#that information only makes things worse. I mean each year everything just gets worse around the world.

[vimbry]

drains collapsed. under house

#we've had on and off plumbing issues for like 2 months now & this is why. so #no clear reason why probably just. you know age and wear. uk sewer system's old and garbage #my parent & I have had flu also which I still have a lingering cough/feel tired from #anddd we haven't been speaking to my grandparents (who we prev saw like. once a week) for about the same length as the plumbing issue #after they did something pretty selfish and thoughtless and are the type too proud to apologise/want everyone to move on #so now we're at a stalemate bc we're still hurt and it's like. even if we do move past it #I still view them differently now. you know? family disappointing you really leaves you feeling empty #I already went nc with my other parent in 2019 cause they suck and then my dog died in 2020 #just feel like I'm slowly running out of people in my immediate circle esp with pandemic limitations #and this is just like. a whole thing now on top of the existing energy crisis to worry about #also someone stole our recycling bin LMAO like I put it out for collection a few days ago and now it's just gone dk where it is #which is not that big a deal you can just order another for free but it's like. why'd you have to do that man #I want to be grateful for what I've got knowing people are living through warzones and famine rn but like #I'm very weak and things mess me up easily I won't lie #that information only makes things worse. I mean each year everything just gets worse around the world. #it's already blisteringly hot each summer I just don't feel very. hopeful about anything anymore #I've just been really depressed #I guess the good thing is not caring about anything means I don't even particularly care about venting this online lol #it's hard to feel any cringeworthiness or insecurity over anything when you're not feeling anything at all

[kichous]

✧･ﾟ:*   you could use me

summary. you're afraid that two weeks in a box is all that it takes to undo all of the progress you've made. series. a night of dark trees. bonus scene ! pairing. gojo satoru x gn!reader. warnings. none. word count. 1930.

Gojo’s different.

Ever since he emerged from the Prison Realm, he has been taciturn, morose, subdued. It’s disconcerting. He’s one of the liveliest people you know. It’s one of the things you love about him.

You’re still not sure how he says those little words so easily. Gojo Satoru’s world was torn asunder years ago, and he’d been dealt the same debilitating, staggering blow that still causes you to panic every time you hear the three syllables ‘I love you.’ Yet, somehow, some way, Gojo finds it in himself to voice that simple declaration to you. And he means it every time, with every fiber of his being.

It’s harder for you to speak it, your vocal cords uncooperative to an almost petulant degree, your subconscious locking the action away even in spite of your visceral protestations. You’re still searching on your hands and knees in the murky depths for the key. Only alcohol makes the search a little easier. But in your heart of hearts, you know it—it is a certainty that you love Gojo Satoru. A fact, as immutable as gravity (unless you were Kenjaku. Then you’d have to come up with another simile).

To that end, his absence hurt you. The moment you allowed yourself to fall for someone else, to finally move on from that one great loss, he was torn away from you. But it’s not his fault.

It must've been infinitely worse to be Gojo himself, stuck in what was essentially a cursed deprivation chamber for any duration of time from eternity to an instant. Not sure if eons had passed or but a second. Not knowing if the world burned his absence and those who remained rued his name, or if it had survived and everyone moved on without him. If anyone even bothered looking for a way to free him. You tried to put yourself in his place, imagining if he had gone and found a third love while you were trapped. You would’ve been happy for him, but you couldn’t deny that the simple idea of it broke your heart.

After he emerged, you stood by his side, your hand in his as he was informed of everything that had happened—everyone that had died—during his imprisonment. With every word, his shoulders sloped more and more, crushed by the weight of the world in each consonant and each vowel.

He won’t talk about it with you. When you kissed his temple and stroked his hair, uncaring of your audience in Shoko and Ino, he’d sighed and leaned a little closer. But he was silent as stone.

You wish you knew what to say to him. The way he and Geto bantered was so instinctual, an easy back-and-forth like a tennis match. You can hold your own with him, no doubt. But you’ve also got a history of deepthroating your foot where he’s concerned, so you can understand why Gojo’s a little hesitant to confide in you. He’s never had to before, why should he start now?

Oh, maybe because you love each other and that’s what supportive partners do—lean on each other? If only he’d stick around long enough for you to just tell him that.

Naturally, he refuses to make anything easy for you. Satoru’s hardly alone these days. You can’t even fault him for spending every waking moment training. If he’s going up against the King of Curses, he’ll need every advantage he can get, no matter how confident he is. You support him where you can in that regard, but you have no choice but to ambush him in between sparring with Okkotsu and sparring with Maki to actually get a word in.

“Hey, dumbass,” you call as you approach. Where it might’ve elicited an equally dry ‘What’s up, shitlips?’ once upon a time, it now earns a tired smile. Not the ideal reaction.

“I didn’t do anything,” protests Satoru, allowing you to soften the insult with a quick kiss. He’s sitting on a bench with his legs wide enough for you to step in the space between, and he wraps his arms loosely around your waist. “Why’re you being such a meanie?”

“Why are you overcompensating?” The verbal suckerpunch gets him in the solar plexus, causing Gojo to stare up at you wide-eyed with his mouth falling open defensively. You press a finger to his lips. Satoru goes a little cross-eyed trying to focus on it, and so you flick him on the nose to retrieve his attention. “I get it, if it’s for the kids. You’re their teacher. You’re everything they want to be when they grow up, they see you as a protector, blah, blah. But you don’t have to be strong with me. I know you. I know you. You don’t have to pretend, okay?”

“Don’t I?”

That stings, probably more than he meant it to. You don’t imagine Satoru ever intends to be cruel, because even at his worst, his sadism is meant for curses. But you’d thought he considered you an equal. Or as close as one could be without being a special grade, at least. It was foolish of you to think that the wall between you had crumbled any, at least as far as your skill level was concerned. It’s been years since anyone ever talked about how you could’ve become the fourth special grade if you ever managed to get a tighter rein on your technique. Okkotsu’s taken your place since then.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you move closer to tuck his head into your sternum. “No, you don’t. We’re partners, aren’t we?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. Something warm stirs in your chest as his eyes flutter shut and he hums a quiet, pleased purr. You’re a haven to him. “You love me and I—I love you. That means you don’t have to do this alone.”

He says nothing at first, simply nuzzling closer. There’s no sound but your shared breath, steady and even. His arms tighten around you. It’s a little uncomfortable having to crane your neck down to kiss the top of Satoru’s head, but the little sigh he gives is worth it. It’s the little things with Gojo. With such a bombastic person, large and grandiose efforts are commonplace, attention-grabbing gestures all Satoru knows. The strongest must be larger than life. So you end up treasuring the opposite—the way his long, spindly fingers fit in the slits between yours, the way his long lashes tickle your cheek when you kiss, how he loves to rest his elbow on your shoulder when you stand next to each other, the perfect roost. These tiny bits combine to make everything feel grounded, real.

After a moment, he pulls away, and light starts to creep back into his eyes. They look more like the sky again, rather than an iceberg field in the Arctic Circle. Good. “Does that mean I can tap you in during the fight?” Satoru asks cheekily.

You toss your head and give an exaggerated tsk. “I haven’t decayed from my Grade One rank, I’ll have you know! I may not be a spring chicken, but I can still pack a punch!” For emphasis, you smash your fist into your other palm.

“Not a spring chicken?” Satoru repeats incredulously. “We’re the same age! What does that make me?!”

