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starryeyedjanai · 8 months

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catch the embers on my tongue

kinktober prompt: frottage; @eddiemonth prompt: crush explicit | 5.2k

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Steve's leaning into Eddie's side and they are high, high, high.

It's about time they got high together. After everything they've been through, and after he spent months recovering from wounds so deep they didn't know if he was going to make it, Eddie thinks they deserve this.

He hasn't smoked in months, the longest he's gone since the first time he tentatively took the joint from some kid he was hanging out with back in like middle school.

He hasn't been able to - the damage to his entire body was rough, his lungs were just one of many things that will probably never be the same. But it's been long enough, he figures. It doesn't ache when he breathes anymore, his body on the up and up.

So he invites Steve over to smoke with him because he remembers selling to him a handful of times when he was in high school, Steve showing up at his locker or waiting by his van after school sometimes. He remembers always wondering back then what Steve would be like when he was high. If he's the talkative type, the paranoid type, the quiet and contemplative type, the horny type.

Even he can admit he's thought about Steve enough to have thoughts on all of those situations and musings about how he'd handle each of them.

But he's not exactly prepared for Steve to be handsy, to be giggly and leaning into him and joking and touching him casually. Because sober Steve keeps his hands to himself, Eddie's noticed.

He's had a theory for years now that Steve is probably touch starved, from not having his parents around much, from the only form of intimacy other than sex being clapping his friends or teammates on the shoulder.

And knowing him now, actually knowing him, he knows he was right. Because Steve is somehow so touch starved that he's touch averse with most people, like he can't handle it, the lightest brush of someone's hand oh his skin has him dodging out of the way to avoid it.

The only person he isn't like that with is Robin. And Dustin has speculated enough times why that might be that Robin eventually came out to the group just to get them all to stop talking about it - well, that and she trusts them. It felt like Eddie's heart was going to burst in his chest at being part of that trusted group.

So Steve doesn't really touch people, doesn't reach out for any of the group for hugs, doesn't really cuddle with anyone during movie nights.

But high Steve, he touches.

They don't even finish the joint they're sharing, because it's been a while for both of them. Eddie's feeling the pleasant buzz under his skin, his lips feeling cold and tingling a little when they're barely halfway done with it. He stubs it out when Steve bows out of taking it from him.

Without the joint to pass between them, they talk. One of his hands somehow ends up in Steve's grasp. He touches Eddie's fingers, plays with his rings, as he talks.

It's mostly chatter that Eddie mostly can't keep up with as he acclimates to the way his brain feels less fuzzy than it has in months, the background noises fading away until all he can hear is Steve, all he can feel is Steve's fingers spinning one of his rings around.

He feels grounded, kind of, focusing in on Steve's voice, watching his mouth move as he talks. He's calmer than he's felt in months, feels less out of control, sitting on his bed next to Steve, letting him touch his hand.

It's only a handful of minutes later when they're laughing about something or another, when out of nowhere Steve puts his hands on Eddie's chest and pushes him down on his bed in what has to be a moment straight out of Eddie's wet dreams before he realizes that Steve is pressing him into the bed because he wants to cuddle with him.

It still has his heart racketing in his chest even after realizing, because he's so close to Steve. Their faces are pressed close together and he can feel the several points of contact between them like a brand on his skin.

It's one of those weirdly hot September days, so they're both in shorts. Steve's wearing a sweater even though Eddie knows he has to be hot in it. Even with the sweater on, this is more skin contact than Eddie is used to with anyone.

He realizes now, in this moment, that he too has become a little touch starved since everything happened.

He couldn't handle a lot of touch in the beginning, his body healing, his skin scarring over in a lot of areas. The scar tissue was sensitive for a long while even after it was safe to touch, so the party and his friends stopped touching him - he'd flinch or brace himself when people got near, ready for the ache or pain or sensitivity that comes with touch nowadays, so they stopped touching him as much to spare him of that.

And now, laying here, pressed up against Steve Harrington, of all people, he's realizing how much he craves touch, how much he's missed having someone's skin against his like this, even platonically - not that he has much experience with things being not platonic.

But his friends stopped touching him because any touch hurt him for a while and then they just kind of haven't started again.

They're probably waiting on a cue from him, he guesses. It's what he'd do, if touch suddenly hurt one of his friends. He'd wait for them to say it was okay, or to initiate touch, before he started cuddling up to them again.

So even though he knows cognitively that's likely the reason, there's a thread of a darker thought that passes through his head, that maybe his friends don't touch him anymore because he's somehow even more of a freak than before. That his scars make him untouchable, undesired, that even the freaks of Hawkins don't want to touch him.

He shakes himself free of those thoughts. He knows that's just his brain being dumb. His friends don't care what he looks like, they never have. If they did, they wouldn't be his friends anyway - that's not the kind of company he keeps.

He tries to get back to the feeling of finally having someone's warmth against his skin after a long, touch-starved drought, calming his thoughts again so all he feels is Steve.

He likes it, he finds - the warmth. Steve's skin is hot to the touch, the air around them warm from having the air conditioning off.

He likes this, probably too much, hasn't had enough touch in months, and Steve is the one here giving it to him.

He likes this and he's been unknowingly craving this. That's a dangerous combination.

He wants to burrow deep, to pull their clothes off so he can get even more skin contact. He wants to feel the whorls of his fingertips dragging on Steve's own scars, because he's maybe the only one who can appreciate it. He's maybe the only one who can understand this - what it's like to want to be touched but not be able to be, to feel like maybe the scars are the reason why he's not getting the touch he needs.

He feels the heat seeping from Steve's skin against his and he wants to wrap himself up in that warmth. After a moment of contemplating whether it would be a good idea or not, he does it anyway.

He's spent months not being able to do the things he wants to do, is the thing.

He's spent months not getting high, not really being able to have his friends touch him without it hurting, not being able to get out of bed, not being able to stand for too long without it hurting. He's spent months bored out of his fucking mind while his body healed from something more traumatic than he ever thought he'd go through.

He thinks he's allowed to have this. He thinks he's allowed to enjoy this, even.

So he pulls Steve closer to him, impossibly close, pressed together all the way from their chests to their shins, legs tangling together. He tucks his head in close, rubs his face against the soft fabric of Steve's sweater.

"I've missed this," he finds himself saying, sighing into Steve's shoulder.

Steve pulls back a little to be able to look at Eddie's face when he asks, "Getting high?"

Eddie snorts. "Yeah, that. But also, this," he says, trapping one of Steve's legs between his and squeezing it between his. "I feel like no one touches me anymore."

There's more he could say, the introspective thoughts about how he gets it - the self-deprecating jokes about his scars bitter on his tongue. But he doesn't say it because Steve already gets it. He has similar scars. Scars that run along his back and his torso and his neck. His neck scar is still visible in most shirts. Eddie knows he gets it.

"Yeah," Steve says quietly. "I think I missed this too."

They've never touched like this before, never spent an afternoon curled up together, and he wishes he could go back in time to tell himself to befriend Steve, so they'd get more moments like this. So they'd get thousands of moments like this before all the bad stuff happened.

His brain conjures up the image of high school Steve in his bed in his old trailer. He thinks of Steve's coiffed hair and his polos and barely contains the laugh bubbling up in his chest. He'd look so out of place there.

But Eddie doesn't think he would have been, not really. Not after he lost his crown, after his downfall from King of Hawkins High. He thinks Steve would have fit right in with the rest of Eddie's things - his sweetheart, his posters, his rack of cassette tapes, his Steve. Eddie thinks he would have liked Steve in that room, surrounded by all of Eddie's favorite things.

But he knows his past self wouldn't have allowed it. Even though Steve had changed by his senior year, Eddie was still very much subscribed to a nerds versus jocks dichotomy.

He doesn't think he would have allowed Steve to get close enough to him to be someone he invited over, someone he invited into his room, his space, the only place in Hawkins that was really Eddie's. He would have been too paranoid that Steve would have been trying to pull something over on him.

He's pulled from his thoughts by Steve putting his hand on Eddie's side. He's not touching his skin, but Eddie still flinches. The skin has long since healed over into scars that sometimes pull weird with sudden movement, making it feel like the skin is going to crack open.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispers. "Do your scars still hurt? I should have probably asked that before tackling you to the bed."

"No," Eddie says. "They don't hurt. The skin's just weirdly sensitive sometimes. You can keep touching me. It's fine." The second the words are out of his mouth, his face is on fire.

You can keep touching me. That's a loaded sentence if he ever heard one.

Steve either doesn't notice or doesn't care that his face is beet red. He just returns his hand to Eddie's side, where his shirt has ridden up a little. This time, instead of letting his hand rest over Eddie's side on top of his shirt, he pushes his shirt up more, spreading his big hand over the expanse of Eddie's largest scar.

God, his hands are so big. And this is so not the time to be thinking about that.

The feeling of Steve's hand on him makes Eddie shiver. He tries to suppress it, but it wracks its way through his body regardless.

He knows Steve feels it. He has to, with the way his body is pressed so close to Eddie's. There's no way he misses it, the full body shudder, the way his breath hitches a little because of it.

Steve doesn't say anything, but he thumbs at the scars on Eddie's side, right where the scar meets his unmarred skin.

He's being so gentle with him that it makes Eddie want to whine. It makes him want to whine and rock his hips against Steve's, the delicate way he's touching him, just the slightest pressure of his thumb on his skin. It's like a tease, almost. It's like Steve wants Eddie to feel like this, like he knows exactly what touching him like this is doing to him.

Eddie tries to get his bearings right again, tries to be normal about this, but he's high, and it's been so long since he felt good like this. Part of him wants to give in completely, right away, wants to, to knock Steve onto his back and climb on top of him. Wants to press his entire body weight onto him, feel every inch of his skin against his own.

But he knows that's crazy. Even if Steve were receptive to the things that Eddie wants, he doesn't think Steve would want to jump right in. He seems to be the type that would want it to go a little slower, to want to be wooed in bed. He's the type to hold hands during sex and look deeply into his lover's eyes for the connection. At least, that's what Eddie assumes about him, anyway, from the way he talks about relationships and love and what he wants his future to look like.

