind that will make silly faces at Mikey so he doesn’t get scared, and leave sticky notes for Donnie to remember to charge his phone and drink enough water, and cover Raphie with an extra blanket while he’s asleep because it gets cold at night but he always leaves his bedroom door open for them.

If Leo’s friendly and funny, if he helps, he’ll get to stay. He didn’t get to stay the first time, so this time he has to make it stick.

Larger hands wrap around his. It doesn’t register for a second, and then it does in a big way.

Leo jerks his head up. Moving just that much hurts like his ribs are broken all the way down and the bones in his leg have all melted into liquid agony, but it clears some of the fog away.

Someone is holding his hands in the prison dimension.

An alien like the Krang wouldn’t know the first thing about the human gesture, the togetherness of it, so it’s not some mean trick that’s being played. And it can’t be an imaginary turtle that Leo dreamed up, after all, because kindness would be the last thing he’d give himself.

Possibly very real Gio says, “Fuck Uber. Whatever that is. And don’t repeat that word.”

The punchy breath Leo chokes in is going to punch out again as a laugh or a sob. Leo squeezes the bigger turtle’s hands, photo crinkling between them, suddenly tethered to something in this void and hysterically certain that he’ll die for real if Gio lets go.

“I’m sixteen.” Leo’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t know what to react to first. He doesn’t understand how this is happening. He holds on. “I can say the fuck word if I want to, I’m practically an adult.”

Gio’s face does something it hurts to look at. His eyes are dark and sincere, the shape of them entirely familiar. There’s a warmth inside him that permeates the gloom. A star belonging to a much larger galaxy, but more significantly, belonging to the same crooked constellation Leo belongs to.

I know you, he thinks, surprised by the truth of it. I do. Where have you been?

“We’re going home,” Gio says, the certainty in his voice like one of those huge stones a river parts around, unmoved by the currents and crashing water. “I know the way out. Don’t worry about it. Close your eyes.”   

The worst thing that could happen has already happened, Leo thinks. There’s no reason not to trust him. There’s nothing left to lose. He closes his eyes.

He feels himself drawn in, tucked against the built-in armor of a turtle chest, head resting on a broad shoulder. He’s been carried like this a million times before. He didn’t think it would happen again. Somewhere along the line, he’d been picked up for the last time and put down for the last time, and now he’s here, where no one who loves him can reach him, to scoop him up when he falls asleep on the sofa and take him to bed.

But Gio lifts him up like he’s still a kid. The Krang is bellowing hateful promises in between the grating shrieks of pain, promises of what he’ll do when he gets his hands on Leo, but all of that is far away. 

Leo isn’t afraid anymore. He isn’t going to be a ghost.

He’s pretty sure he’s going home.   

[skania]

Final Akane + AquaKane Thoughts

There are so many things to say that I don't even know how to start organizing my thoughts lol I'll also be including my final thoughts about the "love triangle" while I'm at it, so this is probably going to get long!

I've written quite a bit about Aqua/Akane this past year, so I won't be going into detail into any of the things I've already discussed up to now. Instead, I'll just focus on my thoughts on this final set of chapters, as well as my overall thoughts now that the manga is over.

I'll start with the (few) things I liked:

The Good

I mentioned before that I'm a sucker for parallels, and that Aqua/Akane having so many is one of the reasons why I couldn't help but ship them. We somehow got some very good ones in these last few chapters. We even got a scene at the Aqua/Akane bridge, the one where Akane's relationship with Aqua began and ended.

Aqua saved her life at that bridge, without any ulterior motives. And it's that very bridge that is pictured as Akane says that she has decided to live on. The imagery is poignant and pays its respects to not only Akane's arc as a character, but also to the Aqua/Akane relationship.

More than that, the parallels we got confirm things that Akane and Aqua/Akane fans like me have been saying all along:

Through it all, Akane saw him as he is and embraced the broken him. Each time, she willingly chose to get closer to him. When Aqua tells Akane that he has been saved ever since he met her, I get it. I have no doubt that for Aqua, who has been desperately fighting alone for so long, being seen and understood and loved despite all his self-perceived flaws and the darkness in him must have felt like salvation.

Akane is the one who knows Aqua the best, the one who knows him the most, the one who sees him exactly as he is and who loves all of him. Akane doesn't romanticize Aqua's flaws and his self-sacrificial nature, and neither does she idealize his virtues. She just accepts him and does her best to support and understand him through it all.

Akane being the only one who can see through Aqua's plan is enough to prove this, but it's actually not the most meaningful way in which Aka confirmed it. The most meaningful way was actually this:

Usually, whenever Akane thinks about Aqua, she calls him Aqua-kun. However, throughout her entire monologue in the last three chapters, Akane never addresses him by name. She just calls him "You". The same "You" (君) that Aka emphasized in Chapter 63.

The "You" that encapsulates everything Aqua Hoshino was: both the Goro and the Aqua.

This was a very, very deliberate narrative choice that tells you that throughout the manga, Akane was the one who loved Aqua Hoshino exactly as he was.

Aka also uses another parallel to confirm that Akane was indeed lying to Kana when she claimed that she was over Aqua.