You tug lightly on a few strands of his snowy hair. “A geriatric old man, duh.”

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah? Could an old man do this?”

Satoru’s up on his feet in an instant, one hand sliding up your back and the other wrapping just below your shoulders as he dips you in a kiss. He savors it, plying gently past your lips with his tongue. Satoru moans as you slip your fingers through his locks, a sound that makes your lips and extremities tingle. He steals the breath from your lungs, and you don’t hate it.

“Well.” Your voice is but a rasp when he finally pulls away. The man radiates smugness. Somehow, you find it endearing. “I’m sure Harrison Ford could.”

Satoru’s face breaks open with a full, hearty, genuine laugh. Pulling you upright to use as an anchor, he buries his face into your neck. His entire body vibrates in tandem with his giggles, the warmth of his breath a pleasant sensation on your skin compared to the wintry frost around you. Satoru blinks as you use your index finger to tip his face upwards. “What is it?” he asks, a little breathless.

“I love your smile,” you tell him honestly. “I love you.”

His cheeks grow pink. You doubt it’s because of the cold, your heart fluttering at the thought. You’ve managed to make Gojo shy. In lieu of a verbal response, he gently rests his forehead against yours. You’re aware you’re probably obstructing the walkway, and that if any of the students happened upon you, they would violently gag, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Satoru is here, in the flesh. You thought you’d lost him when he got sealed away, and then again when he emerged sweeping the broken pieces of himself under the rug. That even if you could hold him, it wouldn’t be the Satoru you loved, nor the Satoru who loved you. Who saw something broken in you that was worth cherishing, worth putting back together piece by painstaking piece. Who never faulted you for giving up but encouraged you to try again, whose heartbreak echoed yours and stood as proof that there was a brighter tomorrow. The Satoru who taught you it was okay to be okay again. You’re sick and tired of lost chances, of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Maybe that’s why the words finally, finally slip so easily from your mouth—so you wouldn’t ever miss the opportunity to tell him again.

Gojo rubs his cheek gently against yours, sharing his heat. He’s always run a little warm. “I promise that I’ll share my burdens with you from now on. Even if I can’t promise you won’t hate me by the end of it.” A solemn vow, the seriousness of his tone unfamiliar to you. But not unpleasant.

“I already knew loving you was going to be rotten work,” you tease. “That’s never bothered me. What you can promise me is that you’ll come back to me. Otherwise, I’ll bring you back as a curse when you die. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Satoru chuckles. “Will you at least make sure I look prettier than Rika?”

“She heard that.” You have no idea how long Okkotsu’s been standing there—what he heard or saw, whether he’s going to blab to any of the other kids. There’s a small bemused grin on his face, but it’s eclipsed by the overall chagrin of his furrowed brows. He’s embarrassed for you. PDA at your old age? His generation probably thinks you look like two skeletons mashing their teeth together.

Breaking out of your frozen shock, you and Satoru share a glance. Then, after a moment, you break the silence with simultaneous cackling. It’s hard to tell whether it’s the situation or the looks on your faces that sparks such an interminable fit. You fall against each other in your laughter, using one another as a column. He’s sturdy and solid and he’s there for you. And that’s what you’ll be for Satoru too. Steady and strong and unmovable. Unbreakable. Everything he’s been for the world, you’ll be for him.

Whatever it takes.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anodt tag. #jjk fic. #we're pretending 236 doesn't happen #or at least we're believing every rebirth theory we lay our eyes on #hey at least he ended up in fewer pieces than reader's first fiancé!

[captain-mj]

I definitely need the shadows making fun of Graves' crush on Price 💀

Oh I can definitely do that! The return of my oc Jason!! Also, Mila and Oz are here!!

Price was currently just standing there, but he was wearing one of his tight shirts that showed off his back muscles and how big his arms. He looked gorgeous.

Graves was staring quietly, admiring how he twisted and told his recruits what to do. Such confidence.

"Commander. Permission to stare with you, sir?" Mila asked, leaning in.

Graves groaned. "Please, fuck off."

"Oh come on. You're the one staring at the old man."

"We're only three years apart."

"Yeah, you're old too." Mila smiled at him. "A whole 35. Practically ancient."

"You won't be in your twenties forever. You know that right? One day you'll be just as old. Your back will hurt. Knees will ache when it's going to rain."

Mila hummed. "You think Price's knees ache? Maybe you can ask him and you two can bond over it."

Graves huffed and crossed his arms. "Let me please just stare at the man in peace."

"I mean. He is a fine man. Maybe he's into women."

Graves slowly turned to him and watched Mila bit her lip to bite back her laughter. "Get lost, soldier. That's an order."

Mila left, still laughing to herself. She must've informed Jason and Oz because they were watching Graves like a hawk. The moment he started to talk to Price, they were behind him, making kisses at each other in a way that made Graves blush.

Price tilted his head, getting Graves's attention. "You okay, darling? You're flushed."

Graves flushed more. "I... Um..."

Price's hand darted out, touching his face. "You don't feel feverish. Is everything okay?"

Before Graves could blame the heat or that it had been a long day or really anything, Jason butted in. "Nah, he just does that sometimes." Oz dragged Graves away the moment Price pulled his hand away.

"He called you darling."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Of course you'd like a Brit."

Graves groaned. "I know. I am betraying my country but I feel like the founding fathers would understand." He rubbed his face, trying to get rid of his stupid blushing. "But he's a good guy."

"He killed a bunch of Shadows."

"And I killed a bunch of the Vaqueros. We agreed to leave everything in the past." Graves hit his shoulder lightly.

Oz hummed. "I think you're too good for him, but if the weird British Dad makes you happy."

Graves hated it here.

The news spread fast and soon every time he was around Price, one of his Shadows would find some way to joke about what was going on or, debatably worse, try to help. Graves had been pushed into Price's arms at least four times.

Each time Price took it gracefully, arms circling around him until he got his footing. Occasionally, his hand would linger on his back for a moment afterward, just gently touching and it drove Graves mad. Their height difference was more noticeable when Graves's wasn't in uniform. He only came to about 5'9 and a half while Price was an easy 6'2 and he had the hands to match based on the way they pressed against the small of his back.

Gaz started to glare at him every time. It clearly wasn't on purpose, especially since Graves had no qualms about scolding the Shadows in front of everyone for once again doing this. He kept glaring all the same.

Then, Soap dropped a comment. "If Graves is the Shadow's dad, does that make us step siblings with them?"

Graves blinked slowly, his brain cells clinking together before he glanced at Price who had turned bright red. His hand quickly went from behind Graves's back to behind his own in a parade stance.

"MacTavish." He hissed.

Graves saw his opportunity. This was mostly revenge for the darling thing but a little because he also wanted to see Price's reaction. "Oh, Casanova, you turned all red." His hand reached up, feeling Price's flushed face.

"Casanova?"

"It means a man who is a romantic." Graves hummed. "Well, you don't feel feverish, is it the heat?"

Price stumbled over his words before just shrugging. "I guess."

Ghost and Mila exchanged long suffering glances.

Wow they were fucking annoying.

So they planned and then locked Graves and Price in a closet.

They luckily had plenty of wiggle room, but Price's arms still ended up going around Graves to make it a bit more comfortable.

"I'm skinning them alive when I get out of here."

"I don't understand what their issue has been lately."

Graves moved a little and found himself pressed back to chest with Price. He flushed again and tried to just breath.

