#are we really going to rely on the babies to save us? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chronically-ghosted · 6 months

Text

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled.

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.”

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder.

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.”

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.”

Partner.

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself.

And then he met you and the definition changed again.

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why.

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days.

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions.

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts.

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed.

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here.

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all.

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.”

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime.

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath.

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee.

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold.

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.”

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee.

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets.

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.”

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night.

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids.

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it.

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since.

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks.

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair.

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation.

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay.

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold.

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love.

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants.

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare.

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him.

“Baby–,”

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall.

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer.

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in.

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut.

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars.

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day.

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is.

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head.

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful.

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you.

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you.

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees.

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now.

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it.

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch.

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart.

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips.

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs.

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes.

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it.

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford.

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair.

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.”

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole.

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair.

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh.

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty.

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible.

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean.

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face.

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine.

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point.

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now.

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level.

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls.

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest.

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table.

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock.

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?”

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich.

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.”

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.”

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork.

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist.

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain.

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.”

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.”

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it.

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done.

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.”

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him.

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow.

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy.

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire.

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust.

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again.

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm.

“B-baby, please–,”

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer.

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.”

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.”

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him.

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name.

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep.

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again.

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more.

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst.

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs.

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet.

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling.

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor.

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull.

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face.

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.”

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest.

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.”

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips.

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all.

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed.

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you.

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.”

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach.

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.”

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

#frankie morales #fransisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader

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findafight · 7 months

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RE the posts about Nancy and Jon just kinda leaving the kids to their own devices; I find it very telling that in season four that despite Steve complaining a number of times about being the babysitter, none of the kids raise any objections to him being the babysitter, despite what it implies about them. It’s Nancy who reminds him “they aren’t babies anymore”.

I used to find that kind of funny, the idea that they might kind of like being babied a bit by Steve (for whom indulging younger kids is still a novelty). And it’s fascinating to me how Mike in particular, despite regarding Steve with utter disdain, feels entitled to Steve’s time and attention. Even *months* after Nancy has broken up with him, and Mike could just follow her lead and not have anything more to do with him, *Mike’s* the one ringing the service bell until Robin shouts for Steve.

The kids are maybe a little bit clingier than we or the characters give them credit for, eh?

(This reading gets really interesting when you consider that out of all the teens/adults, Steve’s probably worked/fought alongside them the most and knows full well what they’re capable of.)

I think Steve being someone the younger teens look up to as both a friend and as a leader is probably key. The age difference between them is enough that it makes a difference in how they look up to him and small enough that they'll be functional equals given a few years, but that they'll still defer to him. They like Steve! I think they like knowing that there's someone older willing to call some of the shots and take the heat y'know? Even if they also want to contribute to the decisions it's nice for them to know he has their backs.

Tbh I think Mike and Steve butt heads for the bit. Like they biker and groan about each other but Steve still thinks of Mike as maybe kind of annoying (as are. All fourteen year olds 🫡) one of his (mildly ungrateful) little friends. Of course it would be Mike ringing the bell repeatedly, he and Mike show friendly affection by being obnoxious motherfuckers to each other.

Sooo correct that what makes it different than Nancy and Jon, was that even though they've all gone through Upside Down stuff, Nancy and Jon went through it together, while Steve went through it, starting in S2, with the young teens. They see him and even though they stop Billy from killing him he saves them (specifically Mike!!) In the tunnels. It sort of establishes Steve as someone they KNOW is going to take charge to help them. They can and have! Mike knows he can rely on Nancy, probably, but he doesn't have the same...proof? I guess? That he does of Steve.

I think it's natural for them, even as they get older, to defer to Steve. He's sort of invincible to them, and they trust him. Does this make sense? They can call their own shots but I think maybe they'll also go "right, Steve?" Even if just in their brains.

#steve harrington #mike wheeler #steve and the party #steve and mike #stranger things #findaanswers #anonasaurus #stranger things meta #as a full grown adult i still fall back on thinking my brother has hos shit together more than me and there's less than three years between #tho my little sister thinks im an idiot

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bomberqueen17 · 3 months

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sketchy grocery store shit: a very middle-aged rant

Man so. I went to college in Rochester and so I did my first I'm An Adult Shopping For My Own Groceries shopping in a Wegmans. I got used to the way the store works, how things were laid out. And of course, i got a Shopper's Club card.

I still have it somewhere, use it occasionally, but I had to get another one when I misplaced it because they asked what phone number it was tied to and like, man, it was a Rochester number with a 716 area code, that's how long ago it was. (It's 585 there now.)

I got conditioned to try the Wegmans brand generic for whatever brand name thing I was buying, because it was often the same, and was cheaper. (Though, RIP to the old Wegmans box mac n cheese, they enshittified that in 1999 once we were all good and hooked and we all mourned and switched to Annie's and never looked back. Maybe it's better now but I don't rely on that stuff the way I used to.) I got conditioned to always swipe the card because sure they were collecting data on you but in a $70 trip I'd save five bucks easy, it wasn't nothing! And I also learned to look for their Family Packs, which were larger containers of the same item for less per unit-- if it was something not that perishable, or something you could get through, it was worth spending a little more now to stretch it later!

Anyway. I went to Wegmans yesterday, I live in Buffalo now and we have them here too, and we have a rotation of grocery stores we patronize but when I do the shopping, I'm still the most used to Wegmans, I know where stuff is, and I knew some of the stuff I wanted, they'd be the ones to have. (The organic co-op doesn't carry Doritos and sometimes in the doldrums of winter a bitch needs some of that poison, y'know?)

I'd noticed before that the Shoppers Club isn't a savings thing anymore. I didn't have my own card for one visit and the cashier went to great lengths to get me a swipe from a manager, and at the end I'd spent $200 and saved.... fifty cents.

This time around I'd taken advantage of a buy one get one deal to get a second box of something I didn't really need a second box of, only to discover it was buy one get a dollar off the second, so I saved a whole dollar and actually spent three I hadn't needed to. Well, whatever. It's not perishable and I'll eventually go through it.

But the other thing I noticed was the wild price swings by different packaging of the same item. I should've taken pictures. But like-- ok, raw baby spinach. I fucking love spinach. They had a smaller bag and then next to it they had a Family Pack. I hesitated-- it is hard to use up leafy greens but I fucking love spinach and I could make the effort-- and then I looked. I can't do math but fortunately they are required by law to have the price per unit breakdown on every price sticker. Because the small bag of spinach was $1.99, and was $3.99/lb. (A pound of spinach is a lot.) The Family Pack next to it? It was $3.99, which seemed like a good price jump. But on the per-item breakdown, it came out to $7.99/lb. It didn't actually have any more spinach in it. It was just a different-shaped bag and cost more. For no reason. And there was a whole shelf of the larger bags, and only a small display of the smaller ones. They're just expecting people, conditioned like I am, to say "ah i can use more spinach i'll take the savings" and buy the more expensive bag. But I did just do the math (which is difficult for me so you know I'm mad about this) and that is literally the exact same amount of spinach for twice the price.

Similar for stew beef but they went too far with it, it wasn't even plausible. There was a large pack for forty-nine dollars and I didn't even look to see how much was in it because i do not have forty-nine dollars for stew beef, I found a one-pound bag for $8.99. But I had this same issue before, and was more persistent last time I went: you can buy a three-pound chuck roast for $7.99/lb, which is a chunk of change but it's a lot of meat, and cut it into stew beef yourself and save some money that way, but I just knew I did not have it in me this week to cut up yet another chuck roast when I got home. (Full disclosure: i wasn't even looking at the grass-fed organic shit this was just regular USDA whatever Meets Regulations And Is Legal To Sell shit.)

Stew beef is supposed to be the trimmings and it is supposed to be cheap. But they have realized people prefer it, more recipes call for it because it was historically cheaper, and so they have marked it up and it is more expensive than the whole roast. Because most cooks reading a recipe are not going to necessarily know why it calls for stew beef and that they could substitute a superior cut if the price wasn't good.

I am aware that buying the pre-marinated individual convenience cuts is historically where they make their profit and I don't begrudge them that; if that's what I was shopping for I would not be that mad about paying $7 for three cents worth of marinade ingredients, because it is much easier to cook something like that with the attached recipe and because a lot of the markup is the labor costs in putting all that shit together. I don't begrudge them that at all and when I'm paying for it I'm well aware that I am.

But I really do resent how much of the price-gouging is happening by abusing the patterns of behavior they conditioned us into. I learned, twenty years ago, to look for the deals and look for the bulk packs, and now I am being punished for having learned that. I don't mind paying a premium for something I know is a convenience fee, but being charged extra for my formerly-thrifty shopping habits really stings. I shouldn't have to exercise constant vigilance in the fucking grocery store, it's stressful enough to be the only masked person in there and now you have to compete with the huge carts they use for the online ordering peeps that take up a lot of the aisle.

Maybe it's easier to do the price comparisons on the website?

Oh and there are a number of products they now only carry the Wegmans generic for. (You can't get Snyder pretzel bites anymore, and the Wegmans version doesn't come in quite the same flavors, so I have to go to Dash's to get those now.) And still others where the Wegmans version is pricier. And, alas, some where the more expensive Wegmans version is better. (Polly-O string cheese, why are you so bland?? You're a snack baby. The Wegmans generic has salt in it and is a ton more pleasant to eat.)

IDK I don't have a thesis here it's just that being alive in the 2020s is way harder than being alive in the 2000s even though I was poorer then and didn't know shit. I don't miss my youth and I super don't miss George W Bush but I miss when I was figuring stuff out and it seemed to make sense. And I sorta miss when the Wegmans cashiers used to wear t-shirts bragging about how highly-ranked Wegmans was by whatever organization that was that ranked how good places are to work for.

Also, they try to steer you to use the self checkouts, but baby if you have more than two shopping bags' worth of stuff in your cart you had better wait in however long that line is to let a real human put it into bags for you because the self-checkout does not have any mechanism for you to remove and replace a full shopping bag from the bagging area. I told the cashier how much I appreciated him because he wasn't screaming at me, and he was like yah those self-checkouts yell at you a lot.