When she finally breaks down, Aka allows Akane to be honest about her feelings, and the parallel to the Aqua/Akane break-up tells us everything we need to know.

Akane never stopped loving Aqua. She has been in love with him all along.

Ever since they broke up, Akane has been sacrificing her feelings for Aqua in order to do what she thinks is best for him. Akane's priority has always been to see Aqua happy. She is willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish that. Back when she thought that Aqua needed to kill Kamiki, Akane was willing to shoulder that sin with him just so he wouldn't have to carry it on his own. When she realized that what Aqua truly wanted was to be free from his revenge, Akane was ready to deal with Kamiki on her own just so that Aqua wouldn't get his hands dirty. Then, when Aqua pushes Akane away, Akane becomes determined to stop him from killing Kamiki because she knows revenge is not what Aqua truly wants or needs.

But that's not all there is to it. Akane wants to be with Aqua, because she loves him. And it's precisely because she loves him, and because she thinks her love failed to save him, that she keeps her feelings to herself and is even willing to help another girl get close to him in her place.

So this chapter confirmed that the one who has been making the sacrificial play, the one who truly loved Aqua, was Akane. It is, essentially, the counterpart to Chapters 148 and 149.

It's no wonder, then, that Akane's feelings and her grief are the ones we follow immediately after Aqua's death. She goes to mourn him in the place he actually died, and when she's around his family, she keeps her pain to herself in order to not worsen their burden. We see her piece together what happened, we see her break, and then we see Akane put herself together and find some solace in knowing that Aqua kept her away to protect her.

Aqua is gone, and Akane is the only one to know Aqua's truth.

A lot of people spent the entire manga trying to downplay Aqua's relationship with Akane; claiming that it was a lie, a manipulation, or what-have-you. Now that the manga is over, we can say those claims were never proven.

At the contrary, until the very end, Aqua's thoughts & actions in regard to Akane were shown to back-up everything he said about her during their relationship.

Aqua could've lived if he had asked Akane for help in killing Kamiki, but he didn't want Akane to get her hands dirty for him. He broke up with her to not bring her down to hell with him, and when the options were to either die alone or make Akane bear the weight of a sin with him, the choice was quickly made.

At the end, he's even shown wanting the same thing Akane wanted: an equal relationship with her.

Unlike his thoughts about Kana (more on that later), which are just a 'might', this is something Aqua is purposeful about. It's something he is sure he wants. It's even the last thing he thinks of before wanting to see Ruby at the dome, which we all know was his dearest wish.

This also fits the panels chosen to be shown in the "romance" part of Aqua's montage: the moment he doesn't catch Kana's ball (symbolizing that their feelings don't connect) vs the moment where he chooses to kiss and date Akane for real.

Which brings us back to the moment they broke up. That chapter was titled "Going Astray" and we now saw where that wrong turn led Aqua: to his death.

So chapter 98, the Aqua/Akane break-up, is pretty much officially the chapter that leads us to the ending we got.

Which means that what I said back in this post still applies. If Aqua and Akane had been honest with each other during that phone-call in Chapter 97, things could've been different. But truth is, it's nearly pointless to think about it, because what this all comes down to is that Aka wanted this ending and he wanted it at all costs.

So nothing could have happened any other way, because Aka didn't want Aqua to be saved. He wanted Aqua to die so he could have his forced "bittersweet" ending.

This is why Aqua and Akane had to break up, it's why Akane is practically not allowed to interact with Aqua again after their break-up, and it's also why Akane never found out about Aqua being Goro's reincarnation.

Aqua was never meant to be saved, and Akane more than anyone could have saved him. So, of course, Aka couldn't allow her to do so. It's forced writing at its finest.

This is also why Akane isn't involved in Aqua's fatidic confrontation with Kamiki. While there is Aka's typical contrived writing involved in Akane leaving Aqua to his own devices at the most crucial moment, I do think it makes sense.

I've mentioned before that from the very beginning, Aqua and Akane's relationship has been based on trust and on choices.

Aqua once gave Akane a choice, trusting that she'd be able to choose what was best for herself. After Akane made her choice, Aqua did everything in his power to help her accomplish her goal.

Ever since, Akane has been trying to do the same for Aqua.

Akane wants Aqua to choose what's right for himself. She will always respect whatever it is that he chooses, as long as it is a true reflection of what he wants and needs. This is why Akane was eager to stop his plan to kill Kamiki, she could tell that Aqua was ready to sacrifice his own future to accomplish it.

That's why, once Aqua chooses to let Kamiki live, Akane is reassured.

Something has changed in Aqua. Akane notices this and believes that Aqua has, finally, chosen to not throw his life away just to deal with Kamiki. She trusts that he has.

Personally, I'd like to believe that Akane was right. Problem was that once Aqua knew for sure that Kamiki couldn't be saved, he switched back to his original plan. Something Akane couldn't have foreseen without knowing that Aqua was the reincarnation of a dude whose issues made him suicidal... which is yet another reason why Aka could have never let Akane find out about the whole reincarnation business.

So all in all, Aqua/Akane-wise, this is all well and good. On paper.

When it comes to the execution however, it leaves a lot to be desired, because Aqua/Akane is sadly majorly brought down by the spectacular way in which Aqua's character was (mis)handled during the second half of the manga.

