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heartfullofleeches · 8 months

Text

You've got mail!

Alt title: Single Ghost babes in your area

Yan Chain-Letter Entity + Amab/G.N "Loser" Reader [smut, mdni]

[Tags: light horror elements, masturbation, tit fucking]

!WARNING!

Now that you've read this, there is no going back.

The woman in this photo was a young bride getting for her big day. Following traditions of her new family, she was forced to wear her veil the entire week predating the ceremony, and quite unhappy with her situation. Her marriage was arranged and she had yet to fall for her new husband. She begged for a way out, help given in the form a voice from the shadows offering to change her appearance the night before her wedding. When her husband and in-laws saw her new face the next day - they all went mad from terror. This image is the only picture of her face and she'll do anything to keep it hidden.

Send this message to eight people in seven days, or she'll visit you at midnight on the final day."

"...."

"... hear me out..."

The air stills - warranted caution to keep your big mouth shut where input was not needed - or wanted.

"Why is she hot?..."

A collective, drawn out groan harmonizes from those plagued by your company.

"..what the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

Below the totally scary and terror inducing text was a photo of a woman shrouded in darkness. Part of her dark outline rooted from the shadowy grey veil draping to her long, thin neck, and waist-length jet black hair framing her pale, ashen skin. Her sunken eyes and mouth agap in a silent scream stretched the cloth against her hollow cheeks - small, white irises fainty visible from her empty sockets and the veil that hide them. The same white eyes your friend had alleged to have been staring them back at them when they looked in the mirror all week.

As unsettling as the picture was to most in your group, your eyes had settled on the more pleasant sight of her shapely figure shown off in the tightly fitted, lacey gown she wore.

"What?! I can't be the only one that noticed how huge her tits are! I hate when people make these cheesy attempts to scare you, and the monster that's supposed to be sooo scary is just some ghost. You can't even really see her face in the first place!"

"God, how do we put up with you... Just make sure you send that back to the rest of us before you leave."

The bulk of your collective friend group had gathered to comfort the unfortunate soul who received the email, and squander their fears by sending it between one another to meet the chain letter's rule. You tagged along for the offer of free lunch, and now that you've gotten your meal you're ready to head home and avoid meeting these people again with the exception of an online space. You stand up from the table, tucking your phone into your back pocket.

"Yea, yea I'll do it when I get home."

"Y/n..."

"I said I'll do it later. I promise, as soon as I get through the door I'll do it."

11:58....

11:59....

12..

Opening your eyes, you expect to find angry, sunken eyes staring back, but all you see is the blank white wall of your ceiling. A week ago, you sorta forgot about the whole chain letter scare by the time you made it home, and only remembered minutes before the deadline upon realizing how pathetic it'd look if you died with your dick in your hands when you opened a new priva tab on your laptop. As figured, not a damn thing happened upon the stroke of midnight and quite frankly you felt it must've just been some stupid prank by your friends after not hearing a word from any of them during that time frame. You guessed there'd be no hot ghost chick to cause your untimely demise this time - but it never hurt to make sure.

"Gee, I sure hope a sexy ghost doesn't pop out to kill me right as I pull down my sweatpants. That would sure suck, and the embarrassment alone would probably end me!"

Nothing. You reopen your laptop with a heavy sigh. "Welp- Since I'm still alive, guess it's back to tonight's scheduled plans."

Tugging one hand into the waist of your sweats, you pull up one of your usual sites for quality adult content - scouring for the right material to fit the mood. Alot of good choices, but strangely every thumbnail you clicked lead to a dead link. You switch to multiple sights, but the same thing just kept happening. Frustrated, you don't bother wasting time looking at the preview of a message sent by one of your friends as you scroll. If they could wait this long to text you, they could wait a little longer for you to respond.

Ready to throw in the towel and let your imagination work its magic - you finally manage to get a stream open through sheer determination and miscellaneous presses.

"Finally...." You push your sweats past your thighs as the video opens on a woman sitting on a bed. The room is too dark to see most of her, but the camera and lighting was centered on all you needed to see to pull out your swelling length. The woman's flowing gown hugged the plump flesh of her thighs, rolling up to her hips - and revealing the of her transparent fabric of her underwear as she parted her legs slowly. She removes one strap from her shoulder, long hair falling over her breasts as she contorted to better fit her face into frame.

Head crashing into your pillow with a small groan, you fist your cock to the woman's beautiful image and thought of her large tits in placement of your palm. Your hand could only mirror a fraction of their softness and you whine as your thumb pressing the tip, picturing plush lips closing around you as you came. Your entire being yearned to paint her pretty face and chest in your release - narrowly avoiding the unnatural whites of her eyes at the intensity and build up of your climax left your own body out of your control.

Peeling your eyes open for the second time, the speed of your hand slows as you start to get the odd feeling of being watched. Looking back at the screen, the woman stares back, appearing directly in front of the camera as cold sweat breaks down your neck. Her fingers slither along the glass, reaching through your monitor as your eyes widen in horror. You scream- throwing the laptop as far from your person as you coward against the bedframe. It lands, screen upwards feet from your bed. Loud cracks and snaps play from the speakers as the woman pulls herself free with janky, articulated movements. Her gown falls down to her knees and her veil washes over her face as she climbs to her feet.

You pull your blankets over your shamefully, almost painfully hard dick as you raise your hands in defeat. "Please don't kill me! I'll send the messages right now, for real!'

The woman cocks her head to one side - eyes shrinking as you cover yourself.

"Don't hide...."

She crawls over your quivering legs, gripping at the end of her veil.

"I've taken on so many face - yet, none of them have ever been called attractive before.... Tell me..."

The room light's flicker as she pulls the veil upwards - slowly revealing the dark void where her face used to be. Thin claw marks drew from the intact flesh of her cheeks and jaw to the permanent shadows gouging her features dug deep as if whatever had done this to her had taken more than just her face. The pearly points of her teeth and the whites of her eyes were all that remained of her mortal beautiful. Shaking in fear, your body betrays your fright as your cock jumps watching her drag her tongue over her sharp rows of teeth.

"Do you think I'm beautiful now?...."

At lost for words, you dip your head in reply - eventually squeaking through a strained voice. "You're the hottest ghost that's ever been in my room.

The woman's body writhes with a full body shutter as she takes the blanket in her hands. "Let's see that I'm the only person in your bedroom... living or otherwise."

You hiss from the cool air enveloping your cock as the entity tears the last shield protecting your shred of dignity away. It not like the had much to begin with, but sleeping with the ghost that most likely killed your friends definitely took whatever was left. Her heated breath fans your skin as your cock springs from your shorts and against her cheek. Turning her head, your muscles lock as her sharp teeth come to contact with the head of your penis. There's some give before them, lips hidden by the shadows of her face puckered around your weeping tip as an impossible long snakes from between the two and spirals down your girth as her breasts spill from her tightly fitted top.

Cradling an arm beneath them, the ghost woman sandwiches cards your dick between her breasts. Her tongue, still working around you, provides lubrication - and lewd suction as she bounces the weight of her large tits in your lap. The tip of her tongue grazes your balls and you feel them tighten as you rock your hips into the supple flesh of her chest. Her tongue squeezes at your increasing pulse and her veil falls back in place as she to uses both hands to better assist her assault on your pulsing dick.

You tangle your hand through her hair, cock swallowed by her breasts and plump lips. Your other gropes at her tits, toying with her nipples as hitched gasps and the growing sloppiness of your thrusts signed your peak. The coil in your lower abdomen breaks right as she pulls her lips from your swollen head, using her tongue, face and breasts to catch the milky fluid that pumps from you in thick spurts. The white streaks contrast the dark silhouette of her face and as she looks up at you, you use a discarded blanket to wipe some of it away before collapsing on your mattress in a sweaty, panting heap.

The cotton touch of your pillow is placed with soft flesh as the woman crawls beside you in bed and pulls you closer to her. She brushes hair away from your clammy forehead, raising her veil to kiss your skin as your arms fall around her.

"Sleep now, my love... We'll play more once you've gotten some rest. I look forward to all the things we'll do in the future. I'm sorry about your friends, but I seem to be more of the jealous type..."

You fight off the spell of exhaustion to shrug lazily with a reply that makes your new wife smile from ear to ear.

"Eh.... fuck 'em, it was worth it."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #female yandere #yandere ghost #yandere teratophilia #yandere smut

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seelestia · 1 year

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Dunno why I felt compelled to do this, but-

Here's some dialogue I just thought up regarding that angsty af Zhongli oneshot that a certain someone requested (who could it be I wonder 👀👀)

The ones talking are Ganyu and the Reader.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Your love."

"..."

"I regret not being born earlier."

"I regret not being a goddess."

"I regret not being the first."

"I regret not having the long straight hair he so misses."

"But most of all, I regret not being her."

"But you had no control over any of those! It's not your fault!"

"...That's exactly why it hurts."