(Every Wegmans cashier for twenty years has been super nice. I doubt they're in a union, I wish they were.)

Yeah yeah this is the most middle-aged thing I've written yet but I'm in physical therapy and just bought a recliner for the ergonomics so I'm clearly grappling with my own mortality here, and I'm writing this partly out of concern for the kids who are where I was in 2000. What the hell are they being conditioned to do, by all this????? Shit, man.

#about the author #real life

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cdbabymp3 · 1 month

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𐙚only me ― hamzahthefantastic

summary: hamzah won't spend time alone with you

notes/warnings: slight angst to fluff, apologetic bf hamzah save me pls 🙏 (unedited sry!)

"phone? keys? wallet? house key?" you run down the list of items your boyfriend always seems to forget before going out.

hamzah pats both pockets for the listed items, giving a proud thumbs up that he has everything he needs.

"we gotta get going, though." he mentions, pulling his car key out of his pocket and readjusting the hat atop his head

you pause, mid-smile, "wha-why? you said 6:30, hamzah!" trying not to panic, you rush into your shared room, sorting through your closet for the dress you planned on wearing.

hamzah follows you, voice trailing behind, "it was 6:30, yes, but martin-"

you felt your stomach pang.

"martin's coming?" you ask, attempting to sound genuine in your questioning, but who were you kidding? this was not the first time martin had tagged along to one of your dates. praying hamzah couldn't see the slight disappointment in your face, you distracted yourself with manically rummaging for the right shoes to go with your dress. he stood against the doorway, letting out a brief sigh.

maybe you weren't so good at hiding that disappointment because hamzah slowly walked over to you, gently grabbing your hands and stopping your frenzied state.

"what's the matter, hm? you don't want martin to come?"

"not really..." barely above a whisper, your eyes finally meet his

"why not?"

god, for someone so smart, he could be so oblivious sometimes.

you sat down on the bed, letting your dress pile on your lap, playing with the fabric.

"martin always comes with us. i can't remember that last time we went to dinner and he wasn't there. when we first started dating, it was fine and i don't want you to think i don't like him- because i do- i just...it just feels like you don't want to be around me." your voice quivers, a slight tinge of insecurity catches in your throat, "only me."

hamzah frowns, sitting on the bed next to you. "y/n, that's not true, i promise." he takes the dress out of your hands and sets it aside, hands returning to hold your smaller ones. his thumbs caress your knuckles the way he always does when he's think carefully about what to say next.

you're not sure if it's the physical touch or finally confessing how you feel, but a warm tear rolls down your cheek suddenly. he clicks his tongue at this, softly wiping the tear before it can slide off your face.

"then why?" you start wipe another tear that falls

he catches the stray tear before you do, "why what?"

"why do you always invite martin?"

"oh, well, the truth?" he laughs nervously, "i get so fucking nervous around you, y/n."

you sit up in shock, "what?"

"yeah, i'm serious. it's bad. so bad that i rely on martin as my, like-"

"wingman." you finish for him, admittedly relieved at his answer

hamzah laughs, nodding, a faint blush stains his cheeks. "yep." you lean over and kiss him, feeling his body tense with anticipation, he really was nervous...he allows himself a second more of the kiss before leaving your lips, "but i need to get over it. you're right, martin needs to hit the road." he gets up and quickly sends a text to martin, shoving his phone back in his pocket, and helping you up. "i'm sorry i made you feel like that, baby. never again, just you and me from now on, yeah?"

you melt, giving him a tight hug. "do i still have time to get all dressed up?" you mumble against his chest, eyes looking over at your dress still laid out on the bed.

he kisses your forehead, "take as long as you need."

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა taglist ; @forevergirlposts , @junebugin-july , @itgirlvirgo , @sie17136

#jules speaks !! 🐻ིྀ #hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzahthefantastic imagines #hamzahthefantastic x you #hamzahthefantastic headcannons #slushy noobz #cdbabymp3

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sloshr · 2 months

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After watching through Side Order... I have a Few Thoughts.

[Spoilers ahead]

My Review of the Side Order DLC - Its little more than Gameplay.

Initial Opinion

- - - - - - - - - -

Overall; I like the gameplay mechanics initially, but the story absolutely feels lacking to me, imo. It feels like they were really banking on Side Order being Hard but... multiple of my friends finished it on their 2nd or 3rd run through the Spire.

That in itself isnt a problem! But... everyone felt sort of unsatisfied? There were no developments in the story, as we, Agent 8, were just assigned the task to Get to The Top of the Spire -> The Player Does That -> You beat a Boss -> Credits Roll (?)

On my watchthrough I literally said Please Say Sike 😭 because, dont take this poorly, but they were advertising Side Order as;

• Difficult (stated Multiple Times in basically every Trailer)

• Story Driven (You Uncover things as You Climb)

• Character and Lore Intensive (as shown by the trailers with all the concept art as well as promo art)

I dont feel like it was wrong to expect more based on how it was advertised.

But... if you complete the DLC in 1-2 runs, which is Very Much Possible, no buildup happens at all. The story was banking on the player struggling, and putting all the content behind repeat runs, which falls through and Doesnt really work/feel satisfying if the main goal is achieved in such a short time. I Feel like anyone who regularly plays Salmon Run will likely have a similar experience. And I feel kind of cheated? Because what we got was something that was Tell Not Show rather than the Show, Not Tell formula. And in my opinion, it really doesn't work as well at all. It puts all the major lore that the game has set up behind repetetive climbs (which never change btw, despite each climb being generated differently, its the same after a while) and you get about 1 Sentence of Exposition, with a Modlog from Marina if you are Lucky.

Side Order was (to me), after watching it all;

• Not Difficult, But Repetetive Gameplay (This easily runs people down, which would be fine if the tower had more than 1 setup or phase)

• Inital Story Setup with no complexities or stages. You climb the first Tower, Save Marina, Climb the Second Tower, Beat Order, and the credits Roll. In its most complex, you could fit what Side Order's Story is in 2-3 Sentences. Rather than Lore being revealed During the story, it feels Pushed to the Side as all of it is either in Text the player may never see (different climbs) or care to read (Marina's Mod Log)

• Use of Character Drops with no explaination / mention (The Agent 4 Boss, Anyone?) (This felt very Bait-y, with No Payoff)

Rating

- - - - -

If I had to give Side Order a Rating

4/10. At Best.

I am a bit disappointed with this as I feel like I was promised more, Storywise, and honestly a bit gameplay wise. I think it fails where other DLC has succeeded Due to being Built in such a way where anything engaging is stuck behind barely changing gameplay. It is not built in a way where the experience cant fail to show you whats important to the characters and the worldbuilding. It relies too much on telling you whats happening rather than the world showing you. Its too Simple, and It Doesnt Work, personally, in a series that contains Octo Expansion.

Which is Sad to me!! It had so much wasted potential and I really hope this isn't the last we're going to see of the concept, we get to see ideas actually built into the story, and... maybe find Agent 4.

Conclusion

- - - - - - - -

Tldr; Side Order had a good concept, but failed in execution for being simple and gameplay dependent, which was ultimately disappointing due to it being advertised as something more for all involved.

It was an alright attempt. The experience will just be known to me as... well. Baby's First Rouge-like. Nothing worldbreaking.

(PS, this isnt meant to be mean spirited or overly critical, I just love the Splatoon Series so I give it Tough Love. This is just my personal view on the DLC)

Thank you for Reading! Feel free to share or add any thoughts!

#This is Just my opinion but Ive seen a couple people with similar experiences to me and wanted to make a post to see if anyone else #feels the same about the whole DLC #if anyone has any experiences to share feel free! id love to hear #sorry if this seems mean spirited or overly critical - i really do love the splatoon series with all my heart #its tough love #splatoon #review #Side Order #Side Order Spoilers #Splatoon 3 #Nintendo

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lilies-n-slander · 19 days

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Hazbin Hotel would be so much more interesting if charlie’s naïveté and surface-level kindness were treated as the actual flaws they are and didn’t work. Heads up, this kinda just turned into a text wall of charlie neg and ranting so don’t read if you don’t want to see that.

How she currently is, she just doesn’t make that much sense in the setting. I’ve seen ppl say that charlie is a fresh take and contrasts the edginess, but I just don’t see how she is possible. You’re telling me she’s been in hell for 200 yrs but still has this childish and naive personality, is still disgusted by the sinners being cannibalistic, violent, and even just horny, and is so detached from those she calls “her people”? She was born in hell, shouldn’t that make her more used to the sinners’ depravity and not less? She doesn’t seem to have a good grasp on what the sinners want or how they behave. It would make more sense if the show leaned into the toxic positivity white savior nepo baby angle (or rather, actually portrayed it as a *bad* thing) and rather than naïveté, her ignorance was out of self-centeredness and/or lack of true empathy for the other sinners. She would be more interesting as a character too imo.

She looks down on the other sinners (and honestly so does the show?? When she’s showing lucifer around and introduces him to her friends, they’re framed as unappealing as a joke… these are the characters the audience is also supposed to care about.. and many of the bg chars, such as the cannibal town residents, are portrayed as simple-minded brutes), there’s a lot of condescending “….ooookay” type of lines and she constantly has to think of nice ways to frame the clearly negative things she thinks about others. So why does she want to save them so much? The more reasonable explanation is a sense of white savior-ness than actually caring about them.

She’s eager to excuse whatever sir pentious did (which I’m assuming she doesn’t know?) and let him in, despite how he makes the other residents (including her own gf!) uncomfortable. And yes I say excuse, because she never inquires about his past sins or discussed him repenting. It seems to start with sorry, but also end with sorry too. This could’ve been made interesting if she simultaneously looked down on but also excused all sorts of heinous acts. Like val is the most openly manipulative and scummy character, he licks her arm, and yet she’s still apologetic about ruining things (Side note, if she’s genuinely apologetic, then she’s actually an idiot because why is she talking to the boom-mic employee *while they’re filming???*).

She doesn’t know what she’s doing and has no concrete plan but gets incredulous at ppl who don’t blindly trust her. Angel has to leave in ep 4 and she gets SO frustrated over it, like you seriously expect everyone to drop all of their other commitments for you? She has her webster definition notecards for the meeting with heaven and has to improvise and rely on angel being good at the club but she gets mad that lucifer isn’t 100% behind her plan?