The Bad

Goro has always been someone who thinks his life has no worth, and this belief is deeply ingrained into Aqua. That's why I could tell that his revenge plan likely involved killing himself and making it look like Kamiki did it.

I just didn't think that he would actually succeed, because it kind of goes without saying that the suicidal character getting to kill himself is far from being a satisfying ending. Even less so when said character has shown time and time again that he actually wants to live, he is just too broken by his guilt complex to believe he has that right.

For a while there, it even looks like Aqua will make it. That he has once again started to embrace that this is a life that he wants to live.

Sadly, once Aqua realizes that Kamiki can't be saved and that he poses a danger to Ruby, all of that flies off the window and "Goro" takes over. And by "Goro" I don't mean Goro the character, I mean all the bad habits that Aqua has due to his guilt-complex and survivor's guilt.

So Aqua goes and executes his original plan, killing himself instead of looking for a better solution. Which means he started off like this:

Only to end the manga pretty much the same way, except you can switch "If Ai's gone, this world isn't-" for "As long as Ruby can live on in this world."

Though, actually, it's even worse than that, because Aqua realizes that he was wrong — dying would bother him — only when it's too late.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth because it's like Aqua had no development through the entire manga. Cut everything after his break-up with Akane and nearly nothing changes, except the motive behind Aqua throwing his life away: protecting Ruby (Sarina) instead of revenge.

It all feels even more pointless because Aqua's death rings hollow due to how badly his character was mishandled in the second half of the manga. After the break-up, Aqua becomes a "..." bot. His character isn't allowed to grow and neither is he allowed to explore his feelings in any meaningful way, to the point that he dies confused and not knowing who he was.

Pardon my bluntness, but how pathetic is this? 160+ chapters and literally none of this guy's issues were ever solved. His character goes nowhere, only so he can be sacrificed to make the ending bittersweet for Ruby. Though for me it wasn't even bittersweet; the ending fell flat on its face precisely because Aqua's character never goes anywhere, so it's hard to feel anything other than vague frustration and disbelief at how forced the writing is.

Even the Kami/Ai - Aqua/Akane parallels were wasted because both ships ended up in the exact same way: Akane and Ai both unable to save Aqua and Kamiki. I wouldn't even be surprised if those parallels are something Aka came up with on the spot while writing the Ai DVD.

I'm sure some Aqua/Akane truthers will say "all Aqua and Kamiki needed to be saved was to be with Akane and Ai, and Akane and Ai didn't realize that" and leaving aside my issues with that kind of co-dependency, once again, that's all well and good — on paper.

Sure, those of us who ship Aqua and Akane could see it that way if we wanted to, but... did Aka make a point of clearly stating this? No, he left it to the reader's imagination, which means it's just another blank to be filled with headcanon.

Personally, I'm pretty tired of doing that, because everything there is to like about the manga may as well just be the headcanons we have filled all those blanks with.

I always say that I prefer showing and not telling, but there's a limit to everything. Truth of the matter is, if this was supposed to be the case — and especially if it was supposed to be important — then showing isn't enough. Because the majority of readers aren't going to spend hours breaking down every single Aqua/Akane interaction to draw those parallels and reach that conclusion.

Aqua dying soothed by a song by his favorite idol (Ruby/Sarina) doesn't really do it any favors either, because fact of the matter is that people who were never invested in the Aqua/Akane relationship will just assume Aqua never loved Akane back. They'll be more distracted by Kana's tropey, shallow shoujo romance, and this is something Aka allowed in his manga right up to the very end.

Aqua and Akane were the only relationship in the entire manga that got mutual, gradual, organic, continuous development. But this all came to a halt when they broke up, so at the end of the day, they're mostly left up to interpretation.

It's underwhelming.

Most of all, if you ask me, it was a terrible move, because Aqua and Akane could've been the heart of this manga. If their feelings had been properly explored after their break up, if Aqua had been allowed to think of Akane in his last moments, if all this blank-filling had been actual text, they'd have been a tragic love-story for the ages.

But Aka didn't want it to be the heart of the manga, because he had already decided from the beginning that role should go to Aqua and Ruby. Alas, he completely failed at developing that, too, because to the very end there's only Goro and Sarina. That is the entire basis of the Aqua/Ruby relationship and dynamic, and it gets one single chapter where it's explored beyond that, only to immediately focus back on Goro and Sarina as Aqua lies dying.

Goro couldn't save Sarina in his first life, so he wastes his second to do it. He jumped at the chance to free himself of the burden of that guilt without even bothering to think of how much his death would hurt the very person he wanted to protect.

Which takes me to...

The Ugly

Turns out Kana was pretty much just a mixture between Fujiwara and Maki, after all. Except that unlike Maki, she never grows (Aqua literally has to die for her to do so) and unlike Fujiwara, she's overused instead of underused.

Aqua and Kana are portrayed as shallow to the end, and I'd even go as far as saying that the narrative pokes fun at Kana for it. Even during the funeral, she puts on a hat that's reserved for family members and it literally falls off her head when Miyako slaps her lmao

Since this is a manga and not real life, the way Kana's outburst was handled in that chapter is likely meant to be contrasted with the way Akane's own grief was handled, because it pretty much embodies all the differences between both of their relationships with Aqua through the manga.

