#while now i can just be weird and unhinged with the friends left and the new ones | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

endlessthxxghts · 1 year ago

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You Better Jump... (part 2 of 2)

no outbreak!neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈9k

Summary: Your neighbor fixed your lock for you. How can you ever repay him? [read part 1 here]

Warnings: Canon divergent (no outbreak) & mentions of Sarah but we don't see or interact with her (AU - she moved out, lives on her own). Partial physical description of reader (having a thick/curvy body, wears a dress/feminine). Reader is a polyglot but no explicit mentions of race/ethnicity. Feminine pet names (sweet girl, darlin’, etc.). Flirty/awkward interactions and heightened sexual tension. Reader’s unhinged bestie <3. Implied age gap, but no explicit mention as to how big. LATINO JOEL MILLER (😫). An oddly weird amount of sweetness for 2 people who just met LOL. SMUT 18+ MDNI: Joel gets turned on at reader being a polyglot LMAO. Overall dirty talk/vulgar language. Dom/sub undertones (not heavy or established but definitely present). Vaginal fingering, p in v unprotected (I’m not sorry), semi-public sexual activity, thigh riding, bit of exhibitionism kink, oral sex (f receiving), squirting (blink and you’ll miss it), spit kink, choking, hickeys/marking… please let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

A/N: HERE'S PART 2 (THE FINAL PART)! ENJOY, MY LOVES!!💚

MASTERLIST

You and Joel make out like that, with your front door wide open, until you hear a loud meow from what you immediately know to be the neighborhood cat who likes to visit you once in a while. You two break away from each other, breathless, startled from the feline just sitting at the foot of your door.

You look back up to Joel with a cheesy grin on your face, and he mirrors your expression, bringing one of his hands up to run along your red and swollen bottom lip. “Sorry,” he chuckles breathily, “got a little carried away.”

You slowly lean forward into his touch and take his thumb into your mouth, swirling it around your tongue. “Don’t apologize,” you say. You pull your mouth off his thumb and leave a little kiss to the pad of it, “I liked it.”

He groans, his eyes completely black and the grip on your waist tightens, “Darlin’,” he warns, “I need to take you out properly first.”

You slowly back away an inch with a smile full of trouble and put your hands up in a surrendering motion.

His jaw clenches, “You’re trouble, aren’t ya, sweetheart?”

You shrug your shoulders in response, “Maybe.” You fall to your knees in front of him, slowly, and pick up the tools he dropped before your little makeout session. You stand on your knees, head in line with his hips, and look up at him. You reach around and tuck his tools in the back pocket of his jeans, grabbing onto his belt loops to pull yourself back on your feet, “Thank you for fixing my door for me, Joel.”

Before you can break away from the close proximity, his arm snakes around your waist yet again and pulls you in, his other free hand going straight for the underside of your jaw. “Pick you up at seven tonight, hm? Wear somethin’ pretty,” he says, leaning in for a deep kiss that sucks all the air out of you, “Somethin’ that gives me easy access, yeah?”

And with that, he walks out (the cat in tow), shutting the door in the process.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s 5 o'clock by the time Joel left you completely speechless at his last words, and it’s 6 by the time you call your best friend to get your ass over here right now and update her on everything that happened, including her stupid ass comment that made it right into Joel’s earshot. Of course, she laughs hysterically at that, slapping the shit out of your arm with every deep breath she takes at an attempt to calm herself.

“Alright, bitch,” she says, wiping the edges of her eyes from any residue tears, “Let’s get ya dressed, so you can jump-”

“That’s enough,” you say, slapping your hand over her mouth.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Holy fuck.

All your life, you were never really confident in yourself. You were secure enough in your identity that you knew you weren’t that bad to the average eye, but you also very much knew that you weren’t jaw-droppingly sexy. That is, until Joel made you feel like the hottest person on the planet with how he couldn’t control himself with you. Mix in your best friend’s way of hyping you up, and fuck did you feel unstoppable.

You’re not much of a dress person, but you did have a silk, dark green spaghetti strap dress that you bought on a whim a year back. You were slightly skinnier then, but the way it hugs you now accentuates all the right curves and you’ve never felt so fucking beautiful. The dress is also very flowy, having a long slit on both sides, stopping at your hip. Standing, sitting down, no matter what angle, anyone is bound to see a slip of your underwear. Which is totally the reason why you make the executive decision to not wear any, and not because of Joel’s words ringing in your ear since it left his mouth.

You enter your living room once again, giving your best friend a bit of a show before you kick her ass out, and just as your laughs settle down, you hear a knock at your door.

No fuckin’ way it’s been an hour already, you think to yourself. Your eyes go wide as you look at your best friend, her expression mirroring yours. You frantically look at the clock on your television stand, and, it has been an hour already, fuck.

You tell your best friend to hide in your room for now because there is absolutely no way she’s meeting Joel yet. She frowns, but ultimately she listens and runs to your room while you run to grab the door.

You’re already out of breath from the show you were giving your best friend, and the nerves that were building with Joel on the other side of the door you were about to open is not helping one bit.

You planned on just side-stepping him and making it straight for his car, so he doesn’t come inside, but as soon as the door opens, your breath hitches. Joel is so fucking sexy, Jesus fucking Christ, you want to swallow him whole right fucking now. As your eyes give him a full sweep, you make it down to his sleek black shoes, and in your peripheral vision, you see that your feet are still bare. Shit, there goes your plan.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty sight,” he says, also looking you up and down, matching your energy, wanting to devour you just as bad. You smirk up at him and muster up a bashful thank you, but you’re still in a trance from how good he looks. Finally, you feel the outside air tickle your feet, so you start stepping backwards into your apartment, beginning to kneel down to reach the heels you set aside earlier.

He notices where you’re headed and stops you by gently grabbing you by the hip, “Here, may I?” And before you can even think to decline (which you never would), he’s already on his knees for you, for the second time today, and you can’t help the pooling arousal in your core. Your panty-less core, to be exact, which is now only inches away from him.

He grabs your foot and situates it on his knee while he works to unclasp the strap. When he does, his rough hands are grabbing your ankle so contrastingly soft and situating your foot into the heel. He makes sure the strap wraps perfectly around your ankle, and seeing how big his hands are, you would think he would struggle with such a tiny buckle. But no, he clasps it faster than even you would, and he finishes off by leaving a sweet kiss just above where the strap lays on you. He hears your breath hitch at that, so, like the menace he is, he places three more soft kisses, making the journey higher up your leg. And before you can beg him to keep going, he’s already switching your feet around, and repeating the exact same process to your other foot. Including the three kisses up your leg. He looks up at you, a smug smile and a playful sparkle in his eye, “Ready, pretty girl?”

“Y-yeah, I-I’m ready,” you stutter out, eyes already glossed over. He stands at full height now, his hand falling to your lower back as he guides you to the front door. He pauses, though, and you look up at him slightly confused. “I reckon she won’t be here when we get back, but, uh, aren’t ya gonna introduce me to your little friend?”

Your eyes go wide, “How-?” You begin to question, but his fingers are already at your chin, guiding you to look at the black Jeep, backed into a parking spot next to your car, with a bumper sticker of a half set of butterfly wings. It perfectly matches up to the sticker on your car, making a full butterfly. “Oh,” you say defeated but also impressed he picked up on such a little detail. It makes your heart warm a little.

He lets you go from his grasp, and you turn your body in the general direction of your room and yell, “Bitch, get out he-”

It’s as if she had her ear to the door the entire time, waiting for the moment she could dart out because she doesn’t even give you a moment to finish your statement. She’s already in front of you both within seconds.

You give her the eyes that she immediately translates as please play it cool, but you both know she won’t. “Hi, Joel, right? I’ve heard lots about ya,” she spits out at the speed of lightning as she holds her hand out for him to take, and she quickly follows by introducing her name. Joel chuckles at her eagerness and his date’s obvious embarrassment. It’s endearing. Reminds him of his relationship with Tommy. It warms him to know you have a true ride or die in your life, it’s rare to come across these days.

Eventually the introductions are over, your best friend is headed back to her home, and you and Joel are headed to some restaurant that he refuses to tell you the name or where it is, just that the “Drive is worth it, I promise.”

“A 40 minute drive?” you say jokingly just to rile him up, “This better be the best goddamn thing my mouth is ever gonna taste, then.”

His stare breaks from the road for a moment to look at you, then it’s back on the road. But he has a shit-eating grin on his face. “We might as well turn around then, huh? Because the best goddamn thing that mouth of yours is ever gonna taste is not available in any restaurant, no matter how far or fancy.”

It takes you a minute to register, but when it does, you can feel your cheeks and ears heat up, spreading down to your chest, and eventually his dirty implication forces the heat to settle in between your legs. “Christ,” you say under your breath as you shift your hips in his passenger seat, not wanting your already soaked pussy to get anywhere.

Maybe you should’ve worn some panties after all.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You guys are on the last stretch of your drive, about ten minutes left, and Joel’s hand has found his home on your thigh, thoughtlessly rubbing his fingers up and down. However, your mind is completely racing because fuck you just wish he’d move up a little higher to where you are absolutely begging for him the most.

As if he hears your plea, his hand goes higher and higher, but then he stops. His hand goes rigid, grip gets a little tighter, and his breath gets a little heavier. His hand is high enough to where he should be feeling the hem of your underwear, or at least that’s what he was expecting to feel.

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?” you say as innocently as possible.

“Are you not…?”

“No,” losing the innocence in a matter of seconds.

“You’re fuckin’ killin’ me, baby,” he grits out as his hand resumes his path to your wetness. The closer he gets, the more your hips try and angle upwards so he can reach you better, and as soon as his fingers are running through your folds, you’re fucking done for.

“We’re not leavin’ this car ‘til you cum at least twice on my fingers,” he says, his voice completely dark now. “Ya hear me?” He questions as he applies pressure to your clit.

“Fuck! Yes- yes, please, Joel,” you whine out. You shift your body slightly towards his direction, and you open your legs as much as his truck allows you to. Immediately, his fingers slide from your clit and come down to your entrance, spreading your wetness all over you.

He dips into your hole, just one finger in and slowly starts pumping in and out. You’re so turned on by him that just one finger is enough to make that wet squelching sound from going in and out of you. You let out a moan at the action, your one hand shooting to grip the handle of your door and the other gripping onto his bicep. “You make the sweetest sounds for me, darlin’,” he says to you, southern twang increasing in line with his own arousal.

“Please, baby-” you mutter as your head falls back. His one finger speeds up at your words, “Oh, c’mon, use those words,” he teases a second finger at your entrance.

He’s only using one finger right now, and you’re already fucked out, unable to speak or think. You so badly want more of him, though, so you will yourself to talk. “Oh, p-please, an- another finger, Joel, please.. n-need you so bad, please,” you beg.

“That’s right, baby, usin’ your words for me,” he slides his second finger in, “Dámelo.” Give it to me.

“Oh my god,” you damn near scream out, his words spurring you on more than you’ve ever felt. More slick leaks out of you at his Spanish command. Of course he’s fucking sexy and has the filthiest mouth, in multiple languages, known to man. His two fingers are coming in and out of you at a delicious rate, the thickness and length of him hits that sweet spot in you without even trying. “Touch your clit, baby,” you barely hear him say with how blissed out your head feels. Slowly, you let go of the door handle beside you and bring your hand to your clit, rubbing messy circles on your center, coaxing your orgasm closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Joel, your fingers-” you say as he works you open. “My fingers, what? Go on, lemme hear you, trouble.”

Your breathing speeds up to an erratic pace, hot and heavy, “t-too fuck-” your moan cuts you off as your orgasm approaches. He makes his fingers bend in a motion that hits you right where you need it, and- “Oh, fuck, I’m cumming, Joel.”

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, baby,” he says, his movements slowing momentarily.

In your foggy haze, you find yourself peaking at the time, and- It’s only been four fucking minutes? Never has a man ever been able to make you cum that fast. Your past girlfriends, absolutely, but the men you slept with? They’re not even worthy of the label boyfriend if you’re being completely honest. Whatever the case is, you just know Joel has you absolutely fucked. You knew this from the start, of course, but it’s finally setting in. When he’s knuckle-deep inside you while less than ten minutes out from your mystery date location. Chivalry isn’t dead after all, huh?

You’re brought back from your slight distraction when you feel him pull out of you. You whimper at the loss, your hips raising for more. “I know, sugar, I know,” he comforts, “I just have to get a taste before I lose my fuckin’ mind.” His fingers disappear into his mouth, licking and sucking every last drop on him like you’re some lifesaving nectar he’s been searching all his life for. He lets out a pained groan, “I need to taste ya for real, fuck.”

He gives you no time to react to his words because his fingers are back inside you in no time. This time he pumps into you with a steady pace but a deep pressure that has you unable to take a single breath in. Your eyes are rolled back, and it feels like you’re drowning. Like you’re being consumed in everything Joel, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sweat is dripping down your neck at this point as the heat spreads from the apples of your cheeks to the swell of your breasts all the way down to your core. The sounds flowing out of you are uncontrollable and pure filth, and it’s riling him up so much that he is in literal physical pain. His hand that’s on the wheel is gripping so hard that his knuckles are ghost white, and his entire face is flushed with the utmost amount of pained self control you’ve ever fucking seen.

“C’mon, my filthy fuckin’ girl,” he grunts out, “almost there, baby, need one more from you,” his pace finally speeding up in the way that he knows, from your first climax, will end you. He tried keeping his pace slow on purpose, so he can draw out all your beautiful moans and gasps and drag you further into that floating state of mind, but you’re nearly at your destination now and he so desperately needs to get out of this car before he drops his gentlemen promise and pulls over to take you right here in his truck. Unbeknownst to you, he pulls into a parking space that is completely excluded from the general population, and he leans over to bring his hand on your jaw to make you meet his eyes.

“You look at me when I make you cum, yeah, trouble?” he asks, though it’s not much of a question. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him and you try to answer him, but you’re feeling too good that as soon as you starts, “Anythinforyou, Jo-” your orgasm cuts you off and your mouth falls open with the most desperate and needy moans you’ve ever heard yourself make.

He continues his movements as you let yourself fall deeper and deeper, and only until the overstimulation begins to hit you do you realize where you are. “W-when did we park..?” you groan out as he removes his finger from your spent pussy. He chuckles at your cluelessness, “Few minutes ago, sweet girl,” he says as he brings his fingers up to his mouth yet again to lap up your arousal. The action alone has your pussy clenching for something more.

As if he can read your mind, “Later,” he smirks at you. “Let’s eat,” he adds as he gets himself out of the car and walks to your side, opening your door and guiding you out. “Thank you,” you say shyly, unable to look up at him and as you stand on your jello legs.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The restaurant he takes you to is absolutely gorgeous and lively. It’s an Italian restaurant, small and homey, and it seems like a locally owned business. It’s extremely dim, and the main sources of light are purple and red, pointing in the direction of the live music. You two are sitting in a booth in a dark corner, intimate and excluded.

“This place is really beautiful,” you tell him with a smile that makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter. “You eat here often?”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters. Why is he nervous now when he just had you coming apart on his finger merely moments ago? Human emotion is a peculiar thing. “Actually, sorry-” he blurts. You sense his nerves, but you don’t mention it. It warms you that he’s actually nervous. It shows you he’s actively wanting more than just your lust-filled endeavors. You rest your arm along the table, your hand resting palm up near his own, offering him comfort. Silently telling him you’re nervous, too, for whatever it’s worth. He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers with one another. You can see him physically relax. “I don’t really eat here often, but my daughter has dragged me here once or twice. The food is really fuckin’ good.”

