#which probably says something about me but whatever

[siriuslylantsov]

afterglow

pairing: joel miller x reader

description: in which, you spend an evening with joel on valentines day.

tags: MDNI! smut and fluff, established relationship, jackson!joel, fem!reader, sickeningly cute, so so much kissing, soft!joel (but hes also kinda dirty, i can't help myself), age gap (it was thought about when writing but it's not explicitly stated so imagine whatever), oral (f receiving, munch joel!! everyone cheered), fingering, unprotected piv (he pulls out), soft!dom joel kinda, aftercare, r and j's relationship is new but its implied that she already has a close relationship with ellie.

a/n: happy valentines day cuties!!! my gift to you. this started off super cute and soft and then two thirds of it became smut, idk where that came from. anywho, happy reading!!

wc: 3k

“hi darlin’,” joel says as you open the door. 

the early evening sun casts a soft orange glow over the side of face, complementing his complexion perfectly. a shy, crooked smile tugs at his lips, the dimple on his right cheek deepening. one arm is folded behind him, holding something from your view and the other is planted against the frame of your door.

“hi baby,” you reply, giggling as you step forward to kiss him.

he accepts your lips eagerly, using the hidden arm to curl around your waist. you hear the faint crinkle of paper against your back. you hum sweetly into the kiss, pulling away to see what he’s got for you. a small bouquet appears between your bodies–a humble bunch of white and purple flowers that could handle growing in the cold weather, along with some that you suspect the gardeners had a role in providing. 

“maria went on patrol with me today and helped me pick some o’ these out,” he explains, watching you toy with a lilac petal of a flower he can't be damned to remember the name of. “d’ya like em?”

your fingers rake softly through his beard, coaxing his gaze upward until his eyes meet yours. tears gather at your waterline, and joel should probably be alarmed—but he’s grown used to it, having been there for so many of your firsts. apparently, getting flowers was one of them too.

“i’ve never got flowers before,” you admit in a hushed whisper, sickening adoration pooling into your body, making you feel warm all over despite the cold air that sneaks its way into your house.

joel takes note of the wind picking up and guides you inside, a solid hand at the small of your back. he takes your dazed figure all the way to the kitchen, grinning amusedly at how you continue to admire the bouquet. he looks through your cabinets for something tall enough, settling when he finds a mason jar that would be perfect. 

“i really like these, joel.” you smile up at him when he's in front of you again. he's holding his hand out expectantly and the jar filled with water in the opposite one. you give him the flowers with a reluctant pout, following him to the counter where he begins to set them up.

“‘m glad,” he expresses warmly, untying the ribbon that held the stems together. “damn shame i couldn't get you roses, the garden ran out pretty quick.”

you can’t help the fond smile that spreads across your face as you watch him try to organise the flowers nicely, carefully moving them around so he doesn't accidentally pull off a petal. when he's happy with his arrangement he turns back to you, neatly folding up the brown paper that wrapped the bouquet and placing it in your palm. “ellie made me promise to tell you that she helped with that so keep it in mind, i guess,” he says, nodding to the doodles of leaves that were peppered along the edges.

“noted,” you laugh, picturing her fiery, insisting nature with ease. you gotta fuckin’, i don’t know, make it pretty for her, joel. just ugh- give it to me. 

suddenly, you remember the muffins that were kept warm in the oven. you scurry over there wordlessly, causing joel to twitch confusedly. you take the tray out with quick fingers, holding a muffin out for joel. 

“it's a new recipe, cinnamon and pear,” you explain excitedly as he walks over to you. when he looks down at it, he sees you’ve managed to orchestrate two small slices of fruit to sit in a heart shape and it's awfully cute.

your eyes are trained intently on him as he takes a bite. it's instantly the best thing he's ever tasted but he chews thoughtfully for a few more seconds so it doesn't look like he's making his mind up on a whim. admittedly, he is but it's also just that good. the texture of the warm cooked pear complimenting the firm but soft spiced crumb of the muffin. he hums in approval when he swallows, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“sweetheart, this is really fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, his voice rough in appreciation as he dusts off muffin remnants that have stuck to his bottom lip. 

you beam, extremely pleased. you wait as he finishes eating. not that long, apparently, as two big bites later, it’s gone. he reaches up with his free hand and tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, twirling it before letting it fall.

“so about today,” he starts and you hum attentively. “thought we’d take a walk around that part of town that you like and then go feed the horses. maybe go back to mine if there's time.”

-

the walk is perfect. you swing your joined hands between your bodies, smiling to yourself while joel complains about his brother. the air is solemn, the overwhelming scent and sound of love seeping out of every house you walk by. you never thought life could be this good again or that you’d feel this good again. you owe it all to the mumblin’ grumblin’ man beside you, the one softly caressing your thumb with his own, bringing it up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of your hand. 

when you reach the stables, joel pulls out the carrots he had tucked away in his large jacket pocket. (you’d made a detour at the greenhouse before coming here.) you divide the carrots into equal pieces for the animals, setting aside an extra chunk for a horse you remember ellie being particularly fond of–shimmer, if you recall correctly. 

joel takes in the sight, endearing eyes unable to part from you. your hand reaching out calmly, vegetable centred in your palm, you bring it to the horse's mouths, giggling when their tongues peek out and tickle you. he crowds in behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. you squirm a little when he tilts to press a kiss to your neck, claiming his lips are cold. 

“well, let me warm ‘em up, sweetheart.”

-

you make it to joel's front door well after sundown, stars shining like diamonds spilled across the night sky. you make a mental note to go stargazing with him and ellie, if she wants, when the weather gets warmer. for now, you just want to be inside. 

“she’s with her friend dina tonight,” joel answers your unasked, looming question. you bite back the smile that the words ‘friend’ and ‘dina’ prompt, knowing a lot more than joel about his kids’ relationship status. she's just waiting for the right time.

you turn around to him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “so what you’re saying,” you muse lightly. “is that we have the place to ourselves.”

“mhm,” he smirks.

you twist the door open, often left unlocked, and let yourself through. “well then. come on in, mr. miller.”

he trails behind you up the steps, fingers lacing with yours. you walk into his room with a quiet sigh, taking off your shoes and watching as he follows suit. you love his room, a cultivation of who he is within four walls. you switch on the lamp on his bedside table, refraining from turning the main light so a faint glow encompasses the room, just enough to see the softness in his beautiful brown eyes.

“kiss me?”

he clicks his teeth before lowering his lips to yours, “don’t have to ask.”

his moustache tickles your upper lip and the coarse hair of his beard grazes your chin lightly, but it's not irritating. you welcome the sensation, it being a feature of his that you adore so dearly. proving this, your nails scratch the patch of grey at his jaw. 

his tongue slips out, tracing the seam of your lips. a low sound escapes you when you grant him entrance, licking into your mouth languidly. there's no rush, there never is. it's a luxury that three months ago you would’ve laughed at, disbelief evident.

his hands find your waist, pulling your hips flush together. he slips off your jacket and greedily tugs at the hem of your shirt. you appease by lifting your arms. he reaches behind you when he gets your shirt off, deftly unclasping your bra. he does this all while kissing you, but when he finally gets your top half bare, he pulls away. to look.

“beautiful,” he exhales a quick, amazed breath that whooshes past his lips. he admires you unabashedly, trailing his hands up your sides and down your front. he nudges you gently, guiding you onto the bed, his frame looming over yours as you sit down. 

you look up at him with dopey, half-lidded eyes, sneaking eager hands under his flannel and undershirt. your fingers trace over his skin, pressing into the soft warmth of his stomach, his body heat sinking into your palms. “back at ya, cowboy."

he takes this as a sign to peel off his layers, pulling them off with ease and adding them to the pile of discarded clothes. you spend a moment gaping at his torso before he lowers himself on top of you, dragging his lips up your neck as he does so. you whine when he begins sucking at your pulse point, teeth scraping your skin every so often. his kisses go lower and lower as he toys with the button of your jeans. 

he kisses at your belly, lips catching on the exposed skin of your hips, then upper thighs as he slowly pulls your jeans and underwear down, purposefully avoiding where you need him most. he strips off his pants and boxers and nudges for you to scoot up the bed. you sink into the pile of pillows, joel not far behind as he sits bracketed by your thighs. he runs his hands up and down them, calloused fingertips caressing your skin, squeezing in intervals and leaning down to kiss them, kiss your knees and your calves.

“joel, please,” you whisper, growing a little antsy, his hands all over your body aren't helping. 

“impatient,” he tuts, but there's no real reprimand in his voice. “jus’ let me take my time with you.”

“will you at least come up here and kiss me while you're at it?” 

he smiles, “what’d i tell ya?”

“don't have to-” your poor impression of his southern drawl gets cut off by his lips on yours. you sigh dreamily into the kiss; you'll never get used to that feeling. his hand cradles your jaw, tilting it to deepen this kiss. you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking it into your mouth. 

a needy sound rumbles in the back of his throat, and with a reluctant pull, he breaks away, shifting back to the space between your legs. he's lying on his stomach, cheek pressed against your inner thigh as he waits for your approval. when you nod, he dives in, no time to waste.

he licks a fat stripe between your folds, causing you to cry out. he hooks an arm over your hips to cease your writhing. you could say joel miller eats you out like a man starved, but right now, it's more like a savoured meal, slow and leisurely in its pace. he takes his time, measured strokes of tongue that are assuredly making you feel all the right kinds of ways. you thread your fingers through his hair, so soft, tugging lightly and he hums. 

you dare to spare a glance down. it's deadly–him with his mouth attached to you like a vice and eyes staring up at you, decidedly looking like he belongs there. you want to look away but the sight is so enticing. 

“baby, more,” you ask breathlessly. “please.”

“yeah?” he sounds equally out of breath, tracing a middle and ring finger around your entrance. “this what you want?”

you nod pathetically with a meek “yes.”

he pushes in slowly, met with no resistance. he finds that spot fast, pressing his curled fingers up. his fingers are longer and thicker than yours, reaching places you’d never been able to. he persistently rubs up, pulling out a little only to go back fast, just the way you like. all the while, he does this thing with his tongue–god, that tongue–where he flicks it from side to side over your clit, flattening it when needed, and it is earth-shattering. 

that well-known feeling starts to build and you repeatedly tug at joel's hair, mewling softly, trying to signal him. he’d already figured you were close, but still, he nods. he lifts his head to see you, his thumb replacing his tongue. 

“c’mon, sweetheart. give it to me,” he urges you on, kissing your hip bone with slick wet lips and his fingers working fervently like it's the most important thing in the world. joel would argue that right now, it is. “know you want to.”