Kana is focused on herself and on her pain. She thinks Aqua was murdered, but she still irrationally blames him for it, too blinded by her own pain. Aqua was murdered, but not being able to confess to him properly is still at the top of her list of grievances. She is also shown overplaying that one conversation she had with Aqua about Aqua having a death-wish, as if Aqua somehow agreeing to not say that he wants to die was some vital promise that he broke.

Meanwhile, Akane focuses on Aqua. On what Aqua felt, on why he did what he did, and on what he would have wanted. Even her wish to be by Aqua's side is expressed through Akane saying that she'd have been willing to shoulder his burdens with him, no matter where that led them. It is also Akane's understanding of Aqua that helps her to find some solace and to overcome his death.

Kana always looked at Aqua from the outside-in, idealizing and romanticizing him, while Akane was Aqua's partner in every sense of the word. That's why Akane gets all the insightful narration about Aqua while Kana just gets to make a fool of herself at his funeral.

So to the very end, the dichotomy between "Ai" and "Koi" does perfectly illustrates the contrast between the two sides of the Aqua love triangle.

Kana was infatuated with the Aqua that she built up in her head, and focused on what she wanted Aqua to do for her (support her unconditionally), and what she wanted to be for him (his only idol), rather than on Aqua himself as a person.

As for Aqua, during his last moments, most Aqua can say about Kana is that it might be good to respond to her feelings. Might. He spends the entire story knowing Kana is at his beck and call, he even makes fun of her for it (you're so easy to manipulate, yadda yadda), yet when the opportunity to date her presents itself, most he can say is essentially "it could be cool I guess." He even pictures her pulling on his arm to get his attention, while with Akane, he pictures himself facing her and looking straight at her.

So to Aqua, Kana was at most a teenage crush. His feelings for her weren't deep or relevant enough to have any sort of impact on his character, while he outright called the year he spent dating Akane his happy days. An entire year that he spent without Kana even being in his life, mind you. Meanwhile Kana was out there living an entire shoujo where she's the heroine and Aqua is the male lead 😂

That said, I still think Aqua, who I'm sure must've broken a record at being bad at understanding his own feelings, was likely mistaking admiration for romantic attraction, and that he would've realized this pretty early into dating Kana.

The anime is even clearer about this because Aqua's reactions to Kana are paralleled to Akane's who is, quite literally, a fan of Kana.

But even if he wasn't, it doesn't really matter, because it's shown very clearly that Aqua deeply values being understood (to him, it feels like salvation) and that Kana doesn't really understand him. So had they dated, Aqua would've had fun at first, sure, but his emotional needs wouldn't have been met; instead his job would've been to meet Kana's. It just would've never worked in the long term.

Now that the dust has settled, I can say for certain that if Aqua had been allowed to have a happy ending, it'd have been with Akane.

So once more, this is all fine on paper. The problem is that Aka takes it too far. The whole Kana business takes too much panel time for no discernible reason other than to... bait readers? I've even seen some say that Aka intended to mock them.

But even if that were the case, considering that those same readers are likely going to walk out of the story thinking Aqua and Kana are a tragic ship that loved each other because of all the bait, who's really the butt of the joke? Them or Aka himself?

Conclusion

I've always been pretty clear about being an Akane fan first and foremost. Despite all my Aqua/Akane meta, I had no emotional investment in whether she ended up with Aqua or not, as long as she got a satisfying ending. That said, by principle, I most definitely didn't want Aqua to end up with Kana, because that'd be like rewarding Kana for all her crying and whining when she never even tried to understand who Aqua was as a person and I've already gone through that in Naruto, thank you very much.

So the two silver-linings about this ending are that Akane stayed amazing to the end, and that Kana didn't have Aqua handed to her on a silver platter. But considering just how much panel time Kana's meaningless crush takes up in the narrative and how side-lined Akane got after the break-up, it feels like a pyrrhic victory lol

Akane is still the best thing about the manga, and I'd say that she got by far the best ending of the bunch. I'm not sure if I'd call it satisfying, because Akane's one goal was always to save Aqua and she didn't get to accomplish that. But at the very least, she got a good ending, all things considered. She got to protect what Aqua entrusted to her, and she got to show just how emotionally strong she is.

As for Aqua and Akane, AquaKane could've been incredible if only Aka had done them justice, but he didn't. I joked before that the Aqua/Akane development was so good that it's like it wrote itself, and I actually think that's exactly what happened. Aka made things up as he went along, and he allowed Aqua and Akane to develop together in ways he didn't necessarily plan nor foresee. But as soon as he started heading towards the ending he envisioned, he dropped the ship, likely because he had already established everything that would be relevant about them by then, and then proceed to leave a lot of it to the discretion of the readers.

While I'm sure that'll be enough for some, I'm afraid it's not really enough for me. If you were to ask me if I'm satisfied with the way they were handled, my answer would be: not really, but it certainly could've been worse lol

In my opinion, they're the biggest wasted potential in the manga (which is saying something, because the entire manga is wasted potential), and their potential was wasted simply because they're the ones who could've actually led us to a happy ending.