“I’m excited,” you squeeze his hand to reflect your excitement. You’re usually the one making the pasta or any Italian dish you’ve been craving because cooking is what you were bred to do. Cooking is the way to the heart, your nonna always taught you. No matter how traditional the sentiment was, it was one you carry with you always. Naturally, you were a bit reluctant to indulge, but the entire atmosphere here screams authentic Italian culture, reminding you of your nonna and soothing your reluctances.

You both scour the menu for a moment, but you both settled on an option fairly quickly, your waiter comes right on queue. “Ciao! Can I start us off with anything to drink?”

Too enraptured by your food options, you forgot to decide your beverage. Before you can even begin to think, Joel is already on it. “Could we get two glasses of red, your house blend, please?”

“Right away, sir, I’ll be back with those in a moment and take your order, then,” he says as he steps away. Immediately then, another individual appears with two glasses and fills them up with water while you wait.

Joel’s focus is on the water being poured, while you’re still devouring him with your eyes. You and him never had a chance yet to talk about your backgrounds or your interests, but so far he’s doing a damn good job at dissecting you: your favorite food being Italian and your drink of choice always being red wine, and he got that, all unprompted.

Finally, his eyes meet yours and the sultry look you’re giving him makes him immediately heat up, his red flush making its appearance again. “What?” He gives you an amused grin.

“Oh, nothing,” you say as you lean back in your bench seat, “I just- you’re really impressing me. It’s quite the turn on.”

His expression turns from amused to aroused in seconds. “Oh?” He leans forward. “Tell me more?”

Before you can indulge, your waiter is back, placing a wine glass in front of each of you and pouring your glass a little over a third way full before he sets it down to begin taking your order.

“What can I get started for you guys?”

You signal for Joel to go first. The look on your face screams mischief, so he doesn’t question it. He orders the filet mignon gnocchi, tonight’s special. The waiter turns to you.

“Buonasera! Vorrei la carbonara, per favore,” (Good evening! I would like the carbonara, please) you say as you beam up at the waiter. His expression brightens tenfold as he realizes what language you just spoke to him. “Perfetto, la carbonara,” (Perfect, the carbonara) the waiter writes down, then looks between the both of you, “I’ll get these in right away.”

“Grazie,” (Thank you) you say, and you hear a small thank you coming from Joel as the waiter walks away. You and Joel meet each other’s gaze.

“You-” he breathes. He looks really shocked. And utterly turned on. “You speak Italian?” You don’t remember when, but his hold on your hand switched to running his finger up and down your forearm. Chills fall down your spine. “Mhm,” you respond with, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible while you reach for a sip of your wine, as if you don’t know how much you just completely rocked his world.

“Fuckin’ trouble, I tell ya,” he says under his breath as he tries to casually adjust himself under the protection of the table and the dark lighting.

After your meals come out, the next 45 minutes are spent in easy conversation. You ask him questions that prompt responses ranging from telling you about his daughter to him being a single father to his contractor business with his younger brother, Tommy. In return, he asks you questions about your family, your best friend, and the question that’s been burning him all night, “Where the hell did you learn Italian?”

You chuckle at his eagerness. Who knew Joel Miller would have an auralism fetish? You wonder what else could spur him on. “I can ask you the same about your Spanish,” you say as you wipe your mouth from any pasta sauce. “Throwing your words at me while you have me wrapped around your fingers, literally.” You say it so casual yet bold that it does nothing but fire him up more. His self control slips more and more with every flirty and filthy word your mouth utters.

He clears his throat and takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Grew up bilingual,” he offers.

Southern drawl with a Spanish tongue? Yes, please, you think to yourself. You hum in agreement. He picks up on it. “Ah, I see.”

“Not bilingual, though,” you clarify with a smirk, mainly to test out just how turned on he’ll get at the prospect of your tongue being versed in a variety of ways.

One hand of his tightens as if he’s trying to really hold onto the string that’s keeping his self control at bay.

You sit and think for a minute. You grew up in a mixed ethnic household, so you have a few options you could choose to reveal right now, but there’s one in particular that you know will make him snap.

The waiter hands the bill directly to Joel. He’s writing down the tip and total as he murmurs to you, “What else do you know?” The waiter comes back and offers you both pleasantries and bids you goodnight, in Italian to you and English to Joel.

You lift your napkin up off your lap and begin to stand. He starts, but freezes as soon as you begin to speak, “Bueno,” you breathe out. “Me encantó la comida, pero tenemos que ir a la casa, ¿qué piensas?” (Well, I loved the food, but we have to go home, what do you think?) You begin to walk in the direction of the exit, but you don’t feel his warmth radiating from you, so you turn back around. He’s sitting back down at the edge of the seat. You go back to him and put your hand on his shoulder. “Joel…you okay?”

“Yep,” he says strained, “Just, uh- need a minute.” Both his hands are situated on his knees and he’s leaning over a little. Your eyes drift to in between his thighs and god damn he’s hard. Painfully hard. His bulge is so big it has you holding back a whimper at the sight of it.

You can’t help but make this situation worse for him, it’s in your nature. So you bring your mouth down to his ear and in a low whisper, “Faster we get into the car, the faster I can take care of that for you, big boy.”

He stands at full height now, his body completely flush and towering over you. He takes one look at you and his hands are on your waist, spinning you around and guiding you to the car without a word.

You can feel yourself walking faster than you’ve ever done in your life, and thank Heavens you do because as soon as you reach the car, he wastes no time in turning you around and pinning you between the driver’s side door and his body.

His lips meet yours in a frenzy, it’s a clash of hot breath and tongue, and you take all of him in fervently. His tongue passes over yours in a way that has your knees buckling. He clocks it immediately and before you know it, his thick thigh is slotted between yours, nudging your core. You moan into his mouth at the pressure, and he pulls away to grab your jaw, forcing your attention onto him. “Gonna give me another one, baby?”

“Joel-” you start, but he cuts you off. “You’re gonna give me another one, right here, right on my fuckin’ thigh,” he demands, his grip on your jaw tightening with his words, “Am I understood?”

You nod your head frantically as much as his grip allows you, followed by a “Fuck, fuck, yes, Joel, yes, I understand,” and your hips start moving on their own accord. “That’s it,” he chuckles, eyes blown out in his arousal for you. One hand wraps around your waist while the other bunches the front of your dress so he can see the mess you’re creating on him.

If anyone were to walk by right now, they would get a full view of your sobbing cunt rubbing all over his dressed thigh. It’s lewd, it’s pornographic, and it would definitely get you arrested for indecent exposure and disorderly conduct. And even though those reasons should be enough for you to stop what you’re doing and tell Joel you want to just get home first (which he’d be more than willing to oblige to for your comfort), you don’t want to. The prospect of someone walking by to witness what this hunk of a man can reduce you down to is enough to push you to the edge that much faster.

He slightly rocks his thigh back and forth in time with the grind of your hips, the now wet fabric catching enticingly on your clit. Joel’s grip on your waist tightens, encouraging more pressure into you. He lets go of your dress to slip his fingers in between your cunt and his thigh, adding more stimulation to the bundle of nerves as he pushes himself into you to meet you in another wet kiss. His lips leave your mouth and make its way down your jaw to just below your ear, and he bites. Hard. The searing sensation mixed with everything else makes your vision go white, and you’re literally creaming all over his black dress pants. He soothes that part of your neck with more sucking and licking as your hips come to a halt, his fingers still rubbing slowly, ever so often teasing them at your entrance.

Your full weight is leaned against his truck, and the only reason you’re still standing right now is because of his hold on you. He knows this, so keeping his one arm around your waist, he slowly pulls away from you to bend down and bring his other arm under your knees. He picks you up and cradles you to the front seat of his truck. He sets you down gently, buckles you in, and before he steps away to the driver side, he uses his pointer and thumb to nudge your chin up to his level, and he kisses you so sweetly, the butterflies in both your bellies fluttering like crazy at the feeling. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers.

“Then take me home, cowboy.”

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Ironically enough, your car ride back to your apartment is filled with the sweetness of each other’s presence, your main conversation of getting to know each other from dinner picking back up. The first few minutes of pulling out of the parking lot and getting onto the main road was you bringing yourself back down from your orgasmic high. You wanted to take care of Joel, so that’s what you started to do as soon as you gained your consciousness again, but he stopped you.

“Trust me, darlin’, I want you to so fuckin’ bad,” he says as he regretfully puts your hand back on the middle console and engulfs your hand in his. “But, at least, for tonight, I need to get you off before I do.”

You look at him even though he can’t meet your gaze. The gesture is heartwarming, you’ve never had anyone like this before. And although pleasing your partner is equally as pleasing for you, you don’t argue—but you are confused. “You did get me off, though…three times already?”

He smirks and meets your eyes for a moment before turning back. “That was just your appetizer, baby,” he lifts your hand up to his mouth and leaves a kiss to the back of it.

Your eyes go wide, “Oh,” you squeak out. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, “Okay then.”

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As soon as he parks, he’s out of the car in an instant, opening your door and guiding you out again. You walk up to your door, fumbling for your keys to unlock it. He’s behind you, lips hungrily kissing up and down your neck and your shoulder. As soon as you get it open, you turn around to face him, your lips smashing into his and tugging him into the house as you walk backwards towards the direction of the nearest piece of furniture possible. He kicks your door shut and swiftly locks it, his one hand only leaving you for an unnoticeable second.

You were trying to lead him to your living room, but somehow you ended up crashing into your dining table. He doesn’t care though because his hands are grabbing at your hips, hoisting you up. He breaks the contact with your lips and you whine at the loss, but immediately he’s kneeling. Third time today, you think to yourself, could definitely get used to this view.

“Told ya, I needed to taste you for real, sweet girl,” he says as he runs his hands up your thighs. “Spread your legs, baby.”

You gather the front of your dress and let it pool beside you, your bottom half completely bare to him. You spread your legs and bring your hips to the very edge, your core completely at his mercy. His eyes grow completely black at the view, your wetness dripping out of you.

He secures his hands at your hips, borderline grasping at the globes of your asscheeks, and your thighs hooked on his shoulders. He leaves warm, open-mouth kisses up your thigh, alternating between both. Once he reaches your sex, you realize there is absolutely no stopping him until he’s had his fill. Your one hand stays behind on the dining table to hold you up while the other flies to the back of his head, gripping the curls at the base of his neck.

You’ve never felt anything like this before. His plush lips kissing every place vulnerable to you with such a velvety sensation, his tongue pushing into you and nudging areas you didn’t know a tongue could reach, and his nose—My God, his fucking nose—providing life-altering sensation directly on your clit.

The only noises in your apartment are the sounds of his slurping mixed with your high-pitched moans and occasional dirty praise, and you’re sure your neighbors can hear you, but you’re feeling way too fucking good to even care about that right now.

“Just like that, fuck-” your hips start grinding into his face, “-shit, you feel so fucking good, Joel, yes!” You gasp out as his rhythm changes, forcing you to the edge for the fourth time tonight.

He pulls you in impossibly closer and shoves his face impossibly deeper, and at that moment, your orgasm crashes into you. Your arm that was holding you up gives way and you fall back into the dining table, back arching while your thighs tighten around Joel’s head. The feeling of being completely consumed by you eggs him on so much that he can’t bring himself to stop. He continues devouring you like his life depends on it, his moans and whines vibrating you deep within. You don’t know if it’s another orgasm hitting you or an aftershock from the one you just had, but all you know is that your ass is completely off the dining table and he’s holding you into his face drinking every last drop.

You use all your strength to pull yourself back up, both your arms behind you to hold you up. You try and scoot your ass back onto the table, but Joel is still gripping onto you, spoiling the entire area with slow, deep kisses. He gives extra attention on your thighs, sucking bruises that’ll flourish through the night. Loving the sensation but not loving the way your ass is hitting against the table, you softly call his name with a smile full of adoration, “Let’s take this to my room, maybe?”

He stands to his full height while scooting you back to be able to sit properly again. His smile mirrors yours. He grabs your face with both his hands and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s soft at first, but tasting yourself on him is a taste you don’t think you’ll ever tire of. Your tongue caresses his bottom lip, and he opens, pulling you in, his tongue embracing yours in an all-consuming dance.

Your hands begin to roam at his sides, making your way to the buttons of his dress shirt, and it’s then that he pulls away, remembering the question you asked. “Wait, wait,” he says. He opens your legs a little more so he can step in between. His hands are underneath you once again, and he nudges you forward, wordlessly telling you to wrap your legs around his waist. So you do, and he picks up, chuckling at the squeal you let out when your body reaches the air, and he leads you to your bedroom.

He lets you plop onto the edge of the bed and get yourself situated in the center. He finishes what you started and starts undressing himself. His shirt is the first to go, unbuttoning, untucking, and letting it fall to a random place on your floor. Looking down at you ready for him, he takes a step closer, unbuckling his belt, pulling them out of the loops, letting it follow the same path as his shirt.

He’s been catching the way you’ve been admiring all day, so he indulges in your fantasy a little in the way he undresses himself for you. With every article that gets removed, he watches your eyes grow hungrier, your breathing heavier. You’re too occupied at the sight of his body, you don’t make any move to pull your dress off, but that’s okay. Joel wants to be the one to unwrap his dessert.

Joel removes his pants and boxers in one go, and you let out an involuntary gasp at the sight in front of you. He is fucking huge. His length isn’t overbearing, but it’s his fucking girth that’s throwing you in for a loop. Your anxiety starts to rise a little; you have never been with a man as well-endowed as Joel and no strap-on you’ve taken could ever resemble what you’re about to take right now.

You fell into your overthinking, not realizing that Joel has made his way over you. He grounds you with a kiss, stealing all your worries. He grazes his finger over your forehead, pushing a hair away. The action makes you melt. Oh, there goes the butterflies, again. He guides your head to angle down to kiss your forehead, then your nose, and back to your lips once more. He makes sure your eyes are on each other before he says, “We do not have to do anything more if you are not ready, sweet girl.”

He’s been pretty dominating all night, which you don’t mind at all, but this coming out of his mouth at the fire of your anxieties completely distinguishes them. You know you’re safe with him. Your eyes tear up and before you speak, you snake your hand to the back of his neck and yank him into you for another kiss. As he pulls away, a tear falls, but his thumb catches it.

“I trust you, Joel, I need you,” you say as you lean into the warmth of his hand, “Please.”

“Sit up for me real quick then, darlin’,” he says, sitting back on his haunches and pulling you up with him. His hands find the hem of your silky dress, and he slowly guides it up your thighs, up your torso, and you lift your arms off so he can guide it off completely. Now it’s his turn to admire. It’s as if his eyes don’t know where to look first: at your luscious thighs, your beautiful tummy, your full chest. “You’re so perfect,” he whispers, not meant for you to really hear, but it makes you flutter all the same.