"Claustrophobic?" Price asked gently, tugging him in a little closer.

"No. I'm fine, don't worry. Can you get to the door?"

Price tried it but grimaced. "Locked. Think they put something in front of it too. I'd have to break it down and that would be a bit hard considering."

Graves sighed and turned around again so they were now chest to chest. "Have anything you want to talk about?"

It was quiet for a minute, just a bit too dim for him to see all of Price's features. The kiss came out of nowhere.

The second one didn't.

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #Phillip graves #Price x Graves #Graves x Price #Captain John Price #John Price

[thrashyraccoon]

Live after death (Eddie Munson x Metalhead!Reader)

Summary: You and Eddie go to an Iron Maiden concert in Indiana in 1985.

Warnings: none at all.

This day definitely couldn't get any worse, you were sure of it. Not only did the Iron Maiden concert in Indiana sell out as soon as tickets became available, but you also forgot that you ate a bucket of your favorite ice cream and had nothing to drown your sorrows in. Well, all you can do now is curl up in a blanket and watch TV, hoping to forget about the concert. However, your plans are ruined when you hear the phone ringing.

"Who the hell interrupts my wailing?" You complain, then go to the phone and pick up the receiver.

"Hello?" You say, slightly annoyed.

"Hello, did I throught to the most beautiful girl in Hawkins?"

You knew who it was. It was your boyfriend of about a year, Eddie, with whom you were going to see Iron Maiden, and he was waiting to buy tickets just like you.

"I think you've got the wrong numbers, you're not talking to Chrissy Chunningham." you say sarcastically before hearing a light chuckle on the other end.

"Listen, I can come, there's something important."

"Is this so important?" you wonder what he means, but after a while you agree and Eddie unexpectedly hangs up.

…

After 15 minutes you hear a knock on the door. When you open it you see your boyfriend, way too happy than you expected.

“Hi, honey,” Eddie gives you a kiss on the forehead and you invite him inside.

"What's going on Eds?" You say and then you see a smile on his face. "Something happened? You're acting very strange considering the fact that you won't see the band you've been waiting for and you reminded me of this fact every day. I thought you'd be in even more despair than me."

Boy smiles even wider.

“Eddie, what are you-” you stop as he pulls two Iron Maiden tickets out of his pocket. At this point you stop talking and look at Eddie.

"So," he begins to say, "I was at Rick's this morning. When I came to see him, devastated by the fact that they were sold out, he told me that he knew someone, and that someone knew someone else who could get the passes and could contact them. And here they are!…baby, are you okay?" Your boyfriend looks at you and waves his hand in front of your face. You stood there frozen, but finally you started talking

"Does it mean-"

"Yes"

"That we-"

"Yes"

"Are we finally going to the concert?"

"YES"

When this information finally reached you, you couldn't stand it and you threw yourself at Eddie with so much force that he landed on the door.

"You are the best boyfriend I could have ever dreamed of!!!" You screamed and then you cupped his face and kissed him passionately. Eventually, you both started running out of oxygen and Eddie managed to register what had just happened. When he succeeded, he gave you the biggest smile he could, grabbed your waist, and the two of you began to spin around your living room in each other's arms, laughing as you did so.

However, when you stop, he looks you in the eye and says: "I don't know if I am him, but I know one thing" he makes a small pause "JUNE IS OUR BABY!!!"

After this sentence, you become euphoric again and you start kissing, this time longer.

…

6 months had passed and you and Eddie were already at the Mesker Music Theater, where probably one of the best things you will experience together was about to take place. There were a lot of people and you still wonder how you managed to squeeze through the crowd so effectively that you are in the first rows.

“I'm so excited,” You say, unable to keep still.

"I see." Boy laughed, still looking at his beloved.

Suddenly you felt a strong elbow hit your shoulder, sending you flying towards Eddie. It was some complete stranger who probably wanted to get closer to the stage. You were lucky Eddie caught you in time.

“Ouh, idiot,” you shouted, then held onto your arm lightly.

"Everything's all right?" he looked at you with concern and then looked with an irritated look in the direction the stranger had gone, even though he had already disappeared in the huge crowd.

"It's just that my arm hurts a little," you said, holding your arm. You suddenly felt your boyfriend holding you tightly by his waist. You looked at him questioningly.

"I'll hold you for your safety, honey. I don't want some idiot to slip again or when the concert starts it might be dangerous, especially during the moshpit," he said, looking at you with the same concern.

“Thank you, my knight,” You smiled, turning to face him, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Eddie just responded to you with a genuine smile. You stare at each other until you both hear the intro symbolizing that the band will soon take the stage and the cheers of the rest of the crowd. You smile at each other and then turn your back on Eddie. After 2 minutes, the band comes on stage and starts playing "Aces High". Everyone starts cheering and goes crazy. The concert is in full swing and although you both managed to indulge in euphoria, headbanging, shouting the lyrics at the top of your lungs, going crazy, Eddie kept an eye on you the whole time so that no harm would come to you, regardless of the fact that after the second song you broke away from him while playing "2 minutes to midnight". This was what this boy loved most about you. When you devoted yourself to something you loved, you were almost unstoppable.

…

Two hours passed and the concert began to end with the last song "Phantom of the opera" playing. You don't hide the fact that you were a little tired, but you tried to stay in shape. The song ends and the crowd cheers and insists on an encore. Half of the people were leaving and the other half were waiting for the band to leave the stage or for some goodies like picks or drumsticks, you and Eddie were the other half considering the fact that you were quite close to the stage. Suddenly you feel like your boyfriend is giving you the lead.

"Eds, what are you doing?!" You say in a bit of shock."

"Like what? Let's grab some stuff, honey!" He says this by showing you a toothy smile from below.

You can't believe what's happening, but you manage to grab the guitar pick. You were really very lucky. You get off of Eddie's arms and he hugs you and you both shout happiness.

However, when the band leaves the stage, you both walk towards the van to calmly drive back towards Hawkins. You both reach Eddie's van and, in classic gentlemanly fashion, your lover opens the door and offers you his hand. Of course, you take advantage of his help and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"It was amazing!" You scream in a low voice from the fact that you've already had your throat busted at the concert.

"Very much. It was very metal!" he says, happiness quite visible in his eyes and voice. “One thing in particular” Boy looks at you and you realize what he means. You pull out the dice you managed to grab from the pocket of your own combat jacket. You look at the obtained item and then say:

“It's yours, baby,” you move your hand towards Eddie.

“No, I don't agree, it's yours,” he pushes your hand away from you.

“Eddie no, she's yours,” you laugh at him. "I know how much you love Iron Maiden and it's thanks to you that we're even here."

"No, it's yours, I insist. I love you enough and I trust that it will be in good hands, after all…" he replies to you, holding out his guitar pick necklace. "I already have mine," he smiles at you, waving the pendant.

"Are you 100% sure about this?"

"I'm 1000% sure, honey. Someone has to hold it eventually to show it to our future children," she replies shyly with a big smile. You look at him, then at the ankle, and then back at Eddie. Suddenly, with a burst of emotion, you approach him and kiss him, trying to convey everything you currently feel. However, you finish and wrap your arms around your boyfriend, not having the strength to tell him what's on your mind due to the sheer amount of happiness.

"I love you too, angel, I always will." he starts to soothe you by rubbing your back in circular motions. You honestly couldn't believe how you had come across such a loving and devoted man like him. However, after a few minutes, Eddie decides that it's time to go, even though he wants to stay in your arms for the rest of his life.