We love angst 😩💅💅👍✨

- Ever so sadly yours, 👹✨ Jae (also hi Lia :D been a while since I been in your inbox huehue)

— 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

a continuation to do you love me? choose a decision at the end! only 1/2 endings available as of now.

summary: a cracked heart is like a cracked jar; it can only hold so much within before it shatters — what if you've come to terms that you cannot take the pain of the truth any longer? (1.2k+ words)

genre: angst, "loves you but not most" trope, lovers to ???? (open-ended / cliffhanger i'm sorry.) + read the alt text on the header for extra summary!

characters: ganyu, zhongli, guizhong (implied).

cw: descriptions of crying, one pet name.

thoughts: you came into my inbox after a while and you brought pain with you. i'm not particularly proud of this but here you go, i cannot be blamed for these buckets of tears any longer. (/j)

✰ main masterlist. // series masterlist.

The night was young in Liyue, the breeze was gentle as it swept across the lands — but oh, how you wished the wind could also blow the sadness in your heart.

Blurry sight, soaked cheeks, sheer and pure numbness. For how long had you been like this? Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Whatever perception of time you had left just seemed to crumble to dust.

You couldn't help but wonder why? Ha, what irony when you knew very well why.

Wasn't it the truth that was relayed to you some time ago? Wasn't that why you decided to sneak away whilst your lover was sleeping, why you were crying in the company of a concerned friend, why you were here right now?

"I'm so sorry—" you choked out an apology to Ganyu through bated breath.

Your friend was out for a midnight stroll when she saw you and upon seeing how red your eyes were, she didn't leave your side out of worry ever since. You tried to reassure her that you'd be fine alone, really — but she looked so devastated, equally as sorrowful as you were like the very sadness in your heart was her own.

But you felt pathetic; so pathetic and so pitiful.

Nothing had been the same after that day, as much as you wished to deny it. Curiosity did kill the cat, after all; in your case, curiosity was what condemned your soul to a void of nothingness.

They said love was what filled a human's soul and if that were true, then you would be nothing but a shell of a soul. Zhongli gave you a love that you wished to cradle with your all forever — but he was never yours, never completely yours. Yet, how could you blame him? How could you ever blame him for experiencing a love so great he wasn't able to forget it?

"I'm not her. I could never be her," you finally forced the words out, clutching onto the railing of Liyue Harbor until a stinging pain greeted your hands. It had been the simplest conclusion, yet the hardest pill to swallow. A fate you couldn't change even if you wished you could so bad, someone unrivaled you could only imagine holding a candle to. Bitter and self-deprecating were the quiet laughter you let out at the realization.

Never was, never will.

"[Y/N], you don't have to apologize," was all Ganyu could afford to utter. She knew she should've said more, but the words escaped her barren mind; perhaps, it would be better to listen instead of saying something that could make matters worse. You could tell that Ganyu was disappointed in herself for not being able to provide you with profound wisdom or the right words of comfort.

Truthfully, you couldn't help but feel terrible for putting her in this situation, for possibly ruining her night with your mood. But when the Adeptus placed her hand on the crook of your elbow as a physical reminder that she was here for you, you smiled. Then, you turned your head towards the ocean and closed your eyes.

Finally, the pain of crying finally caught up to you, hoping that the blowing night breeze could somewhat soothe the stinging dryness and heavy bags underneath your eyes. As you did so, in the corner of your mind, a single thought passed by and you caught it by its tail.

Was it a thought meant to be voiced or buried? Either way, you brought it to life and wondered out loud.

"...Would it be better if I broke things off instead?"

Your question seemed to take Ganyu by complete surprise.

You knew why so; before your relationship with Zhongli came to be, Ganyu was one of the listening ears to your constant rambles about him. How much you admired him, how flustered you were when he smiled at you, or how you felt like you could float to the skies whenever he spared you a single glance. You recalled the surprised look on Ganyu's face when you first told her about your feelings for her Lord, but she was supportive towards your endeavor.

Now, here was where both of you stood. Oh, how time flew.

"Do you remember when he accepted my confession?" Even with your eyes closed, you could almost feel Ganyu nodding at your words. You were the same, you felt as if you could recall it like it had only been yesterday too. "I was so happy I felt like I could float to the clouds and never return. The man of my dreams is finally mine! I thought," you laughed, but there was no hint of mirth evident in your tone.

"What was it like? Being loved by him?" That sort of question sounded foreign to Ganyu but still, she asked, a willingness on her part to indulge in your nostalgia.

"Warm like having someone wrap a blanket around you and comforting like feeling the steam from a cup with your favorite tea on your face after a long day," you hummed. If loving Zhongli and being loved by him were a feeling, it would've been one that you'd never let go of... but you knew this feeling was no longer the same after the truth.

"I am not his greatest love, yet he is mine," it was something you stated solemnly, having come to terms with that fact yet not being able to fully withstand the ache that came with it yet.

When you continued, your voice broke and you frowned, "Why does it have to hurt so much? I want to stay with him, I want to pretend I didn't hear anything that day, I want to go back to the time where I knew nothing about her — but I couldn't."

The corner of your eyes began to sting once more, welling up with tears at a possibility of euphoria which you could never go to. "If only I could, then I wouldn't spend all my nights awake, wondering why I wasn't her or thinking of ways I could somehow be better than her in his eyes. If I could, I'd be sleeping happily in his arms right now and... I wouldn't feel this pain anymore."

There was no stopping the waterfall running down your cheeks now and you could feel that stinging pain again as a result. "But that's a fantasy," you breathed out. You were just so tired and your knees were beginning to feel weak — but still, you looked at Ganyu through your blurred vision.

"...What should I do? Should I save myself or dwell in blissful ignorance?" You whispered with a smile that was unbefitting of your melancholic question. Ganyu hesitated but before she could formulate an answer, a familiar spoke from behind the two of you.

"...My love," a voice that was all too familiar and a nickname that caused all that was going on in your brain to halt.

You froze, veins running cold.

"R-Rex Lapis?"

Ganyu's shocked yelp confirmed it all.

There Zhongli was, standing there. A few strands of his hair looked amiss as if licked by the wind from a fast-paced trip, as if he had just gone places, as if he just went everywhere searching after waking up with you nowhere to be found in his arms. Maybe, that was exactly what he did.

His amber eyes were downcast and the way he was standing so fixedly instead of looking like he had just arrived instantly made your heart clench — because that could only mean one thing.

He heard everything.

[ WHAT IS YOUR NEXT DECISION? ]

↪ Stay quiet and dwell on your thoughts of breaking up with Zhongli.

↪ Wipe away your tears and put on a smile as if Zhongli didn't hear anything. — COMING SOON!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin angst #zhongli angst #seelestial.inks #dylm.series 🍵

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beansprean · 10 months

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Oh, y'all thought the fight had started already?

My Familiar’s Ghost part 51

Masterpost

New pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up of bat Nandor from Guillermo’s POV, crushed into a wall and held there by Guillermo’s hand. One of Guillermo’s claws has pierced the membrane of his wing and Nandor is clutching at his fingers in terror, staring up with wide, panicked eyes. 1b. Reverse shot of vampire Guillermo from Nandor’s POV, holding him down with his left hand as his right rears back, claws bared in preparation to strike. He is grinning maliciously, relishing in a new kill. 1c. Wide shot from the side as there is a sudden screech of tires and crash of metal. Guillermo and Nandor freeze in place and whip their heads toward the viewer and the front windows of the Panera.

2a. Wide shot from outside, on a roadway running up a hill and parallel to the Panera. A blue hatchback car with a license plate that says ‘whoops’ and a bumper sticker that says ‘how’s my driving? 1-800-KISS-IT’ has crashed into a pole with a yellow traffic light and is smoking, front end crumpled and passenger window shattered. The pole is slowly falling sideways, towards the Panera parking lot below. 2b. Close up as the traffic light, yellow light still lit, smashes into the asphalt, cracking the green lens and ripping the blinders off the red lens. 2c. Repeat. The traffic light settles on its side, mostly intact, and flips to red. Unfocused without the blinders, red light pours freely across the ground. Nearly invisible red text behind reads “stop stop stop stop”. 2d. Repeat of 2c, Guillermo and Nandor still frozen in place but now bathed in red light. Guillermo is narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the scene outside and Nandor nervously flicks his eyes over to him, assessing.

3a. The entire Panera is now flooded in red. Shot from behind the pillar Nandor is pinned to as his leg, now human shaped again, kicks forcefully upward, sending Guillermo flying backward into the opposite wall, demolishing the sheetrock and destroying a wooden chair in the process. Debris flies everywhere. 3b. Waist up of Nandor, back in human form, as he stands himself up, his inner arm bleeding. He snarls angrily and points an accusing finger at Guillermo, saying ‘You want to fight? Fine! The truth is, I have been upset with you, too!’ 3c. Reverse shot of Guillermo struggling out of the ass-sized hole he made in the wall, fangs bared and deadly gaze focused on Nandor. Nandor continues from offscreen: ‘You get so angry when I don’t know things about you but then you don’t tell me anything!’ 3d. Close up on Guillermo’s hand closing around a broken wooden chair leg. 3e. Close up on Nandor’s hand closing around a wooden chair leg as he accuses, ‘You keep secrets!’