“Lay down for me, baby,” he says as he continues admiring you. You lay back down again, reaching your arm up to drag the pillow below your head. You spread your legs, inviting him in, letting him know you’re ready. But what he does next absolutely surprises you. He grabs your leg at the ankle and lays kisses everywhere. Up your calf, the bend of your knee, all around your thigh in the areas he marked earlier. He reaches your mound and makes no move to dive in. Instead, he lays kisses in the area, even a kiss is placed directly on your clit. You moan at the feeling. He mirrors his actions on your other leg. Then, he bends forward and begins kissing your tummy. Kisses in the general vicinity of your belly button, your ribs, making his way up your sternum.

Granted, your body is buzzing in arousal right now, and you’re making a puddle in your sheets, but mentally, the way he is appreciating your body has you feeling utterly content.

Your hand finds its home again in his neck just as Joel reaches your breasts. He continues his journey and kisses all around, his tongue swirling around your nipples. Your back arches at this, and you feel him smile against you as his hands wrap around your ribs, his thumbs caressing underneath your boobs. His mouth makes its way to your neck.

His mouth transitions to longer, wetter kisses, leaving trails of spit on the valley of your breasts and on your neck. The cooling of his spit coaxes a whimper out of you, wanting more of him. Wanting to drink him. His mouth finally meets yours and it’s slow but desperate, your hips lifting to meet his at an attempt for any kind of relief. His tongue massages yours and you can feel the spit build up; you eagerly try and lap it up.

You pull him away for a moment, slightly bashful to ask, but you need it so bad. “C-can you…” your gaze slips from his. His hand on your rib comes up to rest on the lower part of your neck, his fingertips grazing your jaw but also softly guiding you to look at him again. His eyebrow quirks up at you. Go on, he’s telling you. “Can you, uh- I-” you completely fumble. “Words, trouble,” he smirks, the nickname eliciting a sense of comfort within you.

“Canyouspitinmymouth, please?” You rush out with your eyes clamped shut, scared of what his reaction would be. He doesn’t say a thing, waiting for you to come to your senses and open your eyes. As soon as you do, he’s on you again, kissing you like before you pulled away to ask your question. Except this time, his fingertips secure themselves on the hinge of your jaw and nudge you open. Your lips but a whisper apart, his spit falling into your mouth, as your tongues’ tips dance around one another.

The moans you let out for him are sounds he never wants to give up. He’ll let you drink him dry if this is what he hears in his last breaths.

He pulls away, a spit string connecting you both. You lean forward, attaching to his bottom lip for a moment more before you let yourself pull away, then you swallow.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” you breathily giggle. He smirks at your antics, leaning in for another kiss to distract you. He reaches for another pillow above your head, and as your kiss becomes more heated, you grind your hips up into him, giving him perfect timing to slot the pillow underneath your lower back.

You pull back, “Wha-” you start to question, but he’s quick to respond. He sits back up for a sec, “It’ll help,” he says, and he brings both your legs into a bent position, like frog legs, in a way. Your confusion immediately fades as you physically feel your pelvic floor open up. Oh.

“I thought you were a contractor, not a chiropractor?” you tease.

“Watch it,” he warns. “You know, I could just,” his fingers graze your glistening entrance, “force it in,” he slips a finger in, slowly. You gasp, teasing demeanor gone in an instant. “No preppin’ this tight little thing,” he pulls his finger completely out, you whine in response. “How ‘bout that?”

A barely audible please escapes your mouth, unsure of what it is you’re begging for, and you feel your pussy clench at his words.

His eyes darken, “Oh, she likes that idea, huh?” He’s leaning over you now, kissing your jaw and neck as he grabs himself by the base and lines his tip up to your warmth. “Maybe next time. Right now, trouble, I’m takin’ my damn time with you.”

He grabs himself by the base and guides himself to your entrance, his other hand at the side of your head. He lets his cock grind against your wet folds for a few moments, covering himself in your earlier climax, and then his tip catches at your entrance. You both let out a sharp gasp at the sensation, and he slowly starts pushing in.

“Oh, fuck,” you let out.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he whimpers, “so fuckin’ good, fuck.”

Your pussy clenches at his tone of desperation, and his one arm moves to situate underneath the curve of your back, accentuating it. He’s halfway in you and the painful yet pleasing stretch of your pussy has you closing your eyes at the sensation.

“Baby, eyes on me, need t’see you,” he says, reaching down to nip your bottom lip. Your eyes shoot open and your brows furrow, your pouty face doing nothing to ease his yearn of just pushing completely in you with no remorse.

Finally he bottoms out, both your hips flush with one another, and being completely engulfed in you like this, he can’t hold out any longer. “Look, doll,” he rasps. His hand beside you snakes underneath your head and he’s lifting it for you to look down. “It’s like you’re made f’me, huh?” He says as he begins to pull out of you until only the tip is in.

Your eyes are fixed on the sight below you. Your pussy absolutely stretched out, his dick completely covered in your juices. You don’t have the mental capacity to form anything coherent. Joel knows that, so giving you no time to acknowledge his filthy words, he pushes inside you again. This time much faster and much harder.

He continues that rough and fast pace for a while, kissing and biting everywhere his mouth can reach, relishing in the constant moans and whimpers spewing from your mouth.

“S-so big,” your voice quivers.

“But you’re takin’ it so well, sweet girl,” he replies, voice husky and strained. He sits up a little to stand on his knees, his pace faltering momentarily. His arm from your waist moves down to the underside of the bend on your knee. He pushes your leg higher, opens you up more. The angle makes you flutter around his cock, and he can’t help but speed up.

“Fuck,” he grits out, “not gonna last with that, sweetheart.”

His hand beside your head moves to rest at the base of your neck, his fingers splayed wide across you, giving him more leverage to rock in and out of you. You feel your body wanting to arch up into him, but the hold he has on you and the angle you’re in gives him complete control over you. The thought brings you higher, and you can’t help what spills from your mouth next.

“‘S okay, Joel, p-please,” you moan, “Use me, use my pussy, daddy.”

His hand trails a little higher and now he’s completely wrapped around your neck, his thrusts sloppy, but harder than you’ve ever felt before. “Say that again, sweetheart?” he rushes, hurtling towards his release.

You let both your hands come up to grab ahold of the hand wrapped around your throat. You pulse your grip, hinting at him to squeeze. He gets it, and within seconds, his fingers are right on your pulse points, applying pressure and giving you a yummy dizziness.

Your breath hitches and your voice picks up in pitch, “U-use me, daddy, I want your cum, please.” His other hand reaches for your clit. You gasp out. Immediately then, a lightbulb turns on in your mind, and a dazed smile forms across your face.

“Yeah, baby, that what you want?” he says as his ministrations on your clit picks up, his cock kissing that sweet spot inside of you, over and over again. “Wanna be pumped full of daddy’s cum?”

“Ay, dámelo, papi, dámelo.”

It’s as if you two were really standing on an edge of a cliff, and you pushed him off with just your words. He roars out an addictive moan, and his release coats your walls. The warmth flooding in you and the pulse of his cock mixed with his fingers still circling, and you’re getting pushed off the cliff with him. His fingers begin to slow, and he’s letting go of your throat. He leans back over you to meet your lips, and you take him in. Quite sloppily, though, you’re doing the best you can with the feeling of his hips still slowly rocking into you, the overstimulation milking both of you for all that you’re worth.

You both stay like that for a few minutes longer, basking in the softness of him on your lips, inside you.

But then immediately he pulls away — and pulls out. You both hiss at the feeling.

“Shit! Fuck, I’m sorry-” he starts blabbering, but you cut him off with a finger on his lips.

“Hey, hey, hey, breathe,” you say as you take a deep breath for him to mirror, “What’s going on?”

He takes a deep breath and repeats himself, calmer this time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask where you wanted-” he gestures to his cum beautifully dripping from your entrance, “I know how risky that was- and we didn’t even use protection, I-” his panic starting to rise again.

You put your hand on his sternum and put a little pressure, figuring if your anxiety sits there, it’s worth a shot to see if that’s where his sits, too. It does. He looks down at your hand and back up at you, kind of shocked but not more than the situation at hand to question how you know that would help.

“A few things,” you say as you keep your hand on him. “One, I never stopped you, we both took the risks. Two, luckily enough for the both of us, I’m on the pill.” He smiles at that. “And three, even if I wasn’t on the pill” you continue, “I wouldn’t mind picking up a Plan B if it meant I got to feel you like that inside of me again…” your voice trails off and immediately he pulls your hand away from his front up to his mouth to press several kisses on your palm, bursting in lighthearted laughter, his anxiety fading away.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Joel laid in bed, tangled up in each other, for a little while longer, but he could sense the mess started to make you a little uncomfortable. He pulled both you and him off your bed, guiding you with his hands on your hips but ultimately letting you take the lead to your bathroom.

He guides you to your toilet and starts scouring your bathroom to find your washcloths. Once he does, he soaks it in warm water, and falls down to your level, so he can clean you. You reach out to grab the washcloth, thinking you’re gonna be the one doing it, but he’s quick to swat your hand away with a smile. He asks softly, “May I?”

Your eyes meet his, and all you can see is a genuine softness and a genuine yearn to take care of you. It makes you breathless. “Yeah,” you return his softness.

Being the pretty kinky and adventurous person that you were, aftercare always existed for you. Albeit, some of your past partners were more tender than others, but none of them treated you in a way that made you feel like you two were endgame. There’s something about Joel and the way he can be so soft, warm, and appreciative. He’s so experienced and considerate that you know he’s probably had his fair share of lovers in his past, but the way he treats you makes you feel like everything back then was solely leading him to this very moment. Like he spent years searching, and now that he’s found you, he needs to make sure what’s his is truly being taken care of in the way it deserves.

The thought and his actions should scare you, but they don’t.

There are people who spend years dating each other, still trying to figure out if they’re meant to be. There are married couples filing for divorce because they learned that they weren’t for each other after all.

There are others who get married after six months because they just know. Then, there’s you and Joel. Obviously you’re not going to marry him tomorrow but as you sit here, letting him care for you in such a way you’ve never felt before, you feel it. The rightness. The belonging. He’s gonna be in your life for a long, long time, and one of the most important people in your life at that. You don’t say any of this, though. You can’t. It’s too soon.

So, for now, you’ll just let your actions speak louder than words, and show him just how much you need him in your life.

“I’m cooking for us next time,” you say, pulling Joel from his own thoughts.

“Okay,” he says without a second thought. Unbeknownst to you, he was thinking the exact same thing as you.

He feels it, too, and just like you, for now, he’ll let his actions speak louder than his words.

He reaches over and plops the washcloth into the sink, his eyes on you.

“Only if we christen the dining table before dinner.”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks go hot.

Yeah, you are absolutely fucked. And so is he.

I hope you guys enjoyed!🥹 As always, feedback, comments, reblogs, etc. is extremely appreciated! Thank you to every single one of you for welcoming me with open, loving arms. I'm giving all of you forehead smooches right now. I love you all. So much.

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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starlightkun · 1 month ago

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flopstar ⏯ teaser [kun]

⏯ teaser word count: 1259 | full fic: 18.3k ⏯ genre: band au, retired floprockstar/venue manager!kun, rookie/keyboardist!reader, age gap (kun is older), fluff, v v suggestive (lol it’s a kun fic written by me this gets so unhinged im sorry), ft. jungwoo/mark/chenle/jisung as reader’s bandmates, wayv as kun’s coworkers & some special guest appearances maybe?? ⏯ warnings: uhm there’s some maybe weird power dynamics going on here? reader is a former fan of kun’s but like his band flopped and they never met back then so 🤷‍♀️ read at your own peril ig, not necessarily a warning but since i do avoid describing the reader’s appearance in my fics, i wanted to give a heads up—reader is in a punk/alternative band and is mentioned and/or implied to have some tattoos and piercings (other than earlobes). i don’t get super detailed, but since it’s there, i wanted to make sure y’all weren’t caught off-guard ⏯ extra info: set in the same universe as filler episodes & sugarcoated brain, but u don’t need to read those in order to understand this one at all i prommy ⏯ estimated release: saturday, december 14, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

“Uh, you can settle in,” Yangyang waved his hands around vaguely. “We’re going to go see if the old man finally keeled over or something.”

“I heard that.” A stern voice resounded from just outside the green room, making the two employees jump and turn around.

A third man had joined you all, focusing an unamused gaze on Yangyang and Kunhang. He was dressed in black from head to toe, a black leather jacket over black button-up shirt and black jewelry glinting from his neck, ears, and knuckles. He wore dark pants and big black work boots too, so you were doubly surprised at how quietly he could move. While you could tell he was older than the rest of you, you definitely wouldn’t call him old. As soon as his sharp eyes flicked over to you from under a curtain of jet-black hair, a jolt of recognition zapped through you, and you grabbed Jisung’s arm at the same time that you bit down on your tongue to avoid making a sound. Your friend’s arm tensed in surprise, but he thankfully stayed quiet too. The newcomer’s gaze went back to his employees as quick as it had flitted over your band.

“Go find something to do,” he shooed them away with one swift hand movement.

“On it!” They replied in unison, shoes squeaking on the concrete floor as they quite literally ran away.

He turned back to you all, taking a few steps in to fully enter the green room. The annoyance drained from his face, and his features became beautifully neutral as he greeted you all politely. “Sorry, I was on a call, it took much longer than I thought it would. If they didn’t already tell you, my assistant manager is out, so it’s a bit hectic around here right now. Normally our weekly act is her responsibility.”

“Is she okay?” Jungwoo asked.

“Yes, she’s fine,” the manager replied. “She’s assisting our usual weekly with their mini-tour. Which is why you all are here, of course. We appreciate you agreeing to fill in for RFE on this temporary basis.”

“Thanks for the opportunity,” Mark replied automatically.

“If you all do well, it might not have to be temporary, hm?” He said, and though his words were kind, his expression didn’t change. You were beginning to taste blood. “I’m Kun, manager of Venue:Hell. Please let me know if you have any issues while you’re here. I’ve delayed your soundcheck already, so I’ll let you go ahead.”

With that, Kun stepped out as briskly as he had arrived, leaving no room for further conversation or introductions.

As soon as he left, Jisung yanked his arm from your grip and looked at you incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, what the fuck—”

“He played the keys in Vizions!” You hissed, anxiously looking over at the hallway as if he might reappear.

“Wait, like that band that only released one album like a decade ago that you’re obsessed with?” Chenle questioned doubtfully. “How can you be sure?”

“She went to like every gig they had,” Mark recounted. “Got us grounded, and then would insist on sneaking out while we were grounded to go to even more. If anybody is gonna recognize a member of that band, it’s her.”

“You should see if he’ll sign your album,” Jungwoo suggested with a grin, nudging you with his elbow.

“Or fuck him,” Chenle deadpanned abruptly, dropping onto the well-used couch, stretching his legs out. “You’re in a band now too, not just a fan.”

“You guys don’t get it, I didn’t just think he was hot—”

“That was definitely part of it,” Mark snorted.

“—He was awesome on the keys! And he wrote all of their songs, and produced their entire album by himself!” You defended yourself. “He made me realize I didn’t just have to do piano recitals and that I could do something like this.”

“Alright, sorry, Y/N,” Chenle said softly. “We were just messin’ with you.”

“Do you think he recognized you? Since you apparently went to so many of their shows?” Jisung asked.

You shook your head. “No way. I never had the courage to talk to them. And that was like ten years ago anyway.”

“I still think you should see if he’ll sign your CD.” Jungwoo patted your shoulder. “It’d probably make his day.”