Also, trust falls? Really? Then she goes “why isn’t this working? We’ve tried everything!” But on that note, the actual episode portrayal is kinda exactly what I’m going for. Not only do the trust falls not work, charlie says, “I love all of you so much,” pulls her puppy eyes, and only vaggie catches her. It’s surface level and shallow, and does not win anyone else over.

In contrast, vaggie’s attempt at building trust, throwing everyone into a battle, *actually works* (despite vaggie only being in hell for 3 years and being heaven-born, she already knows how things work better than charlie!) and yet charlie talks about it as though it already failed. She says “we work best as a team,” with the underlying message being “I can’t trust you to do things on your own.”

If she was waiting so long to reconnect with lucifer, then why hasn’t she called him in years?? Altho I’m currently rotating lucifer in my brain so I might be a bit biased

“If angels can do whatever and stay in the sky” they can’t?? Your dad is RIGHT there. I. What

She has a power dynamic with every other character except lucifer since she has her demon powers, not to mention she’s giving them a place to stay. When vaggie says she appreciates that charlie doesn’t use her powers, charlie doesn’t say “it wouldn’t be right,” she says it would be too *mean.* But if someone pushes her buttons, who’s to say they wouldn’t slip out (see her flip on a dime after val hits angel. Obv it’s justified in this case, but it shows that she’s willing to use her powers on sinners)? Again, it would be interesting if the show actually leaned into this angle. Imagine if she put on a nice front, never swore, seemed genuinely touching and understanding, but the second someone annoys her she annihilates them and becomes threatening and violent. Then she turns around and is nice again. Too much like alastor? idk

Also, many characters refer to her by calling her lucifer’s daughter, so clearly ppl know that if they cross her they’ll face his wrath by proxy (this also fits in thematically with what lute tells her in the first episode, that she’s exempt from the exterminations bc nepotism privilege). So realistically, everyone else would be a bunch of sucking-up yes-men bc they’re afraid of her. Which they kind of are when push comes to shove?

At first, she doesn’t help at all during the war and lets everyone else fight for her. Doesn’t want to get her hands dirty ig, even though all of this was caused by her in the first place. She only starts fighting at vaggie’s urging.

Like husk points out, every meeting charlie has with the angels makes things worse for all the sinners. Despite lucifer’s warnings that the meeting with heaven won’t work, and against vaggie saying to calm down, charlie basically picks a fight with heaven at the risk of *everyone else EXCEPT HER.*

What were charlie and lilith doing to stop the exterminations before lilith took her 7 year leave? Hell, what was charlie doing during those 7 years? Why does she have 0 connections outside of vaggie, who she only met 3 yrs ago? Why does she have to introduce herself to rosie, rather than her already knowing her name?

Also in ep 7 she says to alastor “I can’t believe how you can do exactly what you told me you would do!” (standing by and watching everyone fail at redemption) almost like she wasn’t paying attention to him at all.

“Why would vaggie hide that she was an exterminator” -> Rosie asks “how did that make you feel?” “It made me mad and doubt if she loves me” like I get it, it was a betrayal, but IS she stupid

Ready For This is charlie manipulating a town of ppl to join the army. Her pitch includes “on the way to the hotel the scenery is nice and you can make friends :3” and “have you ever wanted to die for a cause? Notably I myself am spared from being killed but uh that’s your problem.” Alastor pipes in that you can eat the angels and that’s what actually moves the crowd, because he understands them.

Her perspective on violence and where she chooses to draw the line is really confusing. Why does she care about sinners being violent to each other if they’ll just respawn? She stops alastor from beating up sir pentious at an arbitrary point, but is fine with him eating and presumably killing the gangsters who come after mimzy. (Edit: forgot to point out yet another example, that she was fine with vaggie tossing sir pentious and angel off the balcony but stops her from tossing niffty as well for no reason.) Why is she so apologetic to the angels actively killing sinners but was distraught over vaggie having partaken? Why was she opposed to the CANNIBALS being eager to eat the angels and saying “idk, they seem kinda murder-y” WHAT. What? I’m struggling to even begin to describe how ignorant that is during a WAR. What did she think was going to happen, that she wouldn’t have to fight anyone herself? Why did she stop her dad from killing Adam but doesn’t react strongly to Niffty finishing the job? If it mattered so much to her, the lack of reaction seems strange to me.

Isn’t it just so poetic that her weapon in the war is a shield that she uses exclusively on herself, which she hardly even needs due to her contractual immunity?

Why doesn’t she think to use her powers to build and maintain the hotel? That doesn’t require any violence or domineering. Yet when lucifer comes over it’s run-down and falling apart. Or ask lucifer to help her build it? She was concerned that asking for the meeting with heaven was such a big ask—why not start with this small thing? Father-daughter bonding.

Why does the show end w lucifer + the sinners congratulating her, and in particular, rebuilding the hotel? Hell doesn’t know that sir pentious got redeemed, so from their pov charlie’s idea didn’t work at all.

Can you tell that I’m writing this while I’m rewatching the show?

Aaand that’s that. Her char has always come off to me as somewhat condescending/fake, but I keep finding more and more things to dislike about the way she’s been written. Unfortunate. Honestly tho I might enjoy watching her more if I read her through this lens. You could probably write a similar post for most/all other chars in the show, limited only by the amount of screentime they get lmao

#ps it would have made a bit too much sense for the character fucking named ANGEL to be redeemed at the end of the season #he was the one charlie was making her entire case about in ep 6 #like sir pentious was never brought up #and angel was one of the ogs of the hotel #and had ep 4 #but ig the show thought better of it #rewatching the pilot and angel would’ve been so much more interesting ;u; he’s so one-note now…#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel #meta #charlie morningstar neg #honestly with lucifer as my blorbo I probably shouldn’t be shittalking charlie #he’d annihilate me #sorry man I just want your daughter to have a bit more confidence… yeah that’s it #.txt

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bellyprincess · 10 months

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"No, stop, that's for the babies", you whine as you don't even try to stop me. I take one massive, aching, milk filled tit into my mouth. A gentle suck releases a blast of milk, causing you to gasp. I drink a little and then repeat with the other. You bite your lip to stiffle the moan, too lost in pleasure to realize I stopped already. Now they're primed and leaking steadily. But the babies that are meant to suckle are still in your belly for a month or two more. You try to milk yourself, only to find your tits are too big and you can't reach your thick nipples. I stand with a smug look and watch your milk trail down from your nipples and drip onto the floor.

"S-Stopppp~," I whined out again, but it sounded more like a pathetic moan as the pressure in my tits was being released. My eyes rolled back into my head as my thighs pressed together. My belly was so swollen it was heavy as it rested on the top of my legs, almost reaching my knees. The weight felt so good though as it pressed down, putting pressure on my clit. And my huge belly was a perfect place for my almost ridiculously large breasts to rest.

I couldn't even reach around them to milk myself, instead having to rely on you or the suckers that we hooked up above the bed in the bedroom, the latter option quite literally milking me like a cow. You snickered at my comment and rolled your eyes, "For the babies? I think we'll be fine. We have two chest freezers full of frozen breastmilk. But you're right, we should save more. I want cereal for breakfast." I moaned at the comment, picturing you eating your cereal after dispensing your milk for it straight from my tits.

"Anyways, these nipples are so fat. Do you really think our babies will be able to fit their mouths around them? They nearly fill up all of my mouth, princess." You teased gently but I knew you were right and it only my cunt throb more. Your hands were rubbing my belly and calming the babies within while you forced both nipples into your mouth at once, though you couldn't do that for long because it dispensed more milk than you could drink.

When you took a step back, I nearly whined, my tits still steadying dripping and silently begging you to keep sucking them. "You still have two more months of growing, maybe more if you're lucky. I'm sure we can save more milk for all these rascals in the meantime." You pat my belly like it was your prize animal in the county fair show, and in some ways it was. Every time we went out in public, people looked at me like I was a prize animal. Your prized breeding cow. Belly so full it showed them how fertile I am, tits so leaky and swollen it showed them how good I am of a mommy, and pussy so wet it showed them how much of a slut I am.

I whimpered and rocked back and forth, using the weight of my belly on my clit to feel some relief. Reaching out to you I pleaded with my eyes, trying to get you back onto my tits or rubbing my belly again. "Pleaseee, touch me again, daddy!" You chuckled and caved to my request, stepping forward again and rubbing my belly while you locked up the dropping milk. Just feeling your occasional kitten licks on my fat nipples and your hands on my tummy was enough to send me over the edge. I came with a slutty moan, my juices spreading over the seat that was hidden beneath me. You laughed at the sight of my tits spraying like hoses when I came, only to help me lay down on my side. "In the meantime, I'm going to practice putting more babies in you for when these come out."

#💌{love letters}💌#🤰🏼{my writing}🤰🏼#pregnant #not sfw #👑{queue for the princess}👑#minors dni #pregnancy #pregnant captions #multiples

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veeluvss · 1 year

Text

what’s going on?

jj x daughter!reader

fluff

700 words

i sighed, getting out of bed and going straight to the bathroom. i dropped by the side of the toilet but thankfully held back my sick this time. i felt awful, terrified. the only person who saw the horrors of that room was never here. when JJ adopted me, i thought i was going to get this luxury life with a mum who finally cared and put the attention in but recently, i'd felt completely forgotten about. after her maternity leave was over, will was looking after the two boys and he didn't have much time for me- thinking i could fend for myself. at 16 i pretty much could but i still needed my parents around, especially on nights like this.

the nightmares had been back for a while now, getting worse and worse. i wanted to go back to therapy but i couldn't speak to will about it. he didn't know what i went through. only jj. i got off the floor and headed downstairs quietly. i opened the back door and sat on the swing on the porch, letting the cold air calm me down and ground me.

i don't know how long i stayed out there fore but the sound of a car on the gravel drive woke me up. i didn't move though, it was probably a neighbour. JJ had only been gone for two days, she wouldn't be back yet. however, five minutes later, i heard the back door slide open.