"Honey, let's go home now, shall we?" He speaks calmly but you don't answer. It turned out that during these few minutes you had already fallen asleep from the exhaustion after the concert and the warmth from the hug. He starts laughing softly and tries to break away from you so as not to wake you up, placing you straight on the seat and fastening you with a seat belt to keep you safe. He looks at you for a moment with concern and love, then starts the van and starts to drive out of the parking lot. He hopes that you will remember this event in your peaceful old age.

Fun fact: There was actually an Iron Maiden concert in Indiana on June 8 in 1985.

This is my first fanfic. I'm not particularly good at writing, but I hope it's not too bad. Thank you for the warm reception of the rest of my entries. Please share your kind words and reaction if you liked the fanfic. I will try to answer everything <3

#eddie munson #thrashy post #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson my beloved #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x metalhead!reader

[snugglebug-92]

Mark Estapa x Reader

SMUT

NSFW 18+

It was the first day of freshman year when Y/N and Mark first met. They had the same first 3 periods and the teachers sat them right next to each other. They didn’t talk much but they always competed in their classes. You wanted good grades so you could get into a good college. You wanted to go to UMich. Mark wanted good grades to play hockey. This caused the two to always compete for a better grade. At first, it was fun and games the two would study together and they were decent friends. 

Once sophomore year started the hung out more. You would wear his jersey to his games and they had their first kiss. They were together all the time. It was perfect. You had good grades and a cute boy to hang out with. Everything was great.

But once junior year hit it was like a switch was flipped. Mark had to do everything better than Y/N. He stopped talking to her other than to brag about his test scores. He did everything he could to make her life miserable and the two hated each other. He would always rent out the study room You used and would always come into the dinner with his friend right before closing and order the food that took the longest to make.

When senior year rolled around things only got worse. When Mark got an academic scholarship you were the first to know. He rubbed it in your face knowing you had got waitlisted the day before. Their friendship fell apart and you were crying almost every night. How could someone who was once so nice be so mean? You didn’t have too much time to think about it because soon you were getting a call saying that you actually got in and they sent you the wrong information. From that day forward you told yourself you would never fall for the likes of Mark Estapa again.

But that was a short lived promise. While they didn’t see each other over the summer he had no problem sitting down right next to her in their business 101 class. You looked over to see the boy sitting next to you. You slowly got up and moved a few rows back while he was busy trying to connect his laptop to the wifi. It was at that moment Mark realized he really fucked up. 

You go to the rest of your classes and switch to a different business class hoping to never have to see Mark again. But you aren’t so lucky. Not only is your roommate’s brother on the hockey team but so is her boyfriend so she drags you to every game. You try your hardest to come up with excuses but you have such a hard time saying no to her. That’s how you find yourself at a hockey game wearing a spare jersey for your roommate's brother picking at the maize fuzz of the Beecher jersey.

“So what do you think so far?” she asks, smiling.

“It’s hockey,” you shrug.

“You really don’t like hockey huh?” she laughs.

“No I just don’t like Estapa,” you say, turning your attention to the loose thread. 

“I hope you know when we get back to the dorm you’re telling me everything,” she says, turning her attention back to the ice. And when you get to your dorm you do. You grab the bottle of vodka you had and crack it open taking a long drink before you start. By the time you finish the story the tears are flowing and the bottle was taken away.

“I’m sorry,” she frowns, not knowing what to say. To her marks were nothing but sweet. Obviously she believes you but there has to be something missing. She pulls you into her side as you wipe your tears. 

“It’s okay,” you shrug.

“You don’t have to go to any more games if you don’t want to. I’ll find someone else or go with the other girlfriends. I shouldn’t have forced you.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” you wipe away the remaining tears. The next semester is a little better. You have more business classes which is nice. You almost forget about Mark until you see him at a party. You can’t help but want to punch him for being so perfect. You leave not long after.

Soon it’s sophomore year and Mark is practically unavoidable. You both have the same major so most of your classes are together. You don’t have to deal with him until a teacher assigns you together for a partner project. It ends in a screaming match and 2 separate projects being turned in. After that you never get partnered up again. 

Before long it’s the second semester and with that comes spring break. Since you’re from Michigan you let your roommate drag you to a game to watch her boyfriend play. They win and you guys all go to a small party to celebrate. You end up leaving halfway through the party.

Everything is fine until you hear everyone talking about it or him. Mark fucking Estapa. He had an article published about him and how cool he is or some bullshit. You almost throw your phone when it appears on your Instagram feed. You can’t believe how much of a stuck up asshole the boys become. You roll your eyes before heading to the gym to blow off some steam.

That Saturday you find yourself at a party celebrating the hockey team's big win. You’re just there for the free alcohol. You’re standing in a corner watching everything happen when he walks up beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Mark smirks.

“Shut up Woodruff,” you growl at the boy.

“Hey white flag, put the claws away,” he laughs.

“What do you want?”

“To talk?”

“Oh now you want to talk. Mr. High and Mighty want to talk to me. Wow boy do I feel special.”

“Let’s go up stairs,” he grabs your hand leading you up to his room. 

“What do you want to talk about?” you grumble at the boy.

“I’m sorry. Look I know I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“Well you’re about 3 years too late,” you say leaving. Your hand grabs the handle and you twist it about to exit. That's when Mark does the only rational thing in his mind. He grabs you and kisses you. You let go of the handle and move your hands to his hair. His hands rest on your lower waist and he pulls you flush against him. His hands move to your thighs as he carries you to his bed. He takes his sweatshirt off before placing his lips back against yours. You fist his t-shirt as he continues to kiss you. You pull away and realize the position you are in. Straddling the hips of the man you hate the most. You take off your shirt before tugging at the edge of Marks hoping he gets the hint. He takes his t-shirt off and starts to kiss down your jaw line.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions.

“Yeah. But I haven’t,” you whisper.

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” He flips over so he’s on top and kisses down your jaw to your neck.

“Can I take this off?” he asks when he gets to your bra. You nod and he unclasps it. He tosses it aside and latches his mouth to your right nipple while his hand attends to your other one. You moan having never felt such a sensation before. Mark kisses down your stomach to the waistband of your jeans.

“These to babies?” he questions.

“Please,” you whine. He unbuttons your jeans, pulling them down leaving you in your panties. 

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes.” He slowly drags a finger over your clothed core causing you to jolt up at the contact.

“Can I take these off?”

“Please Mark,” you moan out. You lift your hips so he can pull your panties off. He runs a finger through your folds before slowly circling your clit causing you to let out a loud moan.

“Can I have a tasty baby? Please I wanna be your first,” Mark asks.

“Yes,” you say, bucking your hips. Mark licks a stripe through your folds before giving your clit plenty of attention. He switches between sucking the nub and grazing it with his teeth.

“Baby I’m gonna put my fingers in you okay?”

“Okay,” you moan, having never felt such pleasure. You feel one of Mark’s fingers prod your entrance before he inserts it. He thrusts it in a few times before adding a second finger causing you to moan again.

“Mark that feels good,” you moan.

“Yeah baby,” he says against you. You’re cumming within a few seconds and you’ve never felt such an immense pleasure in your life.

“How was that baby?”

“Good. Was so good Markie,” you moan as he pulls his fingers out. 

“Got another round in you? Think you can take my dick?” he questions cupping your face.

“I wanna try.”