“I don’t know, clearly the band thing didn’t work out for him,” Chenle added. “He might want to just forget it all.”

You bit the inside of your cheek nervously, then let out a dejected sigh. “Nah, it’s not like I carry the CD with me everywhere…”

Your set at Venue:Hell that night was a hit, if you did say so yourself. It wasn’t nearly as big of a turnout as the Valentine’s event you’d played at, but that was to be expected for a random Thursday night. The crowd was surprisingly engaged, especially since you were careful to incorporate a couple covers of popular songs into your set.

Running off the stage, the five of you immediately tackled each other in a group hug that was all yelling, elbows, sweat, laughing, and chaos.

“One down, three to go!” You cheered, ruffling up Jisung’s matted hair.

“Oh my god, we’re doing this again!” Mark added breathlessly.

“Boo!” You all immediately jeered at the corny joke he made every chance he got. “Tomato! Tomato!”

He laughed loudly as you and Chenle pushed and jostled him, but not enough for him to fully leave your circle. Jungwoo tugged him back in.

“Good job, guys,” Dejun, a stage tech, congratulated you as he passed by, starting to break down some of the equipment on stage.

Your band broke apart to help the staff shut down the stage for the night as other music played over the speakers of the venue and patrons chatted and danced on the floor. A few came up to the stage to talk with you as you worked, interested both in you all as the new weekly, and what had happened to the old weekly. They seemed relieved to hear that Roses for Eyes wasn’t gone for good, and were really enthused in the feedback they had for you.

After putting your equipment that you would be taking home in the green room, you all decided to stay and mingle for a little while more. If this was only going to be for four nights, you wanted to make them count and do as much as you could to get your band’s name out there. You ordered a drink from Sicheng the bartender, at which time you found out that the 50% employee discount applied to you too for the time being. Turning back to the crowd, you strained to spot any of your bandmates among the bodies.

“Hey,” Kun had appeared next to you at the bar, and you jumped out of your skin.

“Fuckin’ Christ, dude,” you coughed, trying to catch your breath. “Can you teleport or something?”

“Sorry.” He seemed more amused than apologetic. “Good set.”

“Thanks.” You took a sip of your drink to avoid looking him in the eye.

“Who did the arrangement for that first cover?”

“I did. Uhm, it obviously wasn’t for a rock band, so I had to do some tweaking…”

He nodded, looking actually impressed. “You compose?”

“Me and Mark for the most part, yeah. The other guys pitch in on songwriting sometimes, too. Chenle’s adlibs are crazy good.”

“Cool. See you next week.” Kun pushed off the bar, disappearing into the crowd.

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gayhenrycreel · 1 month ago

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How To Train Your Dragon, and the trap of a bad faithful adaptation

spoilers for httyd, films and books

i hated httyd 3.

Toothless got reduced to a silly pet, Lightfury has a horrible design (i dare say misogynistic design, but other people have already discussed this), and Grimmel was so uninteresting that i legitimately forgot he was even in the movie a few weeks after watching.

the worst thing? its attempt at being a faithful adaptation.

unfortunately a lot of people don't know about the book series the films are based on. this is quite sad really because unlike the movies, the books increase in quality over time.

the end of the book series follows a sea dragons war on humanity, who have been enslaving dragons for centuries.

yeah so the books are about eugenics, slavery, and genocide.

the sea dragon, known as Furious, was the adoptive brother of Hiccup the Second 100 years ago. Hiccup II was murdered by his father when he found his birth family. its not too relevant to my point, but this father was the king of vikings.

now Furious is the king of dragons and is still angry about what Hiccup II's dad did.

my absolute favourite scene is Hiccup the Third, now a king, trying to stop the war by talking to Furious, hoping that he will understand that it was a singular person who killed Furious's brother, and humanity as a whole is able to improve. Furious cant bring himself to kill Hiccup, and sees his lost brother in him.

Furious has a bit of a freak out, saying its too late for the world to change, or possibly too soon. he concludes that its definitely not the right time.

this one line is why the ending is so good.

the dragons and humans cant coexist, because its the wrong time. just like Furious said, its not the time for coexistance.

the dragons go into hiding.

httyd 3, the film, tried to do this same ending, but absolutely butchered it because it didn't have a reason. it tries to justify it like "oh the vikings dont deserve dragons, so they all live in a cave now".

this completely misses the point.

in the books the dragons left because there was a mutual genocide happening.

in the films its because humans suddenly arent good enough now.

the whole point of the ending in the books is that its set in the past, and what was too soon back then is now the present.

so the whole book series has a message like this: "mistakes change the world. if you are a 'mistake' it means you stand out. this gives you the opportunity to help other 'mistakes'. it may feel like the world is not ready to accept mistakes (i.e, people who survived eugenics and saved the dragons no matter how much equality is viewed as a bad mistake), but now it is. those who are different can help the world accept difference. the time for equality is now".

the films ending is more like: "we are failures at creating equality and look what youve done the dragons (who are supposedly an allegory for various marginalized groups) have all left and the right thing to do was to outcast them all over again because you both have girlfriends now and Toothless cant possibly be a friend to humans while also apparently being in heat or something".

so... httyd 3 is a film about romantic relationships not only being incompatible with unrelated platonic relationships, but also so important that a marginalized demographic is unable to exist with another society because the king (who is literally just a regular guy with unexplained superpowers that ruin tension compared to literal mind controlling scaly mountains) has met a woman 5 minutes ago that he has barely any screen time with.

imagine how unhinged it would be if a real demographic cut off its ties to other cultures because a famous person got married.

this is extremely bizarre especially considering how the books had near zero romance (Hiccup has no love interest throughout the whole series and the focus is on love in general, particularly platonic and familial).

the weird addition of romance to the seperation plotline has no connection to the source material. the writers were just pulling this out their asses like 2017 tumblr arophobes.

the books do such a good job of showing that romantic love is a type of love, just like any other form of love. its there and its important, but its specifically important because it involves people caring about each other, which is also achieved through other forms of love.

its ironic because httyd 1 and 2 do this too. Astrid and Hiccup are important, yes, but Toothless and Hiccup are equally important.

why does the third film even exist? the answer is in Toothless or whatever they did to his character. hes silly but not respectful of Hiccup (he goddamn nearly electrocuted him to death and keeps trying to eat his prosthetic leg), hes clearly in heat or something and suddenly doesnt even give a fuck about the guy he has risked his life for multiple times (i guess hes in an alpha rut. you know how alphas get), and even visually there are signs.... of capitalism.

in the first film Toothless can be adorable. hes a panther, which of course is a cat. httyd 1 doesn't forget that a cat is still a predator, and Toothless can be terrifying.

by httyd 3 his eyes are bigger and closer to the front of his face. its kinda uncanny and is clearly to make him exclusively cute.

what happened to the big cuddly dragon that i was once told looks like hed eat other dragons?

hes no longer a character.

hes a marketing tool.

httyd 3 is a cashgrab. we can see it in Toothless becoming a sidekick. we can see it in the hideous weird beluga thing that is the result of normies trying to imagine a sexy dragon (come on guys, Cloudjumper is right there). we can certainly see it in, and i hate bringing this up, Dragons: The Nine Realms. that show need not exist, its literally just because its a popular franchise, which is actually quite funny because i only know about nine realms because of angry critics in my youtube feed screaming about it in videos that last over 2 hours.

if your spinoff is only known to critics who will gladly insult your show to death and superfans who by the looks of it are the same critics, there is a serious problem.

i knew something was wrong the instant i saw the characters dressed like ugly action figures. it only makes sense for Snotlout, he thinks he has perfect taste. this could have actually been funny if Snotlout was the only person dressed like a low budget furry and everyone was like "why the fuck are you dressed like that", but no, the people (children who will grow up to realise this film sucks ass and will despise it) want rpg video game movies that dont have rpg video games.

question for httyd 3. how did you get the idea to make the main cast furries? could you not hire an actual furry to design their fursuits? because fursuits are not typically that painful to look at and they certainly arent usually made of what appears to be plastic in a film set centuries ago which definitely has the resources to have textures other than plastic. ever heard of scalemail? it looks great in DnD art.

its almost like a dreamworks employee caught wind of the furry fandom but didn't actually look into it and in the process picked up something about horny dragons.

i have legit seen dragon scale inspired armour designs better than that as real life furry cosplay.

no one wants to see Fishlegs looking like some sort of very large beetle. its weird and doesnt match anything else in the movie.

httyd 2 had Hiccup with his own gear, textured leather and a wing suit that looked plausible and immersive. httyd 3 has everyone as weird beetles that could not possibly stay aloft because they are seemly wearing plastic dragon suits.

its like.... almost funny. it could literally be an avengers parody.

i want stories that have consistent themes. i want stories that follow their own rules (remember how httyd 1 and 2 involved actual research on flight mechanics).

and i want some respect for the furry artists that clearly were not involved in the fursuit designs.

#httyd #media criticism #how to train your dragon #httyd 3 #the hidden world #httyd books

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ysmtttty · 5 months ago

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Neris week: headcanons

@nerisweek

• Nesta has cold hands. She loves getting her hands under Eris’s shirt since his body is a live heater. He doesn’t mind, he likes to hold her hands and warm them up, always saying she needs a better coat. And he does buy her a new coat.

• They both are clueless on how to express their love. So they both are like… ‘unfuck you??? I guess???’ at first. Eris’s display of affection is also buying her everything he thinks she will like. Jewelry, dresses, flowers. He can winnow throughout all Prythian, visit every court just to find the best things. Nesta’s one is that she joins Elain’s baking lessons with Nuala and Cerridwen, making him sweets.

• They both were surprised about each other’s sweet tooth. Eris now hires the best bakers in Prythian so Nesta will always have the best chocolate cake. Even though he will always say that anything she bakes will be ten times better. Nesta doesn’t bake often, it’s not her thing, but once in a while she does enjoy doing that for her and Eris.

• Once Eris tried to bake a chocolate cake himself. He was embarrassingly bad at that. He prefers not to recall that evening

• Nesta is clueless about most of fae stuff. So Eris always has something to explain. He explains very patiently and never shames her for lack of knowledge about anything.

• Eris takes her on a tour around Prythian to introduce her to different courts’ cultures. Nesta buys small souvenirs from every court to remember about the visits.

• His hounds LOVE Nesta. From the first time they saw her, they’d been charmed! Eris was kinda perplexed because never once his hounds were THAT friendly to a stranger. Nesta says it was others’ skill issue. She loves to spoil his hounds. Eris grumbles that she makes them too soft for hunting hounds.

• Whenever they argue the hounds are like children of divorce. Because they have to take sides. There are some who vary their side from time to time, and there are some hounds that always go to Nesta and some that always go to Eris. Because sometimes when they argue they sleep separately and hounds go to their beds, keeping them company.

• Whenever they argue too badly, hounds do not like that at all and tug on their clothes, pulling them closer to each other and barking at them as if saying go apologize!!

• They both freak out when Nesta gets pregnant. Not because they don’t want a child. They do. Very much so. But they both are very worried about possible mirroring their abusive parents’ behavior. Nesta reminds Eris he is not his father; Eris reminds Nesta she is not her mother. They both become the most loving parents.

• LoA adores Nesta, they often have tea parties. Eris is offended he never invited to one. They say it’s girls only. Soon it becomes tea party with LoA, Nesta and Elain where LoA always tell some embarrassing stories about Eris and Lucien — they both are mortified.

• Eris learned how to dance because it was a good training for his body, and it was a good skill for political events. He never dislike it, but never truly loved it either. Then he danced with Nesta and started liking dancing more.

• Nesta arranges girls nights very often. Eris always gives her the full manor in her access and leaves for the night to a different estate, not wanting to interrupt her personal time with friends. They both need their time separate from each other, they are also mature enough to talk about it, so they have a schedule.

• Eris likes making schedules. For everything. Nesta says he’s weird, often messing with his physical schedules, writing there something silly or drawing something on them. Eris secretly likes that.

• Eris teaches her how to light the sword with fire. He thinks he might create a monster by that. Because Nesta with silver flamed sword? Unhinged!! The first thing she does is she goes to scare big bats. She giggles evilly when she does.

• Nesta once left her book open on the nightstand. Saying Eris was flabbergasted would be understatement. He asks about that directly and Nesta blushes. He then offers to recreate a few certain scenes that he oh so accidentally already read. Nesta blushes more. Nesta agrees.

• Once in a while they recommend books to each other.

• Nesta gets a cat. And if they both were worried hounds will scare the poor thing off, they didn’t. Instead, the little kitten became their leader. And as she turned into a big cat, the hounds are kinda scared of her. Nesta always laughs about that. Eris says it’s because she and the cat share the same eyes.

• Eris is touch starved at first. He clings to her as much as even possible. Cuddles in bed, hugging her from behind whenever she stands her back to him, holding hands whenever they can.

• Sometimes Feyre asks Nesta to look after Nyx, so the boy stays in their manor. Eris calls him ‘it’ and refuses to even acknowledge that little pest at first. He has constant beef with him for Nesta’s attention bc apparently Nesta is Nyx’s favorite auntie. Eris secretly likes Nyx but will never admit that. Instead he will just silently give the boy the most expensive chocolate he has and shoo him away. Nyx once calls him his favorite uncle in front of everyone. Cassian has heart attack.

#eris vanserra #acotar #nesta archeron x eris vanserra #nesta archeron #nerisweek #neris #neris headcanons #acotar headcanons #pro neris

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lanafofana · 3 months ago

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I had a weird dream last night

I had just disembarked from a transatlantic flight and realized, on my way to catch a cab, that my wallet had been stolen.

I was in (London? Europe? Fictional country?) because, through a bizarre set of circumstances and technicalities, I had accidentally ended up in line for the throne. To solve this I had been told to go before some sort of official judicial body and "appeal" my case. The Official Judicial Body set the appointments for you and it was nigh on criminal to miss or be late to these appointments. Down to the wire, no idea where I was going or how to get there with some fictional crown hanging over my head, friends, I was stressed.

While I was slinking around the airport bumming for change and checking the coin slots on all the pay phones a Handsome Stranger appears and pretends to find a wad of cash in a payphone booth and offers it, presumably, after hearing me wail about my strange woes to passing strangers in a bid for charity.

I then find out every single cab has been taken but not to worry there is a rental lot where for a small fee I can borrow a car for all my transportation needs. With little choice I set out to aquire said vehicle only to be left with the last available thing. Unfortunately it is the most American vehicle ever. The size of a hummer (remember those?!), glossy black, and (for some reason) thick bullet proof windows?

Barely able to drive the thing I follow the Handsome Strangers directions and arrive at what, at first glance, appears to be a conglomeration of very fancy buildings arranged in a confusing network. The Handsome Stranger appears again, talking me out of a spot of trouble I'd landed in with a security guard who, mysteriously, took issue with my attempting to assault Very Important Law Buildings with my fuck ass big truck.

While he's dealing with security I have a mooch around (aaaaayyyyyo) and discover a bit more Plot, which is that I am being pressured into this appeal not because I am a foreigner and ill suited to the throne but specifically the appeal is to formally tell the royal court that I am "Unavailable for Royal Cock and or Pussy" because while it is true I am now in line for the throne, more distressingly for the Powers That Be is that this makes me Prime Real Estate for members of the gentry, royal family and it's subsidiaries, etc etc.