"will is that you?" she said, looking over at the swing but i looked back at her.

"oh y/n it's you! what you doing out here so late hm?" she said gently. she looked tired, really tired.

"i couldn't sleep," i replied. she came to sit beside me and we looked out over the lake together.

"i don't think i will be able to tonight either," she sighed.

"do you want to talk about it?" i asked, being polite.

"no darling," she chuckled. "it's not for your little head to worry about." she leaned back in the swing and caressed my blonde hair.

"do you wanna talk about why you're up?" i stayed quiet for a few minutes. i suppose this was gonna be my only chance.

"the nightmares are back," i told her.

"about the farm?" she asked. i nodded.

"but, but you don't come anymore." i used to be able to train myself to stay in the dream and wait for jj and the team to come and rescue me but she hadn't been. the torture just excelled, i wasn't rescued or saved.

"how long has it been like that love?"

"since you went back to work." i sighed. i hate having to rely on her.

"why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"i didn't have a chance too," i shrugged, being honest. she nodded, understanding.

"have you spoken to will?" i shook my head. "he doesn't know you can't sleep most nights? why haven't you gotten in with him?"

"you're not there," i said simply. "jj, you rescued me. you got me out of that farm and you took me home. not will. i, i need you," i felt small and vulnerable. she sighed and moved over on the swing, pulling me into her arms.

"i'm here now love, i'm sorry." she held me and began to swing the swing. we swayed and i settled in her arms. it was like magic.

"can you sleep with me tonight?"

"i can baby, shall we go in?" she asked. i nodded and sat up, beginning to feel the cold.

half an hour later and you and jj were curled up in your bed. you had a big bed but it was nice to have her close. your saviour.

"do you want me to call your therapist in the morning?" she asked you, playing with your hair as you laid on her chest.

"yes please." she smiled and held you tightly. then, as she did with henry, she began to tell you a story.

"once upon a time, there was a castle, hidden way in a forest..."

you fell asleep to the sound of her voice, feeling her chest move up and down as she breathed and the heart beating too. you'd needed this.

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau imagine #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x daughter!reader #jj x daughter!reader #jj x reader #jj jareau #jennifer #daughter!reader #jennifer jareau head canons

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nancywheeeler · 10 months

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‘Eddie Munson should have died at the hands of the government instead of the Upside Down’ please expound on this your ideas are intriguing to me and I wish to subscribe to your newsletter.

okay, i am finally gonna release from the vault a text post i had drafted months ago about how reductive and bland i find eddie munson's "heroism" arc.

from a characterization standpoint, i totally understand why eddie declares himself a coward for running after witnessing chrissy (and later, patrick) die. his image of himself as a proud outcast willing to brandish a middle finger at societal norms, bolstered by playing a "satanic" game about misfits coming together to bravely face great evils, is completely shattered. however, from our viewpoint as an audience, eddie does what just about any of us would have done after watching someone die in a horrific, unexplainable manner and not knowing if what happened to them is about to happen to us.

...except the show then does this weird thing where it agrees with eddie's warped, guilty view of his actions. eddie is a coward for running. he should have...what? stayed, again not knowing if he would be killed next, tried to explain everything to hawkins pd, and gotten arrested? (which would have derailed the rest of the hawkins plot because, unless dustin & company staged a jailbreak, eddie then would have been in custody during fred and patrick's murders.) the plot demands he run, but to wring any sort of emotional catharsis out of his death, the writers want us to think "look! he's redeemed himself! this time he ran into the danger!" it equates self-preservation with selfishness and cowardice, which certainly isn't a new thing in media but it's boring and doesn't reflect reality.

and when you parallel eddie's death with billy's (and what i imagine steve's death would have been had they gone through with killing him in season one), it paints this uncomfortable picture that redemption can only be found through extreme self-sacrifice and ultimately death. boring! very boring! and again, why are we redeeming a character who doesn't need redemption?

i appreciate (and really like actually!) that the narrative dooms eddie from the beginning. there wouldn't have been a satisfying way to write him out of a triple homicide rap had he lived. that being said, i would have loved to see eddie survive the upside down, get arrested for the murders, and, while our intrepid heroes are expecting owens and his shadowy government contacts to swoop in, be killed by those same shadowy government contacts as a cover-up.

because that is all owens has been doing for the past three seasons: covering things up to save a fringe organization's ass. it's just been convenient for our gang that the cover-ups align with their interests, too, to the point they are over-reliant on owens stepping in with forged birth certificates and mall fires. only, in season four's case, eddie is the most convenient cover story. with owens left for dead in a bunker in the middle of the desert, what loyalty does the rest of this strange government operation have to the gang and to eddie that they would exert any additional effort concocting a more outlandish story than the easy one the town of hawkins has already bought into?

it would have been a great way to add additional stakes going into season five because the gang would have had absolutely no one to rely on or trust but themselves. no more clean-up crew to plant fake stories and file the paperwork. the government has never actually been on their side. it's hawkins against the upside down and the world, baby.

wow, this is so long and i am so sorry. i still have a lot of feelings about this apparently, even after all this time.

#ask #i think the problem with eddie's arc ultimately comes down to framing #what should have been a tragedy of conservative close-mindedness got turned into this weird statement on heroism #commit to the tragedy duffers! make your horror season real horror!#stranger things #for the filters <3

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 7 days

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Thanks for laying out why you say IG is in financial trouble. So interesting! It is so much clearer to me now why Germany trail-running their own national version is such an upheaval for IG. Given that each event relies so much on funds from the host city / province / country, cutting out IG will mean IG would not be able to host any events.

Governments already face criticism over how much they spend to host the Olympics and other international sports events. H&M’s negative association really does not help the cost / benefit analysis for the public and therefore, the relevant government.

A charity like IG desperately needs home support (i.e., the UK) for that initial emotional and financial investment. But H&M have alienated the British public and there is not enough international sentiment to substitute that home support.

I think H&M also forget how much people get mental fatigue when constantly hearing about a company or person. This mental fatigue can drive people to avoid the related products and services, even when they aren’t “against” the company or person. (This can also happen in reverse - use the products and services when they’re sick of hearing about how awful the people or company are.)

I work for a UK company that donates to the Prince’s Trust (PT) and holds internal events advertising that funds will go to the PT. But a UK company is less likely to do this with the IG because it is associated with an anti-UK sentiment. IG will also be received differently by their employees because a) it doesn’t have a solid reputation independent of its patrons like the PT (i.e., it’s not “agnostic”) , b) some people feel personally insulted by H&M, who are intrinsically associated with IG and c) some people will disengage from the event due to mental fatigue over the whole thing.

Whether or not Charles is throwing a bone to Harry with the UK hosting IG, the true test will be a) how many and how much UK companies will step up for this event and b) how the cost / benefit will be seen by the public. If IG can’t even make it on their home ground, people outside of the UK will wonder why they should even bother.

I don't think Harry and Meghan even care about mental fatigue. All the tea has indicated that the Sussexes are the kind of people who look at the world through "these are you problems" beer goggles.

But I do think you're right - they don't see any problem or fatigue with what they're doing, but everyone else is tired of them. Sooner or later, that's going to show in ways that Harry and Meghan can't fudge or gaslight such as:

Lack of royal turnout and/or government support for Invictus Games

Not-good ratings for their Netflix material (and frankly, anything less than a smash hit gets lumped into 'not good' categories...and Netflix doesn't publish their ratings unless it's a runaway smash hit)

Lack of interest in their children (which technically has already happened when she couldn't make a deal for Archie's and Lili's baby photos but Meghan justified it as 'saving it for Netflix')

Poor sales for Roop.

We just have to outlast and outwit them. Eventually the glass house will crumble. The cracks are there already.

#ask #brf #sussexes #theories #rumors

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thewertsearch · 8 months

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Ask Comp 25/8

Aw, thank you! Sometimes I actually think I overdo it a little - that my dives are a little too deep. This is how I consume media IRL, though, so if nothing else, it's authentic.

The Battlefield is definitely growing. The spatial warping makes it hard to measure how much it's growing, so it could definitely be exponential, especially if we keep adding higher dimensions.

As for how Jack matches up against Bec - Jack is definitely smarter, but he's also a lot more vulnerable, since losing the Ring will render him powerless. He'd have to be incredibly careful in a fight, especially against someone just as fast as he is.

I still think Bec has the edge, but his victory is far from guaranteed. I totally understand why Jade wouldn't want to risk it.

Imagine what Eridan would have said to a 'lowly greenblood' like Jade.

Yeah, there's no way trolls have therapy.

I hate to say it, but the Alternian version of therapy is probably moirallegiance. You're supposed to rely on this one person to keep you emotionally stable - and if you're not outgoing or charismatic enough to find a moirail, you don't even have that.

Of course, this system has nothing in common with the relationship dynamics of any culture on Earth. We really dodged a bullet there!

Gamzee really leans into the 'court jester' aspect of being a bard. He doesn't take anything seriously, nor is he expected to do so - he's just off to the side, dancing.

Yeah, my prediction is that Vriska is going to use him.

If she can manipulate Tavros into trying to control Jack, she might actually be able to remove his Ring. I speculated that she might use some sort of cheat to gain an advantage in their fight, and I think we may have found it.

He casually controls Becsprite later on, so I don't think he needs their goals to align.

As for why Bec didn't try to save Jade - I think he knew instinctually that someone was going to make him save her, so he didn't need to do it manually. That's Alpha, baby!

I can't tell if I've reached the controversial part, to be honest. Was there discourse about whether Tavros had done anything wrong?

Personally, I think it's hard to argue that he didn't, but other characters have done much worse - and in much more ambiguous scenarios, too.

Lord English is coming, send help plz

Thank you! It's kind of funny actually - I know that Homestuck's irregular update schedule used to drive people mad, but I'm reading it at a similar pace, with similar irregularities, and it really has been a chill experience on my end.

Maybe it's because I'm not participating in the fandom the way live readers were, and therefore, I'm not subject to the weapons-grade hiatus brain that Cat has war stories about.

Poor Kanaya - she really knows how to pick 'em. Rose is definitely less stressful to crush on than Vriska, though.