So even as high as he is, he knows Steve probably wouldn't want to be pushed around like that, at least not at first.

The longer Eddie thinks about it, the longer he has Steve so close to him, the longer he has his hands on him, the more Eddie craves it. He's never wanted like this before, he doesn't think.

He's not super experienced beyond quick and dirty hand jobs or blow jobs. He's never had someone touch him like this before. Touching just to touch. Any touching during his previous encounters were just the quick preliminary touches to get the other guy out of his jeans. The touches didn't linger. They certainly didn't feel like this.

He tucks his head close to Steve's neck again, lets his lips just barely brush against the skin there, tries to keep his breath even. It could be written off as an accident, that he just got too close, because they're already so close. Steve could ignore it.

He doesn't.

He slides his hand down Eddie's side, past his hip to grip his thigh and hitch it up near Steve's hip. Eddie can't keep the gasp from escaping his mouth.

He's already half-hard, just from thinking thoughts about Steve. How the hell is he going to survive this?

Steve's hand travels back up the back of his thigh, stops right before it reaches his ass.

Eddie's heart is beating so fucking fast in his chest.

He pulls back to look at Steve. His eyes are dark, and his lips are red like he's been biting them. Eddie wants to bite them, too.

"Steve," Eddie says, unsure exactly what to say, what he could say to get Steve to want this. Does he have to convince him? Does he have to tell him it doesn't have to mean anything? It would be a lie - it would mean something to him. But if Steve only wants this now, when he's high, Eddie thinks he can handle that. He thinks he can be okay with it, if it means he gets to have this right now.

Steve shushes him though, doesn't seem to need any convincing before he leans in and kisses Eddie.

Eddie lets out a shuddering breath against his mouth.

He hadn't realized how much he's been wanting this because he never really let himself think about it. It's not just touch, not just anybody's touch, not just anybody's kiss, that he craves. It's Steve's touch, Steve's kiss. It's Steve's lips against his, Steve's body against his.

He obviously knows Steve is attractive, but they've grown close over the past few months.

He thinks Steve is probably one of the best friends he's ever had. And of course, with that comes other feelings because how could it not? How could anyone look at Steve and not want? How could anyone know Steve and not want him?

Eddie hasn't been thinking about it, about how he looks at Steve sometimes, about how he watches him. He hasn't thought about it because he knows what it means when his heart beats faster because of it. He knows what it means when his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest when he makes Steve laugh. He knows what it all means, so he hasn't let himself think about it.

But with Steve pressing sweet, gentle kisses against his mouth, the feelings slam into him. He's wanted this so bad.

This impossible crush, these impossible feelings that he has tried so hard to ignore, tried to get to lay dormant when he became friends with Steve, come rushing to the surface with him so close like this, with his mouth on Eddie's like it belongs there.

He pulls Steve's bottom lip into his mouth and bites it. He can't not. Steve gasps against his mouth.

He sucks on his lip gently, tongues at it to soothe the sting away, and hears Steve let out a sigh.

Steve's hand is still on his thigh, trapping his thigh against Steve's hip. He wants his hands on him, wants Steve to touch him everywhere.

He licks into Steve's mouth, slow and deep, their tongue sliding against each other like they've got all the time in the world.

Eddie's hand has been idle against Steve's chest, but he needs to touch, needs to feel him. So he slides his hand up to cup Steve's neck, to tilt his head to better lick into his mouth. He keeps his hand there, fingertips brushing the scar on his neck, his thumb digging into the hinge of his jaw.

He kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, until all the air in his lungs is gone, until he's hard in his shorts, until his lips feel swollen.

Steve's hand stays stubbornly on his thigh, not moving an inch up towards his ass. Eddie might be a little offended by it if he couldn't feel the way Steve is also hard in his shorts, if he hadn't just spent ten minutes getting to know the inside of his mouth.

He likes this so much, he realizes. He's never been the type to savor it - he hasn't ever really had the opportunity to. The few times he's had anything like this, it had to be quick, it had an expiration date, it had to be over as soon as possible. He's never just sat around and kissed someone until his jaw hurt, until his lips were aching.

He didn't expect it to be this easy, to just put a tiny little thread in the loop and have it spin so easily for him. He didn't think that maybe Steve had been wanting this too, craving this for just as long as he had.

He couldn't even imagine it - Steve, looking at him and wanting, Steve watching him when he's not looking the way that he watches Steve. He can't wrap his mind around it, Steve looking over at him being a dumbass in so many situations and still being like, yep, I want his tongue in my mouth.

But it feels like that's what this is. Because Steve's kissing him with just as much hunger. Steve's kissing him and has his hand on his thigh, gripping him like he owns him. Eddie wants him to push him on his back, to spread his thighs open and show him just how much of him he owns. He wants him.

He pushes his hips forward experimentally, a slow grind. It makes Steve groan against his mouth. The sound is addictive - Eddie wants to chase that sound, to make Steve groan over and over and over as he chases his pleasure between Eddie's thighs.

Steve bites his lip, harder than Eddie had bitten his, and it stings. They've been at it for so long that Eddie's lips were already getting swollen and sensitive, so Steve biting one of them like that pulls a moan out of him.

He pulls back, breathing heavy, to kiss his way down Steve's neck, to bite at his neck. He wants to cover him in marks - deep, purpling bruises. He wants to see his neck and his chest covered, a molten mess of love bites.

His heart stupidly stutters in his chest at the thought of biting a bruise the shape of a heart into his skin. God, he's so gone for him. He has a heart boner for him in addition to a regular one.

He pulls the neck of Steve's sweater down and sucks a bruise into the smooth, tan skin of his collarbone, and when he pulls back, the skin is a deep red. He smiles at his work, knows it's going to deepen in color with time. He's never felt possessive like this before, like he wants to cover him in bruises so everyone knows he's someone's, so everyone knows he's Eddie's.

Is he Eddie's?

The look in his eyes when Eddie looks back up at his face says yes.

Steve pulls Eddie on top of him, their bodies flush together again, and gets a hand in his hair. He tugs his head to the side so he can bite at Eddie's neck the way that Eddie was just gnawing on his. It startles a moan out of him. He didn't know his neck was so sensitive.

He lets Steve suck a bruise into his skin and tries not to accidentally come because of it. All the kissing, their bodies pressed together, their cocks hard and grinding together through layers of fabric - it all feels like so much, too much almost.

He's on top of him, but he doesn't feel in control right now at all.

He can barely stop himself from grinding down and coming in his underwear like a teenager. He wants it, wants to come with Steve's mouth on his skin.

Steve kisses his neck, where his skin is likely bruised now, before he pulls back, thumbing at the mark like he's satisfied he left his mark on Eddie as well.

Steve releases his hair from his grip and slides his hand down between them. Eddie can't stop the groan that leaves his mouth at feeling Steve palm at him.

"Is this okay?" he asks, and Eddie isn't sure what he's talking about - his hand touching Eddie's dick? Hell yeah, that's okay. This entire thing? Again, hell fucking yeah.

He nods, because any way you spin it, everything they've been doing is a-okay with Eddie.

Steve grins up at him and Eddie can't help but grin back at him, still in awe that this is happening.

Steve undoes the buttons on Eddie's shorts and unties the tie at the waistband of his own shorts.

Eddie sits up to shove his shorts down and off, watching Steve do the same, leaving his shorts around his thighs.

He looks at Steve's bulge, his cock hard and straining in his underwear. He wants to lean in and put his mouth on it. Get the fabric nice and wet with a mix of his spit and Steve's precome. He wants to suck it through the fabric, tongue at the soft fabric and pull noises from Steve the entire time.

He wants to put his mouth on Steve's thighs. They're paler than the rest of his tan skin, milky and smooth. He wants to see that skin mottled and bruised too.

He can wait for those things, though. He thinks he has time. The thought makes him damn near giddy - the thought of more, of doing this again and in different ways, in every way possible. They haven't even made each other come yet and he's thinking about all the other ways he wants him. He's so far gone on him.

When Eddie lowers himself back down, he tries to keep his reaction to their cocks rubbing up against each other through their underwear to a minimum, but he feels a shiver run through him. It feels overwhelming, and they aren't even naked, aren't even touching cocks with nothing separating them.

He thinks that would probably be enough to make him come immediately, feeling the velvety skin of Steve's cock against his own as they grind together, if how overwhelming this feels is any indication. He feels like he's just a few breaths away from shoving his hips down and humping Steve with abandon until he's making a mess of both of them.

He grinds down against him slowly, trying not to overwhelm himself. He presses his mouth to Steve's again, tangling his tongue with his as his hips move. He rolls his hips against Steve's, their dicks pressed together tightly.

He pulls back to look down at the way they're pressed together and he groans. There's a wet spot on Steve's underwear where he's leaking precome into the fabric. He's losing his goddamn mind.

He sits up and pulls his shirt off so he has a moment to take a breath.

He leans back in and grinds down on Steve again, pushing Steve's sweater up, not sure how he's even still wearing it. Eddie's sweating and he was only in a short sleeved shirt.

Steve enthusiastically pulls his sweater up and in the excitement, it gets a little tangled getting over his head, so they have to stop grinding against each other to figure it out. Steve's head pops out of the head hole of his sweater and Eddie can't help but sit up and laugh. Steve arms are caught up in his sweater, awkwardly making his arms box his head in.

He looks flushed and aroused and out of breath from struggling with his sweater and his hair is a mess, but he's still so unfairly pretty.

Steve pouts at him and says, "Don't laugh at me. Help me out of this?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Eddie says with a grin, sliding his hands up to push the sweater up a little, exposing more of Steve's biceps. Eddie wants to bite them. "I kind of like having you at my disposal here."

He says it as a joke, mostly, ready to help Steve get his arms untangled from his sweater. But he sees the way Steve's eyes darken, sees the way he licks his lips like he likes that thought, the thought of being at Eddie's mercy.