The reasons the High Court have for preventing such a union are not wholly petty. If I were to somehow become involved with another in line to the throne, it could in theory, destabilize their country something something blah blah who cares get me out of this nightmare land already. Show we where to sign and I'll be on my merry way.

Mysterious Stranger has somehow sweet talked Guard #1 to let me continue my unhinged rampage through the metropolis of Very Important Law Buildings in my fuck ass big truck. I say cheers, hop in, and continue pedal to the metal to make it to my appeal appointment on time.

When I say down to the wire, I mean I was sweating every minute counting down to my appeal appointment. So it could perhaps be understandable that I drove my fuck ass big truck into the High Court of Fuck All, right through its fancy mahogany doors, across its gleaming marble floors, and only stopping when the doorways got too narrow.

Hopping out of my fuck ass big truck I avoid eye contact with the staff, preparing to defend my unhinged parking job with the observation that there was no parking outside so I had assumed there was some kind of parking garage. Instead of all that I am startled by a slow clap and, fucks sake, it's Mysterious Stranger again. Is he teleporting? Does he also have to make an appeal to keep his dick free of political intrigue? Who cares, I got places to be. Whatever he was gearing up for I cut off by chucking my keys at his face and imploring he find an appropriate parking spot for my fuck ass big truck. I do not linger to see if he is amenable to this request.

In the next room I am, miraculously, first in line and give my name for the announcing guy to announce but when I enter, instead of a normal room with maybe some sort of judicial panel, it's the goddamn royal court. The Monarch (they/them, slay) is trying really hard not laugh while I absorb the realization that I am fully in a nightmare of truly epic proportions. Arranged in tiered seating around and behind The Monarch is the High Court of Law Windbags I had been led to believe was my target audience. Now faced with royalty I can do nothing but frantically look around for some advice before dipping into the most wobbly half curtsey and nearly tipping over onto my face.

Guard #2 jerks his head to the side, indicating I should fuck off now so, gratefully, I plaster myself against the wall. A few more people are introduced and their curtseys and bows are clearly superior which is fine, whatever. It shouldn't matter, it's not like I'm here to make a good impression or anything. If anything the high court would probably prefer I fuck up so royally (ha) that my foreign fanny is no longer in danger of causing mass political upheaval. But of course it matters, who hates feeling foolish and out of her depth? This girl.

The Monarch calls a recess and some ashy windbag in black robes approaches and reminds me I'm here to make my appeal and then they strongly hint I should, like, never show my face around these parts ever again. Got it, Judge Judy, loud and clear. Behind me someone clears their throat and Judge Judy chokes on their tongue so I'm surprised when I turn around and, goddamn, its Mysterious Stranger again.

He's amused and a little tired from apparently running all the way back from wherever he fucked off to with my rental. He returns my keys and sweeps into what can only be described as the most graceful bow in human history. Ugh, I mutter. Judge Judy sounds like she's having some sort of seizure behind me.

It's then a thought occurs to me and for some reason instead of asking Mysterious Stranger or turning around and demanding answers from Judge Judy, I look around and lock eyes with the Monarch who is already staring at me with the most unnerving look of victory on their face.

And then I woke up.

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insane4fandoms · 2 months ago

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Hey, friendo! Hope you’ve been doing well!

It’s been a while since our collab, but I think I just realized a cool little detail on both our parts! (By which I mean that I TOTALLY meant to put said detail into my writing. It DEFINITELY wasn’t a nice surprise-coincidence or anything…)

So, before the story’s climax, ending, and epilogue, you helped me decide to have Ness wear a leather jacket, since duh, he’s an Egopat. Well, that in turn made me decide to describe the leather as cyan because of irl Matt’s blue jacket.

I was watching some of the FNAF Musical blooper-reels last night. When Matt came onscreen, I finally noticed how, in every single installment, he wears a bright blue T-shirt under Mad’s bear suit. The collar is pretty much always sticking out. Just one more thing for the awesome doppelganger scenario you cooked up, lol.

And while we’re on the subject of weird parallels…

You always draw Mad with orange eyes. The color orange has plenty of positive symbolism, but it still has just as much negativity. It’s often seen as the color of arrogance, impatience, and wrongful pride. Now, if all that stuff doesn’t sum up Mad’s personality, then I’m not sure what will.

Now, on another side of the coin: it’s been scientifically proven that the brain associates the colors red and yellow with hunger, since both colors can be symbolic of warmth and energy. Just seeing them can actively increase your appetite. And who exactly has some sinister cravings and was designed with a jacket similar to Matt’s iconic red leather?

…Yeah, I guess I’m just saying that I could totally see Caliban’s eyes flicking to yellow whenever he gets into his feral mode, only to change back when he’s able to chill out. (Which, now that I think of it, could also reference how, unlike Mad, he's still got a little humanity left despite being so unhinged.) I’ve always loved the concept of unnatural eye colors in human characters.

Lol, sorry for rambling. Not trying to pressure you into anything since you’re probably busy; I just figured I’d share what I noticed and expand on it a little.

Sorry for seeing this late 😔 trying to bring myself to keep drawing since art block slammed into my gut.

Anyways, I also thought of Ness’s jacket being cyan to correlate with that damn blue shirt always peaking out of Mad’s onesie.

I’m so glad that someone saw Mad’s eye color has a meaning, lol. Other than using orange as a default for Mack as well, Mad’s color was definitely used to symbolize his arrogance and unearned pride. Bro thinks he’s all that, when his many plans crashed and burned without having a backup plan.

Cal and Mad are two sides of the same, rusty, and corroded coin. One has the sliver of copper that still shines brightest when sunlight reflects, and the other barely even shows a spot of light.

Cal still has a sense of humanity, because even with his upbringing and cannibalistic tendencies, he still has family, friends and a partner, something Mad most definitely doesn’t. Cal may still be a deranged killer, but he’s one who still sees the few people (mainly kids) that has nativity and innocence from the shit world. Mad… not so much.

Lmao also imagining those mfs having their eyes shine like cats when you shine a light their faces. Just as scary ngl

The concept of Mad having Ness as his “clone” having what he can’t, happiness, and Mad having Cal as someone who an “equal” to his murderous traits also having what he can’t, family. Two characters who are a parallel to Madpat in so many ways, only connected to what little similarities he grasps onto to justify to want to take away everything, it makes me into a crazy person.

#caliban #madpat #fnaf ness

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ambivalentmarvel · 7 months ago

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ambi it's talk shop tuesday and my children are starving: pls would you be willing to talk more about "look what you did to a perfectly good final girl. she has anxiety." alms for a poor skelly.

omg!!!!! so basically it’s a fusion of spider verse and mcu lore with comics sprinkled in as needed for flavor but ultimately it was inspired by my desire to write marvel again!!! i’ve been writing for spidey adjacent things for so long that the universe and the prose/style i use to write it feels homey and i missed it : )) and i’ve been chewing on came back wrong/came back too late for it to matter tropes lately so gwen seemed like the obvious choice lmao. also i wanted to kill peter again it’s been too long <333

tldr; gwen has been resurrected by someone and comes to in a random street with a piece of paper with mj’s address and Hazy memories of her life before she, allegedly, died horrifically. this is all very disorienting, particularly when it’s been a decade since she died in the first place, all of her friends are now real adults, and peter/spider-man recently died in a fight with kingpin.

whoever resurrected gwen also tossed in some fun spidery side effects for take two of her life. and there’s also this new black and red spider-man running around the city??? weird. no idea who that could be.

mj is Losing Her Fucking Mind by the way. not every day you as an incredibly talented actor/a-list celebrity are in the thick of grieving the second untimely death of your best friend and then have the one who died first show up.

so much of gwen’s character (even in spider-verse) revolves around another spider-man, and i wanted to see what her character would do if spider-man was gone and gwen stacy was the one left standing to face the villain. she’ll be totally normal about this, probably.

many characters across different marvel universes showing up and all being observed by an Unhinged teenage heroine clinging desperately to the notion that she can still have the regular life she always wanted while also struggling to not literally break everything she touches you know how it is <333 thank you for asking and i hope that cleared Something up??? but also it’s very possible that this has just created more questions in which case sorry. mwah.

#and it’s so much FUN #for me #gwen is Not pleased but it’s my dark comedy and she’s just along for the ride #ask ambi

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britts-galaxy-brain · 9 months ago

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Hi, I'm someone from the discord server (don't hold a grudge but left for personal reasons a while back) and I'm curious what the situation with milena is? I haven't been keeping up with any of this but I got back into the p&z stuff because of lux's super comprehensive and helpful stream. Are you guys okay? Did you and some of poppy's victims have some sort of falling out?

I hope everything is alright, I followed transpersian and I always thought they were kind in the server, so I was shocked to see u guys having beef ig. Sometimes I do kinda worry about courtney because she is very blunt and can come off as combative it seems but it's her blog and i just hope everyone is alright and taking care of themselves :(

Hey it's all good.

In a nutshell, Milena has fully gone off the deep end and she's convinced herself that it's everyone else with the problem.

She's lied to people, she went back to talk to Poppy against everyone else practically begging her not to do that given her mental state at the time, she only left again because Poppy called her out for being an unhinged, obsessed liar, it's been revealed that she's the reason Anniegal (self-identified MAP) is in Poppy's discord and Milena has been helping financially support her..

On top of all that, Milena had someone we thought was a friend spying for her in Courtney's discord after people started venting about her weird behavior. Such as sending people cryptic dms (people who weren't even directly involved), harassing and doxxing a minor because she's firmly convinced the minor runs a Twitter account they have nothing to do with (the account has even reached out to confirm they aren't the minor, Milena still refuses to accept it), and willfully lying and twisting everything we've been calling her out for. Even going as far as to send people angry anons, insist they aren't her, then accidently self-report on her blog confirming they were her.

She's been running defense to cover her ass as well as the pedo's and she's really fucking mad that people found out about it. And now her and people who believe her have been throwing around accusations of "pedojacketing" as if we don't have several instances that prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that she supports a pedophile and sees nothing wrong with her being allowed around minors. The story has now shifted from "Oh she's a NOMAP so it's fine because she doesn't believe in contact" to "she has POCD and you're all ableist" (she most certainly does fucking not).

#milena #anniegal #poppy #poppy and zena

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uhavebeengalaxyd · 10 days ago

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one thing that always made me think i couldn't be autistic when i was first thinking of the possibility was that i was good at making friends. and autism affects social interaction, so like, obviously i'm not autistic, right? but the thing that i sort of missed when i first read that trait was that it's difficult in maintaining social connections. and oh boy, that can be hard for me. i fall hard and fast for my friends. if i think you're cool, and i like talking to you, and you aren't ringing any alarm bells in my head for weird thoughts/behaviors, i am probably gonna go full ham into cultivating this new friendship. it can be hard for me to just do the 'hi i'm galaxy, let's do this social interaction' in a way that isn't just me talking about one of my special interests or current hyperfixations, but i am able to attract people who like my very unhinged charm. but keeping those friendships going is an entire other ballgame!

for the majority of my life, i didn't really have a best friend. i was a snowbird, flying from Canada to the USA and back again every winter season. i had two different friend groups, but that was largely dependent on whatever class i was in, and groups that'd have time for bonding while i wasn't there, and wasn't able to come to birthdays or celebrations would slowly phase me out when it was clear the gap was growing. this got worse when i hit grade 5, and i was no longer going to the USA and changed schools back home in Canada. From then on, I was always kind of an outsider. the friends i made were already best friends with one another, and so I was always the one left out, if things happened. they grew closer with another group, who only really seemed to tolerate me sometimes, and occasionally seemed to want to continue friendships. and it'd be easy becoming acquaintances/friends, but if I tried to continue things outward, it would always become obvious that they really didn't want me to get any closer than i already was. I had a best friend for about a year or two in jr high, but that was a pretty tumultuous and mentally ill friendship, and from then on, if I had a best friend, they didn't consider me theirs.

now i'm in university, and i was so excited to start fresh, with a lot more cognitive function and social understanding, and i was going to music school, which is filled to the brim with ND queer folk. and while the dramatics have calmed down, i still feel the same sort of push and pull with friendships. I make a friend, and I try and figure out as quick as possible how close i can be with them. and then once i figure out if they're really someone i want to get closer to, or if they're able to understand me, then i can ask for clarifications with words, stating our friendship level. and I was able to get a whole two best friends. and then one became my partner, so then like. one platonic best friend. I laid this out verbally and in writing. but now it feels like there's a barrier between my best friend and i, that's making it hard to not feel that same rejection, even if it might literally be totally in my head. and i know part of it is really just due to circumstance- they're going through a tough break-up that is obviously going to affect their reasoning and ability to reach out to friends. but it's hard hearing about their life that i'm not in and feeling like i don't know where i stand. i want to know if i'm even wanted as a best friend right now. and if i am, what.. what do i do with that? and if I'm not, what the hell do i do now? the uncertainties between what has been laid out as fact and the small little nuances between when everything was declared and now is really hard for me to understand and reconcile with. bruh i wish everyone just came with character sheets like i'm used to in my text rp so i could read their little blurb on where i stand with them in the relationships section. is this too much to ask for? ? ?? (yeah)

#autism #neurodivergent #personal #bruh i don't understand why this shit is so hard to figure out??#why can't people just tell me what's wrong when it's wrong #or tell me when it ISN'T WRONG and they're just not able to uphold social things due to life in the way #and leave me (a person good at picking up social cues but bad at understanding why they are happening) to just figure it out #aueueueuughghghgh #vent #personal vent

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bidean-byedean · 5 months ago

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rewatched Eddie Begins and got fixated on what if Eddie did die in the well that day and I started writing it but then was immediately sobbing so here’s the stream of consciousness version;

he never found a way out, but he stays with Buck. he stays with Buck for years, making snarky comments and giving him advice on calls and talking him off ledges when he spirals. Buck’s life becomes so small, everything shrinks away except Eddie’s ghost, he can’t tell anyone about him, obviously, and he knows it’s wrong, he knows it’s fucked but why would he give Eddie up? How could he give Eddie up? He needs Eddie, they were never meant to live apart, there isn’t a universe where that makes any sense. So he lives in Eddie’s house and raises Eddie’s kid and follows Eddie’s plan and Eddie has been dead for years but no one else can touch Buck. he dates girls that Eddie would’ve dated but it’s impossible to have a serious relationship when you’re already committed to your best friend’s ghost and they all think they can make him better and he doesn’t want to get better. There is no better…

At first there is some distance, he gets dates mostly alone but at some point eddie is just always there. More constant than Buck’s shadow, his inner voice manifested. And at first Eddie leaves when he has sex, looks away when his grief lifts enough and touches himself again, but then one day he watches him fuck someone. the first time he’s silent, then he talks, he gives pointers, helps Buck up his game, and then he moans. then he sits on the bed. then he sits next to Buck. then he touches Buck. it’s so good and he’s not fucking real, he’s dead, and Buck tries to get rid of him then because he realises how insane he is and how unsustainable this is. Maybe it works for a bit, he gets a few months of silence, he tries to learn how to be just Buck again and it’s weird and uncomfortable but he does it! It feels good!

but Eddie comes back, pick an emergency or a spiral, and Buck just needs him so he’s there because that’s how this works. it gets unhinged so fast, his whole life is eddieeddieeddie and it’s so much, it’s too much, he wants it to end and it can’t end because if it ends then he’ll end too. maybe that’s for the best but he can’t because he has Chris and maddie and Bobby and the rest of the 118 and all the people that he saves by staying alive, so he trudges through the mud, gasping for air, hoping someone will see him, that someone will just fucking pull him out of the well because he never left. Neither of them ever left, even though Eddie is rotting under six feet of earth and Buck is walking around LA, but they’re both in that fucking well and he’s been drowning for years.

and then Buck dies. We get the comaverse except Eddie is there, he’s quiet and he lets Buck do his thing for a while but eventually we get to Eddie because he’s the thing holding Buck back. they talk about it, how Buck died that day too, how he’s a walking corpse, how his life is a hollow imitation of something he once dreamt about, how he might as well just go full crazy dig Eddie up and prop him up at the dining table because he’s basically there. they talk about how it’s hurting Christopher and the 118, how Buck’s grief is like a snare, like a land mine, like a sinkhole, like a tsunami, like a never-ending well into the dark, cold water. and Eddie gives him an ultimatum: stay with him now or let him go. and Buck’s heart breaks so loudly across his face and the clock is running out and we’re screaming at the TV because how do you make this choice? Never see Eddie’s face again? Never hear his voice? Never know what he’s thinks about the girl in the coffee shop or the point of entry on a rope rescue or which college Christopher should go to or- and Buck kisses him for the first time. it’s beautiful. it’s everything a first kiss should be and Buck could kiss him forever and he sees the other timelines, the right timelines where Eddie didn’t die and Buck kisses him in the hospital, or after Chris leaves for summer camp or after Abby blows through town and opens all his old wounds, or one of the million other times he should’ve kissed him in the show as we know it now, but they’re not real and this isn’t real and Buck is flatlining and running out of time, and he needs to breathe for the first time since Eddie drowned. so he does.