I recently saw this quote for the first time in a while. Excited to learn which of the comic's several thousand plot points it's referencing.

@spyril4132 asked: i have seen this in my youtube recommendations and must now share [s] descend but with silvagunner's high quality nuclear rip - YouTube

Legitimately amazing, and perfectly timed.

For anyone doesn't know about Silvagunner, please take a dip down this rabbit hole.

I do wonder how she's getting physical details about the Sun. Isn't it, like, fully outside of conventional reality?

Maybe the Sun is physically real, despite being in an unreal location. Technically, that's also the case with sessions.

I do like the 'music player' metaphor from an earlier ask. You don't necessarily have to use discs - a cassette player is also a good choice, or maybe an older variety of music box.

If you want to stretch the symbolism a little, your Time Player could wield something really kooky, like an iPod Nano, MIDI keyboard, or analog radio.

(Sally the Time Player would wield Rhythm Heaven for the Nintendo DS.)

It's been years since I've watched Primer, actually. I remember enjoying it, but I don't recall enough to give a proper review. Rewatch time!

Yeah, the rules for Captcha codes are all over the place. This example implies that they hold the general idea of an object, without any 'corruption' - but when John's Ghost Dad poster was defaced, its code did change.

The implication, I guess, is that defacing a poster counts as changing its nature, but spilling oil on a pogo ride does not. It's weird.

It is odd that it's marketed as a beta. Sburb and Sgrub seem almost identical, the latter's bifurcated session notwithstanding.

The human session failed, yes - but it failed due to manipulation, sabotage, and a generous helping of terrible luck. If Gamzee prototyped one of his clown posters, Jack's regicide could just as easily have happened in Sgrub.

All that said - when it comes to software development, I'd trust Sollux over Grandpa any day. If one of those games is more stable, it's Sgrub.

Alright, that one's actually pretty great lmao

#asks #full liveblog #act 5.2

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shxugx · 6 months

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my theory academia

also known as “what i wrote in my notes app to explain my mha theories to my wife, who knows the bare minimum of mha lore”

* manga spoilers ahead *

SO i begin with Red Shoe TheoryTM

Red Shoe Theory is basically the idea that Izuku’s trademark red shoes are a specific brand made for quirkless people.

The doctor in episode one explains that quirkless people are biologically different than quirked people. one of the differences is they have a second toe joint in their toes. a very specific and odd thing to include, but go off i guess

then we see izuku’s ugly ass (affectionate) red shoes. he wears the same damn shoes since he was a kid to literally current day. no one else in the series has this type of shoe and he wears them with everything.

theory is basically bc of the toe joint, they have to wear specific shoes to accommodate.

now: this is kinda a dumb theory by itself. however, i lied when i said only one character in the series wears them.

there is two.

introducing the Shigaraki was Quirkless theory.

HandJob McGee is the only other character that wears these red ass shoes. but they’re not just red. they’re fucking identical to izuku’s. again, not super compelling at first.

until you take in account the UA traitor, Aoyama Yuuga.

he was quirkless. his parents, rich and stupid, asked AFO to give him a quirk. he gives him Naval Laser and now basically has his family enslaved and forces him to be the traitor.

something odd about aoyama’s quirk (besides that is fucking stupid) is that it hurts him. not in a “worked out too much” way but in a “can barely use it” way. he gets better with training but he can barely handle using it for a few seconds without being in pain and he is RELIANT on support gear, something people with quirks are taught not to rely on as it is a handicap in case their gear is destroyed. he has no choice and has to wear it because otherwise the fuckin bitch leaks n shit

there are two other characters who’s quirks hurt them like this. izuku and his liquified bones, who we also know was quirkless

and shiggy.

all the characters we have seen that have toxic quirks have a natural immunity or defense against it to protect them (IE: kacchan and fire, mina and acid etc)

however, shigaraki is literally flaking away. we also know that he was originally Tenko shimura and had black hair and black eyes. now tho, he has white hair and red eyes and his skin is so dry he scratches constantly.

his quirk is decay.

his body is slowly decaying itself as a reaction to the quirk because it’s not supposed to be there. he’s basically turning albino.

now. this i feel like is too obvious to not be canon but *shrugs*

AFO manipulated and groomed baby Tenko bc he’s a petty ass bitch

AFO forced decay onto bb tenko, causing him to accidentally kill his family, and be the one to find him after to “save him”, and it was planned every step of the way.

So this is easier just to go in order of tragic events.

Yoichi Shigaraki, first user of One for All, brother of All For One, so obviously All For One is a shigaraki.

Nana Shimura. Seventh user of one for all and All Might’s beloved mentor.

All Might, who is still alive and who AFO hates.

Nana Shimura. Also known as Tenko Shimura’s grandmother.

now.

nana is dead. bc afo fucking killed her.

all might is not dead and is proving to be afo’s biggest asshole to date.

all might continues to be heartbroken about nana’s death to current day. it’s no secret how important she was to him.

afo, an immortal petty bitch, thinks hmm how can i make all might suffer the most.

oh i know.

finds her quirkless grandson and says “hey lil boy i can give you a quirk! :D”

tenko, 4 and stupid, “omg really!! :D”

afo, *gives tenko a super fucking destructive quirk*

*sends him home*

(note: he could have also have it to him without tenko knowing it happened idk. the details are flexible but the main point it the important thing here)

tenko, fucking accidentally kills his entire family bc how was he supposed to know better.

afo, is immortal and rich so has people watching to make sure no one gets close to the boy and he swoops in to “save him”

proceeds to groom him and traumatize him by making him wear his fucking dead family’s hands on his body to constantly remind him he is a killer and evil and afo will be the only one to be kind and care about him

afo brainwashes tenko into forgetting what happened and who he used to be (through grooming, gaslighting, etc) and now he only knows himself as tomura shigaraki.

plans to make him basically the successor to afo and be what kills one for all/ all might is sick poetic fuckery of all might being killed by his mentors grandson.

(also adds a reason as to why nana is the only female user. to show that she is important to the story beyond just being a past user/mentor)

now this next theory has less of a hold bc of lack of evidence but i personally head canon it to be true.

Dad for One

basically. midoriya izuku’s dad, midoriya hisashi is actually AFO.

he left when izuku was diagnosed as quirkless which could be considered hypocritical considering he sought out tenko but i think afo is a dramatic bitch and wanted to fuck with all might but ALSO

tenko is older than izuku by at least a few years, so he would have already had that plan in motion and may have stuck around just to see if izuku developed a quirk worth stealing or not and decided he wasn’t worth it. or could have also just not been able to get away with using him bc of inko and the bakugous. or a little of all that idk. (i GUESS it’s possible that he also actually did care about izuku and didn’t want to hurt him but i meeeannnnn idk man i wasn’t there)

BUT BESIDES THAT

* horikoshi has confirmed that izuku’s dad would be revealed before the end of the series and we kinda don’t have many options left here (at least i saw something that said that at one point, could be bs but STILL his dad is one of the last mysteries of the show)

* afo’s fuckin face is destroyed so we can’t see any resemblance BUT Yoichi looks INCREDIBLY similar to izuku

* it honestly makes the story super fucking interesting?? like izuku is the son of afo, born quirkless, given the quirk one for all by all might, all might basically becomes dad might, and izuku is the one to take his father down with the help of the previous users (including his uncle yoichi) in an incredible poetic justice loose end tying satisfying ass ending

i also wanna add that the Dabi is Touya Todoroki theory being canon gives credibility that this story has a thing for the family drama plot line and why wouldn’t they use it in the main characters storyline?

in conclusion, i held my wife hostage for a solid hour and a half to explain these to her, not dissimilar to this meme;

and i wanted to share it bc i worked too hard on it to just delete the note lmfao

#mha #mha theory #dad for one #red shoe theory #my wife had to suffer through my rambling so i figured i should post it so others suffer with her #mha manga spoilers #mha spoilers

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playertwotails · 8 months

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did u write the baby tails post yet? id love to read it

Here you go, my de-aged/time switched feral baby Tails idea so hold your hat cause it's a long one under the cut. Also forgive me and my nonsense, I am not a writer.

Just to set some ground rules on my take on baby Tails so we're all on the same page. First of all I always imagine Tail and Sonic meeting when Tails was 3/4 and Sonic 10/11 (both are homeless kids best they can do is guesstimate ages and roll with it). And our little guy Tails, is the sweet, kind, caring Tails we all know and love. BUT as a baby all of that was buried under the weight of being abandoned, harassed, hurt, half/fully starved and bullied starting from maybe basically birth if not shortly after. So baby Tails is just the most FERAL of little guys. He WILL bite, claw, kick, pull fur/feathers/whatever they got and do whatever it takes if he feels cornered and threatened by someone. And yes he has his inventions even at that young age to protect him somewhat, but he's still a baby and can only build them out of the scraps he finds, so they are little flimsy and get destroyed easily by said bullies fairly often. So bitey time's are aplenty for baby Tails.

Now luckily when Sonic meet Tails one of their first interactions was him saving Tails from bullies so he started out a few steps on the less feral side of Tails. Not that Sonic doesn't/never saw this side of Tails, it just never got it directed at him unless he startled Tails or was calming Tails down when something else brought out that side. I also like to think that Sonic and Tails were together about a year before Eggman ever even found out about Tails. So by the time Eggman and their other friends meet Tails, the feral side of Tails has been pretty much put to rest as, through Sonic's help, Tails doesn't need to rely on that 'cornered feral rabies filled racoon' fight instinct anymore. The Tails they first meet relies more on his inventions, smarts, and how Sonic taught him to fight.

SO getting to the bread and butter of all this.