“joel, yes, oh fuck-” you keen, shuddering violently as you finish. he keeps going, working you through it, lapping up the mess when his fingers slip out. he can't get enough of you. you weakly push at his head, “baby, enough. s’too much.”

suddenly, he's on top of you again, rubbing a clean hand over your hair. “okay, okay,” he coos, his voice low and lulling. he presses gentle pecks to your neck, making his way back up to your lips. you kiss him again, more sluggish than previously, whimpering when you taste yourself on him. fuck, you need him. 

you carefully drift a hand between your bodies, curling your fingers around his length. he hisses, inhaling a sharp breath. “shit, are you sure-”

you press him against you, guiding his tip to your slit. “fuck me, joel,” you whisper, using your other hand to hold his face.

that's all he needs to hear before he starts sinking into you, simultaneously groaning as he does. he curses low, though it sounds and looks more like a whine when you see the way his face has twisted up in pleasure when his hips are flush with yours. you feel addictively full, so you hug your arms around his shoulders to prolong the moment. he buries his head in your neck, breathing shallowly as you flutter around him.

“gotta move angel, i gotta-” he gets cut off when you squeeze, nodding against his shoulder. 

he thrusts greedily, pulling out almost fully until he somehow goes in deeper. it’s not fast but it’s not slow either, just enough that it leaves you reeling when he draws his hips back. the stretch of him is something you feel you won't get used to, it only just borders on pain that makes it feel deliriously good. all you can offer him are broken gasps as you find purchase on his back with your nails, digging into the flesh. 

“fuck you feel good, so so good,” he croons, his voice is soft, breathy, as he presses a lingering kiss to your neck, the words barely a whisper between your bodies. “can't believe you’re mine, this perfect fuckin’ body, perfect fuckin' girl.”

maybe it's the wrecked rasp to his voice or the way the base of his dick rubs against you just right but the high builds fast, record time even. you squeeze around him frantically, mouthing sloppily at his shoulder. 

“yeah?” he pants, lifting his head so he can look at you again, you’ve got the sense that he likes to watch. you like him watching you. “gonna give me another one? gonna cum for me?”

“mhm,” you hum, teetering on a sob as he starts fucking you harder, a determined look in his eyes. your face falls sideways into the arm that joel had pressed beside your head “oh god, ohgod-”

“there you go. good girl,” he gushes warmly as you finish. he speeds up urgently, letting your climax be the catalyst of his own, chasing something just out of reach. you pull his face to yours with desperate hands, clinging to him, needing to kiss him. his lips brush over yours messily, not quite kissing you and it drives you crazy. he cums with one more strong thrust, groaning loudly into your open mouth as he pulls out and spills over your stomach.

he slumps on you, heavy, as he comes to, smearing stickiness all over but you find that you don’t care much. you cradle the back of his head with gentle hands, murmuring sweet things. you can feel his soft exhales on your collarbone, sighing as you weave your fingers between his strands. his heart races against your own, almost in sync. 

the two of you stay like that for a moment longer as everything slows down. nothing else matters apart from the silvery glow of moonlight filtering through his sheer curtains, spilling in revered ribbons across the floor, or the soft, grounding weight of his body on top of yours. his fingers trace the skin within reach, absentminded circles over your hip bones, lines beneath the curve of your breast. 

eventually, he rolls off you, getting the sense that some of your limbs might be going numb. in the midst of your post-orgasmic haze, you don’t realise that he leaves, returning with a damp towel to clean you up. he wipes you up swiftly, murmuring a hushed sorry when you squirm away and joins you under the covers.

he pulls you into his side, letting you tuck yourself under his arm. he presses a kiss to your temple. everything is so serene you want to cry. your body has other plans for you when the dregs of sleep start to claw at your worn-down edges. joel feels the slow flutter of your eyelashes on his chest and he begins to rub a gentle hand over your back, attempting to coax you further. sleep offers its solace, and joel’s steady presence pulls you under, silently promising to keep you warm. 

before you drift off though, you hear him–unbearably soft, whispering against your forehead.

“happy valentine's day, angel girl.”

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

[cryptidwithaninternetconnection]

Victor trudged into the generic corner store, the flickering lights making him flinch lightly, with nobody at the counter. Shrugging, he goes to the chip section of the dark store to find what he wanted: chips, and a cheap energy drink, but given that nobody is here, Victor will probably just steal the things he wants, fuck big corporations and all that.

As Victor walks, he can’t help but feel watched.. Victor draws his shoulders together in his acid washed green hoodie, and he ignores the feeling, too tired to deal with whatever is making the good ol anxiety act up.

“aha” Victor mutters to himself, finding the chips in a particularly humid and dark area, and while yes Victor doesn’t like how this place feels, a guy needs some fuel for late nights, and it’s finals season. Carrying on, Victor looks at the moderate sized chip isle and looks at his options, all of them being generic brands clearly riffing on more known brands.

Click clack

“whuh-“ Victor blurts, whirling at the sound of something clicking on the floor, when he sees it.

Two red glowing bug-like eyes, staring right at Victor.

“uhm.. hey, just passing through, don’t mind me” Victor says to what he’s assuming is some kind of cryptid, maybe Mothman if the rumors are true and this dingy part of town is haunted by a weird moth-guy-thing. Victor keeps an eye on the eyes and carries on, picking out a barbecue chip bag, casting one glance at the eyes, and leaving the isle

Click clack

Oh it’s following him, great, perfect even, just what Victor needs at 3am. He quickly finds the soda isle, which is more bright due to the fridges having functioning lighting. Casting a wary glance at the thing, which is still shrouded in darkness, before getting closer to the light, and the energy drinks, with little clicking footsteps right behind him.

It’s almost surreal, the hum of the fridge, the static of a broken radio, the flickering lights, all combining with the knowledge that something inhuman is tagging along his snack run creates a perfect experience that Victor will probably chalk up to a dream once finals are done.

Victor spots exactly what he’s looking for- a monster energy, the first actual name brand he’s seen since coming here.

“Siiiick, that’s the stuff” he mutters, grabbing one from the fridge, hesitating, then grabbing another, and turning around.

Mothman is looming in front of the exit out of the isle, looking right at Victor. The cryptid staring him down is massive, its presence almost suffocating with how much power it radiates. With two massive wings like shards of void spread out behind it, two massively oversized red eyes (which Victor realizes are actually just bug eyes, not human ones) perched on a moth-like head and body, with disturbingly human legs and arms, which are muscly and clash against the almost plushie-like body it possesses.

Now how does Victor go about this? He can’t really.. go around mothman, does… does it accept bribes?

Victor tentatively inches forward, offering one of his monsters to the beast, and for a long, excruciating moment, it feels like Victor is going to suffocate from the pressure building in the store.

But finally, Mothman inches foreword, and grabs the energy drink, Victor doesn’t see its mouth, but he somehow knows Mothman will get some use out of it. Speaking of which, Mothman has since turned around, and trudged away, leaving Victor to breath out a sigh of relief, blink back tears of terror, and make his way out of the store, not stoping to pay, because nobody is at the counter.

And Victor can see why

Lookin for a midnight treat

[luvst4rc0r3]

Loser!Jinx x Reader Headcanons

Jinx wasn’t just a loser—she was the loser. The kind who sat in the back of the class doodling in her notebook instead of taking notes, who always had a random bruise from doing something stupid, and who somehow had a negative GPA but could explain the entire plot of an obscure 90s anime no one had ever heard of.

She wasn’t exactly hated at school, but she was weird, loud, and unpredictable, which made people avoid her. Except for Vi, who was always yelling at her to “Get your shit together, Powder,” and Sevika, who only tolerated her because Vi forced her to.

Then there was you.

The first time Jinx saw you, she short-circuited. She was just trying to make it through another miserable day of Algebra when you walked into the classroom, and suddenly, math didn’t exist anymore. All she could think was:

“Oh no.”

You were effortlessly cool—new to school, good at everything Jinx wasn’t, and way out of her league. But you were nice. Too nice. The kind of nice that made Jinx go home and kick her feet while screaming into her pillow because why would you ever talk to her unless you were planning to ruin her life?

- The first time you talk to her, it’s because you sit next to her in Algebra.

You: “Hey, do you have a pencil?”

Jinx, panicking: “Wh—uh—I—yeah—no—I mean—” (frantically digs through her backpack, pulls out a crayon).

You: “…Thanks?”

Jinx: “Yeah! Totally! I only use crayons, actually. Pencils are a government conspiracy.”

You: “Oh? Tell me more.”

She thinks you’re messing with her. But you don’t laugh. You actually listen. And when she rants about whatever nonsense is currently living rent-free in her head, you just nod along like she’s making sense.

She falls in love immediately.

- Jinx is the type of loser who spends all her time online, plays obscure indie games, and has a concerning amount of conspiracy theories about random things (like why the school vending machine is always out of strawberry soda).

- She is hopelessly, painfully, pathetically in love with you. Like, full-blown kicking her feet and giggling into her pillow kind of crush. She doesn’t even try to be normal about it.

- If you so much as glance in her direction, her brain short-circuits. Immediate blue screen of death. Malfunctioning Jinx noises.

- She swears she’s being subtle, but the entire school knows she’s down horrendously bad for you. Like, it’s embarrassing. Vi has tried to stage an intervention. Sevika has bet money on how long it’ll take before she faints in front of you.

- If you actually talk to her? Oh, she’s done for. Stammering, tripping over her words, probably dropping whatever she’s holding. You could ask her the simplest question, and she’d be like:

You: “Hey, do you have a pencil?”

Jinx, sweating bullets: “Uh—uh—uh—uh—I—pen—yes—no—I mean—I do? Maybe? What’s a pencil?”

- She definitely stalks your social media. She has your entire posting schedule memorized, knows all your interests, and tries to bring them up in conversation to impress you—but it just makes her sound insane.

Jinx: “Soooo… I heard you like frogs.”

You: “What?”

Jinx: “Uh. Frogs. Y’know. Ribbit.”

- If you compliment her, even as a joke, she will take it to her grave. Like, you could say, “Hey, cool jacket,” and she’ll wear that same jacket every day for a month straight.

- One time you called her cute. She has not recovered.

- She tries to act cool around you, but she’s the type of loser who fumbles everything. Drops her phone. Walks into doors. Trips over air. It’s a miracle she hasn’t spontaneously combusted yet.

- If you so much as smile at her, she’s writing about it in her diary like it’s the most life-changing event to ever happen.

“FEBRUARY 8TH, 2025. 3:47 PM. Y/N SMILED AT ME. I CAN DIE HAPPY NOW.”

or

“February 8th, 2025. 3:47 PM. Y/N TOUCHED MY ARM. I CAN NEVER WASH IT AGAIN.”