It’s lonely without Eddie, it always was, it always would be but the space that his ghost took up is slowly filled by real, living people, people who love Buck, who can touch him, who can make him feel like his body is his own again. he becomes a person again and he sells the house and buys something else that him and Chris choose together because they are alive and Eddie’s not and Shannon’s not and it’s fucking awful but they are alive, so they choose the house. After years of winter, Buck blooms again. he still follows Chim into the helicopter to save Bobby, he still turns up at harbour for a tour, but there’s no Eddie to compete with so things happen a little differently; maybe he takes those flying lessons instead or Muay Thai because it always made Eddie laugh when he tried to teach him so maybe it would be fun again. and they fall in love slowly and all at once, and Buck wishes he could freak out to Eddie, tell him all the crazy feelings rushing around his body and how it makes so much sense, and how being in love with Eddie wasn’t a weird grief reaction. and yeah, the sudden realisation that he was actually in love with Eddie is a new knife in his side, that he missed his chance to spend his life with Eddie as more than his best friend, and he didn’t even know. so he tells tommy about Eddie, about how he hated him at first and how they bonded and their camaraderie and becoming Chris’ second dad and their friendship and tommy lets him. he doesn’t talk about the day eddie died, not for a long time, not until him and tommy have said I love you so many times it becomes routine and suddenly Tommy’s in a helicopter that’s going down and he’s screaming mayday over the lafd radio and no one can do anything but listen, and he doesn’t die. he doesn’t die. So buck proposes, says I can’t let this happen again, I can’t lose the love of my life again without him knowing what he means, and before they get married Buck tells him about the well and the holding his cold lifeless hand in the ambulance and talking to him like he was just sleeping and the funeral and the first time eddie popped up and just how bad it all got and the coma dream and tommy doesn’t run. they love each other, they say their vows, they make room for Buck’s grief, but they also build a life, they keep him above water for a long, eventful life filled with love because that what Buck deserves.

#i know this has probably been done but I need it out of my brain #I don’t know if I’m strong enough to actually read Eddie dies fics 😭😭😭#god I wanna write the actual fic but I don’t think I can #I made myself cry writing this as well hahahaha #sorry this got so out of hand #what’s the opposite of a fix it #911 #fic ideas #personal #tw: eddie Diaz death #tw: grief #fan fic #my writing #911 fic #bucktommy #buckeddie

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iguessitsjustme · 7 months ago

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Hi! 👋

3, 5, and 8? 😊

Hello~ (I am only a little bit asleep)

3. Rank the shows you are currently watching from least favorite to favorite.

I just did this but I guess I will explain it that means I explain it now:

7. Derailment - This is intriguing and it's written by Priest. I just hit a spot in the middle that I'm not the biggest fan of so it's taking me a bit to get through but I think I'll end up liking it overall. This one has finished already so I just gotta finish my binge.

6. We Are - I like this show a lot. It really does feel like hanging out with friends every week. Not a lot is happening and not a lot needs to happen. I do think it missed some opportunities to tell a more interesting story and give us more depth in the characters but I'm not mad at the missed opportunities. It's cute, it's wholesome, and it has TanFang so I forgive it for anything. Also it gave a plate glasses.

5. Knock Knock, Boys! - This is just fun. I like the characters. The premise is just wild and chaotic enough for me to enjoy it. I need more though. I'm hoping we get a lot more from the characters but it is only episode 3 so we'll see how it goes.

4. At 25:00 in Akasaka - I actually quite like the slower pace. I know it might not be for everyone but this show feels like going on a walk. Kind of like a reset for my brain. I find the characters fascinating and the way they communicate and the differences there to be very interesting. It makes sense to me that it is taking both of them a while to get to a place to have an honest conversation about their feelings. The last episode was paced a bit weirdly for me and I feel like we didn't get enough of the reasoning why Hayama needed to find his love of acting again. I can see the thread they were pulling at, it just didn't quite unravel the way it should have.

3. Only Boo! - This is just cute okay? Just cute. I am terrified GMMTV will ruin this wholesome little show. I need Moo and Kang to not have any problems. They both communicate so well and they both adapt to each other very well. They have different communication methods but they work together to make sure there are no misunderstandings. I also don't mind when (most) characters sing in this show. Good job.

2. Wandee Goodday - YakDee. Plakao my beloved. I have high hopes for Ter to have a weird amount of depth and that I will come around on at least having respect for his character. I am a bit worried about the pacing on this show. Things have been moving very fast for the number of episodes we have so far and the number of episodes we still have left.

My Stand In - I love my toxic boys. Ming? Unhinged. Toxic. Horrendous. And I love him. I want him to get the boy. I want him and Joe to work out. I want so much for this show and I have high expectations that it can deliver. I also love that the show is not shying away from letting the characters be toxic. The only character that has romanticized Ming at all is Joe and that was before he knew. And I love it when shows embrace the toxicity. These characters are so interesting and complex. I need a million more.

5. What show do you think is doing the best job at utilizing tropes?

I have not been paying a lot of attention to tropes lately. Brain off kind of watching but probably Wandee Goodday or Only Boo.

8. Which character from a currently airing show would you be best friends with in real life?

This is hard. I'm gonna have to think about this. I'm sure there's another one but the first one that comes to mind is Yak from Wandee Goodday.

Currently Airing Shows Ask Game

#ask game #i am now more awake and making my dinner

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couldbebetterforsure · 1 year ago

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Okay folks I’m back from my vacation, so now I can go back to posting about my Jack Jeanne playthrough!!!! I finished the Fall Performance before my vacation but I didn’t have time to post my thoughts before I left, so let’s get to it then!

Man, Mary Jane as a play was so creepy and wild and enjoyable! I loved how it managed to be both fucked up and lighthearted at the same time??? Also it just may have my favorite play related CGs so far because WOW there were some fantastic CGs for this play!!! Mary Jane herself is such a fun and sad character in how lonely she is and how warped she is by that loneliness, and yet how kind she also is. Fumi yet again did a wonderful job in this role! All the ghosts managed to be funny and sweet characters. Suzu, Neji, Mitsuki, and Otori did wonderfully (while also having the funniest costumes I let out such a dumb laugh when I saw Suzu’s)! Otori I think you’re meant for the weird roles, just embrace your fate…And man were Figaro and Charles just sooooo delightfully unhinged! Kisa, my girl, she truly did a masterful job in her second Jack role and that maniacal laugh of hers was fucking incredible. But Sou…fucking Soshiro Yonaga…holy fucking shit!!!! More on him later….But anyways the pair were also pitiful in that along with their hatred of ghosts, it’s understandable that they were so angry at Mary specifically for (albeit unknowingly) using their friends’ corpses to make Jacob and man Figaro going absolutely batshit after Charles died because that’s his brother, his twin…What absolutely fun villains! Well at least they can be together as ghosts, right?

Some more A+ music from the play! A Friend Without a Name was such a lovely tune, reminded me in many ways of a music box. Fumi and Kai had some wonderful choreography for this song. Hallelujah Shout the name of God, My Friends was my favorite of the three for sure! I loved how it shifted so much and the way Kisa, Sou, and Fumi’s voices all came together! Ghost Party is a very close second, it’s so damn catchy!!! Like I wasn’t really feeling it when I heard the instrumental during the practice but when I got to hear the actual performance I was bouncing along so much I fucked up the rhythm game 😂😂😂 Still got the SS rank though ✌️ Then again, I am playing the rhythm games on normal mode, which is SUPER forgiving regarding how much you can fuck up and still get the best rank.

And good GRIEF the drama going on with Quartz throughout all of this! I mentioned this earlier but the sheer shock I felt when the cast list first came out and Sou didn’t get a named role. I truly didn’t expect that to happen! I figured there’s no way that doesn’t change, it doesn’t seem right, but I was getting worried there as we got closer and closer to performance day! The buildup to what happened with Sou for the Fall Performance had been building up slowly, like I’ve said before he’s shown he’s getting frustrated with his performance on stage. Especially when compared to how Kisa and Suzu, his two closest friends in Univeil, have been performing in the last two plays…I said before that what he needed was the chance to prove himself in a role that truly clicked for him. But then he wasn’t given a named role for Mary Jane…And geez you see how badly that destroys him despite him trying to stay his polite and soft spoken self, to the point of even ignoring Kisa and Suzu. Which all comes to a head when Suzu and Sou have their big fight, which leads to Sou being the loudest I’ve ever heard him at that point in the game. While I was so uncomfortable in that fight because “nooo boys please you’re friends don’t do this 😭😭😭”, I liked that I could get both sides of the argument. Because on Suzu’s end one of his closest friends has suddenly started ignoring him and won’t explain anything and it’s also clearly hurting another one of their mutual friends (Kisa), while on Sou’s end his insecurities and frustration at how his own efforts aren’t matching up to what he wants and how his friends are seemingly getting where they want to be so easily and seemingly aren’t as gutted by disappointment made him reach his breaking point.

Coupled with Sou’s drama is Suzu’s own drama. Suzu struggling to play a villain role so unlike who he is, a cunning guy. Gosh when I heard Suzu was gonna okay a villain I was sooooooooo hyped!!! He struggled but that’s the thing about Suzu, he struggles but he gets there eventually because he doesn’t stop trying. I was so ready to see him as the cunning and arrogant Jean Jose!!! But then…his injury…You know I remembered a while back a random Suzu event I saw had him mention a scar on his ankle if I remember right, and I was like 👀 at that info but then it was never brought up again so I thought it was just a random fun fact or something. But then as the weeks went on for the Fall Performance, Suzu was shown occasionally struggling with his foot. I actually thought maybe he sprained it in that early practice scene but then I remembered that scar thing and was like “👀👀👀👀👀 oh????? is it related?!?!?!?!??!?!!?!!” And then BAM!!! My poor sweet boy’s ankle couldn’t hold out anymore…Gosh that reveal that he had to give up kendo because of how bad the injury was…And how acting, specifically Univeil performances, gave him a reason to keep going again and a new dream…But now his ankle gave out and now there’s that chance acting could be taken from him too. I wonder if we’ll get more info on his injury, specifically what caused it. Because I admit I’m not too familiar with kendo but I’ve seen some pictures and stuff of it, and I can’t figure out what on earth happened to Suzu that injured him THAT badly. Based on a convo with Neji earlier, I can guess either he or the person he was sparring with wasn’t careful enough but I’d like more details. But yeah seeing how much of a brave face he was putting on, especially when he was cleared to come back but no longer had a role in the play. That scene between him and Kisa when he admits how scared he is murdered me…My poor sweetheart….

Also the way that before the fight was officially cleared up between Suzu and Sou the two of them were already friends again. Sou wanting to practice all the play lines to help Suzu and Kisa with rehearsals while Suzu told Neji to give the role to Sou if he couldn’t stand on stage himself. The way Suzu had no hard feelings towards Sou about being replaced. Sou at the end of the performance telling Suzu that HE is the one Sou doesn’t wanna lose to most 😭😭😭😭 I love all of Quartz so much but the first years are special to me because they really are the best friend trio.

And maaaan, Quartz really does have the best senpai in the world!!! Mitsuki, Fumi, and Kai all helping out Suzu, Kisa, and Sou respectively regarding the fight. Mitsuki and Fumi both standing up to Utsuri and Kakuto when they wanted to start shit with poor Kisa. The fact that Neji at the last moment added an entirely new character to the play just so that Suzu wouldn’t be left out! I mean when they changed the okay so that Sou would play Figaro and as Charles’ brother instead, Neji only needed to fix stuff related to that. But he also went and gave Suzu a new role that wouldn’t stress his ankle out because he knew that despite Suzu trying to be lighthearted about it he desperately wanted to stand on the stage too. For all that Neji thrives on chaos he’s much kinder than he lets on ☺️

Anyways, Sou’s acting in Mary Jane was nuts, absolutely bonkers. The way he kept such a calm tone for most of the play before starting to yell some lines once Figaro and Charles revealed their true purpose. And then…the masterpiece…Figaro’s screaming after Charles died….I truly thought Sou was gonna throw his voice out with how absolute batshit those screams were. How did his VA manage to NOT destroy his voice??? And the CG that accompanied that moment? Perfection. You know half of the audience went home and had nightmares after that. But yeah I was right, Sou got the role that clicked for him. He got to showcase what he’s made of and I can only hope he’ll improve from here! And he deserved that reward, I would’ve entered this game and fought all of Univeil if he didn’t get anything after that performance. Also I really loved Fumi finally getting a chance to be free and not be so tied down from being Quartz’s responsible senpai and getting to truly showcase his skill by competing with Kisa and Sou.

Final note, while I loved Mary Jane and think everything that went down in the Fall Performance arc was great, I’m sad we never got Jean Jose realized. I wanted to see my boy Suzu play a villain role 😞😞😞 Neji, babe, please come through for me and give me the gift of villain Suzu for the Winter Performance! Please do me this one solid, Neji 🙏

#story time with me #jack jeanne #jack jeanne spoilers #willow takes center stage at univeil #neji if nothing else I need you to do your thing and try villain suzu again #you were onto something with that idea please!!!#I know suzu could be a hot villain if given the chance #but yeah sou my boy…he was fantastic #RIP to his vocal cords though 🙏#next up is the winter performance I am soooo excited for this!!!!

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immoralimmortals · 8 months ago

Text

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 15: Misanthrapologist (2)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Hidan doesn't know how to say "I love you." What he knows instead is how to savor something that hurts.

Author's Note: *WEE-WOO-WEE-WOO, SIREN SOUNDS*

CONTENT WARNING: This is a chapter very much about the intersection of mental illness, self harm, and having triggers for self harming. There is also knife play. From this point on, any chapter with the title Misanthrapologist may involve said knife play. Whats more, the knife play while consensual is not safe. I am perfectly okay if you skip anything that is uncomfortable for you.