Sonic, Tails and Co. are fighting Eggman or maybe another villain per their usual shtick. And when they go to hit Sonic with their "ultimate weapon" it ends up a whole whoopsi daisies situation and hits Tails instead. Now readers choice on if this de-ages Tails or switched older Tails with younger Tails, but result is the same either way. The smoke clears, Tails is still there, to everyone's short lived relief, but there is now a much smaller scruggly looking Tails in that spot

(Now another thought I had just for ultimate angst potential for either scenario of scruffy baby Tails, is that baby Tails has the starved figure, scars, cuts, bruises, matted/patchy fur he had on what ever day he de-aged to/switched with)

The villain then dips cause plan has gone sideways and Sonic and crew are now just left with a tiny little baby Tails. (and the crew I imagine is Amy, Knuckles, Shadow, and Rouge - maybe Blaze, Silver, Tangle and Whisper too just to make it a really party if you want)

I think before even Sonic can react though Amy is the first to make it to baby Tails. Now I love Amy to death but bless her heart she has a tendency to get tunnel vision sometimes (big mood). So before she registers that baby Tails is a bit more ruff around the edges than she's used to, she just sees a cute little tiny baby Tails and immediately goes for the hug cause Tails is adorable on his own but tiny Tails is serotonin directly injected into your veins and her being a whole mood cannot physically stop herself from going for a hug. Plus they've met a younger Tails before so she thinks it's a similar situation so free hugs all around. (Sidenote - I'm just gonna call baby Tail BT for the rest of this cause it long)

Unfortunately BT only registers 'person coming at them fast and getting close' and just uses his reaction to bite Amy all the while hissing and growling like a feral cat in an alleyway.

Immediately everyone is taken aback (except for Sonic) cause that's not a very Tails thing for Tails to do especially to friends even if he's scared.

(And another side note here cause lord forbid my thought process stays cohesive for five minutes - but I see baby Tails being either a Tails that has met Sonic but only has been with him for maybe 2-3 weeks if even that long, so he recognizes Sonic but doesn't really trust him yet. Or for even more 'oh this is sad' it is a little Tails before he met even Sonic, so everyone is starting at the -100 trust line with the feral fluff ball. (i'm moving forward with this with the 'BT knows Sonic but no trust between them' one cause older brother Sonic is my weakness and BT being cute and clingy will not leave my brain))

So BT gets startled at everyone being startled and moves to take off to go hide in a hole somewhere cause "WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE" (if you get the reference let me know) and everyone then makes a move to catch him. Now BT is on fight/flight instincts only and does not even register Sonic. Plus Sonic does not look like the one he knows so he doesn't even recognize him in this state, just is trying to peace the fuck out of there and get to safety. And with everyone now after him BT then proceeds to go into FULL FERAL MODE on all of them.

He is clawing at them, biting everyone, hissing and spitting while making a B-line for what he thinks is an exit. With everyone still being shocked, not wanting to hurt him and with BT being more slippery than grease on pig, they are STRUGGLING. He is giving then the runaround. They're are now all getting more injured than they did in the fight that caused this. All their abilities are doing nothing in helping them catch Tails. BT is that one scene of Jack Jack from the Incredibles levels of fucking them up and he can't even shape shift. He managed to rip off one of Shadows skates, bite through Knuckles gloves, scratch up Rogue and set off her bombs (she threw them all away from her before they exploded), Amy's hands and arms are COVERED in bit marks, and he went for Sonic's shins with deadly accurate kicks (Sonic would be proud if it didn't hurt so much). They all just look like they got into a fight with a wood-chipper and miserably lost but nope it's all just a scared toddler that can and will fuck someone up.

It's only when Sonic shouts "MILES!!!!" at Tails that he finally stops (maybe Tails isn't being called Tails yet at that time so Sonic has to say his name or maybe it's just big brother/parent mode voice gets through to him). BT stops his frantic exit relay race but will not let anyone close and is still straight up growling at everyone. So now they're all just standing in a lose circle around BT not wanting to take their eyes off him but all desperately sending mental vibes to Sonic to take care of this cause what the fuck has gotten into Tails.

Cue soft big brother Sonic stepping up to bat and everyone watches him try and coax a tiny scraggly Tails, that looks 3 seconds from trying to bolt again, to get closer to Sonic and calm down. He does succeed after about 10 mins and gets BT to let him get close enough to look over his injuries. And they watch Sonic look over BT's injuries with the softest of big brother looks but when he's got BT turned around to check his back Sonic gets just a flash of anger but resigned look on his face. Cause Sonic knows those injuries and they weren't from the beam BT got hit with. (He'd forgotten how bad they were due to time and also being so young when they first met but now he's even more pissed off and sad about it) - Meanwhile people on West Side Island "why do I suddenly hear Kellin Quinn singing??"

So from there the crew moves out with BT almost glued to Sonic's side cause he's scared of everyone. Sonic has to fly them all back cause BT is too little to reach the pedals of the plane (to the surprise of a few of their friends cause they either forgot/didn't know Sonic could fly a plane also idk how to fly a plane but my imaginary one has pedals now). Finally they get back to a safe area, Tail's workshop, and the other's stick close but outside so they don't overwhelm BT while Sonic spends time cleaning/feeding/treating BT's injuries and put him to bed.

Once Sonic's got the little orange terror to go to sleep he gets everyone rounded up to talk about this and figure out how to fix it. But not before they all grill him for info cause what the fuck has gotten into Tails, they thought it was just the beam at first that caused BT to act like that but Sonic knew what to do so that theory jumped out the window. Cue Sonic giving them the watered down version of his memories of feral baby Tails, cause a lot of it ain't their business in his mind but they also need to know enough to not trigger BT into going full feral scared mode on them.

Even with what they know is the more sanitized version of events Sonic gives them everyone is shocked to find out this was actually how Tails was as a little baby toddler guy when Sonic first found him. Cause they all know how sweet Tails is. The difference is night and day. They are all also immediately mentally planning murder. (- Meanwhile people on Westside Island again "why do I hear Tyler Smyth now???? wtf??")

They all just get sad and angry cause who could hurt Tails (exceptions being made to this rule for Eggman and the rest of their circle of villains cause villains gonna villain).

I imagine Amy just starts crying cause she's upset that, that happened to Tails. But also she about to bust out that hammer and hunt some people down.

Knuckles is upset and suddenly feels really guilty about some of those early days fights he used to get into with Sonic and Tails when they all first met. But also recalling some small moments where a hint of this came out when he first met Tails but never to the extent he had seen earlier that day.

Rogue already kinda knew about it cause..spy, but not the full extent. Her info was coming from second hand sources that tried to hide the fact that they were so cruel to one of the only people who can/has stopped Eggman. She already got names and faces and she's about to get a bunch of new stuff when she robs all of them blind. And she's also planning on taking Omega with her, let him cause some chaos, blow up a few thing for fun-sies.

Shadow about to march up stairs, pick up BT, tell Sonic "this is mine now" and march out with a new brother. Also pay a little visit to Westside Island with Rogue cause he knew that face she made, she already has names and he wants in. Tails just reminds him so much of Maria and BT got Shadows 'thought to be long gone' protective brother instincts kicking into overdrive now.

The rest of this goes down with all of them just spoiling the hell outta BT, getting told stories from BT about his life and it just being one of the saddest things they ever have heard ever, and figuring out how to fix it by hunting down whoever did it to MAKE them fix it.

Bonus points: They also get to see how destructive BT is with weapons and learn:

1) why Sonic ban Tails from making some types of weapons.

2) that Sonic actually has the patience of a saint for a little destructive BT

3) Tails is way more down to murder than they had previously thought

Anyways hope you enjoyed my rambles. Long busy week so sorry if it's a little all over the place. It was a long post but it's also been a while since I posted.

#miles tails prower #tails the fox #sonic the hedgehog #they're brothers your honor #feral tails #let him bite

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fallout4-reacts · 11 months

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Anonymous asked:

Ok so this is less of a request and more of a thought to consider. It bothers me that Danse doesn’t really comment on vertibirds going down/crashing/finding dead brotherhood in the commonwealth. It also bothers me that Hancock doesn’t really say much during the synth quest in Diamond City. Idk I feel like there’s a lot of potential dialogue that’s missing. Like Preston commenting on a settlement that’s been “improved” (hit all requirements for water, food and defense) should also be a thing.

do you have any ideas for potential dialogue that’s missing from the game? Again, not a request so don’t feel like you need to write anything, but just a good for thought.

Titan quest part 2! (Part 1 - 3)

Codsworth - Danse - Hancock - MacCready - Nick Valentine

Codsworth : It's easy to imagine that for a robot who is so concerned, he should have asked Sole how things went when they returned from the Institute without Shaun, but he didn't! He never mentioned the mission once! So, go find people in Concord, and then what happens to your life and family, nothing?

"I've heard that you've entered the Institute with triumph, Mum/Sir. Please explain what occurred to Mr. Shaun.

Sole comes to a halt while walking. They come to a halt in the middle of the street in front of their house and dump their luggage on the ground without looking up. Codsworth drifts gently towards them, concerned.

"Mum/Sir, what's happening? Did the young master suffer any misfortune?"

Codsworth is taken aback by Sole's uneasy, possibly insane, chuckle.

"Misfortune? It would be difficult to quantify that misfortune. To say the least, your youthful master is no longer young."

"What you're saying is terrible! A poor baby, raised away from is family? What happened? Explain!"

"He is no longer a baby, neither ten years old like I believed, but it has been several decades since his kidnapping. Shaun is now old enough to be my grandfather and the director of the Institute."

"How is that possible? How is that even conceivable? Actually, it's nervousness. Come home, unwind, enjoy a refreshing bottle of water, and I'll cook you a delicious meal. Things will get better. Then you could give me an explanation."

"Don't you get it, Codsworth? There are no more children to save. Shaun is the Commonwealth Boogeyman's leader, period!"

"I get what you're saying, however, I find it difficult to comprehend. I'm aware that I haven't always reacted appropriately to the odd world we currently inhabit, but this time I'm just asking for some time. Let me prepare a delicious meal for you, and then we'll have a more beneficial conversation."

Danse (pre-bb, after all others affinity dialogues) : Danse's acceptance of Hancock into Sole's company is completely illogical, but if he can find a way to accept Hancock for one reason or another (he is the mayor of a town and thus an important figure for the people of the Commonwealth), it appears to me absolutely impossible for him to accept Strong's presence without flinching.

"Recruit, it's time for a discussion."

Sole seems astonished as he turns to face Danse.

"Paladin Danse? I'm no longer a recruit, you know?"

"When I see you making such poor choices in your companions, I can't help but think that you should learn the Brotherhoods from the bottom up."

"What is the main point of this story?"