“Good girl,” he says standing up to take off his jeans and boxers. He kicked them off before rolling a condom on.

“It’s gonna hurt baby,” he says, positioning himself at your entrance. He rubs himself in your slick before grabbing your hand. He slides in and he feels you squeeze his hand.

“You okay baby?”

“Yeah I’m okay. I think you can move now,” you say. He slowly pulls out before thrusting out causing you to moan. He slowly starts to thrust in and out of you before he sets a pace. He moves to kiss you and you dig your nails into his biceps to help ground yourself. Your moans get louder as you start to get closer to your high again. He moves a hand to your clit circling the nub.

“You’re doing so good baby,” he says, causing you to moan. 

“Fuck Mark,” you moan as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He picks up his pace which causes the both of you to reach your highs.

“I’m going to pull out now baby,” he says pulling out. He discards the condom before looking at you.

“Baby you gotta go to the bathroom now and then we can do whatever you want,” he smiles cupping your face. He helps you into one of his shirts and to the bathroom. Once you get back to his room you both cuddle into each other. You’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow. 

#mark estapa x reader #mark estapa smut

[mae-i-scribble]

One of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to fandom/media interpretation in general is that seemingly whenever something tries to explore the emotion of love in a nuanced or non-straightforward manner everyone and their mother jumps to the conclusion that it’s inherently romantic in nature. I don’t know if this is my aroace brain speaking, but it’s something I’ve never understood when clearly the author doesn’t mean it in a romantic sense. The two examples I’m thinking of are Violet Evergarden and Ancient Magus Bride.

Violet Evergarden is about a child soldier, Violet post-war trying to discover what emotions are, so that she can better understand the major who sacrificed his life for her. She’s specifically fixated on the notion of love, because the major told her once that he loved her and she’s struggled to understand what he meant by that. As the show goes on, she begins to discover just what these emotions mean, both to other people and to herself. Now, it needs to be said again that she was a child soldier, the major was around 30 if I remember correctly. Either way very much an established adult when he found Violet when she was like 8-10. Naturally he meant that he loves her in a familial way, everything the show does supports this interpretation, the only obscurity comes from Violet’s perspective because she doesn’t understand his meaning at first. Take a big fat guess as to half the posts I saw about their relationship framed it. Yep, “oh how gross he was in love with a child,” “this show is gross,” “its so sad how he was in love but now they can never be together T-T.” Like. What the fuck y’all. What the actual fuck. Did we watch the same show????? It’s legitimately baffling that just because the word love is used that is the assumption made in direct contradiction to what canon is saying.

Ancient Magus Bride has it much, much worse unfortunately, because it’s a much more,,, morally suspect look at what love is, or more specifically, the nature of human relationships. Chise and Elias have a bond that cannot be easily summed up in a few words (which is the entire point), and they see a lot of various twists and turns in their dynamic as they learn  not only to live with each other but come into their own and grow. Now, a lot of people assume Ancient Magus Bride is a romance because of how it starts out, with Elias stating that he bought Chise to be his bride. However, as you read further, specifically into the 40′s, Elias reveals that he only said the word bride because he understood it to be people who spend their lives together, and wanted to cut corners by making his student and bride the same thing. Elias, as an inhuman creature, does not have the capability for empathy or understanding emotions/concepts as humans do, which is what leads to a lot of the suspect situations in the beginning of the story because he doesn’t get the implications of what he’s doing.The author herself has even mentioned in official interviews that she doesn’t see their relationship as romantic (not that it stopped anyone), along with the entire story rejecting such an interpretation because shoving Chise and Elias into such a box goes against what it’s saying about the messy nature of relationships. Additionally, much like Violet Evergarden but worse, Chise is 16 while Elias is a being 100s of years old (although without the emotional intelligence to match). Either way though, their dynamic for the beginning of the show is very much of Elias trying to control Chise. He withholds information from her, manipulates her into trusting him more easily, does things behind her back that he knows she wouldn’t approve of. And that is important, I appreciate that aspect being there because it’s all completely necessary to show just what kind of person Elias is, and how his standards are vastly different compared to human ones. But a lot of the whole “EliasxChise is soooo good” hype came from anime only watchers- and is that really the dynamic yall wanted? Really? Especially when the anime watered down the resolution to that conflict? More importantly, imagine being braindead and also having no taste at all simultaneously. You take so many interesting aspects of their dynamic by just going “and theyre in love UwU” because you ignore their complexities. On top of being really fucking gross in my opinion.

And these two aren’t the only example of this. In general I think plenty of relationships would be far better off being explored as the nuanced, complex things that they are without slapping an “in love” label on them. (Jayce and Viktor from Arcane come to mind for me, what they have going on as friends and the importance the narrative places on that friendships is so much more valuable to me then any shipping). And again, I’m left wondering if this is an aroace thing, bc talking with a friend who is also aroace about her experiences in researching romance literature and what allo people find rewarding about a romance is like reading about an alien species. Do yall just live like this???? It’s so sad you are missing out on so much

#aroace #aromantic #tagging these bc i wanna know if its just me #its the other people that have to be insane right? right? #ancient magus bride #violet evergarden #yes i have been stewing on these emotions for over 5 years dont judge #im going to die mad #and then probably die bitter over the arcane one #we get a deep platonic relationship that is actually shown to have equal standing to the romantic one #instead of the romance being shoved to top priority #and the response is to just ship them #like i get it i get that people are just like that #but still :((

[rotationalsymmetry]

Which btw I'm happy to reblog that sort of thing. (Prev post comparing BDSM to wrestling kayfabe, ie "this is make believe it's fine.")

But I do think an equally significant point is, if someone decides for whatever reason that kink is bad...ok, so what are you going to do about it?

Mostly that's going to cycle back to making things illegal or more difficult. Restricting which zones things like the power exchange can physically exist in. Driving kinky erotica off of Amazon. Restricting people's ability to publish information about kink. Keeping kink talk off of social media sites. Making/keeping it so that there is no legal distinction between consensual impact play and physical assault. Making it harder for people to talk explicitly about kink on dating sites, or in person with their friends.

And the thing about that, is, you can't really stop people from doing whatever they want to do in their own bedrooms (living rooms, cars, tents, hotel rooms, whatever.) Nor can you really stop people from having kinks, from wanting to do this stuff. What you can do is cut people off from community and from safety information, so that when people do do this stuff, it's more dangerous to them.

(Both more directly physically dangerous -- kink is mostly not that dangerous? but there's some risks -- and dangerous as in, people are more likely to get stuck with abusers when they can't talk to people about their relationship, or if they believe no one they talk to will understand.)

For a while it was illegal to produce BDSM porn in the US (or maybe just California? Not sure.) Did that mean BDSM porn didn't exist? Of course not. There were always videos of sexy people hitting each other that other people got off to. It just...had to look like it wasn't porn. So, no affection. No kissing. (Definitely no on-camera negotiation.) They couldn't stop BDSM porn, but they could make it worse.

The first kinky shit I did, in some ways the most extreme kinky shit I did, was with one other person that I met outside of a kink social context. He was going off some photos and his imagination. I'd read some Savage Love, so I at least knew what a safewords was. I didn't have anyone to talk to about what we were doing, I didn't have r/bdsm or anything, I had no way of getting a reality check and no way of getting more safety information as we went. And years later, I found the scene and went to classes and learned why you wrap the rope multiple times around someone's wrists rather than just once and learned about safety scissors and sharp shooting pains and aftercare and negotiation and sub drop and all sorts of things.