The performer also has absolutely no idea he is immortal, the exact depths to which he can carry out what he preaches. It may be intense compared to prior interactions between her and Hidan.

The song for this chapter is Misanthrapologist by Will Wood.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So call me Amadeus

God made me famous 'cause I am his favorite

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Kisame did, indeed, touch Hidan’s fucking room. After such heartfelt welcoming, the performer is already trying to take the reaper backwards by the arm, beseeching him to calm down. “Hey, hey, it’s okay!” she pleads, watching the way he grits his teeth and raises his fist. “You can make a new one!”

“I shouldn’t NEED TO!”

Kisame pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hidan, it was literal, rotting blood stains on the floor. It was starting to reek.”

“Fuck you???" is all he has to say to that. Damn heathen. "Fuck you!”

The woman exhales, long and exasperated. Surely there is something else they can focus on? They only just started, this adventure all together. It’s like a dollhouse, all of her friends (“friends”? they're kind of forced to be nice to her) together, but they still are all fairly willing and capable of killing one another. Joy.

“Hidan, why don’t we go for a walk—?”

“Takara—” Wait. She is pretty sure he’s never said her name before. Huh. That’s...huh. This is a weird time for that sentimental tidbit of information. “—I have spent so many. Damn. Hours. And hours. And hours. Walking.” Oh thank Jashin, the lady thinks, he’s starting to think of something besides the missing ritual circle on his decrepit bedroom floor. Maybe she can use that to her advantage, to make peace.

“Then what would you like to do, now that you’re back?” she offers helpfully.

“Pray.”

“Okay, we can—”

“On my intricately drawn holy sigil for Lord Jashin that SOMEONE thought was freaking dirty!”

The blue man has his arms folded, frowning with squinted, exhausted eyes. She couldn’t have been discovered in this world by someone else? Anyone else? Maybe became friends with a wild dog or a swarm of angry bees? That’d be easier to handle than Hidan, of all people in their universe.

“Think of it this way,” the prophet’s one and only ally optimistically suggests, “You can teach me how to do it this time!”

Oh dear gods above. Kisame raises a lone index finger. “Takara, I have to say that I don’t think that’s very wise of you—”

“Wise my ass, that’s actually a decent idea!” Oh, there’s that horrible smile of his. It’s a real talent for something besides bloodshed to get him to grin, so Kisame is caught off guard by the easily shifting enthusiasm.

...Does his own bloodshed count, though?

Almost like they’ve known each other for years, the best and the worst disciple of Jashin swing their palms toward one another’s in excitement, clenching to make a deal. It doesn’t take very long for the pious man's free hand to begin to wave the shark away like he’s no more than a fly. “Now if you excuse us…do ya mind?”

Yeah, Kisame does a little, certainly when the only civilian in the house will be left alone with arguably the single most unhinged mass murderer on the planet. ...Okay, the swordsman of the Mist isn’t much better, but at least he hasn’t entirely lost his mind. Not like Hidan has. And so a wary guard looks to his ward for her consent. She looks back, bright yet soft, and flickers an innocent smile. She nods her consent to be left be.

“...Yell if you need me,” Kisame makes her promise, but she just closes her eyes, just like a cat does when it trusts you.

“We’ll be okay.”

On Hidan’s head remaining on his shoulders, she damn well better be, Kisame thinks as he reluctantly steps out and closes the sacrificial altar's front door.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But I can hate myself

So you don't have to

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The silver demon knows better than anyone that this woman is not as innocent as she pretends to be. No such thing as people on the moon, there's never been people in space. It's all as ridiculous as the way she dresses, all the pastel and floral and pink. For whatever reason, one he's not ascertained yet, the stranger wraps all things macabre and dark in a big frilly bow, like she sewed her heart inside a teddy bear. It's so distracting...so is it to protect herself? Eh...that doesn't really make sense to him, but that's his best guess, and honestly, it's not that far off. A scholar at heart, it isn’t like she’s shoved cotton in her ears whenever he speaks of his religion, not like her questions mean nothing at all. A sociologist: that’s the word she told him before. Everyone has their reasons, and she lives to know. That is how she can watch on with interest as the two sit across each other, finally, again after so much time. The familiarity is like a warm blanket on Hidan’s soul, the way they both sit cross-legged as she listens.

No one else listens like she can.

“So, might remember, might not, here’s a refresher for ya,” he begins, shifting one leg up so he can lean on his knee. “Circle’s important part of the prayer. Remember why?”

The performer bites the inside of her lip. She doesn’t know how to read the cheat sheet he gave in a handwritten bible, so she needs to go off of memory. “It...unifies and amplifies,” she recalls with his same choice of words from a month-so before. “It is not strictly necessary for prayer, but to always go without is like walking outside without shoes.”

“Bingo!” ...Wait, do they have fucking bingo—? “But,” he drawls out the syllable to give her time to think, “There’s somethin’ important you forgot.” She chirps up with a small “oh!”

“The...the blood represents dedication. The...precision of the circle being made of...your...ah...own...flesh?” She pauses to gauge his approval or lack there of, to which he glances diagonally at the ceiling and waivers his hand with a hum. It’s close enough. “Flesh is demonstrative of your focus and sacrifice.” Hidan hums again, this time longer and more satisfied with an upward tilt of his chin.

“You got it, you got it.” This is a side of him that no one else gets to see. No one else gives him the time of day, listens to his sermons, even attempts to understand what he’s trying to say. And so, no one else but her will be able to see him like this: unagitated and engaged. “And once the circle is drawn?”

He reaches into the inside of his black cloak while she tries to pluck an answer from her brain.

“You…” There’s no recollection of something more specific, and so she answers in a way that feels too plain, too simple. “...Pray?”

“Mm.” The man nods, and a kunai is gripped in his hand.

And abruptly, she is not doing so great.

“Eh?”

His eyes widen ever so slightly at hers going into saucers. The woman is pale, in an instant she is sick to her stomach. He raises a brow. Their first meeting was a doozy for her, yeah, but their conversations about his religion never turned up this way since, no matter how much he talked about the worst of things. What’s up now?

“Are ya...okay?”

She is not. She most definitely is not. But she should be. She should be. And so she must answer in the affirmative. “Yeah, I’m— I’m fine.” It’s not a lie if she should be fine. It’s just a knife. But Hidan has no idea that the problem is that there is a knife.

“Well, if you say so…” he mumbles, casually bringing the blade towards his palm, ready to get started as she had so requested to see. Audibly, though, she flinches; a whimper comes as her shoulders tense inward like she might be able to fold herself tighter in place, less able to move.

Hidan’s eyes narrow, and it is only coincidental that the kunai in his hand lowers away from his skin. “Hold on...you aren’t squeamish, are ya?”

“No, no—” That is actually true, at least usually.

“Then the hell is the matter?”

“Nothing—”

“Fuckin’ liar,” he rolls his eyes. “Listen, you asked to learn and now we’re learning! If you’re a wuss about blood, might as well tell me now.” He tilts his head. “Might make it a bit easier, yeah?”

“I’m not! I’m…” Her eyes are glued on the glinting metal; it eats her words up. “...Sorry.” She's escalating a lot faster than he anticipated, Hidan can see the panic on her face.

“Takara, can you just—”

“Sorry!"

Shamefully, she must take her leave. The woman stands up, and her hands grip each other for her dear life. She’s a bad friend. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Takara—”

The door closes again, and he is alone. Hidan exhales. His hand raises the blood-drawer again. Might as well get it done since he’s already started.

“...Goddammit.”

Slash.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

'Cause I like you, don't you see?

I just like you a little more than me

I, I like you, don't you see?

Oh, hеy, I just like you a little more than me

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Busy work keeps from idle hands, idle hands can be kept from dumb mistakes. The running water breathes its voice into her ears, and she tries to meditate on it alongside the motions involved in doing dishes. Shaky fingers grab one plate, scrub in a circle, set it down. Another plate, scrub in a circle, set it down. Spoon, accidentally do that thing where you put aim the faucet right onto the curved end so it splashes everywhere, set it down. Kitchen knife—

“Heh—!”

A cling of metal and a gasp occur at once, briefly interrupting the stream of sound from the small waterfall. It continues as ever, running the clear liquid over the innocuous little tool, making the silver seem even brighter and therefore sharper under its ever-changing shapes. Something so ordinary can intimidate her so much and it’s pathetic. Here she thought she was doing better. The performer frowns. Wasn't she improving? She hadn’t thought of it once since the water took her away from the old world.

A shadow drops over her shoulder, a pursed lip and a bored expression a great contrast to her own face as the traveler whips her head back to look. Purple irises slide over the way she’s raised her hands, the way they’re making sure they’re far away from so much as thinking about getting cut. Apologies begin to stammer again, to which Hidan only rubs his temple and interrupts like she's saying nothing at all.

“...You have a damn phobia,” he surmises. “That’s the word for this, right?” He makes the mistake of assuming that this is why she was afraid to kill with his scythe instead of normal civilian common sense. Either way, she shakes her head, bashful.

“I...well...only...kinda.” In full, aware control, she lowers her arms to her sides, slowly shuts off the sink, and gradually turns around. “I used to be more afraid, all the time. Now it’s only...sometimes.”

One eye squints with a questioning grumble. “Sometimes?”

“Only sometimes,” she repeats. Even when she walks past him and leaves the kitchen, Hidan trails behind. He’s a hard man to satisfy, in terms of curiosity.

“So like. Somethin’ triggers it?" he asks the back of her head, "Not just if you see a weapon?”

“Oh yeah.” The further she gets away from the sharp edge, the easier it is to talk, the more she expresses herself freely. “Usually it's when I’m not doing so great.”

The tea room will do, she decides, making a turn into the little nook where Kisame and Itachi once sat frozen for a whole day. She takes the south-facing loveseat, sitting horizontally across it so her feet are on the cushion. Hidan does the same, taking the northern chair and resting one leg on top while the other dangles off.

“...Are ya not doin’ so great now?” he presses. She’s quick to assuage him of his secret fears, that he is not enough after all, by shaking her head.

“Things are...pretty good, honestly?” Her gaze moves off of him to glance sideways at the window behind her seat and Hidan's only friend makes a list of things that are better with him around. “I got people who care about me...I don’t have to worry about being safe...or if I get enough sleep before work...or when the rent is due…” The more the woman goes on, the more clear it is to Hidan that this isn’t comparison to times when they had lived together before; it’s even further beyond.

“Do ya have a point?” he presses, getting she means something to bring all this up.

Her chest visibly rises and falls with full and heavy lungs. He can hear her breath even from over the coffee table between them.

“...Keep a secret for me?”

“Eh?” He blinks several times, but the answer is obvious, regardless of what he’s getting into by saying it. “Yeah, sure, okay… What’s your big secret, girly?”

Her expression is...shockingly calm in the long pause that comes to pass. It’s an aspect of her, a piece of her that will never quite go away. You can only speak of such a thing with casualness, with humor, lest it get more power than deserved.

“You ever feel sometimes you just wanna bash your own head in?”

If she sees his jaw drop, she ignores it, still watching out the window.

“That since you can’t kill God for doing all this to you, you just wanna kill yourself so you can go up and meet him, tell him what an asshole he’s been? Maybe get your hands around his neck for doing all this?”

She has achieved the impossible: Hidan is now concerned for someone else. “...Takara, what the fuck?”

That catches her attention, and she glances back at him, measuring his reaction. He is genuinely confused; she’s only seen this face on his before the one time he caught her singing a Lemon Demon song to herself. It scares her a little; out of everyone, she thought maybe he’d be the easiest to explain it to...

“Sorry. I don’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re not—” She kind of is, but he can’t be scared of anything. “—I just don’t get it.”

...Maybe she could keep trying.

“Do you remember when you asked me if my period was chronic?” With another sputter, Hidan’s cheeks prickle till pink and he rubs the back of his head.

“Uh. Yeah? What about it? So what?” He makes a wrong guess: “Is it happening again? Yer having a fuckin’ mood swing or whatever?” She shakes her head...though he is halfway right.

“I do have something chronic,” she finally admits, something that is perhaps worth his pity after all. A fingertip knocks the middle of her forehead. “Sometimes, brains get sick just like the rest of you can. Just like any other organ. Back where I’m from, it’s pretty common—” Putting aside her belief that it’s probably common here too, just handled differently. “—So they make medicines for it.”

The woman allows silence. Hidan may not always realize something immediately, but if you give him enough time, he catches on with deadly accuracy:

“...Ya don’t have that medicine.”

“Mm-mm,” she hums in the negative, so nonchalantly about something so life-altering. “So sometimes...I think...even though things are good...the chemicals my brain produces in response to stimuli isn’t always in the right balance. It’s like my brain— I mean, my logical part— and my heart— the part that runs off of the chemicals— don’t always agree on what is really happening.”

“Ah…” he murmurs, slinking his face into a palm, elbow pointed against the arm of the couch. “That fuckin’ sucks,” he understates, though she’s not the least bit offended. Honestly, the more easygoing this conversation is, the better.

“I can’t blame it for everything, but it’s a lot of work to retrain my mind, my reflexes. So whenever I’m weird...or I apologize too much...—” I’m sorry. “—You know why.”

It’s a fascinating contradiction, he begins to see, between his philosophy and her mental illness. The death of someone doesn’t mean much to Jashin if they don’t put up a fight. Killing yourself for no reason does nothing to spread his gospel. He ponders...is this why? Is this why she listens so keenly to him? Is this why she seems to accept such harsh truths even when she’s as weak and thin-willed as a butterfly wing?

Is any thirst for blood simply reserved for her own?

On her end of the room, as the disciples mirror one another as the fishes do in the constellation Pisces, the traveler enjoys the quiet. Someone knows. It’s not something she meant as a secret, but as soon as he moved to strike himself, she realized it had been one all along. Someone knows now, someone can finally come as close to understanding it as maybe someone can.

That’s about to be her problem, turns out.

“...I got an idea.” Hidan rolls his leg off the cushion and then moves from sitting to standing. The motion in his wrist indicates she’s to follow.

“Uh...okay.”

She slinks along behind, hands behind her back rubbing one another in residual anxiety, though the emotion she feels at his mysterious proposal is closer to intrigue than fear. They walk up the creaking staircase, turn the corner, and he opens the door to his room. The smell of rot from before is gone, but the metallic aspect has returned. Her eyes widen. The ritual circle has been drawn in her absence.

“I...oh.” Is this it? Is this what he wanted her to see? After stepping inside, Hidan moves to close the door behind her. He’s so uncharacteristically wordless that it takes her a second to look to him, to see what he’s doing.

His cloak is unbuttoned and drops to the floor. Hidan has been technically shirtless all along, but it looks so different when he’s taken his coat entirely off.

“Wait.”

Wait.

“Hidan. Hidan, wait, what-?!”

He stops halfway in beginning to slide down his pants, looking up at her from the awkward position. “Eh? Well, guess for this first time I don’t need ‘em off…” The fabric shimmies further back up on his waist as before, not revealing anything further than the hips after all.

First time?!

“WHAT!” Her face is as red as the blood on the floor.