He asks, "You like that?" because he has to be sure he isn't reading this wrong. Steve nods his head, slow and sure.

So Eddie grinds his hips down slowly, pushes Steve's sweater up more, to free up more of his arms. He pushes his hands into the arm holes of the sweater and tangles his fingers with Steve's hands where they lay draped above his head. He knows their hands are going to get sweaty underneath the fabric of Steve's sweater, but he doesn't care right now.

He presses his weight more fully onto Steve, uses his hands to press Steve's into the mattress as leverage. He spreads his legs, knees digging into the bed so he can roll his hips against Steve's harder, still keeping the pace slow and steady.

"Fuck," Steve says on a breath out, keening at the rough way Eddie's cock is sliding against his.

They're breathing the same air, not really kissing, mouths barely an inch apart.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods desperately. He closes the gap between their mouths and licks at Steve's open mouth, his tongue brushing past Steve's lips, tasting him.

His brain is only a little hazy, but Steve's tongue feels hot against his, hot like the embers at the end of the joint they just shared.

He rocks down against Steve faster, picking up the pace, feels the vibration of his moans against his mouth more than he hears them.

He feels the familiar coiling in his stomach, the tightening of his core muscles that tells him he's going to come soon.

He gives into it, huddling impossibly closer, hips moving faster, less controlled than before. He's sweating, his hands on Steve's are damp, beads of sweat rolling down his neck. But he keeps going, he's so fucking close.

"Stevie," he whispers against his mouth.

Steve nods, says back, "I'm gonna come."

Yeah, yeah.

So Eddie releases one of Steve's hands and gets it between them, squeezes Steve through his underwear. He lets Steve jerk his hips up against his hand, chasing his orgasm. He curls his hand around Steve more firmly, hears the curse that falls from his lips.

He bites at Steve's bottom lip, the feeling of his cock riding up against the back of his hand as he gets Steve off overwhelming, Steve's gasping breaths and groans the only thing he can focus on.

Steve lets out a sharp cry and Eddie feels the wet heat of his come seeping through Steve's briefs. He strokes Steve's cock through his briefs, feeling him tremble a little when it gets to be overstimulating.

Steve, having finally weaseled his hands out of his sweater, rubs his hands up and down Eddie's back gently as he comes down.

It's the tenderness, this moment of connection, that has Eddie leaning down and pressing his teeth into the soft skin of Steve's neck.

He's still riding close to the edge and now feeling the satisfaction of making Steve come. He turns his hand over and barely has to put any pressure on his dick before he's coming too, his open mouth pressed against Steve's throat.

He pants through the waves of it, feeling his briefs get stickier and wetter with each pulse.

He's shivering when it's over, the sweat on his skin drying, the come in his underwear cooling.

His hand feels sticky when he pulls it away and he wonders if he'd taste a combination of their come if he licked his palm right now. His cock jerks painfully at the thought.

He rolls off Steve, sated and sweaty, breath still shaky.

Steve reaches between them and laces their fingers together.

"Are we- what are we doing?" he asks, a little nervous, looking over at him.

Steve brings their entwined hands up to his mouth and kisses the back of Eddie's hand.

"Whatever you want," Steve says easily, letting their hands fall between them again.

Eddie steels himself and bites the bullet. "And if I want everything?" he asks, heart in his throat.

Steve smiles shyly at him and squeezes his hand. "I can work with that."

#steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddiemonthafterdark #stranger things fanfiction #janai.doc

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seat-safety-switch · 10 months

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SO-LAR-FUCKING-POWER. Or, as the appearance-obsessed image consultants want us to refer to it now, "photovoltaic energy." Yeah, okay, nerds. A lot of people have been shit-talking solar in the press, because they're afraid that individuals will set up their own power generation facilities in their backyards, roofs, sheds, community centres, what have you, and start pumping out electricity. That will make the big electricity corporations sad, so they've paid all these handsome people to come on the news and yell about it.

Let me put it this way: if there were a magic machine in the sky that shot out a bunch of candy bars every day, like an absolute shitload of Milky Ways, and you were hungry, would you run out into the backyard with a bucket? Or would you feel bad about it because Bob Milky Way, up there in his hateful Cadbury tower, is no longer able to perpetuate his existing business model?

Personally, I've gone big-league on solar, mostly because the utility company disconnected my house after decades of non-payment. Now, I can't afford the new stuff: even the cheap panels that the proud people of China throw onto AliExpress are too costly for my budget. What I've done instead is dig through the landfill (after hours, of course) for several hundred solar desk calculators.

These calculators are electronic devices that we used to use before smartphones in order to compute numbers. And they ran on the sun, because replacing batteries is annoying. After breaking open the calculators, I looped their solar cells together in series, and eventually built a big enough panel to cover my entire roof.

When I say it like that, it sounds easy, and this is the myth of engineering progress: it was actually a lot of stop-and-go stuff, bumps in the road. Rooftop fires. Wiring fires. I fell off the roof a few times. The cops came by at one point and were idling in front of my house, waiting to see if I'd come outside so they could bust me for stealing all those calculators from the dump. In the end, though, I am now able to charge my phone for free, and even run my coffee maker if it's a particularly sunny day. That coffee is the best-tasting coffee I've ever had, because it tastes like billionaire tears.

And I won't stop there, either. Things are going to improve dramatically at the old Switch Family Solar Array as my bougie neighbours throw out their old panels in order to upgrade to the latest and greatest. Pretty soon they'll be paying me to take them – I have it on good authority that the dump charges you like minimum $20 this weekend. If you flip to the last page in my investor deck, you'll notice that I have projected to be able to run my refrigerator by 2025. You better get in on this shit, or we'll bury you with the coal.

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general-cyno · 3 months

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I sort of rambled about this in the tags of a post, but I wanted to make a proper one myself since I find it very fascinating (law backstory flashback you will always be famous). so one of my favorite scenes is this one:

it is a very meaningful moment for these two, a very clear turning point to their dynamic at that time, and it's made even clearer by how law starts referring to rocinante as cora-san afterwards.

now, there are several instances throughout dressrosa arc where the similarities between doflamingo and law are mentioned, with the former going as far as to call them both birds of a feather. and as it's shown in the flashbacks, reading about flevance was enough to trigger doflamingo's traumatizing memories of his and rocinante's childhood, which seems to motivate him to bring law into the family. the way law seeks to lash out at everything then is reminiscent of doflamingo's own worldview and experiences, at least from his pov:

rocinante noticed those similarities as well and though he tried to (questionably) discourage all kids from joining the DQ pirates by scaring them away, law's case in particular prompted him to bring up the topic with sengoku at some point, as seen during sengoku's conversation with law.

sengoku repeats what everyone says about the amber lead disease, that it's incurable, and warns rocinante not to favor law much for it could jeopardize his mission. whether rocinante's agreement here was reluctant or not ig is up to each reader but learning of law's real/full name (his relation to the D clan) reignites his initial worries and some more, considering the historic opposition/threat the D represents wrt celestial dragons and how this could endanger him if doflamingo were to find out.

so there's even bigger reasons for rocinante to not want law to become doflamingo 2.0. though as he later admits amidst his drunken speech, the will of D no longer matters to him when it comes to saving law, as rocinante's journey to cure his disease ends up making him feel genuine sympathy for law beyond that. he's forced to witness first hand how much discrimination and dehumanization law's subjected to time and time again, because of his disease and ties to flevance. before all this, law's mentioned his imminent death more than a few times and does it after too. and during the first disastrous hospital visit, he tells rocinante: see? I'm not even human anymore!

which brings me to this bit of dialogue:

for all of law's similarities and/or parallels to doflamingo, it's worth noting that rocinante experienced the same things his brother did and due to his younger age probably understood even less of what was happening or why they were being targeted in the first place. compared to doflamingo, rocinante also has way less dialogue in their backstory but one he does have is this:

this happens in the part where rocinante, doflamingo and their father are strung up on a wall and shot at with arrows. the villagers all express their anger, grief, the violence and suffering they've gone through because of celestial dragons like the donquixotes. albeit different in nature, along with doflamingo, rocinante experienced a kind of dehumanization as well.

so, again: for all that law might resemble doflamingo the most, I do wonder... how much of himself did rocinante see in law, though subconsciously? a kid who lost his family, subjected to the kind of violence that led him to resign himself to death (seek it, even) and was treated by others as inhuman because of circumstances out of his control? it might've not been what rocinante believed to be his own motivations to help law, likely never actually saw or realized the similarities they shared, but imo it adds some more depth to his kindness and sympathy towards law.

this also marks a stark difference between the donquixote brothers. whereas doflamingo got caught up in a very vicious cycle (which traces back to the existence of celestial dragons as a whole and was further enabled by others like trebol) that he planned to continue with law, rocinante was able to see past law's rage and acknowledge the pain beneath. after all, rocinante knows too what it's like to be hurt by others who've been terribly hurt first and became someone who wasn't exactly keen on returning the sentiment, unlike doflamingo, regardless of whether it was in his nature to be so or if it's something that was nurtured as he grew up. that's not to say rocinante was an endlessly kind saint (he had his own biased views) or that he wasn't capable of violence (he did beat up all those medical staff and burn down hospitals for example), but those incidents weren't caused by a sense of entitlement on his part or such. he didn't blame law for stabbing him or in general for seeking revenge against the world, ultimately chose to protect and save him instead - which, indeed, changed law's life. as law presently insists, he owes cora not just that very life but his heart as well.

lastly - law himself might not disagree with doflamingo insisting they're of the same sort, but law is also the kid who couldn't fathom leaving his dying little sister behind. who softened and lowered his guard after receiving genuine kindness/love/sympathy for the first time in years. who saved a little mink and risked his own neck later on to save a boy who'd just lost his brother in the worst way possible. who didn't even consider putting his crew in danger when he knew (and expected) he might die and his whole revenge plan against doflamingo was rooted in love and grief to begin with, the same upon which the foundation of his crew was built and is a tribute to. last we saw of him, law orders bepo to go back in winner island because can't leave the crew behind, etc etc, so there's that too. how much of it is law's own nature and personality? how much is due to the impact cora had on him? both? would've doflamingo turned out differently or made different choices if his parents had tried harder to school him out of those CD views or if he'd had more positive influences aside from them, instead of the people he ended up surrounded by? would he have become the same kind of person he is rn no matter what? interesting stuff to think about.