4a. Full body of Guillermo lifting himself from a crouch in the debris left by the wall, a long stake with a shattered pointy end clutched in his left hand. His eyes, like a predator, never leave Nandor. Nandor keeps talking: ‘You assume to know what I am thinking and how I will react to things and what I will say - well you don’t.’ 4b. Knees up of Nandor as he steps away from the crushed pillar to a more strategic place against the light, holding his own long stake point-up like a readied sword in front of him. He stares seriously at Guillermo and says, ‘You hear, but you never listen, Guillermo.’ 4c. Extreme close up on Nandor’s glaring eyes trailing a slash of red light as he makes a quick turn, shouting, ‘Well you will listen to me now!’ 4d. Full body wide shot on an orange and yellow starburst background as Guillermo, both hands on his makeshift sword, takes a backswing at Nandor. Nandor’s sword meets him in the middle as he swings it down single-handed in perfect form. Their eyes never leave the other’s; they’re both in the fight now. /end ID

[caption]

Bonus ID: shot through the shattered front windshield of the crashed car to show Laszlo in the passenger seat and Colin behind the wheel, both covered in broken glass and peeking out from behind inflated airbags. Colin asks, glasses askew on his face and grinning in his usual unflappable way, ‘How was that, Lazzo?’ Laszlo smiles patiently over at Colin and asks, ‘Marvelous work, my boy! Now, what possessed you to aim for this particular traffic signal?’ Colin replies, ‘I dunno, just had a feeling. Can we go for that Escalade next? I really want to see how sensitive that pedestrian detection feature is.’ The engine continues to smoke, and there are a few wisps of familiar blue light trailing away. /end ID

#wwdits #my familiars ghost #nandermo #mlm #vampire guillermo #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #laszlo cravensworth #colin robinson #dadszlo #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 5 months

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a/n: hi hello i wasn’t expecting to write barzy long fic but those damn musician mat photos KILLED me. also yes, i started this fic literally the day after the photos were posted but here we are. it needed major editing and also i need to like sit on it for a bit before posting. ANYWAY it’s here and i’m happy with it? i hate the title but whatever, it is what it is. enjoy and let me know what you think!! 🫶🏻

word count: 4.3k

tw: semi-public fingering but doesn’t go all the way, public thigh grinding

summary: hanging out in a dive bar on long island, the last thing you expect to see is mat with a guitar over his shoulder, joining the cover band on stage

When you look up from responding to a text and Mat’s nowhere to be found, you’re not really that surprised. He does this a lot - gets distracted and wanders off. Occasionally, he’ll be cornered by a fan, smiling gamely for a selfie and chatting for a bit. Every once in a while he gets roped into a game of pool, chatting with the random men like he’s known them for years. Once in a bar in the city, and this one nearly killed you, he struck up a conversation with Aaron Tveit - your favorite Broadway star and secretly a man that you absolutely would use a hall pass on - without realizing that he was talking to someone more famous in certain New York circles than he is.

All this to say, Mat disappearing in the bar isn’t a totally unprecedented occurrence.

You set your phone back down on the high top table and lean a shoulder against the wall next to you, crossing your legs at the ankle and taking a sip of your High Noon. It’s warm-ish now, starting to taste more artificial, and you look over your shoulder at the bar, scrutinizing the crowd that’s gathered and waiting for the bartender to notice them. It’s not worth it to leave the table since it’ll be snatched up in a second, so you flip your phone over and use your index finger to tap out a quick message to Mat asking him to get you another drink when he gets back from wherever he wandered off to - at this point you’re assuming there’s a major line for the men’s room. The little blue bubble floats up and shows it was delivered. Satisfied, you lean back against the wall, scooping your hair off the back of your neck with your free hand and holding it in a lazy ponytail so your neck can cool off a bit.

Long Island is a humid, swampy mess, August slipping away into a moment in time, as Queen Taylor says. But September is doing her damnedest to remind everyone that she’s still a summer month too.

Not that you mind, having been born and raised on Long Island and intimately familiar with the weather extremes, but it’s particularly gross in the bar tonight. Sweaty bodies packed in for the 90s alt cover band that’s supposed to be playing tonight. They’ve played at the bar before and they’re pretty good you have to admit, but right now you’re just wishing for a little bit of a breeze.

Giving up on your hair, you twist it up into a messy knot, securing it with a thin black elastic that’s seen better days. Three loops around thick hair, and you know it’s going to snap before the night is over, but you can’t worry about that now. There’s immediate relief from pulling your hair off your neck and now you can focus on the fact that Mat’s actually been missing for more than a few minutes. You tap your phone screen, looking for a message, but there’s nothing from him, just a few messages in the girls’ group chat talking about Monday night’s poker event. Wrinkling your nose, you look around the bar again, trying to see if you can spot your boyfriend.

It’s too dark though, Mat’s hair and black tee would blend in with the crowds. After a few more minutes of looking, you give up, rolling your eyes and muttering to yourself, “he better not have found Aaron Tveit again,” before taking another sip of your High Noon. The spark of grapefruit flavour hits the back of your tongue and you pinch your lips together, swiping at your lower lip with the tip of your tongue. Drops of condensation roll down the can, making your hand wet and you wipe your palm on the fabric of your dress, already a little sticky with sweat.

Bored without Mat, you reply to the group chat and scroll through Instagram, double tapping on a photo Sofia posted of Olivia and commenting a string of heart eyes emojis. While you’re on your phone, the band takes the stage, a group of older men that have clearly been on the circuit for a while now. You start to swipe over to the phone app, ready to call Mat and find out where he went, when another man comes out onto the stage - this one much younger, much more handsome, and much more familiar to you.

“What?” The shocked gasp falls out of your mouth and either you’re louder than you thought or Mat just has radar to tell where you are at any given moment, because he looks over as he’s adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder and winks at you, his mouth curling up in that familiar cocky smirk you know and love.

Mat’s been fooling around on the guitar for years now and he’s gotten half-way decent in that time, but you had no idea he was feeling confident enough to play in front of a packed bar. Or that he knew the band well enough to ask or be asked to join.

The lights over the stage dim and brighten simultaneously and the band gets into position, drumsticks clicking together to signify the start of the set. In your excitement and rush to grab your phone so you can record Mat, you nearly knock over your drink, catching it at the last second. Mat grins at you again and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, looking down at the guitar to position his fingers. You cover your mouth with your free hand to muffle the excited noises that start when the band begins to play - you want to make sure that the video you record has Mat’s playing, not your squeaks and cheers. He looks a little nervous at the start, focused intently on her fingers and the guitar strings, but as the song goes on, Mat gets more into it and relaxes.

The phone shakes in your hand a little from your excitement and the inevitability of you bouncing a bit on the balls of your feet as you get into the music too. Mat’s hair falls over his forehead and curls around his ears, long at his neck, and a flush of heat spreads through your stomach. He’s stupidly attractive up on stage, playing his guitar, and you’re ready to jump him. You lean up a little on your toes to get a better angle, the hem of your dress fluttering around your thighs. Mat looks up while he plays and spots you again. You move your hand from your mouth and grin brightly at him. He responds with another delighted smirk, shaking his hair out of his face.

Around you, the crowd is into the cover, singing along when they know the lyrics and dancing in that lazy way people dance in dive bars. You catch a few mentions of Mat’s name, eyes landing on a handful of younger girls that are staring openly at him and recording. You bite down on your lower lip to prevent the self-satisfied smirk from forming. There’s something extremely satisfying knowing that all these girls are thirsting over Mat, but you get to go home with him.

Mat shakes his hair back again and scrunches his nose up while he plays and the girl closest to you nearly yelps, “fuck, he’s so hot with that hair.”

Her friend chimes in with, “it’s giving Nathan Scott season four minus the depression.”

The first girl replies, “it’s going to be such a crime when he has to cut it for the season.” She’s not wrong - you always hate when Mat does the Lou-approved chop at the end of the summer.

You muffle a laugh behind your hand and focus on Mat’s playing. The song winds down and his grin is immediate and genuine. He shakes the hands of each of the guys and claps them on the back before wandering off the stage. You stop the recording and set your phone back down on the table, clapping and cheering along with the crowd. The band starts back up again and you bounce on the balls of your feet, waiting for Mat to find you.