And I got really, really angry at the people who want me to only be able to do kink stuff the way I did it the first time. Because they'd rather I get hurt doing kink then be able to do it safely and with a community.

I don't especially want anyone to have a harm reduction approach to kink, because I don't think it's intrinsically harmful. But...I also don't need people to agree with me on that. Anyone who thinks Kink Is Bad, It Just Is well, you're the boss of your opinions! We don't have to agree on everything! But I think there's room to disagree on kink being just fine and also agree that attempting to get people to not do kink, by making it harder or illegal or more stigmatized, can only ever do more harm than good.

#kink discourse

[comfortless]

Hello! I love your work and ur such a talented writer ❤️❤️

Can I request a part 2. for “This Time Around”. It’s so good and I’d love to see more of them ☺️

thank you so much!! i am offering you a little gift through the screen do you accept… 🎁

i could not will myself to write a full part as i feel their story is very much an ‘and they lived happily ever after’ sort of thing BUT. i have been thinking about their date… it would be so cute, i think…

content/warnings: this is just fluff heheh

She doesn’t sleep the entire night after that phone call— instead, there is an abundance of planning and preparing to do. It has to be perfect, everything, right down to the finest details.

She’s spent years watching him, she knows what he likes and it should be easy despite her lack of human graces. There’s… still the urge to do the instinctive sprite things, lurking some where in her very flesh. She takes his shirts to sleep when he’s deployed, still steals any treats he may have hidden. The problem with planning for a very human date is that she simply is not human, even if she looks the part now.

The bulk of her night is spent seated on the sofa, trawling through the channels on his television for any glimpses of human romance. She’s never been very studious; there’s no need for that in her reality, where things just go easily with a touch of enchantment and revelry. Settling on one, she watches the humans on screen with rapt attention. She doesn’t realize that while film is an art, most don’t speak or behave this way in natural circumstances. She practices her swooning, the fanning of her face, her sighs and demure glances all on the couch.

Cooking is far less troublesome, at first. The giant had taught her patiently, insisting that he did not wish for her to eat little else than cookies and slices of bread during those times that he was away. She had learned how to use the kitchenware, chest fluttering with contentment any time König had taken her hand to guide her or stroked the top of her head and praised her. She promised him cake, settling on Esterházy torte when she recalls a lazy afternoon with him where he told her about his homeland. He liked his coffee black, yet he did not shy away from sweetness. Perhaps that was part of the reason that he enjoyed her company.

Only, she hadn’t anticipated that Esterházy torte would be such an utter pain to make. Her pace is frighteningly quick as she buzzes from the kitchen to the cooking instruction on screen, trying to squeeze every bit of information for the next ten minutes in her mind already bogged down with excitement; over and over for what felt like an entire century. Each layer of the treat had to be prepared separately. König was by no means a baker, and the items that she needed to prepare it properly ranging from different sized pans to certain ingredients simply… were not there.

There was no apricot jam; she settles for plucking blackberries, ripe and sweet, from just outside and making a rushed jam of her own. What was meant to be five layers is whittled down to three; a thick portion of the makeshift blackberry jam slathered between two overly fat layers of sponge cake. It’s not pretty, either. The icing isn’t evened over like the cakes in the video she watches from the kitchen’s doorway. The dark jam makes the poor thing look as though it’s spilling blood rather than seated cozily like any of the cakes in display cases. It would have to do, because the morning sun is already high in the sky by the time that she finishes it.

Getting ready for the date seems worse. The women in films were perfect; their hair was smooth and even, the colors they wore on their faces highlighted their femininity. König had never purchased her makeup, and the dresses he had filled her share of the closet with were not the same. They weren’t revealing, not enough to highlight the curves of her hips or her cleavage when she pictures herself leaning over to him to bat her eyelashes and tell him just how much she adores him.

She’s a bit sullen when she settles for the soft pink one with the lace trim that she wears often. It’s cute, but it isn’t one of the strappy, silky things she had seen in the movies. She does her best with what she has, and when she looks into the mirror for confirmation she only recalls their first meeting— where König had called her pretty, despite being several great sizes too small and covered in cookie crumbs.

All of the exertion was for naught, she realizes when the sun hangs high in the sky and the sound of the door opening pulls her from her rampant preparing. König simply looks content, more at ease than she had ever seen him when he pulls her into a hug and presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. They’re already head over heels before the date even begins, as they have been for months, and she simply doesn’t realize it.

He doesn’t complain about the state of the ugly cake when she carries it into the backyard. The picnic blanket is spread out by him while she tells him about how she spent her time apart from him. He doesn’t explain the gritty details of his work this time, only that he saw flowers she may have liked on his deployment and how he wished he could take her to prettier places one day.

She seats herself in his lap while they talk, pressing bites of cake between his lips while the back of her head rests upon his shoulder. His arm curls around her waist as he does the same for her in turn. The confection… isn’t the best, not by a long shot, yet König doesn’t voice a word of complaint. Not as she does, when she grimaces from the tart flavor of the jam clashing with the cinnamon and cream. Fortunately, he only seems to find that cute, and he tells her this, harping on everything that she does that sets his heart aflame until she giggles sweetly for him.

“I wrote you a letter,” he tells her suddenly after the horrible cake has been cleared away and they’re watching the clouds above on their backs. It probably isn’t something that he would enjoy on his own, but for her… it seemed that any silly idea she supplied was met with acceptance from him.

“I didn’t get any letters.” She frowns as she points out a cloud that looks suspiciously like the cat that nearly ate her several months ago.

König reaches into his pocket and presents her with a folded note, one worn down and torn at the edges. One he probably had never had the intention to send at all. With it unfolded and held high up in her hands to read, she squints over the sloppy handwriting.

The letter is a recounting of all of the things he thought he had seen, dates supplied next to each point on the list. It begins two years prior, where he had jotted down that he thought someone must have left a doll in the house before he moved in, how he saw a tiny thing seated on the windowsill and when he looked back it was entirely gone. A strange occurrence, but not one he put too much thought into.

The list ends when he describes how his eyes had met hers when she watched him from the bookshelf, how he had seen the most beautiful thing alive in just a glimpse before she tucked herself away from him, how he had left the lights on in a small hope that she would realize he wanted to look after her. He just didn’t know how to without scaring her off.

In part, she’s horrified to know that she hadn’t been as sneaky as she once thought. However, what feels more pressing is that he had been worried for her just as she had been for him, that every little detail shared within the list was merely a mirror of her own feelings. The ever-present curiosity and the fear that one day this stranger he shared his home with may not be around any longer.

She gives him a wistful glance before flipping to the next page to continue to where the letter truly begins. It’s pure poetry, the way in which he describes his feelings, prettier than the songs she’s heard sung from the fae housed in riverbeds. He describes his elation upon meeting her, how he would check through the window of the dollhouse bedroom to see her beautiful face in dreaming, how each time they were apart he wanted little more than to return to her and simply hear her tiny voice calling out to him. It says his heart nearly shattered in his chest when he saw the change she had made for him before he realized that she loved him too, that the stuff of the silly fairytales that his oma would read to him all felt real because of her; how unintentionally he believes that she may have saved him.

‘Ich liebe dich.’ is how it ends, and he says the words aloud when her eyes rove over the sentence.