- Jinx, in her head, planning out all the ways she could confess to you: Writing you a love letter? Making a mixtape? A grand, romantic gesture?

- Jinx, in reality: “I like your face.”

- If you start liking her back? Oh, she’s doomed. Malfunctioning. Exploding. Game over.

People still don’t understand how you two work, but at this point, it doesn’t even matter. You and Jinx are in your own little world, and honestly? It’s kind of perfect.

- You keep hanging out with her. At first, just in class, but then at lunch, after school, texting late at night. She stops feeling like a loser when she’s with you. She starts hoping.

- The first time you realize you like her back, it’s because of something dumb.

You’re at lunch, sitting with her, Vi, and Sevika. Jinx, being a disaster, spills her drink all over herself. Instead of being embarrassed, she just goes, “Guess I’m drinking it the hard way.”

And something about the way she owns her weirdness makes your heart do a stupid little flip.

- The first time you flirt with her, she malfunctions.

- The first time she realizes you like her back, it breaks her brain.

It happens after school. You’re both walking home together when you grab her hand, lacing your fingers through hers like it’s nothing.

She nearly trips over her own feet. You just laugh and squeeze her hand tighter.

Oh no, she thinks. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

She’s never going to recover from this.

(She doesn’t want to.)

Random Cute Couple Things:

- Jinx is the kind of girlfriend who will 100% steal your clothes.

Not just hoodies—everything. She once showed up wearing your jacket, your socks, and your backpack, and when you pointed it out, she just went, “Yeah, and?”

The worst part? She looks stupidly cute in your clothes, so you can’t even be mad.

(You started “accidentally” leaving extra hoodies at her place just so she’d always have one of yours to wear.)

- She gets insanely clingy when she’s sleepy.

Jinx isn’t really a cuddler during the day—she’s always bouncing off the walls, getting into trouble, dragging you into her weird ideas. But the second she gets tired?

Good luck getting up.

She’ll wrap herself around you like a human koala, mumbling something about how “you’re warm and smell good” and refusing to let go.

(You’ve accepted your fate. You live here now.)

- She makes the dumbest bets just to get kisses.

• “Bet you can’t solve this riddle. If you lose, I get a kiss.

• “If I make this paper ball into the trash can, you have to kiss me.”

• “Okay, rock-paper-scissors, best out of three—winner gets a kiss.”

You caught on pretty quickly and just started kissing her before she could suggest a bet. It completely breaks her brain every time.

(She still tries, though.)

- She doodles all over your stuff.

If you lend Jinx a pen, it’s over—your notebooks, your arms, even your homework will be covered in little scribbles.

Sometimes they’re just random sketches. Other times, you’ll find little hearts with your name inside them.

(She denies drawing them. But the blush on her face says otherwise.)

- She absolutely loves when you play with her hair.

She pretends she doesn’t care at first—shrugs it off, acts like it’s whatever. But the second you start running your fingers through her hair, she literally melts.

(If you braid it, she’ll leave it in all day, even if it looks ridiculous.)

- She’s always touching you.

• Holding your hand? Obviously.

• Leaning against you when you’re sitting together? Yup.

• Linking pinkies just because she can? Of course.

It’s like she needs to be physically connected to you at all times.

(If you ever pull away too soon, she’ll dramatically gasp and go, “What, you don’t love me anymore?!”)

- She makes up the dumbest excuses just to hang out with you.

“Babe, I need your help with something.”

“What is it?”

“I dunno, I just wanted to see you.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

I love Jinx

I want sleep

[alphajocklover]

So I’m at my best friend’s house and something weird happened. He just told me how much he knew I love muscular guys with strong facial hair and said he had a really early birthday gift. He took a selfie then took a picture of me and now, I feel all weird and foggy in my head. I think I can see his big fat…dick through his briefs. I rubbed my face and, do I have mutton chops growing in? I just, please help me I’m not sure what’s going on, I don’t think I like it

First off, I’d like to wish you a happy early birthday! Turning 22 isn’t the most exciting thing ever, certainly not as fun as turning 21, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it! And before you correct me and say that it's not your actual birthday yet, or that’s you’re not turning 22, let me just say this: give it a moment.

You feel that tingling across your body? The strange sensation that’s like a sunburn that somehow underneath got underneath your skin, or static electricity dancing across your muscles. That’s the app your friend downloaded doing its job. I’ve talked before about InstaJock, the app that turns people who use it into a jock, and how there seem to be people making knockoffs of it as well, but as the app has grown in popularity, some of the knockoffs have gained traction too. I’d even venture to call a few of them legitimate competitors. Most have done so by finding a gimmick and carving themselves out a place in the digital tf world. Fratbook, for example, is an app that works a lot like this InstaJock, except every more of a frat boy lean. SnapBack does internet fuckboys, Redsky does conservative men, etcetera. There are even some more far out ones, like Polygraph, which is kind of like Twitter (or X or whatever) except everything you post becomes true. But I’m getting way off track, we should get back to you.

I can’t be entirely sure what app your friend used on you, but I doubt the specifics matter anymore. By this point the burning in your muscles and the itch of hair growing across your face and body is unbearable, but it doesn’t remotely compare to the dull warmth that's spread through your head. You said that you didn’t think you liked the change at first, but right now it’s hard to think at all, especially with your friend's fat dick swinging in your face. You weren’t sure when he took out his cock, or when you got on your knees, but as the heat in your muscles calmed to a dull throb, and your new thick black hair has settled across your body, you find yourself just going with the flow. Why wouldn’t you bro? Everything just feels so fucking good!

Now I have good news, better news, and even better news! The good news is that whatever your friend has done is probably temporary. It was a gift after all, and he also transformed himself, so you’re probably both going to just enjoy being hairy hunks for a while. The better news is that you probably have a boyfriend now, if that's what you want. Your friend probably knew you would hook up, and this might have been your way of seeing if you’re also into him, while living out his fantasy. The better news is that, if you want, it doesn’t have to be temporary. Once you’ve turned back to normal, and you and your ‘best friend’ have had a little talk, reach out. If you guys want to spend more time in your dumb, beefy, hair forms, I might be able to help. ---------- Hey guys! So, I know most people skip over the little out of character updates I sometimes put at the bottom of my stories, but I'm hoping you guys take a second to look at this one because I have a bit of an announcement. I realized yesterday that on February 17th, in just five days, this blog will be a year old! I know I'm only just getting back into doing this, but I'm so proud that I've actually stuck with this for a full year! So I want to celebrate! So, I'm going to be temporarily reopening my ask for...

An Alphaversary QNA!

What makes this QNA special is that you won't just be asking me questions. You can ask a question to me, my character, or any of the characters I've written about in any of my stories! The answers will probably be shorter than my usual work, but will give you guys the chance to ask about anything thats confused you, dig deeper into the world building, or even check up on a character or concept that you're curious about. This will go until February 24th, the day I posted my first original story! Don't be afraid to ask away! Thanks for coming on this journey with me you guys! I can't wait for another badass year!

[thegloomybat]

heyyy do u have any tips on learning how to make urself hate food? I’m good at restricting I can manage hunger it’s more like mental hunger yk and idk how to get rid of it bc once cravings hit im a goner 😭

love loveee ur blog btw 🫶🏻

Hii!! Omg this is also something i’m trying to figure out i need to learn to hate certain foods so bad i feel you😭sometimes i think about when someone said something like “don’t eat that if you wouldn’t eat it in front of people” and that sorta goes into “what you eat in private is what you wear in public” thought process. Personally i fold so fast when it comes to chocolate, so i start to imagine myself being huge with chocolate smudged all over my mouth and face and looking gross so i’m like this is how they probably see me nvm😭like to look at yourself from a third perspective i guess??? I’ve seen people say that like, as much as it’ll suck but to overeat it so you feel repulsed by it after, that’s worked with me with SO many/ most food items, but for some reason not with chocolate💔but it does work tho, someone also said to look up how it’s made and a lot of the times it can be really gross. Or i’ll just personify whatever the food it is and pretend we’re complete enemies, like i have scenerios in my head so that i’m like nah F you and that it’s battling against me or it’s evil😭 i think being visual about it helps. i wanna try making affirmations to hate food because affs really work, i wanna try to tell myself everyday how disgusting something is and that it’ll only make me fat, ugly, gross, and how it’s not worth it and especially train myself to truly believe i don’t want it so i’ll lyk how that goes, i’m not the biggest meanspo fan but those inspo quotes lowkey help a lot if yk which ones i’m talking about, like the ones i wrote above or like those motivational lists on why it’ll be good to be thin or to put the food down, but yeah! i wish i had a better response i’m not sure if this is helpful but i wish you the best🫶also thank you!!!

[spacelazarwolf]

i 1000% agree that the level of sheer cruelty from hamas irt the hostages has been really just beyond horrifying.

and at the same time i feel like just saying “they’re evil, they’re not human” sidesteps a more disturbing reality, which is that these people genuinely think what they’re doing is right and justified because they are not living in reality, many of them are deep in extremist religious delusion. they think that their violence and cruelty toward jews is not only justified but holy, and i think that’s more disturbing than just saying they’re evil. it’s also, at least to me, incredibly sad.

i’m going to be discussing (in as little detail as possible) a clip i saw from some 10/7 footage under the cut.

there’s a clip i saw that part of me wishes i hadn’t seen, but at the same time i feel like it really opened my eyes to the fact that a lot of these hamas soldiers that are perpetuating these extreme acts of violence are, like i said before, just not living in reality. a large number of hamas soldiers are recruited from generational refugee camps, which at this point are mostly permanent settlements, in countries that refuse to give them citizenship. corruption and propaganda is rampant in these camps, and often times the conditions are dismal, so these kids being recruited are already extremely vulnerable. they have been fed a horrifically antisemitic narrative about jews their entire lives, been desensitized to extreme gore and violence, they are constantly being riled up and told that it’s honorable to die for your people and that it’s holy to commit acts of violence if it means hurting jews.

the clip was of a young man with a garden tool doing something very violent to a corpse (i think it was a corpse, i hope to god it was a corpse and not a living human being), and the entire time he was chanting ‘allahu akhbar.’ i had expected him to sound angry and full of hate, but the only way i can describe his voice is deranged. he was just gone. it almost reminds me of when hardcore evangelical christians will randomly speak in tongues or idk have some sort of episode in the middle of church. it’s this religious delusion where the person is just not fully aware of what’s going on and just surrender to whatever higher power they think is speaking to them in that moment. and that was what was most disturbing about that video. it was a holy moment for him. and for that kind of horrific act of violence to be a holy moment for someone, that person is probably just not living in reality.

and i think that’s why when i hear people describe hamas as evil and inhuman, i don’t really agree. because i think separating these kinds of unthinkable acts of cruelty and violence from being human makes it more difficult to see how this cruelty and violence became normalized and how we stop it in the future.

it’s 3am so idk if i’m making sense but yeah.