"You make synthetics your close friends, right? I could see how this Nick Valentine was an exception to the rule over others, and how he had been tremendously helpful in the inquiry to uncover your son's whereabouts. I may admit that your synthetic robot, even if it remains an abomination, is a medical tool that can be of great use. Your ghoulish mayor friend? He is a respected member of society, and an entire community relies on him; therefore, we cannot disregard all that at this juncture. Meanwhile, he's a formidable ally in Commonwealth politics. I can accept that as reasonable. I can even understand why you were branded with a bodyguard following your visit to the Institute, but I would be far more suspicious of this X6-88 than you are. But what about this abomination? You had the arrogance to bring this brainless, soulless beast behind you? I can figure out why he's still alive."

"Strong?"

"Don't consider the idea of naming this thing. Otherwise, please name him dead and shoot him in the head."

"Strong is not an abomination! Okay, okay, somehow. But he's not like other Super-Mutants, and he merits our attention."

"I just heard him at Sanctuary say he'd love a meal of fresh human flesh!"

"It's... he has a... sense of humour."

"He was dead serious. And I'm being serious when I say you should terminate your involvement with this vile entity right now, with a bullet in the head."

"I could never, ever hurt that poor bastard."

"So, let me do the dirty work myself, but please let me do it without wasting time!"

Sole loses their friendly demeanour this time. They no longer hear the humor and take the discussion extremely seriously, clinching their fists and imposing themselves in front of the Brotherhoods, even if the latter dominates them from the top of his assisted armor.

"Danse, if you attack Strong, it may jeopardise our relationship, I warn you."

"And please understand that you have already jeopardised our relationship. Did you not hear what occurred to Colter when I informed you? Do you not care about my feelings? You who said you and I were friends?"

Sole knows and grasps everything this time. The pain in Danse's voice is palpable, and they can't ignore what their friend is saying.

"I... understand how you're feeling better now, Danse. And I truly regret putting you in this situation. Strong, on the other hand, is not like the other Super-Mutants, and I refuse to gun him down. I will not allow you to do the same. But I am not deaf to what you are saying. I'm not sure if you'll ever comprehend my point of view, but I won't impose it on you in the meantime. I'm not going to bring Strong into your company or talk to you about him. Do you think you'll be able to live with that compromise?"

Danse crosses his arms, his face contorted with frustration, yet he takes several deep breaths and then lowers his head slightly.

"I'll try. I appreciate you taking the time to examine... my... emotions and my point of view. If you are sincere, I will endeavor to put closure to this crisis and never return to the subject. Please, however, do not haul him to the Boston airport!"

Hancock (romanced): It's a classic, and we anticipate it. Sole must kill McDonough since he is a synth. Not a single word, or so few. There is no doubt about Hancock's feelings. But I read a wonderful fanfiction on the issue (sorry, I don't have the reference here and couldn't find it, despite my best efforts) and I couldn't do better. So, I'm going to do something completely different. A fascinating detail about the perk. Yes, I am aware that there is no discussion about the perk, and precisely! When we get to the Ghoulish perk, it's charming and funny, but I feels like it could have a bigger impact on the game, and I think it may lead to an interesting scenario with Hancock, who has previously expressed his desire to see Sole transformed into a ghoul.

When Sole leaves the exam table, Hancock abruptly raises his head. Did he hear correctly? He couldn't have heard it correctly. Of course, he's still hallucinating as a result of the chems he takes. But they've been on the road for a while, and he hasn't consumed enough to cause hallucinations. He doesn't think. So, he must have misheard something. He can't hold back any longer when he and Sole leave the clinic.

"So, how's the great shape?"

"Hm. I'm sure you heard. Don't act innocent."

"I'm not entirely certain I grasped that; could you expand?"

Sole takes a deep breath but does not dare to look Hancock in the eyes.

"It appears that I have taken too much radiation over time. My few round excursions in the Glowing Sea have probably played a lot. Finally, all of this hints that, strictly biologically, I am no longer truly human, but rather a ghoul."

"Wow, Copacetic!"

Sole clench their fists and teeth, struggling to contain their rage.

"How dare you?"

Hancock eventually realises his error and shakes his hands in front of him, throwing himself on the defensive.

"Woh! Sis/bro, calm down! I didn't want to offend you in that way! Just recall what I told: it would be fantastic if we could turn you into a ghoul. We don't come across a million people like you, but you're here, and you're my only one. I never grasped how I could have deserved such a luck, but the thought that you had a time limit was gnawing at me someplace. Now? We postponed the date. Consequences? Just immortality—you don't even have a radiation burn, as far as I can tell. In fact, I'd be jealous. You had to be the first flawlessly preserved ghoul I've ever met."

His companion takes a deep breath before looking up at him.

"Do you not understand? I have become an abomination!"

"Cut your Brotherhood-assholery level in your speech. Was it phony of you to be so at ease with the ghoul guy?"

His friend's eyes widen in stupor, he swallows twice, and the information finally appears to go the proper channel.

"You...you're correct."

"Yes, I know I'm right! Who are you to whine when you have the best of both worlds? You have a gorgeous alabaster skin, fairly sparkly eyes, and all your hair, and yet you may join us in the third zone for poker on Thursday night. And the following Thursday, and every Thursday for the next several centuries. I'm telling you, you're the blessed star."

When Hancock's smile rips his face from edge to edge, Sole can't help but chuckle. They now have a far better understanding of the ghoul's vision, and they are beginning to recognise all the advantages of their situation.

"Moreover, you will never turn green again because a ferocious storm of the Glowing Sea comes to warm our ears. And you'll be able to plunder it—that famous electrician's warehouse that makes you drool."

"Okay, okay, you sold your product; you can now stop."

"I'm never going to stop! Now you'll be hearing me for years and years and years and... years."

MacCready (romanced): Okay, so I'm in the classic group here, but it couldn't be otherwise. It's an obsession; WHY DOESN'T HE GO SEEK FOR HIS SON? Okay, that would be a long absence, but is it worse than sending Curie to be changed into Synth for a few days? Come on, Bethesda, if you can spend days building a settlement, you can give Mac two or three weeks to pick up Duncan and relocate him to Sanctuary, Diamond City, or even Goodneighbor.

"Can I talk with you, Sole?"

His friend withdraws from their tampered-with power armor and wipes their hands on their trousers.

"Mac? Is there a problem?"

"A little bit, yes. No, but somewhere."

Sole frowns, unsure. They approach the mercenary to show him that he has their full attention.

"What exactly is it?"

The adorable little rat's face contorts in a grimace as he rubs his neck to ease his discomfort.

"You see, we've come a long way together, and I'm happy here with you, and we've made a nice little home and everything, but this home, for me, still feels a little empty."

Sole has a surprised movement, but it doesn't take them a thousand years to figure out.

"Duncan."

"There. I knew I didn't have to sketch you anything. Please bear with me. I am truly happy to have you here, but I will never be completely happy as long as my kid is not with me."

This time, Sole starts to worry about what will happen next, and they try to disguise their emotion for the sake of their friend, but he is too perceptive to ignore it.

"I'm not suggesting going back to Capital Wasteland. Well, not quite. We've made our small home here; the Commonwealth is slowly but surely becoming something nice, and I have no doubt that from here, it will soon become one of the safest places to live, especially with you, but that's reality. Duncan has been receiving the cure for a few months now, and I guess he have healed enough to keep up the journey. I'd like to go get him. Please."

For a little time, they are deafeningly silent. Sole appears to consider, or rather swallow, their emotions, and MacCready himself appears frail. Finally, he is the one who breaks up the silence.

"I know it's going to be tough. I'm already concerned about how long we'll be separated, but I'm sure you understand. After everything you've gone through to reclaim your son? I'm sure you can see why I'd do anything to get mine back. But I don't want to be pay from our relation. I beg you to bear with me."

Sole appears to be waking up. They shake their heads, place their hands on MacCready's shoulders, and grin warmly at him.

"Mac, you know I'm not going to argue! There's no need to beg; I understand. Sorry for the shock, but I knew in my heart that this day would come sooner or later. I admit that I was hoping for later rather than sooner, and that I could accompany you, but I understand. I, too, would not have hesitated if I could have gotten my son back sooner. Allow your soul to go in peace. But please, oh, please take care of yourself and return to me swiftly and in one piece. I'm eager to meet your son."

Nick : "I never want to talk about it again." Is that it? Is there truly no way back? Is that all Nick deserves after going through hell with us? "Nothing to worry about; I'll let you self-destruct and fall into another state of turmoil." No! No. Nick deserves to see some light in his miserable spirit and to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

"Can I speak with you, Sole?"

Sole can't contain their surprise. It's not that they don't want to talk to Nick, but Nick has been unusually quiet and taciturn since they came back from Far Harbor a few weeks ago. And Sole gets it. All of this: knowing he has a brother, discovering he has a restricted memory, and then witnessing that newly discovered brother die, sacrificed to appease a small mob. Even for a man (synth) as conciliating as Nick, it was far too much. So when he approaches Sole with the intention of talking, his friend cannot help but feel relieved and hopeful.

"I'm always there for you, Nick; you already know that."

"Yes, precisely," Nick mumbles, avoiding their gaze. "Precisely."

Sole encourages Nick to join them on their couch. Whatever he has to say appears to be gnawing him.

"What exactly is it?"

The detective sits down with a heavy sigh, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"I know I said I didn't want to talk about what happened again, but... yet here it is. I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was... it's difficult to figure out. That is a lot—far too much. You honoured me, though, precisely and at my wish. You have always respected me. You were a true friend. Since we met, you've been with me every step of the way through the dark depths of my existence. First, with your trust in my ability to help you in your personal search, then with your assistance with my files, and finally with your support with Eddie Winter. Then you joined me on this DiMa thing, looked for evidence, and handed it over to me. You let me process everything, draw my own conclusions, and make my own decisions. And, once again, in the face of the abyss that the future now represents for me, you stood by my side, as if nothing had changed."

"Nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed!"

Nick shakes his head vigorously, preparing to object, but Sole places a hand on his shoulder.

"You had a lot of doubt; now you have answers. Okay, with that, everything changed. What about the rest? You were not meant to be everlasting; nothing is, and with your way of existence, you risk breaking up before you reach the limits of your memories..."