He ducks through the crowds, still grinning, and appears in front of you suddenly. Before he can say a word, you throw yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck and slanting your lips over his. One of Mat’s arms wraps around your lower back, holding you flush against the front of his body. You grin against his mouth - he tastes like peach flavored High Noon, chapstick, and the salt of his sweat. Mat’s tongue swipes against your lower lip, encouraging you to open your mouth and you do, deepening the kiss and twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed up by your lips. The kiss lingers and fades out as you pull back for air, but then Mat ducks forward and kisses you softly. Your forehead rests against his and you exhale a little giggle.

“Hi, babe,” he laughs, whole face crinkled up in delight when he pulls back, one arm still looped around your waist. You can feel his hand tremble against your waist, betraying nerves or leftover adrenaline from his stint on stage.

“Oh my god! You loser!” You laugh, pushing at his shoulder with the palm of your hand. Mat grabs your wrist with lightning quick reflexes and flexes his fingers around your wrist, tightening gently before he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss your pulse point. Your breath stutters in your chest, but you continue, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going to play!”

Still holding your wrist, Mat steps closer and shakes his head. “I wasn’t planning on it. I went to the bathroom, sort of got talking with the band,” he shrugs, “it just happened.”

“It just happened!” you echo on a laugh. “Well you were amazing.”

“Thanks,” Mat ducks his head, ears going a little pink underneath his hair. He releases your wrist and scrapes his hand through his hair, the sweaty strands holding in place. Your back bumps against the wall and you realize Mat’s still crowding your body, one muscled thigh in between your legs. You hook an ankle around his, dragging his leg a little closer and the faint smile on his lips becomes more salacious, hungry. He leans his hand against the wall next to your head, caging you in. Your stomach flips and heat coils low, throbbing between your legs.

Your tongue darts out and licks your lower lip and Mat’s gaze traces the movement, eyes darkening in a familiar way. His palm is flat over the curve of your hip, but his fingers curl up a little, capturing the cotton fabric of your dress and tugging the fabric up a little. A flutter of a breeze hits your upper thigh.

“Maybe you should quit hockey,” you giggle a little, blinking lazily, “and play guitar full time.”

“Yeah?” Mat raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think amateur guitar playing is as lucrative as professional hockey.” His fingers twist in your dress more, making you glad that he has you backed against the wall and blocked with his body. He leans in, pressing his leg against your inner thigh, knocking it out an inch or so, widening your stance. Your entire body flushes with heat and it has nothing to do with the humid bar atmosphere.

Your head lolls back, hitting lightly against the wall, and you hum. “It’s really fucking hot though,” you murmur, tipping your head up so you can press a kiss to the edge of his chin. “All that fingering,” you giggle the innuendo, finding it cheesy even as you say it.

Mat huffs a laugh against your temple. His fingers loosen their grip in the fabric of your dress, letting the damp and sure to be wrinkled fabric fall back against your thigh. “I already have a fingering side-gig,” he informs you, his hand slipping underneath the hem of your dress. He presses the pads of his fingers up against the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp, jolting your hips forward. He strokes the fabric slowly, dropping kisses against your temple and down the side of your face. He works you over through the fabric, sticky arousal collecting between your legs. The lace surely can’t be doing much at this point and Mat’s fingers slide over your inner thighs. His calloused fingertips catch and snag on the lace, stuttering his work and making your clit throb.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna let you touch me after that line,” you laugh, choking off into a little gasp when Mat snaps the elastic of your panties against the crease of your thigh.

“You started it,” he reminds you, a cocky smirk gracing his lips. His forehead touches yours as his fingers continue their exploration, trailing up and dipping under the waistband of your panties. Your stomach clenches when he stops inches from where you really want him and you bump his nose with yours. “You’re not supposed to start things you can’t finish,” he warns, pressing closer to you, sliding his fingers lower. Your skin is hot, sweat beading at your hairline from the effort of keeping your legs from trembling.

You let out a harsh exhale. “Mat,” you mumble his name, grabbing at his wrist with both hands, trying to force his hand lower. He shakes his head against yours and doesn’t budge, your muscle strength no match for his. “We’re in public.” As if to punctuate your sentence, the drummer goes into a solo, the beat of the sticks on the drums pounding in time with your heart.

His fingers curl briefly and then they’re gone, leaving you cold and hot and frustrated. “Okay,” he says, shrugging. There’s an infuriating smirk on his face when you manage to look up. “I’ll behave.” He flips the hem of your dress down and smooths his palm over the fabric.

“I…what…Mat!” You stutter, the throbbing between your legs pounding in time with your heart. “You can’t just…” your voice trails off and you press your thighs together - or try to at least - Mat’s muscled leg is still in between yours and prevents you from giving yourself any relief.

Your absolute menace of a boyfriend holds his index finger - the one that had just been making a home in between your legs and is still wet with your arousal - up to his lips and shushes you. “Shh, I’m trying to listen to the music,” he smirks, sliding his other hand down the wall behind you and wrapping it around your shoulders, easily manhandling you so your back is leaning against his chest while he leans against the wall. You’re so stunned by the delayed pleasure that you don’t resist at all. Mat reaches around you and picks up your half-empty High Noon and knocks it back, holding the can lightly and sliding his arm from around your shoulders to wrap around your waist, forearm pressed against your stomach. His broad palm rests on your opposite hip, blunt nails scratching lightly and absently.

He hums along to the music in your ear and you sink back against his chest, still frustrated, muttering, “I can’t believe you shushed me.” Mat exhales a little laugh and kisses the side of your neck, scraping his teeth against your pulse point. Your head suddenly feels too heavy for your neck and you drop it back against his shoulder, giving Mat easier access to kiss your cheekbone. “Take me home,” you whine quietly, silently willing Mat’s hand to drift lower, but it remains stubbornly planted on the jut of your hip bone.

Mat’s nose bumps against your temple and you catch the scent of his cologne, mixed with the citrusy sweet alcoholic scent of the High Noon on his breath. He lazily rolls his hips forward, the hard bulge of his erection pressing against the curve of your ass. You grind back against him, whining low in the back of your throat. “Mat, please, I wanna go home,” you mumble, the vibration of the music rattling through your chest. Your hands wrap around Mat’s forearm, squeezing. “C’mon, take me to bed.”

“Babe,” Mat’s arm tightens around you, pulling you harder against his erection. You push your ass into him again, nearly grinding over the thigh that’s still in between your legs, desperate for relief. He holds you in place. “Thought we were in public?” His voice is slightly strangled, his breathing hitching when you press back harder, slipping a hand behind your back and in between your bodies. It takes a second, but you manage to wiggle your hand into place, pressing the heel of your palm, hard, against the fly of his jeans. Mat sucks in a sharp breath and he pinches your hip in warning, his head dipping down and his teeth sinking into the side of your neck in a matching warning nip. You hiss at the sting of his teeth, knowing there’s going to be a mark there in the morning when he sucks gently at the spot, tracing his tongue over the faint impressions of his teeth.

“We don’t have to be,” you murmur, brushing your knuckles against the ridge of his erection. “You have a very nice car that can get us home in twenty minutes.”

Mat’s breath is harsh in your ear, the empty can in his hand making a crunching noise when he crumples it in his fist. Your arm is starting to go a little numb, twisted behind your back and pressed in between your bodies, and you’re desperately hoping Mat gives up and gives in to what you want soon. His hand flexes over your hip and you grind down on his thigh again, hiccuping a breath at the drag of his jeans and your lacy panties over your swollen clit. Faintly, you wonder if you’re causing a scene, if people are watching you both, but Mat’s hands aren’t anywhere they shouldn’t be and your grind on his thigh could easily be mistaken for drunken dancing.

“Think you can wait twenty minutes, babe?” Mat jerks his hips into your ass, tossing the can back onto the table top and wrapping his other arm around your stomach so you’re caged against him. You wiggle your hand out from behind your back just before it’s completely lost feeling. “Moving pretty good on my thigh,” he bounces it lightly, sending shockwaves up your spine. “Think you could get off like this?”

Yes, is your immediate thought.

You have and can use Mat’s thick, muscled thigh to get yourself off. Most recently two nights ago, lazily grinding yourself over him on the couch while half-heartedly watching a movie. But tonight, with alcohol and lust fogging your brain and the image of Mat’s capable fingers working the guitar strings, you don’t want his thigh.

“Wan’ your fingers,” you turn your head and press the tip of your nose against the side of his neck, nuzzling him. He smells so fucking good. Mat chuckles, kissing your forehead. “You’re so good with your fingers.” Your hands cross your stomach, covering his hands, and you play with his fingers, lacing them with yours.

“You’re good at getting what you want,” Mat grins and you can feel the lift of his cheek against the side of your head. He squeezes you in a hug once, tightly, before loosening his grip. “You gotta walk in front of me to the car, babe. Hide the evidence of what you do to me, don’t wanna get in trouble.”

Your heart kicks up its tempo in your chest and you lift your head from Mat’s shoulder. “Home?” You ask brightly, wiggling and turning in Mat’s arms, your own coming up to loop around his neck.