Aka didn't want that ending, though. He cared for his vision more than about his characters, and his vision was literally just an ending where poor Ruby would be a star that shines brighter "the darkest things get". Nothing else mattered. LMAO. As if Ruby hadn't already gone through enough!

Oh well, at least we're finally free!

[iamthetruenhaz]

I'm not going to call myself a feminist man or anything like that. But I do try to stand up to other men in daily life when they say or do something sexist against women. I try to convince them that women are human beings like them with similar issues and struggles and not some insidious foreign species that is strong and weak at the same time that should be "returned" to their rightful place.

The problem? They don't respect me and thus won't listen to me. I mean, why would they listen to a man in his thirties who has last had a relationship years ago and it was his only one which didn't start until his late twenties, who has a low-paying job, can't afford to move out and in general has slim prospects to secure what those men respect the most - successful relationships with women? Like, I don't have the credentials that would make those men listen to me, and they'll point to my "feminist" beliefs and say that's the reason.

Men that aren't close to me who act like that? To them I'm just a "pedal" (read: fag) and they see me as some kind of traitor to men or a silly bleeding heart and they'd rather listen to a woman than to me. Or usually I don't engage with them at all unless I have to talk to them.

With friends, I do call them out, I say stuff like "bro that's a fucked up things to say", "don't generalize", we have discussions at length, but because of my shall we say limited experience with women, they dismiss me as naive and idealistic, at best. They know women better, they've had experience and that, you see, justifies them being sexist. I'll grow up, they almost say, I'll see.

The only people I "get to" give a piece of advice to and have spoken to are incels-to-be because I've been in their place and not turned out an incel (I spent most of my 20s without any female attention with all the feelings of rejection and frustration that entailed).

So yeah, I'm doing what I can. I know it's not enough. But I don't know what to do anymore that's not counterproductive.

Men need other men who have faced the same issues and made the right decisions and come out on top. As in, lead a life they're content with and are feeling confident regardless of, or maybe thanks to, "feminist" choices they've made, because to many men those choices seem mutually exclusive with "true" masculinity that will leave them feeling comfortable in their own skin.

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[dogtoling]

General life- and blog update , since I assume at least a few people might have been wondering where I've been and what i've been up to recently. I obviously haven't been posting or drawing much this year in general. This will probably be an important post if you care about stuff on this blog, and I already rambled on Sheezy, but that site isn't very populated yet and it's also very good at hiding journals so let's just ramble again...

The summary of this post if you hate reading: I'm heavily considering just stepping away from Splatoon. That decision obviously would affect this blog (mostly, my OCs, which is kinda most of the blog at this point). I don't think the blog itself will go anywhere, and I'll probably use it for something in the future... alternatively i'll cherry pick stuff from here into an archive for people who like the worldbuilding.

Longer post under cut:

So what have I been up to this year? The answer is quite simple: NOTHING. Like, actually absolutely nothing. Aside from Art Fight, this has probably been one of my worst art output years of all time, which is really frustrating. That's between my horrendous mental health and depression chasms this year and a complete lack of both focus and inspiration (which can also get chalked down to the depression to a degree, yeah). So the very real reason to why there hasn't been much activity on this blog this year is because I just haven't Done Anything in general.

Now because I know there will be a few people who think "that's fine! you shouldn't judge yourself based on productivity!" you're right! I also agree. However the issue for me specifically is that most (if not all) the time I spend NOT drawing or creating, I spend sitting around wishing I could start drawing or creating, because that is like the 1 thing that keeps me sane on this freaking earth. Unfortunately coming up with OC scenarios in my head doesn't really result in output I can feel fulfilled by in any form as much as I wish it did, lol.

Now; The Issue. It doesn't take a genius to see that if you spend 9 months trying to finish like a dozen OC pages that you COULD do in a week or 2 if you wanted to, then there's probably more than just the problem of executive dysfunction (even though that's at least 60% of it for sure). Obviously my other major problem is that I live by imaginary rules and structures that make sense, but aren't actually useful at ALL in reality and are more than a hindrance if anything (the mental to do-list in my head that says i can't do X until I've done Y doesn't do very much if task Y takes 10 months and I also don't want to do it, and it also has no structured ending).

How does this tie into stepping away from Splatoon, you may ask. Well, the issue is that I have foreseeably fallen out of love with the series. Which isn't exactly news lol. Currently, I'm not even sure i will get the next game, if and when the time comes. Yes, the loss of interest is also expected, given that Splatoon 3 has ended and every fandom has this kind of downtime and lukewarm in-between-titles period. But the truth is that modern Splatoon (almost 10 years old!!!!) is tangibly different from the way the series was back when I fell in love with it. That was Splatoon 1, and while the series has improved in a lot of aspects and is thriving, it's grown in a direction that I just don't really like. Splatoon 3 had the most freaking horrendous, immersion breaking story mode they could've done, then they followed it up with a DLC story that was pretty cool but also compounded a lot of my fears about the series' future and played into every single thing i do not want Splatoon stories to be - fully character focused, random fucking villain, mundane event that's unrealistically world-threatening just because a kids video game needs a scary climax even though it's immersion breaking AGAIN, the whole thing taking place in cyberspace and thus offering basically no worldbuilding even though there is SO MUCH WORLD. I COULD GO ON.