The evilness and pure disgusting lack of any sense of humanity of Hamas does not surprise me anymore, but it does feel like a gut punch.

Imagine being so divorced from any sense of human emotion and morality that you murder an 80 year old grandpa, then kidnap his corpse, and don’t disclose he is dead until over a year later so that his loved ones are in perpetual torture.

Imagine being that much of a fucking monster.

Imagine keeping two babies and their mother captive without disclosing whether they are alive for over a year, and not releasing them when you promised, just to torture their loved ones more.

Imagine starving a man to near death for over a year and keeping him in a tunnel, then making him have hope about seeing his wife and daughters again upon release while knowing you murdered them over a year ago.

I mean, this is so far beyond even just keeping hostages, which in itself is inherently inhumane. This is evilness almost beyond comprehension.

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - Just boyfriend.

Warning : Dysphoria

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “Thanos x ftm reader?” -anon

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : bold is in English. // reader is taking testosterone and has done top surgery but is not out to his parents. // kinda short ;-;

Thanos knew there was something going on with you. Your hair, clothes, your voice, actions. Sometimes you made him think you were more of a boy than a girl.

But you weren’t close enough for him to worry about it and for you to explain everything, until your friendship deepened, spending more time together.

“T, I’m gonna be serious for a minute or two, and your reaction will really matter for the future of our friendship.” You announced one day.

“Okay ?” He replied with a frown, more confused than anything.

“Because I’m doing some spring cleaning in my friendships and I have something to say.”

He looked with wide eyes, waiting for you to continue. Stop creating so much tension.

“I’m trans.”

“Huh ?” He chuckled, confused. You bit down a nervous smile.

“I’d like you to gender me as a man.” You added. “Stop viewing me as a chick and start using he/him when referring to me.”

“Huh ?”

“Huh ?” You imitated him. “Did I stun the great Thanos ?”

“Fuck you mean you’re not a chick ?! Since when ?”

Cue to a long discussion about how you’ve been feeling for a long time and your visits with a lot of professionals.

It took him a bit of time to use your right set of pronouns. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he constantly had to watch his mouth to not accidentally out you to random people, and he loves to yap. Which happened a couple of times. Luckily they just looked at him weirdly before moving on, thinking he just mixed his words up.

So you had an idea. You told him to use your chosen pronouns no matter the situation you were in, and if someone asked something, you’d reply it’s just a private joke between you two. It worked well, but not that much with your parents.

“He ?”

“Yeah… ?” Thanos replied looking at your mom with a confused expression. Did he say something wrong ?

“Yes, sorry, it’s an inside joke. ” You quickly added with a smile, grabbing Thanos by the back of his neck like you would grab a cat doing something it shouldn’t.

“An inside joke ?” Your mom asked, still not understanding.

“Yeah, she’s just so used to calling me a ‘he’ that she does it naturally now.” You flashed her a smile, hoping she’d bite and leave you alone. “Right Subong ?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Maybe if you looked less like a man that wouldn’t happen. Did you stop putting the padded push up bras I bought you ? It looks like your boobs completely disappeared.” She approached to put her hands on your chest but you pulled away, taking a step back.

“I’m old enough to buy my own.”

“Put them back on and that man will stop calling you a ‘he’. He’ll easily remember you’re a girl.” She said, walking away.

You blinked slowly, grimacing, lightly squeezing Thanos’ neck. You felt like you were back in school.

“I’m sorry.” Thanos whispered.

“Shut up.”

He’s met a couple trans people here and there, mainly fans who corrected him when he addressed them wrong. He just looked at them confused and moved on. Okay, whatever, next.

“Weird, I met a dude who told me he wasn’t one.” He says in a voice message a few minutes after leaving said fan.

“It means that person is probably trans.” You sent back with a laugh.

“What, like you ?”

“Yeah but the other way around.”

“Can’t he… Mh… She ? Should I say she ? Can’t she donate her dick to you ?”

“Yes, she. And no it doesn’t work that way. And maybe she already got rid of it.”

“What do they do with it ? Once the dick is detached ?”

“How do you think they make dildos ?” You replied laughing before continuing. “No, the dick isn’t detached, it’s just heavily modified so it becomes a vagina. The rest that’s useless is discarded. Into the trash can~”

“Wait- so you can’t give her your boobs either ?”

“Ah, this hurts, T. I got them removed a year ago.” You whined. “Didn’t my mom speak about them in front of you one day, talking about how they disappeared ?”

“It wasn’t because you didn’t put on the bras she gave you ?”

“No ! I had boobs you could see even without bras, come on !”

“I never saw them.”

“You perv.” You laughed. “Stop looking for people’s boobs.”

“No~”

“Anyway. I used to alway put on a binder so I guess you couldn’t see the difference once I got them removed.”

“How was I supposed to know, then !? You tell me nothing !”

“Ah, fucking bastard, now it’s my fault ?! We weren’t big friends back then, why would I tell you ? Huh ?!”

“Because we’re best friends now ! We tell each other when we take a shit, no ? So tell me when you do something.”

You send him a voice message of you just sighing very loudly.

“Okay. I’ll tell you when I get a dick, then.” You added in another message.

“Send me pictures, okay ?”

“Fuck off.” You replied, laughing.

He’s really great and supportive but he makes mistakes by thinking too much sometimes.

“What’s up my girlboyfriend ?” Thanos asked, waving his hands in the air, approaching you.

You slowly looked away from your laptop, turning to him, looking at him in confusion.

“What ?” You asked calmly.

“My girlboyfriend.” He repeated confidently.

You slowly shook your head.

“No.” At his lack of response you continued. “Why the fuck- why would you call me girlboyfriend ?” You leaned closer, trying to understand his thought process.

“Because you were a girl… and now you’re a boy.” He stated, as if it was the most logical thing.

“What ? Why-” You rubbed your face. “Why would you mix past and present ? And I wasn’t a girl, I was still a boy, I just didn’t know it ? Were you really straight before realizing you were actually bisexual ?”

He looked at you then to the sides, thinking while pouting.

“Boyfriend ?” He finally asked, making you chuckle lightly.

“Yeah !”

“Okay.” He nodded, throwing his hands in the air again.

There are times where your mood is at an all time low. Dysphoria kicking your ass as you can’t find what to wear to ease it a bit. It wasn’t your chest the problem, but your overall appearance. Though you had a packer on, you knew it was fake and your brain refused to not think about it.

You’d sometimes refuse to hang out or go on dates because of it. And each time you mentioned why, Thanos quickly rushed to your place, ringing your doorbell constantly till you finally opened him, ready to hype you up.

He sometimes brings a bag of his own clothes so you could wear them. You already buy yours in men’s sections either on the internet or physically but wearing his baggy clothes does help a bit.

He’s not the type to gently hype you, coaxing you into feeling yourself manly enough. He’ll literally yell at you.

“What are you on about ?! Are you some type of dumbass ?!” He’s already yelling as soon as you open the door.

You glared weakly at him, already wanting to kick him out.

“Quickly feel normal again ! You’re a man, so man up !” He strongly patted your arm, nearly making you stumble to the side.

“Hey, you wanna fight ?! Why are you yelling at me like that ?! You come into my house and dare insult me ?! The fucking nerves !”

“I’m not gonna pick you up piece by piece ! Are you crazy ?! You’re a man, what part of you screams the opposite ?!”

He had touched a sore spot.

“So many parts of my body are screaming it ! Are you fucking blind ?! My pussy, my scars, my muscles- my… ” You sighed, tired, letting yourself fall onto the couch with a groan. “Everything.” You added, your arm covering your face. You've had enough.

You loved being able to take testosterone, going to the gym to define your muscles, watching YouTube videos to change your voice, but it wasn’t going fast enough and you wished you didn’t have to do that and more. It was so slow and you’d have to take testosterone all your life, a constant reminder you weren’t a biological man.

He stared at you, disconcerted. Generally you’d yell back at him, arguing back and forth till everything that frustrated you was out the window. But sometimes it didn’t work, your thoughts and anxiety getting the best of you.

Sighing, Thanos approached you, unsure if you wanted space or not. He decided to try anyway, squeezing himself between you and the backrest of the couch, wrapping his arms around you.

“Come on. You’re still a man.”

You hummed, trying to get a hold of yourself. Though you had already cried before him, you didn’t like doing so, feeling too weak.

“You should-”

“I don’t want problem solving.” You quickly said, cutting him off. You already knew what he was gonna say anyway.

He rubbed your back with one hand, the other one pulling your arms away from your face, letting him plant a kiss on your forehead.

You moved closer, as if it was possible, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, his fingers now tapping rhythmically on your back.

“Keep being patient. Your bottom surgery is already planned, anyway.”

“I know.” You replied quietly, sighing. “But it’s so far away.”

“When you go back to Thailand I’ll follow you, okay ? Don’t want you to feel too much at home and never come back to me.”

You smiled weakly, closing your eyes.

“Ah… How will I get rid of you then ?”

“Can’t and won’t.”

[frillydolle]

Hellooooo!!! I love ur page so much it’s so cutesy><<<

If u can and want to write hurt/comfort w Arthur Morgan plssss

Maybe they argue and he yells at her too loudly n scared her off sum, it’s all up to u💗💗

arthur morgan x farmer's daughter reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ hidden relationship , angst , father is an alcoholic , mother doesn't talk to you often , argument , slight comfort at the end.

your mother and father hated outlaws, you knew that well. growing up, they made sure you knew their feelings towards them: nothing more than merciless and ruthless killers. there wasn't one moment that they didn't mutter hatred spews everytime he read their crimes from the newspapers, wanted them gone by the lawmen. you were in love with one.

for as long as you've known arthur, he was always an outlaw while you were terrified of outlaws, but there was something... different about him that drew you to him. either it was his charm or the way he'd would take your teasing words with a smirk on his face. you were enthralled with him and he with you, never met a better man than arthur morgan.

now, after getting seen with him, you've barely heard anything from arthur, just assuming he got really busy being.. you know, an outlaw and... outlaw stuff. you've written countless letters to him and nothing in return which had your worries. out of boredom mixed with melancholy, you wrote another letter to him about needing to see him again and this time, he received it.