“Yeah, home,” he laughs, smirking, cupping your cheek with one large hand and dragging your face up to his for a deep kiss. His hips roll mindlessly against yours and you lift higher on your toes to press flush against him, the throbbing between your legs building. When he breaks the kiss off, there’s a mischievous little gleam in his eyes and a slightly mean curl to his lips. “But you don’t get to touch. I’m gonna practice on you, okay, babe?” He taps his fingertips against your cheek, “just these. Gonna practice my finger placement.” Mat’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with lust, obscuring the usual hazel-green color.

Your head bobbles up and down in an agreeable nod. You’ll agree to almost anything just to get Mat’s fingers inside your throbbing cunt. You also know that he’s a total softie and as much as he tries to act stern and tough, once you get into bed with him it’s only a matter of time before he gives up the act and gives you whatever you want. Honestly, you’re both too horny for each other to really commit to the bit. Plus, you roll your hips up into Mat’s, based on the rock hard erection he’s sporting, you’re not even sure Mat’ll be able to keep to the promise of giving you only his fingers.

His hand slides back from your cheek and tangles in the messy bun knotted at the nape of your neck, gently pulling so your face tilts up. “Let’s get out of here,” he grins, kissing the corner of your mouth and turning you around swiftly, one hand resting on your lower back to push you in front of him and through the crowd. You reach back and tangle your fingers with his free hand, a zap of excitement running up your spine when Mat’s hand slides lower and grabs a handful of your ass.

You’re navigating the crowd with Mat hot on your heels, purposely stepping on the backs of your sandals and laughing when you whip your head around to glare at him. His hand flexes against your lower back, warm through the cotton, and he uses his hand in yours to pull you back slightly so your ass bumps against his groin. “Gotta move a little faster, babe,” he teases.

“You’re a fucking menace, Mathew,” you grumble, a laugh startling out of your chest when Mat finally urges you out the front door and crowds you up against the front of the bar. Heat pools low in your stomach and you lick your lower lip reflexively. Mat grins down at you and ruffles a hand through his hair. It’s messy, the little wings sticking out around his ears and neck, and all you want to do is tangle your fingers in it and pull while he eats you out. And you tell him so, watching with delight as his eyes glaze over a little and his mouth goes slack.

“Why the fuck are we still standing here then?” He asks, voice a little strangled.

A giggle slips past your lips. “You tell me, Van Halen.” Your hands slide up Mat’s arms and over his shoulders so your fingers can twist in his hair. Mat hisses when you tug gently. “Why aren’t we in the car or at home where you can get those talented fingers knuckle deep in me?”

Mat groans your name and drops his forehead to your shoulder, growling a little against your overheated skin. His hands slide to your waist, gripping tightly. You grin wickedly, even though he can’t see it, and tug his hair again. “If you get me home soon, I’ll show off my skills,” you murmur into his ear, tongue darting out to trace the shell of his ear.

“Fuck,” Mat grunts, grabbing your hand and nearly yanking your shoulder out of its socket with the force of pulling you down the street to his parked car. Your giggles echo around the quiet street, the humid air enveloping you and making your hair frizz around your temples. At the car, Mat pushes you up against the side, grasping your chin in one hand and kisses you, hard and bruising, his tongue dipping in your mouth. His other hand slides up your dress and he presses his thumb against your clit, the rasp of the lace on your clit providing extra simulation. Your knees go weak and you moan into his mouth, flattening your palms against the side of the car for stability. A rush of heat floods between your legs and the longer Mat’s lips are on yours, the wetter you get. At this point you’re not sure if it’s sweat or arousal that’s dripping down the inside of your thighs. He slides his tongue over your lower lip and rubs his fingers against your damp panties again, eliciting a strangled noise from the back of your throat.

When Mat breaks the kiss, pulling back from your face and breathing heavily, you blink up at him, completely dazed and lust drunk. He kisses the tip of your nose and squeezes the inside of your thigh and you giggle, unable to stop the words from slipping out of your mouth, “are you gonna play Wonderwall before or after I get my orgasms?”

A laugh barks out of Mat’s mouth and he pinches your ass cheek, making you squeal. “Just for that, it’s gonna be before,” he laughs again, reaching behind you to pull open the passenger door. You fold into the seat, making sure to flash Mat a little before yanking the door shut and grinning at him from behind the window.

“Who’s the menace now, babe?” Mat sticks his tongue out at you, laughing, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“Still you,” you tease back, wrinkling your nose at him, knowing he’s going to be so worked up the more you poke fun at him. “Now get in the car, I’m gonna put Wonderwall on so we can get straight to the fingering practice when we get home.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #new york islanders

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

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Home Pt.4 || cbf!Simon "Ghost" Riley

Rating: M Words: 1.2K Pairing: cbf!Simonxafab!reader / teen!Simonxteen!Reader Summary: Teen Simon and his best friend often spend their nights away from their respective houses because they found a home in each other… CW: financial abuse, fear of being home. Tags: you/your pronouns, a bit angsty, teen romance, underage smoking, British slang (attempted), British military (attempted accuracy). a/n: not proofread. ALSO: If the cursive is illegible for you, check image description/alt text to be able to read the postcard below better!

[← Previous] || [Next →] || [MY MASTERLIST]

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You never met Mr. and Mrs. Riley. And the only time you met Tommy was one time when you were 13 and you and the group went to get Simon from home on a Saturday, only to find out that he had to stay home to look after the then 10 year-old, his mum having taken on an extra shift at work.

Simon didn't talk much about his home life for a long time. Not that he needed to. And you also didn't need to ask. You were smart and aware enough to know what he went through. He only really told you about it when the two of you started sneaking out at night in his dad's car.

You were 14. He was 15.

You sat on the passenger's seat. You had taken your trainers off and had your knees pulled up to your chest while your back leaned against the door.

Simon sat across from you in the driver's side, with the seat leaned all the way back and an arm behind his head. He had a spliff between his pointer finger and thumb, and he was taking a long, deep drag from it.

He passed it over to you as he puffed out the smoke and finally spoke. “I'm gonna kill my dad, one of these days.” He told you. He had been eerily quiet the whole night, and hadn't even wanted to make out, so you thought that maybe something was on your mind. You couldn't be more right.

“What happened?” You asked him as you began to take your own drag of the spliff in your hand, watching as Simon shifted around in his seat, eyes already bloodshot from the weed.

“My mum's been talkin’ about leavin’ my dad. Takin’ me and Tommy with her somewhere else.” He explains, his eyebrows twitching. You knew how to read him by now.

Brow twitches meant he was frustrated and displeased. His jaw clenching meant he was mad and holding back on nasty words he wanted to say. His left eye also twitched sometimes, and that one meant he was pissed (and sometimes jealous).

“That's a good thing, right?” You asked tentatively as you glanced at him while passing him the spliff.

“Yeh. Yeh. Good.” He said with a nod while mindlessly taking another drag.

“Then why do you look so mad?” You retorted as you looked at him a bit closer, taking in the way he looked.

“She has a second account at the bank. She puts a few quid in it whenever she has extra… to save up to leave.” He told you.

Simon then turned to look at you, his eyes still just as red but now looked a lot more likely that he was holding back tears.

“She checked the balance this week… she was so confident she was gonna have maybe 800 or so pounds in it…” He explained and pulled in a sharp breath through his nose.

“But it was empty?” You finished the sentence for him and his eyebrows fell at the corners, furrowing in barely contained sadness.

“He's such a bloody parasite, Y/N.” Simon whined and then dipped his head, rubbing it with his hand while his elbow rested on the window. “He takes and takes…”

“I'm sure he probably spent it all at once too, the leech!” Simon complained, raising his voice a bit. “You should've seen the way my mum looked when she saw the bank statements.” He whined.

“The way she cried… we were lucky Tommy was asleep and my dad was out… but she was just… just…” He trailed off. “I want him to die. I want to kill him.” He groaned and rubbed his face.

You didn't know what to say about it. As bad as things were in your own house, you never did get the feeling of wanting your dad to die (not back then, at least). You didn't support it fully. All you could do was try to understand and comfort him.

So, you pulled your legs down from the perch on the seat and slowly climbed onto his lap over the centre console. You wrapped your arms around his neck in a big, tight hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you against him hard.

He burrowed his face in the crook of your neck, his nose grazing your hair and he sniffed you, almost like having you in his arms and feeling your scent made everything easier to bear. You probably didn't smell that good… of cheap shampoo, bodywash, deodorant and weed… But he liked it. He always liked it. Always liked you.

He sent you some cash. It isn't much, just 150 quid. It's less than the amount he usually sends you biweekly. But as always, it came with a little postcard. A true testament that a couple years ago Emily wasn't lying when she said Simon liked English Lit.

It's the 12th postcard you've gotten. Once every two weeks. You don't mind that he sent less. You haven't been spending it either way. In fact, you care more about the postcard with little bits of his writing than you care about the money.