The gist of it is that nowadays, rather than playing Splatoon and being inspired and excited at what comes next, I mostly find myself dreading what dumbass plot they will do next to throw a wrench in the otherwise good stuff. And when that's like THE main approach I have to what's supposed to be my favorite series, it is HARROWING. I can't even really blame the game for this; the story is NOT its selling point, the developers probably do their best to get the bits to us that they really want to tell, and at the end of the day the game is unfortunately a product. Worldbuilding for Splatoon is fun to a point. It's less fun when in order to actually write or create something coherent, instead of filling in the blanks, the blanks are 90% of the freaking thing. At that point you're just better off making something of your own instead of being anchored onto an IP that gives more problems than answers and occasionally shoots you with like a machine gun. Working in the realm of Splatoon is frustrating because more often than not, the questions I have ARE NOT MINE TO ANSWER, and the likelihood that the specific-ass questions I need answers to will ever be actually addressed is really low.

Tying this back to my OCs. Obviously I love my OCs more than I love myself which admittedly isn't that high of a bar but you get the point. The problem is that I spend a lot of time mulling over worldbuilding that, again, frankly isn't mine to do. Because if I want it to be Splatoon, then it should be mostly accurate to how Splatoon is! But the problem with that is that there's really not THAT MUCH worldbuilding in the series that you can work with, and most of the core game mechanics are just abstract enough that it's actually horrendous to try and come up with workarounds and ways for things to make sense that don't require just constructing a full knockoff version mirror dimension of the game and saying fuck everything that's in place here because Inkopolis Plaza literally has no roads in or out of there and I have no fucking idea how that's allowed when your only option is to jump the fence (or, nowadays, take the train which also isnt connected to a street as far as I remember). Between the face value issue and the lack of REALLY IMPORTANT worldbuilding, like - I will always come back to this - THE INK TANK'S FUNCTION 10 YEARS DOWN THE LINE - there's a goddamn ocean of plot holes and things that end up being obstacles to creativity rather than inspiration. I feel like I'm pretty solidly at the point (and have been for a while) where hanging onto Splatoon is really only contributing to creativity block and frustration with lack of freedom and the ability to actually do things.

So I guess those are my reasonings that I've put together just sitting here for the time being. The TL;DR is that I wish I could just do stuff without Splatoon's canon getting in the way, which is a really stupid problem to have if you're making Splatoon OCs. I feel this frustration extremely strongly every time I have to work with actual bigger aspects of the world; we still don't have an Inkopolis map, we don't know what the world around Inkopolis looks like, we don't know what the wilderness is like aside from Just Normal Forest and Desert and very few snippets as to what modern wildlife MIGHT be, I still don't know how the fuck the Inklings teleport to the goddamn arctic ocean to play a turf war at Shipshape Cargo co. These are all actually really important things if you're trying to establish a setting in any kind of storytelling that's outside of immediate city bounds (and even there, you need to know the layout of the city and its important areas). Also a fucking mutant bear and a baby salmon and a squid not wearing suitable gear went to space and fought on a rocket in space. These are some things that would give me peace of mind to not have to deal with in my own writing, probably.

So where do we go from here? Unsure. I haven't really made a decision on this front yet, though right now I'm leaning more towards actually going ahead with trying to do my own thing. That will result in obvious design and setting changes for my OCs whenever I get around to it. This blog probably won't go anywhere (again, unless I impulse delete it during a mood swing like i've almost done on like three separate occasions this year), but it will probably get less use, and I will probably end up making a new blog to post about whatever I end up doing once I get to a point where it feels like it makes sense. There's a chance that I will delete this blog and put all the interesting stuff on an archive blog for the people who are here just for the worldbuilding. My actual true passion for a long time now hasn't even been Splatoon anymore, it's just been cephalopods. I'm kind of done having Splatoon get in the way of the cephalopods, as thankful as I am that it introduced me to them...

If you read this to the end heres a treat for you = 🍪

[moss-and-mirth]

Feral

I've heard the term "going feral" tossed around a lot to describe lee moods. You'll never catch me denying the accuracy. However, let me tell you a lil story about the hottest instances of feral that I, as a lee leaning switch, have been blessed to experience.

tw: for a little bit of CNC technically (cos this was NOT preplanned)

So I had a friend who was a Ler, and an incredibly mean Ler at that. One day, they decided they wanted to try switching. Just to see. They were actually nervous about it, but had been curious for years. Absolutely fine. Adorable even.

So I put them in the cuffs, and treated them like I would anyone who was just trying it for the first time. Went nice and slow, exploring, making them jump. giggle. blush. jump again. gasp. Figuring out pretty quickly what the worst spots are.

About 10 minutes of this sensual light tickling and they were bouncing between laughing and apologizing for everything they'd ever done to me. It was delightful teasing them, reminding them of all the really meeeaaan things they did to me over the years.

"Remember when you straddled me and tortured me non stop on my armpits til I cried? Wouldn't be just so fair to do that to you now?" then I climbed up top and just waited. The begging started.