“oh arthur, you came!” you say as you quickly make your way over him, wrapping ur arms around his neck in an embrace, and he automatically wrapped his arms around your waist. “'course i did. y'called 'nd i heard.” he replied, kissing your temple. thankfully, your parents weren't in. probably in the town of strawberry, doing whatever.

and then you finally said it. “i didn't mean for daddy to talk to you like that... 'm sorry, arthur.” your daddy... he wasn't a nice man. to him or you, liked the bottle too much. arthur hated the way he treated you and your mother, your father didn't care about no one else but himself.

“it's just— 'm sorry for last time, i was worried about you— 'nd daddy that i—” he cut you off, he never did that unless he was upset. “'m a bigger fool than i even thought.” he says as he turns to walk away from you, and yet you catch his hand, intertwining your fingers into his.

“n—no, wait, arthur! i didn't mean it like that, i just—” everything was just so difficult, and everything was just so overwhelming. you didn't want to lose your boyfriend or your father by some silly mistake of getting caught. “i know he wasn't kind to you, he shouldn't have treated you like—”

“like i ain't worth it? like i don't belong with ya 'nd yer family? is that it?” he says, tone laced with a sort of sterness as you look away, being the guilt beginning to eat at you. you knew your mother and father didn't think much of him but that didn't mean anything, you still love him after all. you didn't think a relationship would be so... overwhelming, being those annoying tears swell up in ur doll-like gaze. you backed off from arthur.

“it ain't like that! my family just want me to have a better life than—” you weren't even sure what to say, you just wanted to welcome hin back proper, like usual. “than me?” his words made you pull away slightly, feeling the tears. oh, your mind was racing, couldnt even think properly. “than choices you make, arthur! i just— they wanted better but 'm happy with you.”

don't cry. don't cry. don't cry.

“we've got different lives 'nd yours ain't right, livin' like that-” “yer life ain't any better than mine, with a drunken daddy on the farm like that. with ya comin' t'me fer someone to talk to?” he practically sneered, giving you a stern look.

god, you felt pathetic as you looked away. hiding the pretty pout and the tears that streaked down ur face, all because he intimidated you as she spilled the truth to you. your father was quite the drinker and you didn't get along with your mother well amd arthur all about that. he used it against you.

damn him and his silver tongue.

his gaze softened as your silent crying grounded him, he felt like such a god awful fool for speaking to you like that. what a idiot you are, morgan. the guilt was now eating at him as he just stood there for a few moments, watching you walk away to sit by the wooden seat, just outside your home. he felt bad, really bad but he was never good at words. well, more like he was never good at expressing his emotions. more of an action man.

he walks over to you, kneeling down infront of you. he hated himself for putting you in such a situation, ending you in such a mess. “you can be so mean, arthur...” you sniffled, looking down at him slightly as his hands reach out to hold yours. he had to admit, you are pretty when you are.

“'m sorry, darlin'.. didn't mean that, any of it. yer my sweet girl, always have been.” he says, his voice as he was gaining the attention of a wounded doe. he always treated you in such a way that often made you giggle, thinking about it every night. arthur stands up, and then he sits beside you, and before you know, he guides your head to rest on his shoulder.

“im sorry, sweetheart. i really am.”

“... i know.” arthur then wraps his shoulder around you, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.

[kitthenameless]

I wanna talk about something I realized about the Emperor. People say he expects you to trust him but never trusts you in return.

Except, the Emperor trusts throughout the entire game. He trusts you to carry him around, to do what needs to be done, to save the city, and to not kill him. He would probably prefer not to have to, after all the times he's been betrayed or captured or enslaved. But he has to trust someone, and he's chosen you. His life rests in your hands. The fact that he pretended to look different at first and didn't tell you his entire backstory doesn't change the fact that he's trusting you with his life and with this important task.

But there are more explicit examples of his trust too. When you kill Ketheric, he leaves the prism, but he doesn't even ask you for the netherstone. He trusts you to hold onto it. In his sex scene, he's comfortable enough to just be himself, to show vulnerability, and that feels like a form of trust to me. At the end of the game, when someone needs to wield the stones, you can say you want to do it, and he lets you, trusting that you are capable and that you're not going to try and take over the brain. After talking to Raphael at Sharess' Caress, as long as you don't blatantly lie to him (lie and fail the check), he doesn't search your thoughts. And even if you do lie and he searches your thoughts to find you spoke to Raphael, you can still ask him to trust you after that and stay out of your mind, and he does. That's why there's an ending where he doesn't know you signed the contract or have the hammer until it's time to use it, and he's shocked when you reveal that.

There are a lot of different ways trust can be shown or given. You can trust someone with your secrets, with your vulnerabilities, with your body, with your safety, with an important task, with regards to their honesty. Not all of these are relevant to this discussion, but, as far as I can recall, all the ways in which the Emperor asks you to trust him, he trusts you in return. He wants you to trust him that he's being honest about his plans and his goal to destroy the brain and that he will keep you safe in the meantime, and he trusts that you are being honest about your plans and your goal to destroy the brain and that you will keep him safe in the meantime.

It's that trust that makes betraying him (in whatever way the player chooses to do so, if they choose to do so) so much more tragic.

[deadhands69]

Cute When You Stutter

loser!Shigaraki x gn/afab Reader

prev ◁ part 2 ▷ next

[series masterlist]

After planning a mission with the league all day, you’re exhausted. Kicking your shoes off at the door of your bedroom, you immediately crash on to the bed. When you pull out your phone, you expect to see a lot of notifications since you haven’t been able to check while in meetings. What you don’t expect is a text from the ex you saw at the grocery store yesterday.

When the two of you broke up, he blocked you as a way to not have to listen to your feelings or be held accountable for anything. Unfortunately, people let him and, in spite of everyone knowing your story, they all still tolerate his bullshit. Some of them even believed whatever he made up about you. Most chose to go with some middle ground peace keeping and he thrived on that. This means you had way more to worry about at the time than remembering to delete his number. You open the message, cringing in advance.

ex: that wasn’t actually your boyfriend, was it?

He took you off block for this? You reply quickly.

y/n: yeah, that was my boyfriend you begin to type, quickly changing was to is.

ex: oh come on, that dude looked terrified of you. there’s no way youre dating

What if I like them terrified you think as the texts continue to pour in.

ex: just wait until the group chat finds out you faked a relationship to make me jealous

ex: still fucking pathetic 

Fucking asshole. This time you block him, not bothering to reply. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as you stare up at the ceiling. 

Great, now you’ll have to convince your friends you’re dating your boss so you don’t look like an absolute idiot when he tells everyone. Maybe you shouldn't have grabbed his hand. Although, the other alternative was letting him tell everyone how sad and single you were in the Valentine's aisle by yourself. There was never any winning. Unless you can get Shigaraki to help you. He's had a crush on you for ages, he'll probably jump at the opportunity.

You grab your phone to text Shigaraki and see if he’s home before throwing it aside. Of course he’s home, he barely ever leaves his room.

Knocking a few times as a warning, he doesn’t immediately yell at you to go away so you push open his door like you usually do. He’s laying in bed playing his switch. His whole body stiffens as you enter the room. Fuck, he really does look terrified of you.

“Don’t worry,” you say, trying to sound as reassuring as you can manage, “I’m not here to sit on your lap or hold your hand or anything.”

Your words are the opposite of comforting, the blush on his face only deepens.

“Well, not yet at least,” you add. He glances away, no longer able to look you in the eyes. “I’m here to ask you a favor. And in return I’ll…” you pause to think of something he might want, “I’ll let you touch my boobs.”

“Under the shirt?” he asks so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“Yeah, whatever. I just need your help.”

“What do you want?”

“I need you to take pictures with me and let me pretend you’re my boyfriend online,” you blurt out almost too fast for him to understand. Setting the switch down, he nods. You’re surprised he doesn’t question any of this, acting as if you just asked him the most normal thing ever.

“And you’re okay with people thinking you’re with me?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn't.”

A few minutes later, you’re back in your room. This seemed like the better option considering that his desk is currently covered in tissues and takeout boxes that you'd rather not have in the background of any pictures you post.

Sitting on your bed, you gesture for him to join you. He does, picking a spot clear on the other side. 

“I need you to sit next to me,” you say while moving closer to him, “because you have to be in the picture with me.”

He nods. 

You wrap an arm around him, smiling. Holding your phone at arms length you take a few selfies at different angles then look to see which is the best. He looks awkward, to say the least. His arms are crossed firmly over his chest and he’s not looking at the camera. 

“You have to at least try,” you tell him, deleting bad ones (all of them.)

“I don’t know what to do,” he grumbles, face turning pink.

“Just do what you’d normally do in pictures with a friend and we can go from there.”

He stares at you as if that's the most outlandish thing you've said all night.

“Okay, got it. Uhm, start by putting your arm around me.”

Awkwardly, he does. Leaving all five fingers hovering above your shoulder. You lean into him, bringing your free arm around his back. Taking a few that you think will be cute, you turn and remind him to smile. He tries and you end up adjusting the camera angle to make it work. For the last one, you plant a kiss on his cheek. He gasps, nearly jumping off your bed.

Once you stop laughing, you look through your options. With the weird angle, you can make them work in a boyfriendcore-overly-aesthetic-Pintrest-board kind of way. You post a few of the cute ones then set the last one as your lock screen background.

Success! That was easy. Well, almost. You’re not quite done yet. There's still the part where you have to fulfill your end of the deal.

Moving to stand in front of Tomura, you grab the bottom of your shirt, bunching it up over the lower half of your face.  Bold to just go for it, but if there’s anyone who won’t judge you for it it’s him. You aren’t wearing anything underneath which he very much notices. His jaw drops.

“Wow. C-can I? I’ll be careful,” he gulps staring up at you.

“Yeah, that was the deal.” Biting your shirt to keep it in place, you gently grab his wrists and move his hands onto your chest. With his pinkies up, he gives a tentative squeeze. When you arch your back to press into him, he clutches you tighter. His fingers slide over your skin, thumbs grazing your nipples. They harden at his touch so he pinches them lightly at first then harder. Your eyes close, focusing on his touch as he rolls you between his fingers.

Involuntarily, you let a moan slip out. His eyes flick up to yours. Biting his lip, he groans, grabbing the front of his pants before he jumps up and towards the door.

“I have to go now,” he mumbles, running back to his room.

next - series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @kalulakunundrum

[crowscommunion]

My fiancé when he talks about his hobbies.

He says this is me when I talk about work when I get home. I've been off a couple days this week, and I appreciate the rest, but I'm starting to get the itch to go back to work while I'm on my day off.