#one piece #tp #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #trafalgar law #every day I am plagued by Thoughts abt these guys help me #hope this is somewhat coherent ajdkkgg #also writing this made me realize cora kind of? subtly told law abt his and doffy's relation to the celestial dragons?#probably flew over his lil head tho #long post

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mj-iza-writer · 3 months

Text

Tw: tongue removal, character suicide, suicidal suggestion, finger breaking.

*CRUNCH*

Whumpee squirmed as another finger was snapped by the tool.

"Please no more", Whumpee pleaded. Their hands having gone numb from the pain now.

"Answer my questions about your master, and this will stop", Whumper stood in front of them, "I'll return you to your normal life, and you'll get to heal and forget this ever happened."

"My master will find....me.... and kill me as a traitor", Whumpee struggled to breath.

"You were the one holding a gun to your head when my team found you", Whumper knelt in front of Whumpee, "in retrospect, you should be dead already."

"It would have been an honorable death. It's... what my master... requires", Whumpee gritted their teeth, "please just kill me."

"I can't do that, I need live bait. You need to be alive for that to work", Whumper grinned, "break another finger", they spoke to the person behind Whumpee.

"We've ran out of fingers", the person sounded apologetic.

"My, you must be in a lot of pain", Whumper winked at Whumpee.

A loud explosion took everyone by surprise.

Debris covered everyone as they took cover.

Whumpee peered through the dust and smoke.

"Master... I", Whumpee coughed.

"Save it, I'm here to kill you before you can say anything else", their Master walked toward them, knife in hand.

"I haven't said anything", Whumpee pleaded, "please believe me, I haven't said anything."

"You should already be dead. You chickened out and didn't follow my one request", their master frowned and lifted the knife toward them, "I have to make an example of you... stick out your tongue."

Tears ran down Whumpee's face as they followed their orders.

In one swift movement the tip of their tongue was severed away.

Whumpee screamed in pain.

"You're a cruel person. You request loyalty from your people to the point they must kill themself to get out of capture", Whumper came out of their cover from the explosion, "what are you, a samurai?"

"You stay out of this", Whumpee's master frowned at Whumper.

"They haven't said anything, they've quite literally been through shit and back to keep your secrets", Whumper looked at Whumpee, "at this point just take them and let them heal. No harm done, I kind of feel bad for them honestly. Being stuck with you and all."

Whumpee's master gave a harsh push to the chair Whumpee was tied to.

Whumpee screamed as the chair fell back. Their head slammed on the floor.

Succumbing to the pain, they watched as a battle ensued. The last thing they realized before their eyes closed.... 'who's hands are touching me?'

Whumpee squinted their eyes open.

"I-I'm not dead?", Whumpee whispered.

They tried to sit up, but found they were tied to a bed.

"What's happening?", Whumpee struggled.

"Oh good, you're awake", Whumpee jumped as someone came into the doorway.

Whumper stood near the entrance of the room. Their arm was in a sling. They definitely had been scuffed up by Whumpee's master.

"I'm not dead?", Whumpee frowned.

"Nope, not yet at least", Whumper came closer and sat down, "your master is insane."

"I know", Whumpee sighed, "are these bindings necessary."

"You tell me", Whumper frowned, "I wasn't sure what mood you'd wake up with, and I've had enough fighting people today. So I was saving my team the headache. How exactly did you get mixed up with them?"

"It was accidentally. They caught me at a bad time, and I.... I got mixed up with them", Whumpee felt a tear fall, "I didn't want this for my life. I was supposed to make something of my life. The way I promised my parents I would. I screwed up."

"It happens, sometimes our parents make us promise things that we can't keep. Things that don't exactly fit in where our lives do lead", Whumper looked at their arm in the sling, "if you promise not to cause me any issues, I'll call someone to unlock you. My arm is not in the best of shape right now to do it myself."

"I won't fight you, I don't have much to live for anyway. It's just a waiting game to see when you or my master will kill me", Whumpee sighed, "I won't do anything."

"Alrighty then", Whumper pulled out their phone, "no need to worry about your master. They ran off to hide and lick their wounds. My team is waiting for them to come out. They'll pay for what they did today."

Whumpee frowned.

"Plus I have a score to settle with them", Whumper smiled.

Someone came in and stood next to Whumper.

"Could you unlock them please? I do believe they won't fight us now", Whumper handed over a set of keys, "I don't honestly think they're in the best of shape to fight anyway, but I don't like taking chances."

Whumpee frowned as they sat up. They remembered their tongue and tried to look at it.

"Yeah, they took quite a bit off, but you should be okay", Whumper stood.

'Wait, what are you going to do with me?", Whumpee looked up at Whumper.

"Well that depends. What do you want me to do?", Whumper reached to adjust the blanket that covered Whumpee.

"May I pledge my loyalty to you?", Whumpee bowed their head to show reverence.

"I don't do that", Whumper frowned, "you are welcome to stay here for a while if you like. I'm sure that's your plan to stay alive. You want my protection, right?"

"You're not wrong, but you're not right either", Whumpee sighed.

"Explain", Whumper frowned.

"Master kept me on a tight leash, I guess through that I've learned to be loyal to a master", Whumpee looked down again, "yes your protection would be great, but all I know is to be loyal to a master. Mine wants me dead, and I'm sure I can be beneficial to you as well."

Whumper thought for a few moments.

"If I'm loyal to you, my original master has lost their loyal pet. I can answer your questions without being tied down by them", Whumpee smiled, "I can be your loyal pet. It seems that's what I'm good for."

"You drive a hard bargain, but how do you prove your loyalty to a new master, when you're about to out your old one?"

"I am no longer theirs", Whumpee lifted their hands, "look what I went through to protect them."

Whumper grinned, "you have a point."

Whumper turned to leave.

"Wait you're not answering me", Whumpee looked at them with a concerned expression.

"I'm not one to step into something quickly, I need to consider my options", Whumper walked toward the door, "maybe you should consider the same. You are so ready to throw yourself into another person's hand, you aren't even considering if I can be trusted with your life. Remember who broke those fingers."

A few days passed and Whumpee had regained enough strength to follow Whumper closely.

"Are you going to be like a little shadow all of the time?", Whumper complained, "is this what your previous master had you do?"

"Actually, yes Master, I was the decoy. If someone came after them, I'd take the hit while they got away", Whumpee looked around, "I wasn't kidding when I said I was their loyal pet, I was a guard dog for them."

"Don't call me your master, I haven't agreed to anything yet", Whumper frowned.

"You haven't exactly said no either", Whumpee mocked.

Whumper rolled their eyes.

Someone came into the doorway and stared at Whumper then at Whumpee.

"Yes, you must be new here. How can I help?", Whumper stood in greeting.

Whumpee ran toward the person.

The person revealed a hidden dagger. They raised it at Whumpee and prepared to defend themself.

Whumpee attacked first, they winced as they punched. Their fingers had been bandaged, but hadn't healed from being broken yet.

The person fell to the ground.

"Now who's more trusting?", Whumpee checked that the person was unconscious. They moved the person's head around to show a mark hidden behind the ear. Then, they revealed they had the same one.

"It's my old Master's mark, everyone who worked for them received this as their first display of loyalty", Whumpee turned to Whumper who had backed against the wall in shock, "I wonder if they were coming for me or for you."

"I guess we will find out", Whumper composed themself and walked toward them, "how did you know."

"Their body language. This isn't the first time I had to locate the hidden knife quickly", Whumpee frowned, "is this a bad time to mention I've been stabbed?"

"What?", Whumper watched as Whumpee tumbled over.

"I need some help in here. Why is no one helping?", Whumper called out into the hallway.

Several people came running.

Whumpee groaned as they woke up.

"Ow", they hissed and reached down to the stab wound.

"Don't touch it", someone gently slapped their hand away, "doc and nurse are already ticked to see you back. Let's not make them even angrier by touching their hard work."

"Force of habit", Whumpee sighed.

"Hmph", Whumper frowned, "spoken like someone who gets stabbed often."

"Where do you think the scars came from", Whumpee groaned as they sat up, "so who was the target? Did they wake up?"

"They woke up all right. While we were e busy with you, they slit their throat", Whumper leaned up closer to the bed, "fairly certain you were the target, and if they had time, I was next."

"Sounds about right", Whumpee winced.

"I guess I would be stupid to deny your request. You did just take a knife after all", Whumper sighed, "if you want to, you can become part of my team and pledge loyalty to me."

"I would like that a lot actually", Whumpee smiled, "it would be an honor to serve you."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

#whump community #whumplr #whumblr #whump stuff #whump writing #whump ideas #whump scenario #whumper #whumper turned caretaker #finger breaking #tw: suicide #whump #whumpee #pet whumpee #guard whumpee #caretaking #oc #original story #whump writer

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beardedmrbean · 4 months

Note

Hey Grunkle Nunya, I was wondering if you could explain to me how people are seeing Israel as the good guys in the Gaza situation, because I can only ever find Palestinian civilian body counts and blown up hospitals and stuff, and it honestly does look like a genocide from the standpoint of someone who generally doesn't research politics and conflict. I know the way I worded this looks like I'm being inflammatory but I mean it genuinely. What am I missing?

Asking anonymously because currently, asking questions about the Gaza conflict makes me either pro-genocide or anti-jew to the people with no critical thinking skills. I can't physically handle the toll of being accused of supporting genocide (Israeli or Palestinians) because of a mental disability I possess.

I apologize if this still sounds like bait, I am just poor with words and you are rich with knowledge.

It's war so everything gets muddy, especially with the body counts the gaza health ministry puts out.