Her hands are shaking when she drops the letter onto her chest, curls her arms around it in the softest hug. Just like before, each word she wishes to say to him dies in her throat. The only difference is that now, her heart feels so full it’s overwhelming; she doesn’t feel small, but larger than even him— a strange sense of pride and fulfillment taking her over.

“I love you, too,” she says after a moment, face warmed and a smile stretching her cheeks. “I’ve always loved you, I think.”

“I know.”

Her mind whirls at that response, uncertain of what to say next. Except, she doesn’t have to speak at all. When a cloud passes, puffed up and brilliant white, shaped like the golden arrow of Cupid himself, she curls against him with her forehead pressed to his. Eyes flutter shut as an arm is dragged over her and a kiss is brushed against the tip of her nose.

#f: this time around #do they kiss… we will never know…

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

gif credit

Prologue

masterlist | companion playlist

summary: short blurb for the sake of context! this scene takes place in 1989, 3 years prior to the rest of the story.

tags: eddie munson x reader, gn!reader, rockstar!eddie, angst, hurt/eventual comfort, slow burn, pining, heartbreak, all that good stuff

a/n: welcome back to the new kid!verse my friends, i hope you missed me! enjoy the prologue to the angstiest idea i’ve ever had. Please reblog to support the author!

Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

Autumn, 1989

Your POV

“I can’t keep doing this, Eddie. I don’t want this anymore.” You’re pacing aimlessly around your apartment, the old wood creaking under your bare feet.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so upset. You knew this was gonna happen, I told you things would be different.” His voice cracks, but he manages to keep it together. He blocks you as you try to enter your bathroom to grab your toiletries.

“Different doesn’t mean worse. This is worse. I don’t see you anymore, and when I do, you’re mean. You’ve been at ‘practice’ every night this week, not once calling to let me know you’d be home late. I know you guys are working hard, and I get it. I don’t wanna hold you back anymore.” You bite your bottom lip and look into his eyes, for the first time in the last hour. You’re exhausted, hating to have to keep fighting for a relationship clearly on its deathbed.

“Hold me back? Baby, I-“

You shake your head. You’d been seeing it for months, the way he’d hesitate to tell you where he’s going, or all the good things happening for Corroded Coffin. You’d been supportive of his dreams this entire time, while still trying to get Death Dance off the ground. But you still made time for him, only to be stood up for his band, or his new groupies, or his manager-in-training. You felt left behind, but also couldn’t find it in you to fight. He was happy, regardless of how sad you had become.

“I am so proud of you, Eddie. I wanna make that clear. I will never, ever not be proud of you. But I can’t be your plan B. I can’t keep sitting around hoping you’ll still love me when you finally get big, or wait until you give up and resent me forever.”

“What are you suggesting, then?”

“I’m moving in with Robin, she’s already got a room for me.”

You watch as Eddie’s face falls, almost hearing the sound of his heart breaking. “Y/n …” It falls out of his mouth like a rotten tooth, and you can’t bring yourself to answer him. “You’re leaving me?”

You nod once, and shove past him, into the bathroom. You close the door behind you, sliding down to the floor where you drop your head into your hands. Losing Eddie was never the plan, the last thing you ever saw yourself doing. But your relationship had become toxic, bitter on both sides when you should have been supporting each other. It’s not what you want to do, but you’re convinced it’s the only way to heal, to grow into the person you’ve set out to become. But god, does growing hurt like a bitch.

You take a deep breath and bring yourself to your feet. Everything you own is shoved into backpacks and plastic grocery bags, and you exit the bathroom with another full bag in your arms. Not even stopping to look at Eddie, you snatch the rest of your belongings and head into the chill of the night, the tears in your eyes stinging your cheeks as the wind blows. You don’t look back.

—

It’s short on purpose i’m trying to leave u wondering!!! see u soon for chapter 1!

chapter I

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance | send a message to be added🫶

#angst #fundamental differing #new kid fic #eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #gn!reader #rockstar!reader #chapter fic #stranger things fan fiction #st4 #90s AU #au where eddie lives #strangerthingscentral #hurt/comfort #mutual pining #heartbreak #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

[ay0nha]

Hi! Could would you like to write something about reader and Tangerine where she have grown up with the twins (a sorta of brothers and sister relationship) and always secretly in love with Tangerine, and viceversa, but at some point they split and she left. Anyway they meet again and during an argument something happen so the truth comes out and a smut at the end?! Ps: Sorry for my bad English but it's not my first language. Thank you so much!

Pairing: Tangerine x femme!reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of guns/fighting/etc., rushed writing about fake dating, etc.

A/N: UMM your english? BETTER THAN MINE TF. Anyways, thank you SO much for this request. School and work have been getting the better of me so this isn’t as well thought out/written as I’d like it to be but I thought I’d get it out! I strayed a little and didn’t include smut :// not very good at writing that. Regardless, enjoy! (Send in more concepts, I like reading them...hehehe)

Tangerine's hair had  gotten longer since the last time  she'd seen him, but it was still  annoyingly managed. There was something  inherently bothersome with how  he managed to look put together.

She  noted how he wore his most  tailored suit, the one that caused a  compliment to slip through her  lips the last time he wore it around her.  He   leaned against the building, legs crossed with a cigarette settled   comfortably under his newly grown mustache.

Pulling her eyes away she opened her arms to greet her old friend, "Lemon..."

"...God, I've missed you..." He sounded exasperated. It made sense especially due to why they'd even met up in the first place. It showed their desperation, "He's running me thin...I swear I might kill him..."

"You always say that," She started to feel the humor bubble in her chest, "...and yet, he's still standing..."

The conversation carried on as if it hadn't been years since they'd seen each other.

Lemon could always make her laugh. That's how their duo became a trio when they were kids. She was the little girl from the apartment over, too timid to even say hello to the twins. Even when he was young, Lemon knew how to separate the genuine from the insincere making it easy to invite her in. Just like then, though, it always made Tangerine's stomach fill with something insipid.

"Alright then, we good?" Tangerine's intentionally harsh accent cut through the long-awaited reunion. It was the only greeting he'd offer her and she knew better than to expect more.

"So, what's happening this time?" She crossed her arms as if that would shield her from the nerves she felt with Tangerine close to her.

Her voice still made his chest feel full.

"Alright..." Lemon seemed hesitant to inform her and in hindsight, she wished she backed out then, "...Well, we've got this art we need to retrieve by the end of the weekend-

"The boss has already seen our faces," Tangerine stated, a frown growing deeper with the memory. It was tits up from the start, but they were stubborn and went forward despite everything going against them. Their job was to intercept the art before the underground auction, "Whole thing went up in flames-

"Lost my eyebrows," Lemon nodded eagerly to prove the point to her further.

Tangerine glared at his brother's interruption, "...There's this soiree of sorts happening-

"Swanky-like," Lemon added, "Suits and ties and-

"And..." Tangerine's anger was rising by the minute, "That's where the auction is being held, meaning the window to get this art back is only a few hours."

She bit at Tangerine lightly, "I'm not doing this solo."

"That's where you come in, right," The conversation bounced back to Lemon's hesitation, which was covered with his characteristic humor,  "You'll be Tangerine's missus, so when-

Her laugh cracked like a whip, "Lemon, your ideas are becoming worse and worse."

Reaching to his own hand, Tangerine pulled the ring from his pinky that would be just shy of fitting her ring finger well, "It was mine."

"Happy wife, happy life."