I need to chill, my body will thank me for it later.

I do still have multiple chronic illness and health issues, which present themselves much more when I don't sufficiently rest. In the longrun, if I want to keep working, I'll need to rest enough to keep myself in good health. That's just an unfortunate reality that I need to remind myself of often, because I will run myself into the ground if I selectively forget about that- which sometimes I do.

Like, with how often people ditch and how many plans fail, I do find myself often saying "whatever, I'll just do it myself" but I also can't do it all by myself and I'm terrible at asking for help. Literally no one can do this job by themselves, that's just unrealistic, and it's something I'm going to need to learn.

Whenever someone else wants to go home, I usually just tell them to go and stay late, because at least I know the job will get done if I stay instead of the person who doesn't want to be there.

It isn't even about keeping people happy, it's that I know if someone stays for a project they don't want to be there for, 9/10 it either won't be done to completion, or it will be done incorrectly because they're in a hurry to go. Then it has to be picked up later by someone else who isn't responsible for cleaning it up, and it isn't their job to do that just because someone else isn't pulling their weight. I try to negate that a lot by just doing things myself, probably to an unhealthy degree. I delegate small tasks, but I need to learn how to trust other people to do more.

“I love the way you light up when you talk about what you love.”

— Unknown

[meelusinee]

I just read a new number and I want more please :) 

SILK PAJAMAS | R.L X READER

word count \ 1.0k | fluffy fluff | slash / remus lupin x reader

in which you and remus are talking after his full moon

part one | part two

Peter and Sirius were watching Remus with a close eye as he laid on his bed.

It was a morning after a full moon, a rather rough one. He had banged into a lot of different things, to say the least. Scars were newly pressed against his chest and legs. His teeth also probably hurt to a certain extent too, since one of them got chipped while he was biting something. 

All of this, yet he was staring at his phone.

“Oh my God, mate!” Sirius said incredulously, sitting down on Remus’ bed. He grunted as Remus kicked him, frowning at Remus.

“What?” Remus asked him, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m a dying man, Sirius.”

“Obviously not!” Sirius said to him, hands slapping his own knees. “You just got back from being a werewolf, and you’re already back on your phone. Who are you even talking to? Some girl?”

“Oh, fuck off!” Remus said, smacking a pillow against Sirius. “And get off my bed!”

“I think what Sirius means is that he’s mildly confused,” Peter butted in, his shaking pointer finger held up. “I mean, you still need to recover. And phones sound really dangerous, all of the blue light stuff they have.”

“Especially with how much you’ve been texting on it recently!” Sirius sighed, resting his hand on the bed as he leaned back. “I mean, come on! It’s been a whole month, and you’ve been non stop texting. We barely talk anymore!”

Remus sighed softly, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine.” Remus shrugged, continuing to text. “And we do talk, you’re just dramatic.”

“Who are you texting?” Sirius asked, more curious than teasing. “I want to know.”

“Someone I met at my bakery job.” Remus said calmly, texting you another message before putting his phone down with a sigh. “She has to go.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter said, sitting down on his bed that was across from Remus’ bed.

“What’s her name?” Sirius asked him.

Remus smiled softly, laying down on his back as he began to speak about you. “Y/N. She’s absolutely brilliant.”

“Yeah?” Peter asked. 

“Mhm.” Remus nodded with a soft smile. “You don’t understand. I mean, she’s so smart. She’s, well, sometimes she rambles to me about her ideas. I think she’ll become famous.”

Sirius chuckled quietly, crossing his arms. “Somebody’s got a crush.”

“Whatever.” he rolled his eyes. “Now get out, I want to sleep.”

Remus woke up to the evening sun flitting through his room, his phone vibrating next to his hand. He could feel his heartbeat racing at the sound.

His hands quickly unlocked it and smiled as he saw your messages, texting back immediately after reading your rambles about work and school books.

REMUS: Sorry I didn’t respond to these sooner sweetheart, I was taking a nap.

REMUS: That muffin at work sounds absolutely lovely, so does that cute kid who you gave a high five.

You texted him back almost immediately after, bringing a small smile to his face.

Y/N: youre good mr phone bread man! you need your naps

REMUS: I will never get over Mr. Phone Bread Man, you know. I might have to start signing my paperwork with that name.

Y/N: i think that you should, in my opinion

Remus chuckled quietly at that. He always felt his heart pounding whenever he texted you. Maybe Sirius was right, maybe he did have a crush. A rather big one, if he was being honest.

REMUS: I think so too. How are you doing now?

Y/N: im doing good now! im home, and i have some pajamas on now thank god

REMUS: That sounds really nice. I have pajamas too, they’re rather bland though.

Y/N: i think you look cute anyways >:D

REMUS: You can’t even see them.

Y/N: i can tell regardless, your cute face would make anything look cute

Y/N: do you want to see mine?

Remus looked at the phone for a moment with a blush growing on his face, biting his lip as he looked at the message. Did he want to see that? Obviously yes. Would you be comfortable with that? Would he be breathing after seeing them?

REMUS: Only if you’re comfortable with that.

Y/N: im very comfortable with it

Y/N: do you like them?

Remus felt his heart beating out of his chest once he saw them. A white silk set that made you look like a pure angel, with small ruffles on the collar of the tank top and the bottom of the shorts.

REMUS: They look very lovely.

REMUS: Soft, you know?

Remus could almost hear the teasing chuckle in your voice as you texted him again, his body shivering slightly as he continued looking at the photo of your pajamas.

Y/N: you dont have to act all fancy or hip, you know

Y/N: i dont mind you saying something direct

Remus felt his throat drying. You didn’t mind? He wasn’t sure what you meant by direct, though he knew what he meant. And he was almost positive that all the things he wanted to say were not things you say to someone you’ve only known for a month.

REMUS: You look absolutely breathtaking.

Y/N: youre making me giggle :c

REMUS: Isn’t that a good thing?

Y/N: oh definitely, i just like being dramatic

Y/N: i take your breath away huh?

Remus smiled at your messages, able to hear your voice saying those exact words. He’d heard them a million times whenever you come to the bakery, both of you chatting on off days.

He decided to be honest with you, at least to a certain degree.

REMUS: You stole it from me the moment that I first heard your voice. And you’ve kept it ever since the first time that I saw you.

He waited for a couple of moments. Staring at his phone, watching your typing bubble appear and disappear for three minutes.

Y/N: you make me feel that way too <3

And wasn’t that just the sweetest thing anyone had said to him? 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

thank you so much for requesting anon! hopefully you like the part two to this!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog! have a good day!

[queenlua]

your post about adding excitement to a story by increasing the pressure on a character was not something i’d heard before and i found it super useful. are there any other pieces of writing advice you find foundational and would be willing to share?

glad you found that tidbit helpful!

first, i’ll give my default caveat of “i’m just some guy on the internet, so take this with however many grains of salt you need”

plus my general caveat on… all writing tips/tidbits/advice? which is:

i find that, past the basics of “knowing about exposition/rising action/climax/denouement” and such, most writing advice ends up operating as a dusty old toolbox i open up now and again.  something in my story's not working; i’m not sure how to fix it; i pull out my little toolbox of tidbits i’ve accumulated over the years and see if any of the screwdrivers and wrenches in there actually fit.  the kinds of tidbits that are useful for me may be ACTIVELY DETRIMENTAL to someone else; someone who chronically overtightens their screws probably shouldn’t be told “have you tried tightening the screws more :D;;;;” or whatever.  and in particular what works for me is probably oriented towards genre-y stuff.

BUT, Y’KNOW, GIVEN ALL THAT

here’s the tidbits i find myself returning to over & over!

* three is a very powerful number.  i have a tendency to write myself into situations where you have Two Interesting Characters Doing Verbal Head-Games With Each Other, and that stuff can be tremendously fun, but it tends to run out of steam very quickly.  adding a third character to the scene combinatorially increases the dynamics available for you to play with.  so if you’re stuck, throw someone else in there.  (relatedly this is why awful dinner parties are Peak Literature™)

* if you’re writing a romance: put a sticky note on your monitor that says “WHY CAN’T THEY BE TOGETHER NOW?”  if at any point you don’t have a good answer to that, you’ve fucked up; rework the plot.

* this is a shlocky tidbit from the South Park creators that totally works: list all the scenes in your story, and then, between each scene, see if they are connected by THEREFORE or BUT versus AND THEN.

so., e.g., “the ocean levels in Tellius are rising, THEREFORE kilvas wants to migrate from their sinking islands and onto Serenes, BUT Reyson is opposed to that move, THEREFORE…”

that gives you a stronger structure than, like, idk, “the war ends AND THEN kilvas moves to Serenes AND THEN Reyson and Naesala get in a fight…”

you want it to be mostly “THEREFORE/BUT” and very few “AND THEN”s.  just a tighter overall plot structure

* each scene should accomplish at least two things.  the most common two things for a scene to do are “advance the plot” and “develop a character”; i have a hazy memory that when i first read this advice, there was a list of, like, 1-3 other things a scene’s allowed to accomplish?  but i cannot REMEMBER that list, lol.  but use your imagination; i’m sure you can think of another valid thing.

i think this is more useful as debugging/editing advice than upfront advice—often, when you’re writing something, every scene will *feel* necessary, but upon reread, you’ll notice your attention is drifting, this doesn’t quite feel tight enough… and you’ll realize, oh, ugh, i just had three scenes in a row that existed Solely To Hit A Plot Beat; why don’t i combine those three scenes into one, condense the action, and also make sure a character’s doing something actually interesting/new while i’m at it.

(i think i see this plaguing a lot of novels that come out of nanowrimo in particular.  i mean, not me, because i don’t have the fast-twitch muscle required to do nanowrimo, but when i read other people’s nanowrimo stuff, it often feels like it was galloping through a bunch of plot beats without bothering to do anything else interesting.)