It's hard to believe 6 months have gone by without him. It was supposed to only be 3, but that's only for 18-year-olds, you later learned. At the ARC, Basic Training lasted 42 whole weeks. Now you were going to spend nearly a year without him.

But, he's already come to visit during Christmas break... And he'll come again. And by the time he's done, at least, you'll have graduated.

You sit in the driver's seat of his dad's car, the windshield wipers working overtime due to the rain outside as your fingers gently rub over the postcard he sent you, looking for traces of him.

You’ve parked, as always, at a little viewpoint just outside of Manc. You and Simon used to come here with your friends, sitting on the picnic tables across from the parking spaces and play cards while drinking beer and smoking.

The clock on the dashboard says it's just past 1:30 A.M. You wonder if Simon’s asleep at this time while you sit here, wide awake, smoking a hand rolled cigarette.

Deep down, you know he is. You don't know much about the military, but you know they wake up at the crack of dawn… 5 or 6 A.M. He's probably dead asleep so he can get up early.

He hasn't told you much from training, not since the first couple of full-fledged letters he sent, in his first month. But in one letter he mentioned how sore he was from “doing drills”, how the routine was hard, how he couldn't smoke anything, and it was taking a toll.

In another, he mentioned how he put on some weight, though he doesn't know if it's fat or muscle. You found yourself wondering how much stronger he must be now. He was never a weak bloke, just a bit skinny. But now? He must be so bulky and strong! You wish you could see it... run your fingers over him...

He also told you about how they already had him shooting rifles. How he was apparently “really good” at it. How he was even asked if he had ever shot a gun before by his instructors because of how accurate he was. How he liked it.

All you know is that, for now, he's safe. They can only send soldiers overseas or something when they turn 18. Until then, he's just training.

And for now, as you blow the smoke of your cigarette out of the window of the little Clio Campus, instead of being at home in your bed, you're safe too.

God knows how long that'll last for you both.

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[← Previous] || [Next →] || [MY MASTERLIST]

#ikea writes 💚#home cbf!simon fic #cod fanfic #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #childhood best friends to lovers #cbf #cbf!simon #teenage love #light angst #masterlist

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katenepveu · 4 months

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via soph_sol on Mastodon, a non-ship relationships bingo card! Please leave me a couple of characters from the same canon and I will fill out a card. click for better quality, of course; alt text behind the read more because it's too long.

text version of squares on 8x8 card:

should kill each other

found-family in-law

childhood rivals

homies bound by platonic string of fate

co-gremlins

The Only Queers In [Location]

would make good roommates

artist & the person who Gets their work

pettily dislike each other

childhood besties

have nothing in common

"u call me on my bs & I value that"

Kate Beaton's Nemesis Comics

cryptid & night shift worker no-one believes

colleagues (derogatory)

one-sided enemies/nemeses/competition

respect each other

hate each other

rival mentees to the same mentor

"I call u on ur bs & u don't appreciate it properly"

"ur in love w/ my sib/bff & I think ur the worst"

big sibling rivalry energy

metamours and digging it

could be friends in a different life

big divorced energy; were never married

mentor & mentee

platonic kink buddies

"notice me senpai"

like each other

should team up to do $thing together

one is pet sociopath to the other

don't speak; know they can call on other in crisis

intellectual soulmates

one-sided devotion

destined enemies

don't want to date; everyone thinks they should

It's Fine.

need to be locked in a closet together

will die together in a heart shaped pool of blood

better as friends than they were as lovers

"ur in love w/ my sib/bff & I think it's hilarious"

colleagues (affectionate)

share Specific Life Experience & grok each other

make each other worse

would die for each other

survived a harrowing situation together

work well together

rival mentors to the same mentee

drift compatible

ride or die

queerplatonic life mates

"u remind me of me and I hate it"

found family

big estranged family energy

would kill for each other

#relationship bingo #fandom #mine-ish

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wildflowercryptid · 6 months

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V FOR VALEDICTORIAN character introduction :

J.B. DECKER, the librarian.

here's the next character intro with j.b.!! honestly, i think she's my favorite out of the whole cast design wise. she's just so much fun to draw for me.

i haven't started on her intro yet, but the next character i'll be sharing is our victim, victoria valentine!

( alt text for j.b.'s bio below! ) ⤵

Justine B. Decker, Also known as J.B.

Chumbridge College's Chief Librarian who is known for keeping meticulous care of the Library. Has been working in the position for a little over 6 years, having previously worked as an assistant librarian while attending Chumbridge for her masters.

Generally well liked by students and staff due to her polite nature and cordial personality. She also isn't afraid to be straightforward with others when needed. Describes herself as an "open book."

Legal guardian of her niece, Drew. Gets exacerbated by her antics, but clearly loves and cares for her deeply. They have no other living relatives so they're the only family either has left.

Her brother and sister-in-law were both killed in a breaking and entering gone horribly wrong 3 years ago, the culprit was never found and the case has since gone cold.

Fairly familiar with the victim as she was a frequent visitor to the library, especially as of the past few months. Victoria may have been concerned for J.B.'s safety, having been the one who suggested that Georgie escort Drew and her when they leave campus for the night.

Dr. Conrad was one of her brother's college friends and seems interested in getting to know her better outside of work, the feeling isn't mutual.

Big fan of mystery novels and enjoys reading them in her spare time.

Writes as a hobby, using the journal she carries with her to jot down ideas and draft out her stories. Isn't very confident in her writing so she's pretty apprehensive about sharing it with others. The currently story she's writing is a murder mystery, revolving around a cold case.

Likes bad puns.

#fun fact : i actually finished j.b.'s character intro first but i feel like drew should be posted first #she is the one that meets grim & sally first after all #detective grimoire #tangle tower #dg fancases #v for valedictorian #my ocs #oc : jb decker #🎨 : mj draws

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getvalentined · 9 months

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Putting this in its own post for linking purposes.

If you're an artist who wants to continue to use Twitter (or has no choice), you need to Glaze your work everywhere you post it moving forward.

Note: You cannot post your work Glazed on Twitter and not Glazed elsewhere, as this will allow plagiarists to compare the two versions in order to figure out a way around the protection afforded by Glaze.

This isn't a worst case scenario, by the way, plagiarists have been working constantly to try to crack Glaze since it dropped—proving that they never cared about artists' consent in the first place. An artist using Glaze is a clear indication that they don't want their work used in data scraping, and they've adapted to protect themselves, but apparently the plagiarist's rallying cry of "adapt or die" only ever meant "shut up and let me kill you."

And for anyone claiming that Glaze is no longer effective, I recommend checking out their FAQ, particularly this bit:

[Description in alt text.]

You still need to delete the work you've posted thus far from the platform, in order to pull your consent to use that work for training Elon's new generative AI. If you keep your work on Twitter with this in effect, you are giving your consent to use it in generative AI training, and you have no legal recourse in the future should he choose to distribute the resulting dataset. For instance, if he allows it to be incorporated into LAION, which is the dataset that includes private medical records and patient photos, you will have consented to that by keeping your work on the platform.

The use of Glaze is referred to by plagiarists as an act of data poisoning. It doesn't work particularly well on less realistic or painterly art styles, which is why I can't use it much myself, but it is effective.

For anyone out there with no choice but to leave their food where it can be snatched up by scavengers, you can at least fill that food with cyanide.

#rodent murders bird adventures #fuck ai #glaze #glaze ai protection

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dadr0ckmusic · 2 years

Text

stranger things headcanons because i said so (fruity four + billy)

basically them in my dr

steve harrington

does restaurant challenges unironically. like he has to eat a big wet daddy burger in an hour just for a plaque on the wall and a pic with the owner smh

calls his car babygirl

modern au where he texts the girl he likes at 1:11, 2:22, etc just to get her hopes up

loves madonna. you can't tell me otherwise

he does yoga. and if you catch him he'll threaten your life

calls his house 'the love shack'

if you were just becoming friends with him he would listen to your music or do your hobbies with you just to make you happy

would totally rock out to stacy's mom

he gives off lactose intolerant vibes. i do not make the rules.

would definitely have playlists called "alt songs that make you drink monster" or "sad vibes" or "coronavirus got me like"

would've fucking KILLED on grindr

would love twilight. he's on team jacob

laughs at minion memes

robin buckley

the literal queen of your mom jokes

she would totally say "who up wonking they willy rn"

would work at spencer's

she had a ton of hamsters that died the most traumatic deaths when she was a kid and they're all buried in her backyard

loooves poop and fart jokes

she still sleeps with the same stuffed bear she had when she was little (and we are NOT judging)

says "oh my goodness gracious" at the funniest possible times

would literally FUCK at rainbow loom

her childhood room was purple and steve picks on her for it

cannot use chopsticks to save her life

one time steve made her mad so she literally WENT OFF THE GRID and he didn't see her for a whole week and he was freaking the fuck out

was a bug girl. worms? fuck yeah. roly polys? best buds. what the fuck is that thing? it has a terrarium now.