And I just kept tickling slowly, softly, teasing. literally driving them mad with anticipation, thinking at any moment I was going to attack them. Barely touching them. It went on like this for so long. Til they were just a flushed, breathless giggling mess, begging me to stop fucking with them, promising me the world.

So I teased, and I teased, and I teased. I would linger in one spot and remind them of every way they tickled me there. Asked them how much mercy they showed me. Watched them get so visibly turned on until they were begging me for something completely different. I told them the same thing they would tell me.

"no."

The next thing you know, the cuffs snapped off the straps. Half a second to be flipped over onto the bed and pinned.

"Enough." First time I'd heard an actual human growl.

Suddenly the smut I read in books made a lot of sense.

Feral.

We actually fought a bit, but they were always able to over power me anyways, and the speed at which they got the cuffs on me and back into the straps could be studied by science.

That was the worst wrecking I ever got, and one of the best sessions I ever had.

[kaliforniahigh]

NSFW thots incoming

NNN but the boys said uno reverse and it's you that isn't allowed to O. Teasing, edging and lots of O denial.

Jolly is probably the sweetest about it and close to breaking, especially when you invite him to join you in a shower cause you just need to feel him close and on you in some way.

Matt would be the worst, making fun of you and being mean when you're practically rubbing against him like a cat in heat asking for something anything.

How each member + Matt would behave during No Nut November, but instead of them, it's you who can't cum. Smut below the cut.

Warning: orgasm denial, edging, mocking, spanking, fingering, thigh riding.... you get the gist, this is basically just filth. The boys are a menace in this.

Jolly was a weak resolve when it comes to you whining in that sweet voice of yours, eyes big and pleading. He starts to feel bad, so he does what he can to make you feel better. Warm showers where you can feel him pressed up against you is the closest he gets to satifying you without actually giving you an orgasm.

He runs his hands over your wet body while you rest your head on his shoulder. He can still feel your quick pulse from a few minutes ago, when you were in bed. He had put his hand under your panties, but his movements were so slow, you could feel youself just on the edge of the precipice, but unable to let yourself fall.

"Why don't you let me come? I've been so good", you'd whine against his chest.

"And it's because you've been so good that you won't come, right? That's the rule baby", he'd whisper in your ear and that would prompt tears to gather on your eyes.

Before he could feel too bad for you, though, he slips his hand out from between your legs, which prompts another whine to scape from your lips. He shushes you softly and takes you in his arms to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet, he adjusts the temperature just the way he knows you like.

Matt would be so degrading towards you. Sometimes he would even refuse to touch you, telling you that if you wanted to make yourself feel good, you could rub yourself on his thigh. It was a lesson on self-control, he told you. You could ride his leg all you wanted, but you couldn't make yourself cum.

As he watches you, face twisted in pleasure and agony at the same time, you'd tell him that you can't do it, that it's too much for you.

"If you knew you couldn't do it, then why did you agree, you stupid girl?", he'd respond in a tone that made you feel guilty, because you did agree, you brought this upon yourself.

Meanwhile, while you were rubbing yourself on his thigh, he'd take his dick out of his pants and start fisting himself with a thight grip.

The sight of you on top of him, knowing you weren't allowed to come, but he was, gave him a twisted type of pleasure, and after a few more strokes, he was cumming all over his stomach.

You had to phisically distance yourself from him, the sight too much for you, and you laid down on the bed, back turned to him.

"You're so mean, Matty"

He only laughed at your misery.

Noah would be the more agressive kind of mean, but he would give you such good aftercare.

He starts with you nice and slow. Bending you over his lap and running his hands over the supple flesh of your ass.

Instinctively, you lift your ass from his lap, trying to get some kind of pleasure. That's when he delivers the first hash smack. You weren't expecting it, so you let out a surprised yelp.

"I decide when I touch you, you understand that?", he grabs you hair and yanks your head back, you only nod in response, which doesn't please him at all, because he removes his hand from your ass to give you a slap across the cheek.

"Don't you know how to use your words?", he says through gritted teeth, mouth close to yours.

"I understand, Noah", you whimper in his mouth.

"There's the good girl I know", he said in a slightly softer tone this time.

He dropped your head back on the matress, and put his hand back on your ass. This time, he didn't waste much time, slipping your panties to the side and teasing your slit with the tip of his fingers.

If you ever misbehaved, he would deliver a quick slap to your pussy, making you jump on his lap at the feeling.

When you're a complete mess and your makeup is smudging the white conforter underneath you from the tears of frustration falling from your eyes, he'd take you in his arms, the slightest touch from him making you tremble.

"You did so well, you were so good. Just gotta wait 'till November is over ok?", he'd reassure you, eventually running his hands down your back in soft strokes, and soon enough, you were falling asleep in his arms from the exertion.

Folio would be the closest one to breaking in my opinion. He'd question many times if this No Nut November thing was even worth it. What kind of man was he, if he didn't make his girl come?

You'd be having sex, and you'd have to stop him, because you were about to cum and you could tell in his face that he was about to throw this whole out of the window just to feel your walls tighten around him.

You find out that this is worse for you. There is nothing more frustrating than feeling the first waves of your orgasm, just to have him pull out, and then everything goes away in the blink of an eye.