“Can you calm the hell down?!” Oblivious to one another’s intent, it’s only till his next words that seductive things are taken off of the table. “Don’t listen to the chemicals or...whatever.”

Her lips part to speak silence as he shoves the black and crimson cloth out of the way. A hand holds her wrist. As long before, when he first felt a pang of pity for the girl, it is so very gentle as he walks them onto the circle. It’s so fresh that it's still a little tacky as it sticks to his lowering knees.

“I have an idea,” he repeats, now that he’s lured her here. He has sunk to the floor in the middle of Jashin’s triangle, and he brings forth an object from his pocket to a standing woman much like how someone would propose. The only problem is that he is once again holding the kunai. The issue is that he wants her to take it. She’s so frozen she can’t even flinch.

“Hidan…” she murmurs, brow furrowing so hard it hurts. There are no words for this besides his name and to question. “W...what?” The circle is complete. In fact, she can now see the raw cut on the plushest muscles upon his hand. What is he asking her for...?

It’s more what she could be asking of him, really.

“Any way ya wanna hurt yourself…” Hidan explains, serious as can be, “Do it to me, instead. I can take it. I'll be fine.”

“Hidan…” she quivers, horrified. The length of kindness does not matter when it creates such an atrocity. “That’s…” The bottom up her lids pinch upward in moral disgust. “...No…!” He responds to her terror so levelly, it makes this even worse.

“I want it.”

“No you don’t—”

“I fucking do.”

A reply so fast from her cut so short. His eyes are hooded. Now that he’s half naked, it becomes clear to her: the many, many scars upon his skin. She does not know that they are lighter, more minor than they should be on any human being, considering what he’s gone through...by his own hand or any other. Somehow, he is both so very damaged and absolutely immaculate. The beauty of him is overshadowed by the circumstance.

“Hidan…” The disciple pleads, tears in the corners of her eyes, unable to cross the line he reaches across. “Hidan…!” But damn if he isn’t curious. He asks something of her, as calmly as she’s ever seen him:

“Why not?”

Why not?

It should be obvious, but clearly the reaper has such a different view of the situation than she. In this grave matter, how can she unwrap it? How can she explain how this is so very wrong? She decides, unconsciously, that it necessitates the most painful of honesty.

“Because...I...don’t want to hurt,” she confesses. His hand remains out, blade resting upon it, waiting for her to take, but she does not. It scares her so much. “I don’t...want...to do what I’m not willing to have someone else...do to me. And—” Her reasoning: “—It’s selfish. But. But. But.”

But he is still listening. She has no escape, no interruption. She must continue to explain herself.

“I can’t...handle that kind of hurt if it’s from someone else.”

...What a strange distinction. It’s foreign to him, the idea that she’s more okay with hurting herself than she is anyone else. Masochism and sadism are shades of black and white blended till gray in the prophet’s existence; there is no such thing as sympathy, not when we all bleed the same.

...Then why, pray tell, has he been offering such a lowly thing to her?

He makes his own contradictions shut up by moving his empty, ringed hand so delicately up to his docile master, so carefully as to not scare, so smoothly so as to assure that no pain will be entering her own body tonight. Her skin is so soft in his scarred fingers.

“So...the fear of being hurt is the only thing that holds you back?” he tries to discern correctly. “It isn’t even that you’re not willing to hurt yourself?”

So sinfully, the truth is clear. “...Yes.”

She watches his face. A pensive expression grows a small smirk. He has been assured that maybe she could be a killer, after all.

“...Don’t worry about me, angel.” Another word...another thing he has never called her. Not out loud. She isn’t sure if this is a nightmare or a dream. She isn't sure anymore if she wants it to end. “Whatever can be done to a human body, I’ve done it. It’s been done to me. Whatever you feel...it’s nothing to me. I'll soak your suffering like a sponge. I can take that shake in your damn hands and carve it into a prayer.” Into his flesh. Into his soul. Jashin will surely hear them this way. “Just trust me.”

The stranger is unable to move her own body; it is so very easy to guide her fingers to clasp around the kunai’s handle...but something still isn't right. What is it?

…Ah, the most important part.

“Do you believe me?” he asks. “Do you believe me when I promise I won’t hurt you back?”

…

“I. Don’t.” Her mind is not in her body. “Know.” His fingers trail across her knuckles like butterfly kisses.

“Will you let me prove it?"

This is a nightmare of misunderstandings. She merely meant to say...that sometimes things are hard. Sometimes things scare her. And sometimes she needs to leave. This is far too drastic. There's no way she should ever ask this of him, that it'll do nothing but craft a desire to hurt other people. And yet.

And yet.

Religious purpose is used as an excuse to explore something truly deplorable.

"...Yes," she concedes, breathless.

That's all that is needed for the man to give her his everything. Hidan guides her grip on the kunai with his own, and the disciple allows him, starting by pulling her down to his level, to her own knees so the symbol of his faith bleeds onto her dress. He brings the tip of the blade to the same palm he’s already struck to make his sigil, the hand laid face up between them with the wound's thin edges pinkened by healing cells. He grits his teeth at the first pinprick from the weapon she holds with his fostering attention, but he soon exhales in release as the line starts to draw. The new cut meets in the middle of his own and keeps going to forge an "x", the same orbit as star-crossed lovers.

Drip.

His blood is now on their hands.

The tables have turned, the man now at her mercy instead of the woman at his. It's worshipful, his sacrifice. This first time, she can only cut a small part of him and only with his help, but that's just fine. She cries. She cries, but she won’t stop it. This means so much to him. Doesn’t that make it worthwhile? And somewhere, so evilly, doesn't he want it to make her feel good?

From the darkest depths of blazing hell, it is euphoric to be wanted so badly like this, behind the flames and blaring alarms. Someone sees her pain. Someone wants to rescue her. Through the smoke and screams, a savior is here. He will carry her away.

Like never before, the man soft, and praising, and encouraging. It makes this all the more sinful. “Just like that. That ain’t so hard, huh?” The soothing look upon his face is more like one you may wear when you’re proud of someone, not that you are being mutilated by them. His tongue is honeyed, airy as a feather. “I told you I could take it.”

She is simultaneously so disgusted, so sick to her stomach, but undeniably part of her illness is from how her heart twists. So sweet, so terribly, she begins to appreciate the reaper's own appreciation for her. How could someone care this much? He offers his body to her. And what has she done to deserve it?

Merely exist in the way only she can.

“Whenever you want to hurt yourself like that...just find me," he repeats, etching a promise into her soul as he helps her etch his skin. He helps her hand fold on top of his once the act is done. The seal is made, and her lungs choke on his dedication. "We’ll make something out of it. Make it worth somethin’ besides just keeping you afraid of nothing worth your time.”

The words "I love you" don't matter in Hidan’s reality, only actions. Only the actions that hurt.

Even if it means that if she can never hurt, he’ll have to carry it all on his own shoulders. He can do that just for her. Just for Jashin and his angel sent from the stars. This is what Hidan has done today to deserve his eyes.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, oh, oh yeah

Oh yeah

Oh no

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#very very tempted to put in my favorite clip i made of my favorite youtuber #where she says you've entered the danger zone!#WEE WOO WEE WOO WHOOPS BITCH #YOU NEED TO TURN AROUND #youve entered: THE OH FUCK OH GOD ZONE #i know it could be a lot worse but that's how i feel about this chapter compared to any other writing ive done #hidan x reader #hidan imagine #akatsuki x reader #akatsuki x oc #songfic #aswtn fic #kisame is here and i love him as always but this aint about him

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flatstarcarcosa · 11 months ago

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All ship questions for Abe :) (dadbodsandbots)

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

he broke into my fucking house and refused to leave. i have our story pick up after he dips in s2, and figure that i'm /near/ sleepy hollow but not directly in it. he finds my cabin and just thinks it's empty and free real estate. it is not. although. he never pays rent so i guess for him it was free real estate.

he kinda gets stuck because there's a bay window in the kitchen with sunlight blocking him on one side of the cabin and that's how i find him when i come home.

What was their first impression of each other?

monster fucking tendencies aside, there was some stuff on fringe news sources about the headless horseman. SH police tried to keep a lid on it but you know how the internet is. i am trope aware enough to be a bit wary of the headless serial killer now in my kitchen but also. i am on day 8 of 9 of work before a single day off between another 9 day stretch so i'm a bit kinda.

"don't gotta work if no head tho-"

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

doesn't really apply for obvious reasons. eventually i DO talk about 'the boyfriend' but am understandably cagey about a lot of it. i think some people think i'm just making up a boyfriend for some reason until he finally gets his head back and can like. be in public.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

oh i think he did. mine was just MAN BIG MCLARGE HUGE SEXY for a good bit, meanwhile me just treating him normally and putting effort into being able to communicate with him and being willing to trust him when he says (writes a note) that he just wanted to be left alone but hadn't considered what that entailed and as i've done him no wrong he has no reason to be hostile towards me so like. could he idk hang out. started getting to him.

his own mistakes leading to his own suffering aside there is the fact that like. man was already half dead when moloch showed up, it's heavily implied moloch and hell targeted him specifically because of his relationship with both ichabod and katrina to become the horseman, and regardless of people having damn good reason to treat him like a monster it still throws him for a loop to fumble into someone who. doesn't do that.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

also him. he teeters for a while between still wholly blaming ichabod and katrina for how things went with growing realization that they're NOT entirely to blame. also my hc's of 'he was in love with both, got neither, went a bit unhinged about it' he's hesitant to open himself up.

also, joking about it aside, he thinks for a while there's no way i'm not fucking with him because. he's fucking headless. he hasn't treated me monsterably but he is undeniably a monster so what could i possibly be interested in.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

sometimes when it's late at night, especially if i've been having a bad time and am only finding sleep after days, and he's still awake watching me curled up next to him he thinks it's weird how things turned out. he's not a 'everything happens for a reason' type of guy, esp considering the things he's experienced but.

what are the odds, you know?

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

man wandering loose and alone in woods, foraging for murder victims. local alcoholic pharmacy tech crashes and burns.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

it was mutual. the notes/charades and half-assed ASL and me learning his body language actually made us VERY good at communicating non verbally. he started doing nice things initially out of boredom and to pass the time while stuck inside in an otherwise tiny cabin, but eventually realized that it was also. oddly rewarding to have it appreciated.

i don't think he realized it was mutual until i started being physically affectionate though. first time he was sitting on the couch and i plopped my ass down on his lap had him like

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

not really because of the obvious. i think the FL vacation we take after his reheading should count though. we spend two weeks down here and then spontaneously add a third only because he spent enough days being besieged by demons he felt cheated of an actual vacation.

"so you're telling me the nations oldest city isn't haunted, it's full of demons?"

"it's goddamn infested is what it is and i didn't bring enough shotgun shells for this"

"i mean. it's florida. they're not hard to find."

What was their first kiss like?

POV abe abbie and ichabod pop out of a hell port 3 days late after disappearing to stop an apocalypse. i'd assumed they'd succeeded when the timer ran out and the world kept spinning but i'd started getting worried. all three of them are exhausted and bloody.

abe only went because they cajoled him into it out of desperation, and the agreement that if he helped they'd give him his head back.

me, having the enchanted ring means i don't immediately realize he's already taken it back. surprise!

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

i definitely think i was too focused on being an insane alcoholic trying to make it day to day to have had any relationships in this setting, so.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

in my mind he's 6'4 (with head). which means he was already tall before imagine how fucking mad i am after the reheading when he's taller. age difference is like what 220ish slutty slutty years.

although, i remember something somewhere saying he was only 27 when he died. i don't know if that was an official age thing or just a fanon thing but if we roll with that and discount the years he was waterlogged in the river we're close in age.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

non-applicable. man's reheaded before he even finds out i have a sister. (so like, almost two years into knowing each other)

Who takes the lead in social situations?

by necessity for a while, me, because our only social situations outside each other are w ichabod and abbie and someone has to translate. post reheading it's usually him.

Who gets jealous easier?

him. i only do it if it's funny.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

oh that's equal depending on the situation.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

probably him, but not until after getting his head back. cringe comp, horseman of death less emotionally constipated than i am.

What are their primary love languages?

Abe is gift giving, which is. ironic because the man fucking sucks at giving gifts. he STILL falls into thinking "expensive = good" and gets confused when he buys something meant as an obvious joke and i end up being DELIGHTED by it. also he turns himself into an acts of service ass mf, stays confused at how this happens.

mine is also acts of service, as well as quality time.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

both but only For The Bit.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

i don't tend to engage in PDA much but i also don't rebuff it. i do however climb like a fucking tree at home, esp when it's a case of i had to struggle through work and my brain shut off the second i walked in the door.

Who initiates kisses?

it's mutual and genuinely depends on who's hornier.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

i am just a leetle creachur, i cannot help des.

What are their favorite things to do together?

when he's still headless obviously it's a lot of inside stuff. i think we do get to the point where we take the horse out at night though, but he's always a bit on edge to make sure no one is around.

reheading opens it up a lot more. he likes doing a lot of stuff outside just because of the novelty of being able to be out in the sun without burning to a crisp.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

look he tries but his immediate go-tos are a "oh, darling" and tea and sometimes i'm at the point where if this mf shoves one more cup of tea at me he's gonna have hot liquid in his newly regained eyes.

Who’s more protective?

him most definitely. although, i get defensive of him sometimes when it comes to abbie and ichabod. you don't have to like him or trust him (even though at a certain point it's clear he's not going to fuck them up any longer) but you're not going to be rude in my fucking house.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

abe leans towards both and i lean towards physical because i have Weird Hangups about Words.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

Royal Blood -- Little Monster

The Black Keys - Next Girl

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Abe. :) even though canonically others refer to his as Brahm/Brom as a nickname i think he likes i just defaulted to something else all on my own. Petnames aside he has a very specific way of saying Reese sometimes that makes it feel like a nickname.

Who remembers the little things?

i have chronic forgoring disease so it's not me, usually.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

we do not. he does eventually consider the idea despite initially thinking he was never gonna do that again but i am staunchly anti-marriage.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

Do they have any pets?

Rufus :) also I end up getting some hamsters. he is immensely confused about having rodents as pets. he is also eternally frustrated that they keep getting out of the fucking cages.

it happens so often he'll find rufus just standing somewhere and looking between a spot under a piece of furniture and back again and it's just [deep sigh] "is there a hamster loose, rufus?" [small boof] "of course there is. you could eat one, i won't tell on you."

Who’s the stricter parent?

Who worries the most?

in general about anything i have the anxieties disorders. about specific things, he genuinely worries about the fact he's a magnet for demons and other hell creatures, and it only gets kicked up after some of them shred the cabin.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

it depends on the bug. he finds my eternal war against cockroaches fascinating and concerning. the way i can hear them in the fucking baseboards is genuinely unsettling.

one time a snake got in and all he heard from the other end of the house was "oh. ohhhh nooo, no not today. no sir. no thank you. may i ask you to vacate the doorway-"

How do they celebrate holidays?

i'm in the funk of just not doing so when we meet but i do think over time ichabod and abbie's influence drags us into it.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

me, but he doesn't need much convincing.

Who’s the better cook?

well it's not the 18th century aristocrat that never did a single thing for himself before dying that's for fucking sure.

Who likes to dance?

i'm prone to moving around if i have music going and i think he tries to get me to like. dance-dance sometimes but i always get weirdly flustered about it for some reason.

#txt.txt #ship: trouble my heart

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