literally is the most caring person on the planet. she's always worrying about you and what you're feeling and what you're doing

only eats the marshmallows out of lucky charms

is scared of bees

billy hargrove

he bakes. he bakes cookies, cupcakes, you name it. if you ever catch him he's FORCING you to taste whatever he's making

an AVID reader. he's got books all over his room, stolen library books in the glove box of his car, and he's reading the hawkins post every morning no matter what

his mom taught him how to sew. lets say after a mishap with the whole 'different dimension' thing, you're bummed cause you got a hole in your favorite shirt. billy would be like "i can fix it for you" and you're like "what??" but he just gets mad and goes "just give me the fucking shirt" and then the next day he's bringing it to you good as new

hates cooked carrots

can fall asleep anywhere. couch, car, at a party, you name it. he will find a spot to fall asleep

he was actually very interested in supernatural stuff when he was younger. and then when max started telling him about everything billy was like "wait. i read this about... blah blah blah" and max is just so surprised

he can totally make a mean cocktail. you want a pina colada? whipped up in seconds. craving a margarita? he's got the salt ready. feeling like an old fashioned? liquor's already in front of him.

he never wears sunscreen. not a single spf anywhere on his body.

calls girls broads and you can NOT tell me otherwise

totally thinks metallica was at its best in their thrash era. sorry bud i'd hate to break it to you

hates the fourth of july cause of y'know.

i feel like he would totally get into dog rescue after he leaves hawkins.

would totally kick ass at mario kart. like he's THE BEST and he always chooses bowser

would totally bash you for your music taste if it was different than his. "what the hell is a beatle?" "mick jagger is not hot." "queen? aren't they gay?" "zeppelin? who taught you that?"

a literal GOD at making mac n' cheese

nancy wheeler

so so so stubborn it's actually annoying.

call her 'einstein' and you're six feet under the floorboards

the tom cruise poster in her room has stared her in the face ever since robin commented on it

nancy's actually amazing at rollerskating. like even mike was surprised because when did she get good at that?

she has nightmares about what happened to barb multiple times a week :(

please know that if you're really close to her she would kill someone for you. no hesitation.

she's super literal? like when someone asks a hypothetical question she's like "when would this happen? why w-" and then immediately get cut off

has a tonnn of notebooks/journals just filled with random stuff like doodles, school notes, reminders, and little ramblings

has plants named after each of her friends and when something's wrong with one of the plants, there's always something wrong with the friend.

is a feminist (slay)

she saves every birthday card given to her and keeps them in a box in her closet

she's a morning person. up and at 'em before 9 every morning and it pisses the gang off when they all sleep in the wheeler's basement. "nancyyyyy..... close the curtains i beg of you..." "it's such a beautiful day, don't you think?"

she's actually amazing at shoplifting.

eddie munson

is allergic to peanuts

when i tell you this man is spontaneous... think 100x more. he'll pull up to your house at 11pm and declare that he planned a road trip while sitting in detention earlier that day and that you're going with him. "eddie what are you doing here? it's so late." "we're going to ohio. we're gonna stop in columbus for like five minutes and drive back." "what the hell."

has cried to sweet child o' mine and will keep that fact to his grave

owns multiple pairs of boxers with superhero logos on them.

definitely has 10 in 1 shampoo that he uses for everything.

ate dirt as a child

if you ever smoke pot with him, just expect him to say the weirdest shit while he's doing whatever. "do you think steve is thinking about me right now?" "yoooooo...... uh.... yo..... um...... i forgot....." "i want to get a cat." "shut up eddie."

he's just,,,, so oblivious,,,,, to sarcasm, flirting, jokes, etc

has ADHD, no doubt about it.

just like billy, he'll bash you on your music taste no matter what. even if you like the same music as him. "that's your favorite tool song? god, you could do way better than that." "c'mon, you know that dio sang better than ozzy." "munson, you're lying straight through your teeth and you know it."

will make you friendship bracelets and you KNOW you're wearing them till you die.

modern au where you're facetiming him and he takes SO MANY facetime pics of you and sometimes makes them his lockscreen. he thinks he's THE SHIT for that.

he giggles. a total giggler.

he flicks dustin in the head all the time.

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poopyballz28 · 6 months

Text

(my) Kiyosumi Katou Character Analysis

This one's a long one so strap in, gang. The alt text on the images gives more context to what I'm talking about too, by the way 👍

starting off with,

Personality

I think it's pretty evident that Kiyosumi is not the...nicest or most caring person out there. He's shown to hurt (or attempt to hurt) others with no second-thought or remorse for his actions, indirectly showing his overall arrogance and unsympathetic behavior. I can't even show a fraction of him having outbursts of anger or something of the like because of how often it happens.

But we can't talk about Kiyosumi if we don't mention his cocky attitude and humorous nature. He's shown multiple times giving smug smiles and doing a little bit of teasing throughout his few shown spars. It can be pretty heavily deducted from an outsiders perspective that he's awfully confident in himself and his abilities. Though, whether he truly is can be debated.

What can be clearly deduced from most everything is his general self-centered nature, going out of his way just to do things the way he wants to do them. He even leaves the dojo to go join the yakuza for the sole purpose he can hurt others without any repercussions. Because in his mind, the one who matters most is himself. What can also be heavily deduced is his status on body count. I'm basically saying he's most likely killed a few people, especially during his time in the yakuza.

Another thing which is also pretty evident is his almost sadistic way of fighting others. He really enjoys sparring, or more precisely, hurting other people in a way that makes him feel good about himself. We can determine that he really likes to be above an opponent, to have power over an opponent. Perhaps being superior helps him forget how inferior he truly believes himself to be. Though, this'll be expanded on soon.

A small thing that I personally find out of character for him in some character writings is making him more social and outgoing than I believe he truly is. He can be outgoing, yes, but if you combine all of his clear hatred and arrogant nature it's pretty easy to deduct that he is quite an antisocial person, being quite unfamiliar with proper interactions with other people. As is expected from somebody who indulges in all of the heinous things that he partakes in. But I feel it's also out of character if all of his goofiness is overshadowed as well. He is humorous, and it's not unfair to say that he's also probably a prankster as well. There's a perfect balance in his character which isn't always perfected by people, not even by me all the time.

Another thing I think is worth noting is how easy it is to set him off with...just about anything. Like during his fight with Yasha jr when Tokugawa brings up the fact that Baki had defeated Yasha's very father, he was quickly overcome with rage and jealousy before immediately making countless attack on the giant animal. He's easy to manipulate by controlling his anger and likely his insecurity too.

Overall, Kiyosumi is an arrogant, sadistic prick who enjoys hurting other people and getting his way with a cocky smirk painted on his face. Being an awfully antisocial person in nature and perhaps a bit awkward and inappropriate in certain situations because of his lack of normal human interaction, he fights on to reach the top perilously. Though he's not completely ruthless and hateful, even if thats what it may seem like.

Kindness and relationship with Doppo

Decided to combine these two thoughts because his sparse kindness is usually directly related to his feelings on Doppo. Some of his few moments of caring are to him in particular.

While he doesn't show much kindness in comparison to his violent outbursts, he does have some little moments that shows he's not completely out of touch with being caring and having softer emotions.

You've seen it here first, folks. Kiyosumi just admitted to caring about somebody. This is honestly kind of groundbreaking for him. But the fact he's willing to admit this so easily shows how dedicated he truly is to his father. I mean Sensei. Sensei is what I meant to say.

Doppo is very obviously a big part of Kiyosumi's character, most of his vulnerable emotions stemming from Doppo particularly. It's pretty clear that Kiyosumi and Doppo have a long history together, canonically having known each other for probably 5~6 years, but I'd say most likely more. (though there is a space in between when Kiyosumi ditched the dojo for the yakuza) While Doppo most definitely gave Kiyosumi the most shit and teased him a bunch, it can still be fairly deducted that he likely trained and taught Kiyosumi with compassion, something we know he isn't very familiar with. This caring from another person mixed with the fact Doppo was almost like a father to him (perhaps the father he never had?) had opened up some more delicate feelings for Kiyosumi. Or at least, thats what I assume of course.

I also really enjoy the scene in Tokugawa's home before Kiyosumi's fight with Dorian. He walks in so rebelliously, using his own hand crafted weapon to slice Dorians ear off, even though...he can basically already do something like that with his hand. I like to think this is his way of trying to disconnect from Doppo and the Shinshinkai "way". He knows that he cares about Doppo the most out of anyone, and the fact that he does know this tells me he's trying to, almost, get rid of that vulnerability and that emotion. He knows he cares, but he also knows that he shouldn't care about anyone but himself. He may have tried to show out to Doppo then, demonstrating that he can do things his own way and succeed, but no matter what, he'll always desire his true approval. Because he does care.