I do not believe those at all, they put them out faster than should be possible even at the best of times, they also make no distinction between hamass militants and civilians so that's another issue with them.

We're going to make up a scenario here.

If you're looking for why Israel went in, imagine if New Jersey were another country, one that regularly sends people into the surrounding US states in order to kill Americans and generally sow chaos, and they've been doing it for 15-20 years with no sign of stopping at all ever or even dialing it back.

No real rhyme or reason to most of their attacks, occasionally they'll get pissed off about something or other and fire off a few thousand unguided rockets, just point the at the surrounding states light the fuse and hope they land somewhere where they kill people, no specific targets just anything they can hit and cause damage with and blaming the US when their own rockets fall back down on them.

Again doing this continually with no indication that it's ever going to stop or anything will convince them to tone it down.

Instead they do a coordinated invasion and just start killing everyone they see, which they went to Sesame Place right near the border with them and Pennsylvania instead of anywhere with any military value because the plan was to kill the most people they could while encountering the least possible resistance.

The US finally says, ok we're done with you and all of this and the organization behind most of the previous attacks and this current one which happens to also be the elected government of NJ is now in the crosshairs and we're going to keep shooting till they're gone one way or the other.

That would also be where Israel said we're done with you, hamass is going to cease to exist after we're done one way or the other.

So then it's full scale invasion time.

24 hour notice was given, saying this is where we are hitting, get out, 24 hours turned into several days, couple weeks I think, there were some air raids and strategic bombing and what not, a hamass rocket hit a hospital and Israel got blamed, the usual.

Obviously mistakes were made at times on both sides at the start and continue to be made, incredibly fluid thing wars are, things change on a dime.

And then we run into issues with the fact that hamass uses civilian buildings as weapons caches, staging grounds, command centers, pretty much anything you can thing a building would be useful for if you're fighting a war, which is a massive violation of international law as well as a war crime because they're hiding behind civilians.

From 2014

Great line toward the end

There is no indication that Israel deliberately targets civilians, as Hamas does. But

The argument is brought out that this kills civilians too, which yes it does, it shouldn't unless there's a misfire from one of the guided munitions in use by Israel, for one simple reason

Which they don't need to do, not if hamass has made the place into a valid military target by keeping rockets in the school.

They try at least.

In the first couple weeks before the ground invasion started there were reports coming out of gaza where the residents were saying that hamass had either taken the keys to their vehicles or disabled them making civilian evacuation that much more difficult, on foot and such kinda screws things up.

Allegedly threats were made to civilians as well.

As for the numbers, the side that's getting invaded is going to have more of those, as for the accuracy of those numbers, there's a reason why every news agency that cares even slightly about credibility includes 'according to the gaza health ministry' to the number.

As to the genocide question, there is no genocide, mass casualty attacks =/= as genocide and someone saying they'd like to wipe gaza off the map does not indicate a official government stance regardless of if the work for the government or not.

It's a war, innocent people die in war, it's a unfortunate reality of a even more unfortunate situation, especially if your on the side that's on the defensive folks in Israel have less to be worried about it's a lot harder for hamass to get to them, true at the best of times for hamass anyhow since it's not like they have a air force of any sort.

This whole thing did not need to happen, if it weren't for the fact that there's a group that has refused any reasonable offer and some that were incredibly slanted in their direction as well people at a music festival would have gone home when it was over and had great stories to tell.

Neither side is innocent, but at least for the one Israel complete and utter annihilation of everyone in Gaza isn't the goal, they just want hamass gone.

Not to say there aren't shitheads that want everyone in gaza gone in Israel and in the IDF, but that's not the stated goal of their mission.

If it was gaza city would look more like stalingrad after the nazis were done with it.

Choice of location is made purely because 99% of the area was razed, that is all so.

As for all the ceasefire stuff, the one they had going ended because hamass couldn't manage to keep their end of the deal up even though they were given several do overs, they just had to keep launching rockets and shooting civilians at bus stops.

No reason to think they would do anything different if another one were declared, they tend to be the ones that start off the shooting when it happens.

I don't know if I've made anything clearer for you or not, jumble of information and I've tried to leave politics and religion out of the whole thing setting it up as just 2 groups of people, and it's late so my brain is going a bit slow so I likely missed stuff.

When it's all over there's probably going to be enough war crimes to nitpick over on both sides.

I just hope there's also a lasting peace

#anonymous

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moodymisty · 4 months

Note

Not the same anon but you remember that Death with cold and cynical s/o after the Well of Souls thing? I'm kinda intrigued about how that works, so can I request a oneshot for that?

Btw, after reading that entire thing, it sounds a bit like "Just Look My Way" from Helluva Boss.

Author's Note: Hello! I had a bit of trouble with this one, but I hope you still enjoy it :3 I'm trying to get the last few of the SFW requests done since the NSFW ones are becoming so long XD I'm proud of them, but they tend to take longer and get drawn out.

Relationships: Death/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1374

Death wouldn't consider himself unfamiliar with the feeling of death, as joking as it might sound to himself.

However the Well of Souls however had felt, different. It feels like no time has passed at all, like a blink of an eye; Though he can tell by the leaves on the trees and the structures around the Tri-Forge than more than a fair bit of time has passed.

A part of him had considered not even making this stop. His 'death' at the Well of Souls could serve as a perfect severing point between him and the Makers realm. He could just add it to the list of places he's traveled through and throw it behind him.

But he just couldn't do it. Against his better judgement, he just needs to make sure.

He'd never said goodbye to you, never told you where he was going; He'd just left you at the Tri-Forge, and had trusted in the Makers to keep you safe. He's sure they've done a fine job of that, in his absence. As much as he might've complained, he can't think of many at all that he trusts as much.

Death dismisses Despair and walks into the Tri-Forge, and within moments he can feel as if something is off.

He's quite familiar with feeling unwelcome in any place unfortunate enough to have him present, but even this is a bit... intense.

The Makers on first glance can't contain their surprise at seeing the Reaper again, before it quickly sours. Death wonders how long he's really been gone; He imagines not much longer than a season, if the weather is anything to go by. It had been quite warm the last time he'd been here, and now the Makers realm is quite a bit colder.

He continues forward, and it's not longer after he passes the outer forges that he crosses the old warrior he remembers from the beginning of that long journey that led him to the Well of Souls.

Valus gives him one cold look; For once the reaper might've preferred seeing Alya.

"You have quite the pair to come back around here again after what you did."

Death lets out a quiet scoff. He knows what the Maker is referring to, but decides to beat around it. Why he can't hazard a guess, it slips from his lips behind the mask before he has a chance to really stop it.

"After what? Attempting to save War? I believe you all helped me in that endeavor, last I remember."

Valus crosses his arms across the expanse of his chest, and nods in the direction deeper into the forge.

"You have a lot to work on, Reaper. You might be able to talk like that to me, but you ain't gonna do that with them."

So you're still here. That fills him with more relief than he'd ever dare utter out loud. He doesn't know why he even thought you would be gone- the Human realm is still off limits, as well as a crumbling wreckage.

Valus, as much as it seems to physically hurt the Maker, directs him in your direction before not giving the reaper much more than a scornful parting glare. Death takes it in stride- it isn't the first time- and keeps moving until he finds you.

But he can't contain the raising of his posture when he sees you, your back turned to him. You don't seem to know he's here as of yet, occupied with something else.

He notices in your lap is Dust; He'd put the bird in charge of keeping an eye on you shortly before he had 'died'. He'll give the bird a piece of carrion for sticking though with it. Though he isn't very much surprised, as the bird had taken a liking to you quite quickly. It helps that you were more than eager to snuggle and give the bird scritches, unlike himself.

You tenderly scratch the bird on the back of the neck and earn an appreciative warble, before the crow notices him and abruptly begins to squawk, jumping on your thigh and flapping his wings. You look down at him and pinch his beak for a moment, trying to distract the bird.

"Quiet Dust, geez." The bird fluffs up and continues to caterwaul, until his old master finally speaks up.

"I don't appreciate you yelling at me, bird."

He notices your body tense up and raise suddenly, and you look over your left and see him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. The crow lowers his tone and still warbles deep in his throat, but stops the flapping and alarm bells.

And then your face drops back to neutral, and you turn away.

Dust hops gently on your thigh and looks up at you, taking a chunk of your clothing in his beak and attempting to pull at it. He gets gently brushed to stop doing it, and settles back into a fluffy black loaf.

Death takes the hit to his pride a bit harder than perhaps he should have, considering his attempts to feign nonchalance for anything other than your fragile mortality. He had expecting you to have that brightness to your eyes and jump up and run to him, like you'd had the myriad of times he'd left you for even the shortest while. He'd thought it was annoying, but now he finds himself almost craving it as your back faces him. He misses the happiness, the energy. It's like it's all evaporated from you now.

This is what Valus was referring to, it seems.

"Quite the greeting," He says, gesturing with his hand for his crow to finally return to his master. His duty is done after all, he did what Death asked of him.

Dust distinctly hesitates for a moment, before eventually giving in and flying back to rest on the top of Harvester. Meanwhile you turn around and give him a venomous look, crossing your arms.

"You gave so little of a shit about me you couldn't even say goodbye, Death." You just shrug your shoulders and turn away, like you can even tolerate the look of his mask. "Now that you picked up your bird, you can leave. I'm sure you have somewhere much more important to be. I'll be fine with the Makers." "Though I doubt that was ever a concern for you."

He supposes that you aren't wrong to think that. He never did tell you more than what he absolutely had to. In that moment, and the many times he'd neglected to tell you things beforehand, he thought he was doing the best thing. And keeping his feelings at arms length.

Keeping yours at arms length too; He could tell you were getting more and more attached to him, and that he needed to keep it from happening before you ended up too entrenched in something that would only end up getting you killed.

But he hates the way that your admittance to thinking he doesn't care about you hurts.

He does care; Far too much, if Death had any say in it.

He gives far too much of a care for someone as old and dejected as him. One of the first things that came to his mind when he left the Well of Souls was you.