* if you're stuck on a particular scene/chapter, stuff to try:

delete the current sentence and start over

delete the current paragraph and start over

change the font and reread what you've got so far

open the document on a different screen and reread what you've got so far

print the thing out and reread what you've got so far

open a brand new document and rewrite the whole scene/chapter/etc from the start (NO PEEKING AT THE ORIGINAL VERSION)

go outside and look at a bird for a bit

take a nap

shoot a whiny discord message to a friend about it (even if it's solely rubber ducking, this can be helpful) (though if you have any friends who are good at writing AND ALSO willing to put up with your shit and offer helpful feedback AND ALSO you're not too mortified by your writing dilemma to share it with them, that's even better) (btw, any friends reading this: if you want to opt-in to messages like this from me, LET ME KNOW lmao, i'm really shy on this front!)

if you're DESPERATE: open a new document and just write out, like, "Character X wants Y. Character Z wants Q. These are the sources of pressure on character X. These are the sources of pressure on character Y. I want R to happen but I feel stuck because of M" and so on, just... really trying to dissect what the scene's trying to accomplish? most often, the outcome of this is, i'll notice in that "thinking aloud" document that i'm circling around some central question that I Don't Know The Answer To, and i need to answer that question to usefully proceed. sometimes this will be painfully obvious in hindsight. (e.g., sometimes you'll go back to your outline and you'll realize you've literally just hit the bullet point that says UGH OKAY THEY GET TOGETHER SOMEHOW I'LL FIGURE THIS OUT LATER, and you're like, ugh, fuck, it's now later, why is past-me such a bitch!) but them's the breaks. (in particular, i remember getting catastrophically stuck on a "meet the parents" story until i realized i was... avoiding actually writing out the "meet the parents" scene... which feels "well duh" in hindsight! but, like, hey, in order to write that scene, i needed to commit to some specific decisions on What The Story Was About, the same way artists gotta eventually erase a bunch of sketchy lines to commit to the Lines They Will Actually Be Inking, and that decision point feels hard and scary and no wonder i waffled lol)

okay so that's all the super-specific-concrete advice. here's some stuff that's more big-picture but i've still found personally useful:

* i once went to a talk where a novelist said she doesn't start writing a novel until she knows exactly what she wants it to look like on the bookshelf. as in: is it a schlocky trade paperback or is it a beautiful hardcover thing with fancy paper? does it have IMPACT FONT for the title or something handwriting-y? how many pages is it? and so on.

in service of this aim, she never writes any of the novel (no notes, no outlines, no snippets of dialogue, nothing) until she has that image vividly in her mind + she can't physically STAND not writing it any longer. for her, this process allows her to be sure that she knows what her novel is about—not necessarily in every single detail or plot beat (though, often she has a lot of that in mind before starting), but in terms of "what am i trying to say," "how do i want the world to look at it," etc, and she's found through hard experience that, while it's easy for her to start novels, it's often hard for her to finish them unless she has that crystal-clear image in her mind.

i can’t quite do her purity-of-method (my brain is scrambled eggs; i HAVE to write down snatches of dialogue and such before i get started on something or it all leaks out of my ears), but i see a lot of wisdom in it.  i do a lot of prewriting & thinking & scribbling out little snatches of dialogue and such before i really begin writing. i think everyone develops their own little heuristic for when they can be reasonably confident they know what their story is about, so you should try and figure out what that heuristic is for you & learn to trust it if you can? (a common one you hear a lot is "i have to know how the story ends / what the ending feels like," which makes sense; endings usually have a lot to do with what a story is About. i know NK Jemisin mentioned once she can't really start until she's nailed down the voice, and that also makes sense to me—you read The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms and it's very clear that her choice of voice is a large part of what drives the story, it has a propulsive force of its own; it's The Thing that blasts the whole thing open for her. for me, i'm not sure i have a tidy heuristic, but there's a point where i've written enough snatches of dialogue plus bits of scenes that i've unlocked some core thing that i'm really excited about—i keep spinning out bits of dialogue and setting and such that are related to that thing, i'm so excited to see how that thing plays out across the story, i look at my outline and see only possibilities and wonder instead of connective tissue that needs to be filled in... and then, yeah, i'll know i'm cooking, but not one second before!)

note that the story is allowed to surprise me & change on me once i get properly started—my longfic changed substantially when i realized Reyson’s perspective needed a LOT more room to breathe than i had accounted for in the outline, and then changed substantially again when i realized the butterfly-effect-style implications that keeping Leanne around had for my entire storyline—the ending wound up being TOTALLY different than what i'd originally planned!—but like, in that case, i don't think my sense of what the story was about ever fundamentally changed; i just added two more huge elements that orbited that about-ness. if that makes sense.

* i think about this passage from Bayles & Orland's Art and Fear a lot. i'm actually not sure that advice is helpful for literally everyone—i do see people who somehow manage to write the same fucking thing over and over, for years and years, and never seem to develop their craft or make any movement toward saying something interesting.

but i do think most people are developing something even when it feels like "the same thing over and over," and as someone who probably tends toward too little output, i found it a useful reminder that returning to familiar forms, themes, and characters across pieces is intensely useful if it gets you in front of the keyboard again, so don't stress over novelty too much. (i find, if i'm still returning to a particular form/theme/character, it's because i feel like i still have some interesting new perspective on it that's genuinely worth exploring. if i have actually exhausted a topic, i'll know it because i myself will get bored, but anyone else's opinion is irrelevant!)

* ursula k le guin's steering the craft is more focused on craft & nuts n bolts than plot-debugging-type-things but i thought i'd give it a shout-out here because i've just found it so perpetually useful over the years. in particular we could all stand to read our stuff aloud more often; that fixes a lot of problems and she goes on about that in detail in chapter 1 haha

* oh, also, re: my "put more pressure on the characters" advice—you've probably already intuited this, but i think i found that framing more useful than the kinds of "raise the stakes / make sure every character has Stakes / Wants Something" advice you're likely to find in screenwriting workshops, because this framing feels like a more... abstract... way of talking about the same thing?

like, often those two types of advice are addressing the same problem, but when i start off thinking about "where is the pressure on these characters," i don't just have to think "time to heap more pressure on them," i can also, like. observe. where the pressure points in my work are. i'm not presupposing a solution. maybe there's a ton of pressure but it's the wrong kind of pressure. maybe there's a ton of pressure but there's nowhere satisfying for that pressure to go. it's very woo/fuzzy but yeah i use the general principle of "pressure" to frame a LOT of how i think about story construction; maybe that'll be useful to you!

* FINALLY, i don't have a nice packaged heuristic/tidbit/tool-shaped thing for this one yet, but i've been thinking a lot about how much perspective really Changes Everything about a work. your choice of PoV should be exceedingly deliberate; you should be taking maximum advantage of your choice of PoV at all times (what do they know? what don't they know? how do they think about the world? etc); also if you're editing something and you're noticing a lot of unconscious perspective breaks, that's a warning sign something's going badly wrong in how you're approaching the story overall—perspective should just be unconsciously correct if you're hitting stuff right imo

OK WOW SORRY THAT GOT SO LONG but hope at least one of these lil bullets are useful for ya! happy writing~

[stellamancer]

am thinking of a nikooj-esque reoniku au where he is so desperate to get you out of the wage cage and into one of his fancy apartments but contrary to gojo he is like . throwing up blood and spiralling over it LMAOOOO u could break him so easily truly….. suggesting you split the hotpot bill will have him staring at u like i do anytime you mention suguru

a high school / college au or something would be so cute too……… are u seeing the vision 🎤 any thoughts 🎤🎤 HE IS ACTUALLY SO PERFECT FOR ALL NIKU AUS I FEEL ASHAMED ………………..

LMAOOOO ARI THROWING YUKIMIYA OR WHATEVER AT ME WHEN MIKAGE REO WAS ALWAYS RIGHT THERE. i think, while gojo has a problem entering my tiny ass apartment, and vocalizes his disdain, reo would just retch on the spot at the sight of me living in what he would think is poverty, and then he would black out when i tell him it's by choice. hehehehehe. suffer little purple guy, SUFFER.

unfortunately, i can be won over through my stomach (i have this really cute story about the guy i dated in high school who did just that to me). so IDK IF I WOULD AGREE TO GO HALVSIES.... people who give me food for free are my weak point... though i think i would be very suspicious if he continued to do it and would probably eventually start offering to pay my share which would cause a very hilarious crash out since i had been accepting the food bribes previously with no complaint.

TRYING TO PICTURE MYSELF IN A COLLEGE AU (because a hs au is. impossible at this point for my brain under most circumstances) and like, for me it's really picturing what i would have done instead of what i did in college (which admittedly i did love but did not help my career prospects at all which is why i work in my wage cage). and idk maybe i would want to do interior design which. i think reo would have a field day with. idk i think no matter where you put him with me, i think i would eventually grow suspicious of his motives.

that is all to say idk if i can be crazy enough for mikage reo despite me considering him to be the most ideal soccer freak for me.

[cheekinpermission]

How would the twst bois react if they found Erin keeps those flowers?

The question you answered, only said that not many know, it didn't mean no one else knows. Who knows? (Besides Rollo)

https://www.tumblr.com/cheekinpermission/772579719018315776/15-what-is-a-secret-not-many-characters-know

Oooh, good question!

I imagine most of them wouldn’t be too happy about it, especially the ones who were actually at the masquerade 

Erin kept the fire lotuses for self-defense. That might bring up some feelings of betrayal, especially for those who are closer to her. It not only implies that she doesn’t want to depend on them to protect her (which is true), but that she might also consider them to be a threat to her safety (not as true). 

For those closest to her…

Ace / Deuce / Riddle - Ace and Deuce seem pretty obvious to me being that they are her closest friends, but I brought up Riddle specifically because of the way I developed their relationship. The artwork I draw of them is usually pretty wholesome and sweet (hanging out with the hedgehogs), but what I haven’t shown is what it took to get to that point. They did not get along in the beginning for obvious reasons. Erin was still settling into NRC when all of a sudden some temperamental short stack on a power trip starts making his problems her problems. She’s just trying to keep her head down and get through whatever this was when all of a sudden she had to go collect chestnuts to bake a tart so that guy with the heart over his eye would stop crashing on her couch. Riddle overblots and it's her first one so it left quite the impression on her (and not a good one). She was kinda scared of him for a while afterwards. She didn’t really know how overblots worked at that time and she had it in her head that he might overblot again if he got too angry. Riddle set the record straight, they investigated the whole situation over at Savanclaw, and they eventually mended fences. All of that was to say that keeping the flowers might bring Riddle right back to that point in time when Erin felt threatened by him. Yikes.

(I would love to draw a full comic of them one day but I’m just biased because I love Riddle lmao)

Kalim - He has this tendency to kind of blow off his problems? He’ll start to bring something up, but then laugh and quickly change the subject. It’d probably be much the same here. He’d say how he understands and everything is fine but would be lowkey hurt by it. 

Vil - “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” energy. 

Malleus - Hit bro pretty hard. People have theorized that the fire lotuses could straight up just kill fae (as opposed to just draining a person’s magic indefinitely) so… yikes. This was his one friend who SUPPOSEDLY wasn’t scared of him. Erin was the only one who wasn’t shaken by his regal status or his powerful magic and what not. Was that all a lie? (No.)