He starts enjoying it when you start begging. You even sprinkle a little bit of praise in there to try and sway his resolve. But he finds it more fun seeing you squirm for him. He's getting the hang of this thing.

One night, you're out at a restaurant when you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You're washing your hands when you hear the door open beside you. Thinking nothing of it, you dry your hands, but someone grabs you and pulls you into one of the stalls.

You're ready to scream when a hans covers your mouth, and your eyes finally make contact with Folio's.

"I'll need you to be quiet, baby", he says and makes a low "shush" sound. You nod and uncovers your mouth.

You can feel his hand travel down your stomach, making it's way under your dress. He hitches your leg over his hip and slips your panties to the side.

He doesn't start slow this time, since you both didn't have a lot of time on your hands. You gasp when you feel his fingers plunging inside of you, and he uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit.

You have half the mind to register the door to the bathroom once again and someoe getting in the stall beside you.

"Beg me", Folio says in your ear. You look at him with wide eyes. "Beg me and I'll let you cum right now".

The offer was irresistible. "Please, can I cum?", you whisper back to him.

"I can't hear you", he has a glint of mischief in his eyes. He's gonna make you beg out loud, when someone else is in the stall right beside you.

"Please", you try once again. The feeling of his fingers starting to become way too much for you, and you can feel yourself slipping into the abyss way too fast.

"You'll need to do better than that", he's looking right into your eyes, and before you can beg him once again, the feeling between your legs disappear, and this time, the whine that comes out of your lips os loud and very audible.

"Why did you do that?", you lean on him and he supports you by holding you by the hips.

"Girls who don't listen to instructions don't get to cum", he gives you a kiss on the forehead, his wicked way of mocking you, and then he makes his way out of the stall, leaving you behind.

Ruffilo makes the whole ordeal more artistic than it has to be. This man likes to sprinkle a little bit of art when you're fucking.

So, not only does he deny you of your orgasm, he needs to have you tied up to the bed. Hands and feet.

First, he starts with sensory stimulation. Maybe he grabs a rose on the way home, just to drag it along your chest, abdomen and thighs. Then, he moves on to little kisses all over your body. And he's slow with it too. He starts on your neck and descends to your collarbones, stoping to give attention to your perk nipples.

He continues with this until he's all the way down to your calf, and then he finally makes his way up again to where you need him the most.

He begins with the tip of his tongue, and you can barely feel it. The ropes tying you to the bed doesn't let you buck your hips, so all there's left to do is wait until he decides to give you what you want.

After a while, he's finally making you feel so good, you almost forget you're not allowed to cum. But he makes sure to remind you.

With one finger inside of you, he can feel that you're close. So he pulls his finger out and removes himself from the bed completely.

"What are you doing?", you teel him. You're breathless and a little irritation, a certain edge to your voice.

"I spoiled you too much", he shook his head at himself. "I think it's time we take a little break", he says, sitting on his computer chair. You're laying on the bed, completely stunned. Your body that felt on fire seconds before, now laid there void of any warmth, and you actually start shivering a little from the contrast.

"You can stay there and watch, baby", he gets comfortable on the chair, lifting his hips and sliding his shorts and boxers down, grabbing his length in his hand.

"It's my turn to feel good now".

[leo-artista]

There are some things I've been thinking about in regards to Stan and Ford and their relationship with guilt that I don't really know how to express so I'm just gonna ramble about it here bc I need to get this out of my head somehow

Okay, so, Stan's one defining trait is that he feels guilty All The Time about a lot of stuff, and it's kinda what motivates most of his actions. The whole reason he spent 30 years working on the portal is because he felt guilty about accidentaly shoving Ford into it, and you could even argue that it's what leads him to sacrifice himself in the finale (which is actually very depressing if you think about it for too long)

Meanwhile Ford is... a bit more complicated. He does feel guilty, especially about being the reason the portal was made. But I think he also tries to shove guilt and other feelings aside in pursuit of what he thinks is more important- achieving his goals, studying anomalies, stopping Bill, etc, and therefore he doesn't really leave a lot of space to actually feel or process it, and I think it's the reason he can come across as egotistical and uncaring a lot of times

So because of this, I like to think that after weirdmageddon happens and they reconcile, there's a bit of a role reversal between them- Stanley's more at peace with his mistakes now that he's been forgiven, and he's not feeling as much self-guilt as he did before (although it still hasn't gone away completely), but now the one who's forced to come to terms with his guilt for his actions that directly or indirectly hurt other people is Ford since he didn't do that before, because he was more focused on other things and wasn't very self aware. And maybe he struggles with it, trying to make up for not being the best brother/friend he could have been to the people he cares about, thinking of how many chances he had to change and be better but chose not to because he was too self centered- and I think if it came to that, it would be Stanley who would help keep him grounded and prevent his self-blaming from spiraling out of control, because he knows better than anyone the kind of road that line of thinking leads to

Idk man I just like imagining how they would cope with shit like that- Ford making an effort to be more sensible and empathetic to other people's feelings and trying harder to show how much he cares, Stanley learning to not beat himself for his own mistakes after seeing his brother do the same thing and helping Ford understand that not everything was his fault and that circumstances also played a part in how everything turned out- idk I just feel like it would be something interesting to explore