He supposes this was bound to happen. Everyone eventually comes to hate him, in the end. It's his lot in life.

Though this one hurts far worse, and he finds himself wishing to fix it far more than any of the others. To make matters worse, his crow hefts himself off of his scythe and returns to you, as you get up and move to walk away.

As you pass he raises his hand ever so slightly to grab your arm and stop you- he doesn't even know what he'd say to you if he did- but drops it. You don't notice, and keep walking away right past him.

Death supposes he deserves this.

But while he finds himself unsure on what to do, he knows he has to do something. He isn't going to let you go like all of the others that have wandered through his life. He just doesn't know where to start.

#darksiders death x reader #darksiders x reader #Darksiders Death/Reader #darksiders death x you #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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entertext · 6 months

Text

HGSN 22-2

Chapter (Japanese)

(Please hit the green thumbs up at the end of the chapter to show support)

Rough translation by me

(sfx: wakes up)

Yoshiki: Uwahh!

Yoshiki's mom: Dear...! Are you alright!? Why did you go to Takeda-san's place..!?

Yoshiki: Mom...

Mom: Is it true!? That old Takeda geezer went into a rage and knocked the two of you out?

Mom: The researcher? staying there managed to stop him, but...

Yoshiki: Wait...slow down...you didn't call the police or anything...

Mom: A small quarrel within the village that isn't worth getting the police involved over...that's what it will be settled as, it seems. I seem like a fool. Even if I filed a complaint...

Yoshiki: Enough of that, what about 'Hikaru'...?

Mom: He's sleeping on the next bed...

(sfx: curtain swish)

Mom: But he hasn't woken up yet...

(sfx: thump)

Tanaka: (This katana...)

Tanaka: (I snuck it into Takeda's house for an emergency, but it came in handy. It was able to cut "that" better than I thought)

Tanaka: (This confirms it. It took a long time to get to this point. I'm...really lucky... To think that it's manifesting in this era)

Tanaka: (On top of that, how funny! Not only does it have an ego but it made itself weaker!)

Tanaka: (So things are already progressing towards my goal?)

Tanaka: (But....if that's now the case...)

Takeda: Tanaka!!!

Takeda: My father...they said he probably can't be saved. That it was a heart attack.

Takeda: What the hell happened...!?

Tanaka: ...my apologies. I rushed there but didn't make it in time.

Tanaka: I noticed too late. ...It's my fault.

Takeda: ...

Takeda: My father...had said "I'm next"

Takeda: Was that was true then?

Tanaka: ...seeing the beings on the other side means the other side can find you more easily too

Tanaka: If you find them, the more you fear them, the easier of a target you make

Tanaka: That's all that happened to Matsuura-san and your father.

Takeda: I see...no, to be honest

Takeda: My wife and I were relieved...though that isn't proper to say

Tanaka: ...

Tanaka: ...by the way, my sunglasses

Tanaka: have you seen them?

Takeda: They're right in front of you, aren't they...?

Tanaka: ...

(sfx: splash)

Takeda: You...

Takeda: Is it possible that you're blind?

Tanaka: Yeah....

Tanaka: That's right.

Tanaka: But this is a kind of spiritual impairment. Even with a medical examination, there's nothing wrong

Tanaka: Besides, with these sunglasses I can more or less see

Tanaka: Though its annoying that they're company provisions

Takeda: How long ago?

Tanaka: ...since a very long time ago. Are you finished?

Takeda: Wait

Takeda: What the hell is your goal here?

Tanaka: It's my job

Tanaka: My "company" is looking for a particular thing that originates from the other side

Tanaka: They've searched for several hundred years... It's worth that much effort

Tanaka: And that's why they send people like me out to survey any place that it has even the slightest chance of being in

Takeda: No, I'm talking about your personal motive

Takeda: I don't know anything about that company or whatever

Takeda: But for you to do so much, you must have a reason

Tanaka: Haha, you're suprisingly sharp

Tanaka: Regarding "Nounuki-sama"...it's not wrong to say I plan on doing something about it

Tanaka: At the very least... I'm on the side of humanity

Tanaka: ...but I've just gotten a few more things to do now.

Tanaka: I'll be gone from this village for a moment, so you're responsible for now

Takeda: !? Hey!

Takeda: What about dealing with Nounuki-sama!! If someone gets attacked by impurities...

Tanaka: Please fight them with that katana! Takeda-san, you're 6th dan in Kendo, aren't you?

Takeda: Is that possible!?

(txt: Missed Call: Satou)

Next chapter: in two weeks probably

Twitter Extra (link):

If he started speaking before it was stuck back on:

Yoshiki: ....!

Hikaru: How about working at a haunted house?

#hikaru ga shinda natsu #the summer hikaru died #hgsn spoilers

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for yelling at someone, making them cry, and indirectly making them loose their friends

This happened several years ago but it plays on my mind sometimes. Everyone in this story is 15/16 at the time, in our last year at secondary school, UK. (🏎️ for finding this)

Myself, my girlfriend at the time [F], my best friend [B], F's friend [D], and a few of our other mutual friends were hanging out at lunch break. There aren't enough chairs at the table so F and I leave to go get extra. I come back and nothing seems amis.

Adding in some context now. No one in this story is cishet. We were all painfully awkward queer teens who haven't figured ourselves out yet. So we were all bottom of the social ladder, very much 'losers'. Me and F were, to my knowledge, the only 'same sex' couple in school. So by this point I'm used to people constantly making remarks about our relationship, but that's usually from ppl I didn't know or care about.

D is the only person, at this point, at school who's openly trans and genderqueer. They got a lot of hate for it. A lot of people harassed them and they didn't have many friends. I think for transparency's sake I have to say, I didn't really like D, we just didn't jell, but I made an effort to be kind and include them bc it's hard being queer in secondary school and I'm not gonna add more hate to that when me not getting on with them was my issue not theirs. And as a fellow victim of bullying I wasn't gonna exclude them from our friend group

Back to the story. As soon as we're back in classes, B tells me that D leant over to them while me and F were gone and said that it's "so sad seeing A and [OP] together" because "I took F's first kiss" and "poor [OP]". I trusted B's word on this as at that point we'd been best friends for several years, they weren't a shit stirrer, and had no reason to lie. In fact, they were confused D even said that to them since they were barely friends and knew B was best friends with me and would tell me they said that.

Hearing this really annoyed me. While I knew F and D had dated in the past, that didn't and shouldn't have effected mine and F's relationship in any way. And they'd been broken up well before I knew either of them. It's none of D's business who F kisses, and it's a shitty idea that because they'd dated before their later relationship first didn't mean as much. It felt very much like a dick thing to think never mind say about me and F. Also, B was my best friend, who did D get off to shit talking me to my best friend?

Anyway. Usually at the end of the day, several of us walked home together, and this group included D. I get to the spot we usually wait first and when I see D I confront them. I ask them why they'd say that and if they've got a problem with me. They don't deny saying it or really explain themself at all, they just look guilty. At first I kept calm. I knew D was F's friend and I didn't want to put a wedge in their friendship because of any issue I had with D. But, I keep asking why they did that, and if they've got something against me. If they're gonna shit talk me yanno. Then D starts crying.

I know it probably shouldn't have but this made me really mad. So I start yelling at them, saying something along the lines of 'so you're going to be an asshole to me and then you're gonna start crying?' and 'you started this, why are you crying?'. They start saying something along the lines of 'I didn't mean it like that' so I ask how did you mean it? And that they knew it wasn't something fine to say, because they said it behind my back and not to my face.

By this point, other people are watching, some of which were our mutual friends. I keep demanding they explain themself or at least apologize to me, but instead they run off crying. I don't follow them. If they're going to remove themself from the situation then fine.

People start asking what the hell that was about and I explain briefly to the people I knew and told the people I didn't to mind their own business. Someone I don't know tells me Ds gone to the head of year and I tell them I don't care, let them, I didn't do anything wrong. (This later amounts to nothing as no teacher ever comes to speak to me about this, so I doubt D did go to the head of year at all)

Eventually the people who were curious about what happened leave. All of the group who walk home together show up, including F. I explain to F what happened and they're upset that D said that about me, but wasn't happy to hear that D left crying.

For the rest of the school year, D ends up avoiding me. Literally staying out of my way, moving if I even glanced over at them. I thought they were overreacting. I never threatened them, and they were the one who chose to be an asshole first. I felt they were making this much more than it needed to be by avoiding it all together. We barely had an argument before they left, but anyone would have thought I'd attacked them or something. But because I obviously was always around F, D didn't have anyone to hang out with anymore. F was their only real friend and their other sort of friends were in our friend group.

No one told them they couldn't hang out with us anymore. (I'm pretty sure because they started avoiding me, I never ended up speaking to them again.) I know they still spoke to F still, but it seemed like their friendship was heavily damaged by it all.

D later ended up dropping out and finishing the school year through home schooling. I believe this was in large part due to the harassment they got for being genderqueer openly. (I remember on several occasions standing up for D and telling people to stop being transphobic assholes behind Ds back after this argument happened. Just because we didn't get along doesn't mean was gonna let that shit slide.)

I feel like I could be the asshole because due to this whole situation, D stopped hanging around their friends and through that lost a lot of the support they had. And obviously, I did make them cry.

On the other hand, no one stopped them from hanging out with their friends. They chose to avoid me and the situation. A situation they started by being a dick to me with zero provoking. They never apologized or recanted what they said. It's hard to feel bad that they lost their friends because they were being a shitty friend

Luckily, from what I know from friends of friends, D is doing better now and is around ppl who support them

This got a lot longer than I wanted but I believe I got all the details in there.

So, wita?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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literatecowboy · 9 months

Text

Dr. Feelgood

6. Volunteering

Part 1

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley. Warnings: Gunshot wounds, medical terminology and procedures, mentions of infants, children, and the NICU, masturbation, voyeurism, snuggling. Mild angst, fluff, and light smut

-----

Your next date with Ghost was much like the first. He’d come into the med bay a little before noon to have his dressings changed, and after you’d finished, he’d put his hand on your lower back and ushered you outside and towards his car.