Of course, I can't forget the scene where Kiyosumi does a myriad of seiken's with Atsushi is order to motivate Katsumi during his fight with Kaoru. Though, this can either be taken as caring for Katsumi or just generally caring about the victory and success of his father- of his Sensei's karate school. While its hard to say, if I were to think about it most canonically up to this point in his character, it'd probably be the latter. Since by that point, him and Katsumi were only acquainted at best, Kiyosumi even showing a little hint of hate or jealousy towards him in one part. Though, I will say Kiyosumi has shown jealousy to someone before while still liking the person in question. This is true with Baki.

Speaking of Baki, he is one of the only other people Kiyosumi is shown to care at least a little bit about. During some of Baki's fights in early manga, there are some panels of him showing genuine concern for the boy. Not to mention his expression when Baki won the maximum tournament. While this is really surprising, I think there might be some kind of deeper reason he likes seeing Baki succeed. Perhaps, he sees part of himself in Baki. Maybe feeling as if Baki were the more powerful and open-minded teenage version of himself, the version of him that didn't walk such a dark, incriminating path. Or perhaps relating to his struggle with his father and sympathizing with his, quite sad, backstory. That would make some sense considering how close he is with Doppo, almost seeing him as a father. Maybe all of this alludes to the fact that Kiyosumi may have also struggled during his upbringing and childhood. Though, this is just speculation, why he really cares about Baki on the occasion is hard to pinpoint exactly. But if I were to put a good guess on it, it's probably because of what I aforementioned.

Forgot to mention that he basically indirectly calls him his parent after they sparred and Kiyosumi went for his eye. This is beautiful stuff. Fictional father and son relationship fans, rise.

His character depth and fight with Dorian

Remember when I mentioned that whether Kiyosumi is really confident in himself is debatable? Well I'm back to expand on that idea. I've always kind of headcanon'd him to be secretly very insecure of himself, putting up a wall of fake confidence or some kind of facade to hide his hidden insecurity from others. Though this was originally speculation and headcanon, I'm pretty confident in saying that this is probably a very realistic and canonical thing to consider when talking about his character.

I think this image kind of tells me that my suspicions of his fear and falters are correct. While it is small, I think this is Itagaki's way of giving him that eensey weensey little bit of depth.

His tough attitude and huge built up wall keep others from knowing that he is fearful, that he is frankly pretty vulnerable. If this was ever pointed out to him, he would most likely, you guessed it, get angry immediately and probably attack. His rage controls him constantly, so much that even he may start to notice as well.

Kiyosumi knows he's not the strongest out there, though he definitely desires to be. Looking down on others has always been the thing that made him feel better about all of the stressors and the shit he puts himself through. But he does realize he's not the best. He absolutely hates thinking about it though.

It's not unfair to say Kiyosumi thinks quite low of himself and abilities. But I think that's what makes the Shinshinkai working to avenge him that much more beautiful. This guy who truly believes nobody cares about him gets hurt by someone severely, almost at the edge of death (something he was quite content with) But the whole entire Shinshinkai was out looking for this man who caused him harm. No matter what trouble Kiyosumi gets himself into, his dad- HIS SENSEI...will always be there for him. Doppo was the one who ended up avenging Kiyosumi anyway, instead of the other way around. Even bringing him out for the final blow. Quite nice.

Speaking of that fiasco, lets move onto his infamous battle with Dorian Kaioh. I love some of the little implications in this fight that alludes to small traits in his character. His empty eyes after taking several blows mid-fight really speaks to me. It's even hard for me to put into words exactly how he's feeling during that fight, but it's pretty clear he's determined to bag a victory at any cost despite his rather somber state during the spar mid-way. I think it's also pretty funny how quickly he went from calm to blood-thirsty again so quickly. Maybe he really never does change. It's fair to say that Kiyosumi probably chose to fight Dorian due to what he did to Doppo, not only wanting to "avenge" him but also wanting to gain his approval, something which he heavily desires. Underestimating Dorian's strength and stealthily sneaking in his hideout, he jumps right into battle. (Very like him, I know.)

Of course, we all know the unfortunate outcome of the fight. But I'd like to point out some of the quite peaceful looks on his face during it. Even Kiyosumi admits that maybe amidst all of the pain and all of the shit, this is really what he's been looking for all along. What this means exactly can vary depending on how you see it, but I like to think this is almost Itagaki's way to give him an actual character arc. Even though we know...that didn't really happen (Which is really fucking funny don't get me wrong. Another part of the Kiyosumi curse) but I appreciate it nonetheless, thank you Itagaki-Sensei.

A little update here, I almost forgot to mention how sad it is that he recognizes that his only worth lies in his fighting. This, of course, is not true, but he's so caught up with fighting and martial arts he cant find any other part of him that he deems "good enough". He says the only thing he could ever find praise for was his fighting ability, but think about how he feels after engaging in battle and being overpowered and beaten. That's essentially all of his self worth down the drain. I think this is part of the reason he donned that expression at the end of the battle. He doubted his abilities and he lost horribly. What other means of living does he have at that point? He makes the statement that karate is simply a tool to him, but accumulates all of his self worth into his fighting. But I think during the fight where he basically says karate is all he has but then proceeding to say all it is to him is a tool is him trying to cope with the fact that he can't find pride in anything else about himself. Him telling himself, perhaps reminding himself, that karate is just a tool to him very clearly upped this fighting ability. That Kiyosumi confidence showed back up again, all because he was trying to convince himself he's more than his karate. Too bad his desire to win was taken advantage of so quickly, right as he was making a realization.

Kiyosumi's peaceful look and very very slight smile as he passes out at the end of the fight is really telling. He fought as hard as he could for a victory but he fell short. Just as he always knew he would eventually. Of course, he felt bad he couldn't please his Sensei, but his look tells us that he gained something that he's been looking for. A defeat. But not just any normal defeat. A death. It seems Dorian wasn't the only one who was seeking to know defeat in that battle.

Kiyosumi subconsciously desired a defeat which was completely unavoidable. A defeat that he couldn't make excuses about. A cut and dry loss where it ends with his inevitable demise. Almost like an escape from all of the problems. This, is what I think he was looking for.

But he lived! We all know that. Very happy for him. I guess. A little thing I would like to point out thats probably just something I want to have depth is the unexpected light in his eyes here, as he's indirectly apologizing to Doppo. His expression has been so hateful and bleak this whole time and the one moment he thinks he's about to finally die, he thinks about his dad with a slight smile and a light in his eyes. Pretty sad.

He tried so hard to retain at least a little bit of confidence in himself only for him to come to the pitiful conclusion that things wont change. His self worth is solely his fighting, and he'll die that way.

Headcanons and littler things

Thought I should add a section just for little things I think about his character, like how much I think he may struggle with substance addiction. Particularly with alcohol, it helps him forget that he's sad or even insecure at all. I think it's pretty fair to assume that he's an awfully messy person, so I imagine his apartment is trashed with empty beer cans and trash that was never picked up.

I wanted to make a stand-alone post on this but I thought I should just bring it up now. Kiyosumi not showing up to Katsumi's fight with Pickle is somehow the funniest but also most canon thing Itagaki could have possibly accidentally done. Like where is he? Probably sleeping in after a tough hangover, huh? No big surprise. Just really goofy to think about where he could possibly be during all of that.

Kiyosumi going back to the yakuza after his fight with Dorian (which can be easily assumed based on his clothing afterword) is really, not only funny to me, but also a bit saddening. I love knowing he's a yakuza and I also love knowing he's just generally a bad guy but the fact he so quickly goes back to the yakuza really shows that no matter what, he never truly changes. But that's the Kiyosumi curse. Character with tons of potential that has absolutely nothing else done with them in the story. While it's kind of messed up to not really continue on with his "arc", I still see it as cool character writing even though I doubt Itagaki drew and wrote that in for exactly the reason I'm describing it.

Kiyosumi's pure unadulterated rage is the most amazing thing to me. Nobody mentions the fact that completely UNCONSCIOUS, he got up with pure fighting spirit alive and well, just to land a blow on Dorian. When I said his rage controls him I was not lying.

Afterword

Well, that about concludes my character study of everything about him thats at least canonically shown, with of course, a few of my thoughts and idea's sprinkled in there. There are admittedly a few things I didn't include, that were either really minuscule or would've made the post even longer than it already is. But I hope my analysis can help others understand his character and motivations a little better, since I know not many people care about his character or are willing to really look in depth about him. Luckily, I'm just obsessed with him enough to know him almost like the back and front of my hand. Of course, if there's anything you think means something different, thats great! That's the joy of character understanding and comprehension. If you have any thoughts make sure to comment them down below, I'd love to see.

Number one Kiyosumi fanboy, logging off.

#phew boy #what a long post #this is gonna flop isnt it #yeah...yeah....#this was just an excuse for me to infodump about him cause i think hes cool #sigh #kiyosumi katou #katou kiyosumi #baki the grappler #baki hanma #baki son of ogre #baki dou #baki headcanons #anime

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