Grim - Sooooooo Grim didn’t know. Erin didn’t want to tell him for a few reasons. 1) Grim isn’t exactly subtle and she wasn’t sure if he could keep his mouth shut about it. 2) Grim’s goal is to be the greatest mage of all time. He’d definitely oppose having flowers around that could threaten that goal. 3) Most importantly, she didn’t want him to face the fallout if they were ever found. In her mind, Erin was protecting Grim. She knew that this would be an unpopular decision. For all she knew, it could threaten their enrollment at the school. She didn’t want Grim to face the repercussions. It was her decision and it was for her safety - he didn’t need to be caught in the crossfire. He’d definitely be the most hurt by it. They’re supposed to be in this together!

Most of them will probably at least recognize why she did it. Between the overblots and the kidnappings and the human trafficking (jfc twst)... having something to protect herself against magic isn’t a bad idea. MAYBE JUST NOT THE FLOWERS THAT CAN PERMANENTLY ALTER THEIR LIVES. This all could’ve been circumvented if she just, I don’t know, opened up a little about her concerns? Ever think of that, Erin?! 

They definitely wouldn’t let her keep them after they found out. They’re far too dangerous and risk growing out of control (despite Erin’s insistence that she has them contained). She’d be forced to get rid of them, face some kind of punishment from the headmaster, and be ostracized by her peers for a while.

So who knew? 

Rollo - As you’ve pointed out, Rollo knows. He’d obviously be on board and he’s a great source of knowledge on how to take care of them properly.

The Ramshackle Ghosts - I feel like hiding anything in Ramshackle is just kind of impossible without them knowing? She can lock them away and hide the key, but how is that going to stop them from phasing through the walls? It won’t. They know and they reluctantly keep the secret. They do care for her as well and let that influence their decision. 

That’s it lol. Just them. 

Ortho might catch on that something fishy is going on if he ever, like, scans the building or something and is like “tf is that weird magic energy I’m picking up?” but the flowers were supposed to be extinct so there’s no existing database to draw from. Tbh he might be the catalyst that gets her caught. That, or she’d own up to it when she whips one out in an act of desperation. 

I could also see maybe Leona picking up on something? He seems super in tune with "sensing magic". For example, he was the one to mention that he didn't sense any magic on Yuu or Gidel / Gino in the Playful Land event. Another moment that stands out to me is when he asked about Grim gobbling up the overblot stones. He seems to know something we don't (but won't tell us for some reason??) Idk he's just so omniscient and "in the know" that I wouldn't be surprised if he somehow knew about the fire lotuses lmao.

Actually, that could give me something to work with for them. I'll have to think on that a bit more.

[bloom-into-blue]

ℂ𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕕

Summary: a chance meeting, a lucky run in, whatever you wanna call it. There's a gorgeous lady before you and... Thinking is hard. Just feel? Easier said than done.

Contents: just Garofano meeting the reader in her tailor shop! Reader is referred to with feminine gendered terms.

Word count: 1.6k

Author's note: I wanted to put something out as i mentioned before, and honestly, Garofano is one of my favorite ladies... First sfw fic of the blog. Can you believe it? Wild. Anyway, it is currently minutes before Valentine's so this makes sense to my timezone.

To say life has been kind would be a generous statement.

When you wake up, the sky is barely turning into a pale shade of orange and blue hues, though you can barely even notice it when one of your pillows is inexplicably covering half your face. Your neck aches, sore from whatever shitty position you assumed during your sleep. The worst part is that you know you can't linger on this too much, not when there's your university assignments looming in the back of your mind, ever present and ever the pain in the ass.

…Then, as you take your phone to check exactly how long you have until your suffering begins, you realize it.

It's a day before Valentine's.

Your body is so used to the stress of university that it forgot you're currently still on vacation.

It's hard to avoid a small chuckle to yourself, when your worries shift from impossible professor standards to instead focusing on what you'll wear for the party your friends are planning for two weeks from now. Maybe life isn't so unkind, actually, even if the specific look you want is something you can only achieve by commissioning a tailor. The details aren't too worrisome, not when you've saved up enough for it.

Then, your memory jogs again, making your nerves freeze before you’re bolting out of your messy bed, hair equally tousled up.

You've already scheduled a meeting with a seamtress.

It's taking place in two hours.

—-

The first thing that hits you is the smell of carnations, potent as it envelops you the moment you step into the tailor shop.

Then there's the bell that rings above you, which prompts a woman older than you to glance up from her spot at the front desk, eyes kind and a sweet smile ready at a moment's notice. The first thing you can think of is how utterly gorgeous she is. “Welcome, dear,” she greets with ease brought by experience, most likely; even her voice is gorgeous, damn it. “What brings you to my shop?”

You honestly got lost in the sound of her voice, deep and rich, enough so that you forget English is a language you can – and should – speak right about now. “Uh… I came by the other day. ‘Nother lady, like… helped me book an appointment,” you manage to mumble as you take in the woman doing her best to attend to you. You remember the last time you dropped by, when a woman with straight, black hair told you the seamstress in charge wasn't available at the moment, but would be sometime soon, so booking an appointment would be a most excellent choice.

Now, standing in front of a goddess with curly, violet hair, it seems as though you can finally meet the seamstress you've heard so many positive comments about.

The lady before you chuckles as she covers her mouth with her hand, refined as a noble. Christ, how are you going to survive this. “You must be the girl Sumire talked about, then. Come on then; we wouldn't want to take your measurements when the glass outside doesn't shield you,” she prompts kindly, stepping closer and going as far as to set a gentle hand on your back as she guides you to a section of the shop that isn't visible from the outside.

“Y-yeah, thank you, miss…” you trail off, unsure of what to call her.

“Garofano, dear,” she fills the blank with a smooth wave of her hand and a charming smile. You have no idea if she's aware of the effect she's having on your heart or not, she doesn't let on even a little bit! The warmth on your cheeks is probably a dead giveaway to your current state though…

When you arrive at a more secluded area of Garofano’s shop, she doesn't waste a second before grabbing whatever she needs, though… you're not proud to admit the way your eyes take in her figure. For a brief moment, you think you catch her looking at you from the corner of her eye, but as quick as it happens the moment passes, leaving you flustered and trying to tear your gaze away.

Once Garofano finds the measuring tape she was looking for, she turns to you with a smile wide enough that the crow's feet around her eyes are noticeable. God, she's so beautiful– focus. She just spoke.

After waiting for a moment, she seems amused by your puzzled reaction if her velvety chuckle is anything to go by. “I said, take off your coat, dear. I can't measure you well enough if you're all covered up,” she teases softly. Oh god, Garofano's aware and she's fucking with you.

You comply with her instructions in a hurry, left now with just the tight-fitting clothes you were recommended for this appointment. It feels… like you're more vulnerable than before, even though you're still clothed. Perhaps it has something to do with the violet eyes taking in your figure.

Garofano reaches for your hand and guides you gently towards a small podium in the middle of the room, measuring tape in hand and glasses you hadn't seen before atop her head. “Please, tell me if anything I do makes you uncomfortable. I would loathe to make a lady as beautiful as you uneasy,” she murmurs against your ear before carefully unrolling the tape and beginning her work properly. Thank god she moved away, otherwise she would've felt how your ears are almost burning up with how flustered you are.

If nothing else, at least you're going to remember this throughout all of Valentine's day. Her hands feel so gentle… You chastise yourself internally; she's a professional and you're making this weird! You have to stop thinking about how hot the older lady is! When she kneels behind you with a quiet grunt, her hands are ever careful as the tape brushes against your covered leg… No, stop, you're thinking too much!

She probably noticed how tense you are. Garofano's voice is far gentler when she tries to break the ice. “So… I was told you wanted a suit that fit you as comfortably as could be, while also making sure it looked good on you. May I know the occasion, dear?”

At least you can answer that. “Uh… My friends and I are throwing a party? It's supposed to be casual, but some of us insisted on formal wear, and… Well, here you have me,” you explain before ending it with a sheepish chuckle. “Can't really find suits that fit me well enough, y'know?”

Garofano hums quietly, her hands around your waist making you let out the tiniest little breath. “I do know that particular struggle. At least I can help you in this case,” she replies, her hands gently moving to wrap the tape around your waistline. She's behind you, but you can feel the little pauses she takes to jot numbers down, and by god, you wish you could see the way her glasses look atop her nose. When she starts measuring you up again, you could swear she's taking longer than before for whatever reason…

You hope to god you're not making all the tension up.

—-

The measuring is over in about half an hour, and you're sure those thirty minutes of your lifespan evaporated alongside a few years thanks to the intensity of this gay panic.

“It should be ready in about a week, miss. Please, don't hesitate to come to me in case of any concerns you have,” Garofano said with a soft smile, taking off her glasses as she walks you to the front of the shop once more. You were right, the sight was as beautiful as you thought it would be while it lasted.

You realize… maybe you do have one concern.

“Look, you can tell me off if I'm weird about this, please make sure to turn me down if I'm, like, completely off-base here or if I'm being creepy or whatever, I would absolutely understand if you thought I was being too forward, like way too forward actually–”

“Sweetheart,” she cuts you off with a worried frown instead of that lovely smile. “Breathe, please. In… out.”You're out of breath when she calls you out, so with a quiet whine you nod and do as requested, feeling some semblance of composure arrive, so it brings a smile to your face when her lips quirk up in response. “Now, you're welcome to ask whatever it is that's on your mind.”

The reassurance isn't enough by a small margin, but whatever courage you manage to have is slightly emboldened by taking another deep breath. “Ma'am, you're stunning. I… Forgive me if I'm overstepping any lines, I just think– Um… If it's no bother, how would you feel about going out with me?”

You barely have time to process you wouldn't even be able to take her to the fancy sort of restaurant she deserves for a date, not with the shitty pay you get at your job.

It's… it's better to be upfront about that, so you steel your nerves before Garofano can answer, though you do find her surprised expression more than a little adorable, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. She's as gorgeous as she's cute– focus!

“I can't really take you to some five star restaurant… I know it's honestly a pretty bad offer, you should just forget I brought this up.”

Before your spirits can somehow deflate any more, Garofano takes a step forward and the sound of her heels shuts your train of thought down immediately. “Darling,” she begins with a gentle tone and a smile that is equally as sweet, “I don't think of myself as a woman who needs the highest luxuries. You're a beautiful prospect, I will gladly give you that.” The chuckle she gives in response to your flabbergasted expression is worth any sort of embarrassment you could've felt this entire morning. “Perhaps tomorrow could be a good time for our… date?”

The widest smile rises to your lips at the generous offer.

Maybe Valentine's day won't be so boring for a change.