“Where are we going? I’m still in my scrubs,” you said, laughing as he helped you into the passenger’s seat and got in to start the engine.

“Lunch. Nothing fancy.”

—

It was a quiet little spot near the edge of a village fifteen minutes away by car. The food was brought quickly and you ate together on the patio under a large umbrella, listening to birds chirping in the distance.

Your phone vibrating in your pocket pulled you away from watching a stray cat prowl the alley across the street. The number was unknown, but it was British, so you picked it up.

“Hello?” you asked, resting your hand on your palm. Ghost frowned but said nothing.

“Hi, is this the doctor who goes by Feelgood?” the voice asked. You frowned and sat up straighter.

“That depends on who’s asking. Who is this?” you asked.

“Dr. Whitman, head of the emergency department at the central Memorial Hospital on your base. We’ve had a mild staffing crisis over here and I’d like to request your assistance in the operating room as soon as you can make it,” she said. You didn’t have to think about it.

“Of course, I’ll be right over. I’ll be bringing you a…volunteer,” you said, looking Ghost up and down, a devious smile on your face.

—

You took the wheel on the way back to the hospital and practically sprinted into the emergency department when you arrived, leaving Ghost trailing behind you and looking lost. He watched as you spoke to several people before a tired-looking older woman came to greet you and ushered you away to the back. You pointed at him as you went through the swinging doors and she looked back and nodded, and then you were gone.

Ghost sat down on a chair in the hallway, scanning the emergency department from where he was sitting. Doctors, nurses, and other personnel bustled around him and hardly anyone spared him a glance until a chipper young man in a pastel pink scrub set approached him.

“Hi, you must be the guest Dr. Feelgood mentioned! She spoke quite highly of you, I’m delighted to have you with us for today! Come, follow me and I’ll show you where you can help us out. She made sure to tell us to give you one of the fun jobs,” he said excitedly. Ghost rose from his seat warily, looking back at the doors where you had disappeared before following the young man out of the emergency department and into the greater hospital.

Several maze-like hallways and corridors took them to the opposite end of the hospital, past countless different wards and departments until the man in the pink scrubs tapped his badge at a scanner and brought Ghost onto the ward they were headed for. And even then there were more hallways.

Eventually, they found their way to a comfortable, private room with a large armchair, and the man ushered for Ghost to sit, which he did.

“I’ll be right back with one of the little patients and then I’ll explain to you what to do,” he said with a soft smile before he disappeared and the door shut behind him.

Ghost sat alone for a moment, wondering where the man had gone and what he’d meant by patients. Surely volunteering would just mean stocking boxes of gloves or writing things down for nurses?

His thoughts drifted to you and how you’d gone back into work mode the second your ass touched the seat in the car. Your voice had gone serious - you’d asked clipped questions about scenarios, diagnoses, and asked for numbers using acronyms he’d never be able to remember without a cheat sheet by his side. It impressed him, really - your intelligence, your skill, your care for others.

The door was opened quietly and the man in the pink scrubs returned, breaking his chain of thought. He had with him an infant no older than a week.

“On account of your injury, your friend has asked that we take you on as an enrichment volunteer here in the NICU,” the man said in a low voice, taking the baby from its carrier and slowly approaching Ghost.

“What…do I do?” Ghost asked. There was genuine concern in his voice and he looked down at the little bundle with nervousness in his eyes.

“Just hold her. Read to her, if you’d like. These babies desperately need affection - they’re in this ward for so long that it can be upsetting for their development. Just hit the call button on the wall if you need anything.” the man said softly.

And with that, Simon was handed the baby.

She settled into his broad arms in her sleep as the man in the pink scrubs left the room, closing the door behind him quietly. Simon gazed down at her little face as she slept, taking in every feature as he studied her.

His heart stilled and his breathing settled as he focused on being as comfortable of a surface as he could. He looked at the child in his arms and he thought about you.

Was a dead man capable of love? Could a weapon of war sleep peacefully at night, the woman of his dreams in his arms? Would the little thing in his arms recognize him as the killer he was?

Simon pushed his feet against the ground, carefully turning the recliner so that it faced away from the door and toward the large windows that looked down upon the hospital’s memorial garden. With one hand he reached up and slid the mask up, letting it rest on his forehead. He didn’t want it to scare the child if she woke.

—

What seemed like a decade later after you’d finished surgery, you said goodbye to your patient, the team that had worked with you, and Dr. Whitman, and headed across the hospital to see if Simon had bolted.

Even once you’d become a full-fledged doctor, you still returned to volunteer with the infants in the NICU every once and a while. It was your favorite thing to do in the hospital and you’d requested it for Simon, thinking he’d appreciate the calm, quiet job as well.

You found him in the little room, not having budged from the recliner. His balaclava had been swapped for a black surgical mask and he’d pulled his hoodie up and drawn it mostly closed.

There were two little babies snuggled up against him, one in each arm. His eyes were closed and he was sleeping quietly in the recliner, arms wrapped protectively around each infant.

“Simon,” you murmured softly, your hands finding his shoulders and squeezing gently. He stirred and was awake in an instant but did not budge. You smiled at him and took one of the infants carefully, sitting down on the other recliner and studying him as you rocked the baby.

“So, how’d you do? No crying,” you murmured.

“I’ve needed to piss for two hours.”

—

You headed back to the barracks together later that night. As soon as the infants had been taken away, Simon had turned his back and tugged the balaclava back on, returning to his normal self.

“Get some sleep tonight, doc. You need it,” he grumbled as he walked you to your door, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear absentmindedly.

“And what’re you going off to do? You need to be resting. You haven’t fully healed yet and if you make that wound worse I’ll fucking kill you,” you teased, unlocking your bedroom door and pushing it open, ready for a shower. Simon only shrugged.

“Been missing working out,” he huffed. Your jaw fell open and you grabbed his wrist, doing your best to yank him into your room. Amused, he played along, following you in.

“I’m not even letting you fucking joke about it. You’re grounded. Sit here while I shower and then we’re going to watch a movie. You’re not leaving my sight,” you grumbled. Simon only laughed and pulled out your desk chair, folding his arms over his chest and watching as you headed into your bathroom and pulled the door shut behind you.

It didn’t close all the way but you didn’t notice as you turned your shower on and stripped out of your dirty scrubs, jumping in as soon as the water was warm enough.

Steam creeping out from the gap caught Simon’s attention and he dragged his eyes away from his phone. His eyes widened as he caught a look of you in the shower - naked, wet, and glistening. Your hands worked up and down your beautiful body and through your hair as you hummed quietly, your eyes closed.

Simon got hard so quickly that he was glad he was sitting down. As if to prove that there was no blood left in his brain, he continued to stare, his eyes wide as he imagined creeping up behind you in the shower and pinning you to the wall, fucking you slowly from behind as you moaned his name and begged for more.

He considered raising his phone and snapping a picture, or worse, taking a video. Military self-control won out in the end, though, and he rose quietly from your chair and slipped out the door, shutting it silently behind him.

Once back in his room with the door shut he sat in his own chair, facing his own dark, empty bathroom, as he yanked his pants and boxers down, his cock springing free. He regretted leaving your room as he wrapped his fist around his length, a low growl tearing from his lips as he bucked his hips into his hand, replaying that memory of you in the shower in his head like a GIF.

In the other room, your shower turned off. He fucked his fist harder, more quickly as he imagined you bending over to dry yourself, your perfect little pussy exposed as if you were begging him to take you against the countertop.

Simon hissed as he came without warning, cum covering his hand as your name escaped his lips with a groan.

He felt dirty when, as he was washing up in his own shower, you hammered on the door. For the thrill of it, he answered it in a towel, feeling his cock twitch again as a look of surprise and embarrassment crossed your face.

“I thought I told you not - not to leave,” you stammered, your eyes tracing the muscles of his chest down to the lines of his hips that lead to his–

“Wanted a shower,” he said.

“Then we’ll watch the movie in here,” you said sternly. He complied, holding the door open wider for you. You did your best not to stare at him as he reentered the bathroom and dressed, sitting down on his bed and opening your laptop to set up the movie you’d chosen.

He didn’t warn you before he lifted you to manually scoot you over when he came back to his bed in only boxers, making you squeak. He laughed as he settled in beside you, pulling the covers up over you both but not touching you further.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked, scrolling through the list of movies that were freely available online. He shrugged, leaning up on one elbow to watch you.

“You’re interesting. Maybe we should just go to the med bay so I can watch as you bustle around,” he said with a chuckle. You rolled your eyes and shut the laptop, tossing it to the end of the bed and sitting up fully.

“If you don’t want to hang out with me that’s fine,” you said quietly, pushing the covers back and trying to climb over Simon to leave. He grabbed you gently by the hips and pulled you down onto him, flicking the light switch above his bed.

“Simon, what–”

He squeezed you gently, nuzzling your hair and resting his chin on the top of your head, gently rubbing your back as you settled down against him.

“Of course I want to be with you, m’ just tired. Now sleep,” he grumbled, closing his eyes and going still. You sighed quietly and made yourself comfortable against him, nestling into his chest and falling asleep securely wrapped in his arms.