"But I already forgot!" I forgot what happened with DiMa—

"And you rely on that to measure your memory limitations? But don't you see the problem in your logic, Nick?"

The detective cocked his head, intrigued. He has no idea what Sole was talking about.

"When you told me your story, you said you woke up on a pile of garbage with no memory of where you came from and that all you had were flashes of Nick Valentine's life when you realised none of this belonged to you."

"Yes."

"Where is the time laps? What we do know is that DiMA got you out of the Institute when they incorporated Nick's memory into your system, and you were extremely disoriented by the time you left. You assumed you were Nick Valentine, and you rejected that you and DiMA were related. Then DiMa knocked you out, and you awoke in your garbage pile at the exact same point, puzzled and unknowing that you weren't Nick Valentine. You remember the first human you met, your first night with them, the journey to Diamond City, how you made your place, how we met, and many other elements of your existence."

"But I forgot about some."

"Like everyone! What's the issue? Would you prefer to be more machine than man, remembering every detail of your life down to the second? Like a good program? But you're more than a program, Nick. You have a personality. You may be exceptionally bright, but you are what you are: a man trapped in a mechanical body. Okay, you run diagnostics; okay, I can't really imagine your perception or much else. But what about on a cerebral level? You are, without a doubt, a man in my opinion. And men forget. Period."

As Sole talks, Nick's eyes widen in surprise, and he appears to take some time to process all his friend has just said to him before extending a weak smile.

"God, what you're saying is true. I see that now."

For the first time in weeks, his smile broadens and reaches his eyes. Sole, who is always holding his shoulder, squeezes a little to offer their support and smiles.

"Then you'll turn into a grumpy old rambler. You poor thing, destined to live the life of a man."

"If you keep it up, you'll sink me again."

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jewwyfeesh · 7 months

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Vampire Siblings

Writer: 日日日 (Akira)

Character(s): Isara Mao, Sakuma Rei, Sakuma Ritsu, Anzu

Translated by: jewwyfeesh

Disclaimer: I translated this story from the CN version of the game, which means that it has been double translated (JP > CN > EN).

Rei: Oooh!! Ritsu!! GOOD~ MORNING~ ☆

Season: Autumn Location: Track and Field

Mao: Mmm~ The feeling of fulfillment after a good prac! It’s really amazing~ ☆

Oh, thankies. Is this isotonic drink for me, Anzu? You’re becoming more and more ‘Producer’-like with every passing day~

Seems like you’ve been running after lots of other units besides us Trickstar lately.

There there, you’ve worked really hard ♪

But yeah… even though I’m one to talk, I still think you should take care of your body and your schedule. I’d feel really guilty if you pushed yourself too hard and something happened to you.

Never mind. Let’s go home, Anzu. Today’s my turn to ‘send you home’, so I’ll make sure that you get home safe and sound.

Though… lately, it seems like I’m always the one sending you home…? To the point where I’ve even gotten to know your family fairly well.

Sometimes I’d even stay for dinner…

But I’m not complaining. My family’s the kind to do whatever they want. As such, we don’t really spend a lot of time together. So… It’s nice being with your family.

I wonder if it’s because I can do things like household chores all by myself?

Everyone tends to think, “Oh it’s fine if we leave Isara Mao alone, nothing will happen to him”, but my younger sister has always been coddled and spoiled by our parents…

Hmph, would it be better if I tried to act a little more spoiled? But the second I come back to my senses, I’m back to taking care of others again. I feel old.

You’re also someone like this, so please be careful. You can also lean on me sometimes, you know~?

Eh… I’m meddling in other people’s business again…

It’s about to become a bad habit of mine, forget it, forget it… It’s pretty good to be relied on by others, but I’ve been ‘like this’ since I was young.

It’s because of Ritchan, my childhood friend~ If I leave him to his devices, that guy literally won’t lift a finger to do anything. When it got to a point where I couldn’t stand it anymore, I could only go and help… I’d help and help and help till I became ‘a meddler and a half’ ♪

You know Ritchan, right? Knights’…

Ahh, so you’ve also taken care of him before. He’s always so lazy, you literally can’t ignore him~

…Eh? You’re saying Ritchan’s over there?

Ah, call for the cat and he shall appear… where is he~?

Ah! Goodness! This guy, sleeping outside without a single shred of protection!

One day you’re gonna get pickpocketed, what are you gonna do then…? I reckon he fell asleep after lunch, and slept ‘all the way’ till now~

HEEEEY— Ritchan!! Don’t go sleeping in places like these, you’ll catch a cold ya know~?

Ritsu: ……Mmhhghhh? Huh… Maa~kun…? Wh… don’t wake me up…

Mao: Of course I need to wake you up. The school gates are gonna close soon, and if we don’t get moving we’ll be locked in. Our school has always been particularly ‘strict’ about these kinds of things.

Ritsu: Eh~ …Well, whatever. I could just continue sleeping here and save myself the trouble of having to come to school tomorrow. The more I think about it, the better of an idea it seems~

I’m really sleepy, so just leave me be. No matter how much I sleep, it’s never enough…

Mao: You… you haven’t changed one bit…

Hm? Eh? What are you hugging? It’s not a bolster… right? A tree stump? No, that seems to be a person…?

Ritsu: What?

Rei: Huu… snzz… ♪

Kekeke… Little baby~ Be good~ ♪ Go sleep~ ♪ Uuuu ♪

Mao: Ahh~ Taking a closer look… isn’t this Ritchan’s older brother? Why are the both of you snoozing together? Seems like you have a really good relationship~

When I got to know Ritchan, this person was always overseas, so I didn’t get to know him very well.

To be exact… I only found out he existed after I enrolled in Yumenosaki Academy. Ritchan doesn’t talk about his brother very often, so I got a little worried…

Who knew that the both of them were actually so close ♪

Ritsu: …Maa~kun, do you have anything sharp? I think staking him in the heart would definitely kill him.

Mao: N-no, you can’t just go around killing people. Eh? Do both of you have bad blood? In that case, why are you sleeping next to each other?

Ritsu: I don’t know what this thing was thinking, nor do I have any interest in finding out…

More than anything, I want to bury this thing six feet below and wipe my hands of it ‘as though nothing happened’. Now. Immediately. The faster the better.

Rei: E-eh? What happened, is it already time to say “good morning”? Ah? Where am I?

Ritsu: Yo. Why are you sleeping next to me, huh? You reek of mould, so stay further away from me. What happened, how are you still alive?

Rei: Mmmhh… My mind’s all fuzzy just after waking up… don’t ask so many questions at one go…

What’s there to rush, hm…? Re-rest a little… yawwwwn… ♪

Ritsu: No. No sleeping. I’ll kill you.

Rei: This tone… one that shows no mercy, even to one’s own blood brother…

Oooh!! Ritsu!! GOOD~ MORNING~ ☆

Ritsu: Don’t hug me! You’re so annoying!

Okay but spit it out. Why were you sleeping by my side? Depending on your answer, you could be demoted from “someone who seemed to have been a brother previously” to “stupid bug”.

Rei: Even if you don’t demote me, it’s a bit much, don’t you think?

Nothing much… It’s just that when I was leaving for home, I happened to see Ritsu sleeping. I was worried that you’d catch a cold, so I used my body warmth to warm you up. This is a big brother’s love ♪

Ritsu: Is that so? I understand, you don’t need to say anymore. Complete waste of Earth’s oxygen.

Maa~kun, could you help me get some cement from the warehouse? I want to solidify this thing in there and let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

Rei: We’ve just woken up, and yet Ritsu’s already trying to get rid of me!?

Mm~ Anywho! The elderly aren’t quite suited for outdoor camping… My whole body’s sore and stiff…

Ritsu~ could you help massage my shoulders please ♪

Ritsu: Didn’t I tell you to shut up? You stupid bug.

Mao: Okay okay… as brothers, you guys should try to get along well. Though, let’s leave the fighting and the shoulder massage aside, yeah? We’re really about to be locked in school.

Rei: Oooh, you’re from Trickstar… It’s already this late… Thank you for waking me up. Ritsu~ it’s been a long time since we brothers walked home together hm~?

Ritsu: Brother? I don’t have a brother, though?

Rei: Don’t deny your brother’s existence with such a deadpan expression… That’s a bit much, even for a younger brother, don’t you think? I’ll start crying…

Ahh, I can’t… My tear ducts are getting weaker as I age… Uuuuuu~

Mao: Ahaha, I think I kinda understand your relationship, Sakuma-senpai.

Ritchan, the more you talk, the more others are gonna think “oh he’s just in his rebellious phase”, so maybe it’s better to not talk altogether?

Ritsu: Damn it… That isn’t the case at all. I had only wanted to throw this annoying ass thing into the trash bin. Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Maa~kun, you want to send them… send the Transfer Student home, right? Hurry up and go, don’t worry about us.

Rei: Mhm, please be careful on your way back. Who knows what kind of demons will be roaming at this hour – for example, vampires… and the like… ♪

Mao: Yep. I’ll be careful. The both of you too; no more fighting, okay? Hurry up and go home~

Rei:

Mm, I’ve always been praying that I’ll have a close relationship with Ritsu! We’re brothers after all ♪

…Ah, Ritsu? Where did you go? Hey— Ritsuuuu~

Ah, he dashed off at the speed of light. He really does hate me, huh? Hehehe ♪

Wait a minute, I am also more active at night! Well, when it comes to hide and seek, I’m not about to lose to a ‘novice’ ♪

Aaah… Running around like this under the night sky, it really reminds me of our childhood ♪

Ritsu: D-don’t chase after me!! Didn’t I already say you’re annoying!? Did it completely fly over your head, you infuriating Anija!?

Rei: Excellent, excellent… he’s finally willing to acknowledge me as his brother. Anyways, we take the same path back home, my super duper adorable little brother…

Translator's notes: [1] The original CN term here is 「菜鸡」, slang for "complete, total noob". I translated it to novice, a synonym. Personally don't think Rei would call Ritsu a "noob".

#enstars translation #! era sub/idol story #sakuma rei #sakuma ritsu #isara mao

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