-----

Taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #mw2 #ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty #cod modern warfare #simon ghost x reader

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atthebell · 4 months

Note

/discourse

Yeah I come from twitter and like, it’s so disheartening tbh. People are demanding things out of people who don’t normally talk about politics. For example, they are demanding things out of Roier, Iron Mouse and Quackity. And they say it’s “oh it’s because we are concerned for them, if they use their platform more people will know!!” Well yes, that is true but there’s a slippery slope between asking for help and harassing CC’s so you can have a morality high ground. People are already shitting on Roier because he commented on fanart instead of rting. Like dude, give him a moment he probably doesn’t know anything that’s happening. And when people try to say this, to give CC’s space to learn, your called a Zionist and get immediately blasted. “It’s a genocide! They should use their platform, their silence is deafening” <<<<legit words I’ve seen. I’ve seen people immediately drop CC’s and said that anyone who likes said CC’s is a horrible person.

yes it's ridiculous to demand every single cc talk about this or that they need to use their platforms to raise awareness about the issue-- this genocide has been the biggest news and politics conversation topic for the last several months since october. awareness has been made, there is no one on the internet rn unaware of the conflict (which, yes, it is a conflict, that does not make it not also a genocide). it is completely unavoidable, so unless you live under a literal rock there is no way you're gonna learn about it from some twitch streamer. and so roier or whoever tweeting about it does not make anyone more aware than they were before. also roier is sick, as is mouse, and quackity does not talk about politics, never has, and never will, so expecting that is ridiculous.

it's ridiculous regardless-- like doc brought up, this shit is blatant virtue signalling and i'm tired of it. it is not every single cc's responsibility to tell you how to feel about an issue or to speak out every time something terrible happens, and frankly it is not your business what they do in support of it or not in private so long as they don't act like a shithead. any of these creators could be donating a ton of money behind the scenes and just not speaking about it because that's not necessary, or they could not be and frankly i don't care either way. content creators do not exist to be twitter users' perfect idols of morality and expecting that of them is ridiculous and clearly all about you (not you specifically anon, the general you of stupid twitter users) and how you desperately need every creator you watch to have the exact morally agreed upon beliefs or else they're morally bereft and so are you.

if a cc acts shitty or says something off, sure, kindly point out where they've gone wrong or, if you don't feel like watching them anymore, don't, but don't act like their head belongs on a guillotine because they haven't talked about/aren't aware of every tragedy going on in the world right now. like you said, people are treating it like a moral high ground rather than the serious political issue that it is. and if you want a cc who's super informed about politics and is raising money for palestine and talking about it a bunch, go watch hasan ffs. maybe you'll actually learn something for once.

anyway everyone stay the fuck off twitter and stop engaging in this kind of guilt trippy bullshit.

#asks #anons #discourse #also not to put you on blast but putting '/discourse' at the start of your ask was an immediate flag you came from twitter lol

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cypressnmarigolds · 2 years

Text

NSFW Vincent Sinclair HCs

Even though I really, really need to finish writing my Thomas installment of Lesson Learned, I'm gonna share my naughty Vincent headcanons because they've literally been eating my brain.

Contains: Vincent being a creepy little perv.

🚫 Minors, blank and no-age blogs are not welcome on my blog or to interact with my posts. You will be blocked. 🚫

He's a virgin. I'll leave elaborating my reasoning for another time. don't want this getting angsty.

I HC Vinny as a closet perv. Really takes off once you've caught his attention and managed to be allowed to live. If he has his way, you will never catch on, or even find out he's interested in you. He's embarrassed, among other feelings.

Before you came along, he has had plenty dirty thoughts and fantasies. Hell, he's probably read through any and all smutty books he's been able to find in visitors belongings. But after you show up and he has someone to focus all of his thoughts on? HORNY.

Now, I mean he's a ✨pervert✨ He will steal your underwear and jerk off in them, then quickly wash them and put them back before you've noticed they're missing. He will, at some point, somehow catch you naked without you noticing. IDK how he does it but he will.

He will then draw your nude form several times, in many positions.

He will jerk off to these too and would rather let Bo and Lester find them before you.

If he ever overhears you touching yourself or having a steamy dream, he will listen and touch himself to you. If not right then, he will file it away for later.

Lil Blurb

But seriously can you imagine? He manages to catch you changing, or overhears you moaning in the dead of night. He immediately gets hard. Later, he's kneeling in his bed, sweats just pulled down enough to free his cock, desperately jerking himself off to the memory, mask discarded and biting down on the sleeve of his black hoodie to quiet himself even though there's no chance in hell anyone could hear him. He's also done this while "admiring" some of the picture he drew of you. He is a CREEP.

He's embarrassed about how horny he is for you, but don't misunderstand, he doesn't feel guilty about sneaking around without you knowing. He was the good child, he was the favorite. He probably got everything he wanted. And though Bo probably pulled an Uno Reverse on him after their parents were gone and bullies him all the time, Vincent still feels a sense of entitlement. If he wants something, he'll take it. If he wants to see you naked in the shower without you catching him, he will. If you wants to watch you touch yourself without noticing his presence, that's what's gonna happen. Again, CREEP

I'm conflicted on whether or not he'll need you to take the led the first several times, or if once he knows you're interested and gets over the shock, he'll pounce on you and take what he wants. That's if either of you ever make a move.

But let me be clear, he wants to see you come. He wants to see you fall apart under his hands and mouth and cock. Huge ego boost knowing he can make you feel so good.

But he has massive switch energy If you take the lead, lay him down on his back and hold his hips down while you peg him/fuck him/blow him/jerk him off, he's cumming in record time. I can see him being a whimpering, needy pillow princess.

*big sigh* Ok, think I got all my brain eaters out. If you enjoyed this, please feel free to leave a comment, and please reblog. This isn't instagram. Likes do jack shit to circulate content, and no circulating content means fandoms on this site will die.

#vincent sinclair x reader #minors dni #house of wax smut #Crook's HCs #Crook's Writing

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i984 · 1 year

Text

Signing off...

Hello! I want to start this post by telling you guys something really interesting...

Tl;dr: I'm taking a break for a month due to severe stress and performance anxiety, plus college and work is kicking me in the arse, but do send requests and prompts in because I need to write them FLUFF to get rid of the stress. Love ya!

So a month ago I stumbled upon a really amazing writer here on tumblr dearest, and I immediately fell in love with their work. It was so well written, and I couldn't comprehend the fact that it was the first ever story they've ever written and they wrote it under such circumstances that if I were to be put in their position, I can guarantee I wouldn't even be able to string a coherent sentence.

Anyway, that really got me thinking.

It's been two months since I first started writing, and revisiting old works of mine reveals something along the lines of "I'm not improving," and "I'm not creative."

It's been a problem I seem to notice, is that I struggle a lot with characterization (ESPECIALLY this) and pacing, among other things that makes me view my works mostly as blegh.

I know comparing is probably not the best way to develop, and I wouldn't say I'm envious of people's talents (because it's obvious some people are just so great at stuff lmao) but it's more like I'm disappointed in myself I guess(?)

In the collective 20 works that I've published over the two months, I still can't fully grasp what works and what doesn't with the Fandom, and I can't quite identify nor fix the problems in my writings. Combined with the burn out, this makes writing a very painful process for me even though I really want to enjoy it.

I rely very heavily on external validations and to see that in the midst of the dead Fandom (when compared to when it's at its peak), people can still garner almost 1k notes in the span of a week (and I can see why it's very well loved), posting here just makes me so stressed when I shouldn't even be.

It got so bad to the point I have trouble breathing every time I think about writing, and although now it doesn't happen as often, the performance anxiety is pretty much there.

Work, as well as college too has been a pretty great contributor for my stress and to put writing on top of that is just excruciating for me.

And that's why I'm taking a break!

It'll probably a month break like how I've stated in previous post, because it's become apparent I need rest LMAO

Thank you so much for the support you guys have shown and sent my way, I want to say that I really appreciate it! Honestly I wouldn't get this far without you guys, I love you so much!

I've set some reblogs for other creator's works while I'm gone, because I've been meaning to read but I just haven't found the opportunity for it. People here make such great works <3

If you guys have any requests, PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO SEND THEM IN. I know this might feel contradictory but as I pointed out, I'm not really imaginative or creative, and I really want to write things, but most of the time I cant come up with anything or what I think is good isn't what you guys want (I know I still have a bunch of requests sitting around, but like I said I write when inspiration struck me).

So yes, send requests in so that I can do some writing during the break, and hopefully come back with a bunch of requests already done and ready to post!

Also, if you guys make it this far, I've got a surprise for you which is I'm finally trying to work on the series I've been planning to do since January HAHA! We'll have to see where it takes me but right now I have so much ideas running around in my brain and not enough waking hour in the day to develop and write it.

How do you guys feel about lord crime v.s. master detective trope BECAUSE I AM CRAZY ABOUT IT.

I'll see you guys when I do :) Love you! ❤

Special thanks to:

@missmonsters2 and @robiin-buckley for being the people who literally BURNS my heart with the desire and give me the courage to write, I wouldn’t be here without you 🥺💘

@ocyrus for being my first ever anon, I cannot stress how much I owe you <3

@tulipsbymybed for hyping me up when I first started and when I thought my work is a shitshow.

@vorsdanysstuff for being the first person to reblog my stuff and says some very very nice things about it and gave me more confidence to write, and also. For finding me and being the love of my life. I treasure you with my whole being.

@wol-fica for feeding me with cat pictures and being my lovely wife who misses me when I'm gone and makes picrews of us together, I love you so much 💓

@maryannecrimsworth for noticing my username and for loving my blogs questionable aesthetic, and for talking to me about dystopia and being my favorite lil bro!

@cursedchar for being the awkward mutual at first but now we spew chaos every where and every time we talk and interact. Honestly, you bring the wild side in me out to the world. Still hate your angsty stuff tho.

@tundra1029 FOR BEING THE ICON THAT GIVES GOOD ASS AMAZING PROMPTS and being a super lovely person and a great writer, I love you buddy <3

@alexkolax for well. You know me the most out of everyone in this site. My respect and trust for you is through the roof and cannot be expressed with mere words. Thank you for being here, Lex.

@ricosnumber1fan for being there in most of my works. I still think about you and scroll through your comments and reblogs. You're the best (second to sourdough tho).

@theflamboyantshadow for always leaving amazing comments under my posts, you are the sweetest person ever and I really wish you a great fucking life. Love you.

@iamnicodemus for writing that dragon Wednesday fic... and LEAVING THE MOST FLATTERING REBLOGS. ILYSM AND. you always make me smile when I think of you LMAO

@literally everybody else who've single handedly kept me alive and well on this site, I appreciate all your little asks, reblogs, comments, likes, and just UGH my heart aches for every single one of you.

Pray I return soon.

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