"Words to live by," Tangerine agreed with the elderly man who patted his shoulder harsher than he would normally allow. If it were anyone else, their hand would already be missing.

Instead, his free hand occupied her waist, burning a spot there with how firmly he held her into his side. The conversations varied little; all old couples who wished to  live vicariously through the fake couple presented before them. The pair  looked good together, the intentionally matching tones of their clothes  helped, but what really pushed her over was how heavy the ring felt on  her finger.

"Please, sit with my wife and me," The man insisted, slightly pulling Tangerine away from her.

Tangerine's hand trailed down her arm to find her fingertips to hold her hand behind him. He continued his conversation effortlessly, schmoozing with the man who likely had the largest influence at the event. Suddenly, the entire thing felt overwhelming. She needed to detach herself before she dissolved into his touch.

She hadn't thought detaching from him would have been as momentous as he'd made it seem when he looked back at her with worry, "You alright?"

It caught the attention of the other gentlemen around them, but she put them at bay the same way she had with Tangerine when she paired a light hand on his chest to say, "I'll meet you there, I just need the restroom."

The night wasn't inherently difficult, but it would be bad luck to admit something like that. What was worse was how badly she wished something would happen just to be released from playing pretend. It felt cruel in consideration of the years spent trying to subdue her feelings only to play them out as if they were nothing.

Her skin felt like it was crawling with how warmly Tangerine had been towards her. As if forgetting the years that had passed between them without communication.  He was being attentive and playing his role as husband a little too confidently, which only served as a reminder of how she failed to uphold her end.

As if hearing her thoughts, Tangerine burst through the bathroom door to see how she stood idly at the sink, "What the hell are you doing?"

"What I'm not allowed to take a piss now?"

"I-" He stopped himself from showing the side she'd slowly come accustomed to. He was holding back his wrath, not willing to express the authenticity of his words. His hand went to his hip while his other was held out in explanation, "I have to talk to that fucking tart out there and you're in here-

"I needed a minute."

There was a brief look of hesitation as if he was going to ask her again if she were alright, but it left just as quickly as it appeared. Running a hand down his face, he went through the plan in his head again. It repeated over and over throughout the night, trying to find if there were any holes.

"Well your minute is up," He held the door open, eyeing the hallway for anything suspicious, "...If you don't get it together we're fucked."

Checking herself over once more in the mirror she asked, "Have you heard from Lemon?"

She knew he was on standby until the auction started, but rarely was he as quiet as he was. Although she wouldn't label him responsible, he was the responsible one of the two which said a lot.

"Ran into some trouble, but he's there." Tangerine looked at her strangely, as if not appreciative of his brother's name being spoken aloud.

She hummed, following him out of the bathroom. She worried about Lemon and his habit to leave his kevlar behind. He was a more than capable person, but that only worried her further knowing he'd get himself into any sort of trouble with confidence.

Tangerine's hand ghosted the small of her back the entire way back to the dining area as if she would stray from the path to get there.  The place was grand but held an exclusive guest list that all looked homogenous. Tangerine and she looked modest in comparison, contributing to the unintentional attention on them.

"There you are my boy," The elderly man clapped delightfully, motioning for Tangerine to take the spot saved next to him, "Thought you might have fallen in..."

"That was my fault, I got a little lost," She feigned a laugh that was meant to poke fun at herself, "...It's like a maze down here..."

"Happens to all of us," A warm hand touched her arm that was undoubtedly the elderly man's counterpart, "My first auction, I accidentally ended up in the wine cellar-

"When don't you?" Her husband contributed to the banter.

This world invited Tangerine in, but he just drew the lucky card for the night. Tangerine was brash, and his loyalty to football was always present which gave him an in with the others. They found him charming.   She'd never seen him fit a role so willingly. Ideally, she would have too. However, she stayed safe, chatting lightly here and there with the other wives. For something so illegal, it felt so mundane.

"Love?" Tangerine's hand went to her thigh, hand finding security there and able to gain her attention with urgency.

She hoped Tangerine would cover for them as the others asked the question she knew was inevitable. However, that was one this Tangerine lacked in comparison to her; creativity.

"Oh, well.." She placed her hand on his, playing along by toying with his rings like she had when they were younger, "...It's quite a boring story, really..."

"Please." The women urged her to continue as did Tangerine. He was curious to know what she'd come up considering she could barely look at him now.

"...We grew up next to each other," She started with the truth, making it easier to think of more to embellish, "...I hadn't liked him very much at first, thought he was reckless and rude."

"Which I am," Tangerine agreed, playing into it perfectly, "But she was very shy...I'd be lucky to get a word out of her."

She rubbed up his forearm lightly, trying to convey how badly she wanted this to end, but it only encouraged him further.

"She avoided me for years, really," He spoke affectionately, but refused to look into the eyes he felt steadily trained on his profile, "...I'm not really sure what changed her mind in the end."

The ball was hit back to her now, all eyes on her expectantly. She relied on the truth but wasn't sure how far it could take her. A pregnant paused passed, their entire shtick becoming more suspicious by the moment. Tangerine squeezed her thigh, hoping she'd pick up soon before he had to stumble through an excuse. Yet, the extra touch made her chest and face reflect the warmth he made her feel.

"He's quite nice to look at, isn't he?" She teased the crowd as well as him.

Yet, Tangerine seemed surprised at the compliment. Some women giggled in agreement, happy to tease him further and talk about their husband's prime days. It was the perfect response to diverge the conversation while indulging in what they wanted to hear.

Once enough attention was on the pair, she move her hand back to the meal in front of her while Tangerine held her firmly.  The people around her seemed harmless despite the white collar crimes they'd committed. Everything didn't seem as life or death as it was made out to be.

Glasses clinked while cutlery clattered on the fine chine.  She almost wanted to call it nice. She almost felt content.   It distracted her well until the room was filled with darkness. Lemon. It was the last resort message that meant the plan had in fact gone tits up.

There were the expected gasps and clutching of pearls when the red lights illuminated the walls as a lighthouse would. Then men complained, at the ready to fire and sue those who dared to interrupt the event.

Tangerine, though, was already out of his seat, reaching for hers to move swiftly. They would be lucky to have seconds before security became involved and realized they were on the opposing side of it all.

"Stay behind me."

His tone was serious, as he guided her hand to the back of his belt to latch onto.  His gun was in his hands in moments as he stalked forward tentatively. Even though Tangerine desired to present a strong exterior, she knew he wore his heart on his sleeve. At the moment, with just his body language, she saw his anxiety about having her there.

He held the gun at the ready, shoulder pressed tightly against the wall   preparing for when he'd face what was on the other end. With a hand   holding the back of his belt, he could feel the weight of her behind   him, helping him focus on disarming the people in front of him from a   safe enough distance.

The rooms had been cleared and from the buzzing in Tangerine's pocket, he stressed that the paintings were now under question as well. It all happened too fast for any success of their own. Pulling the device out of his pocket, he heard Lemon's mockery on the other side. She could hear him calmly, yet frustratingly, explain how the art was already stolen. It all meant they weren't alone in the heist.

By the time they'd cleared through the distraction of the henches, and unnecessary bloodshed, the twins finally realized they were intentionally separated. They had been played, meaning their recuperation was even harder. There were people crawling the city they were in, every and any movement suspicious to those looking for them. For the night they were better off waiting to come together.

Her stomach felt queasy at the thought of being utterly alone with Tangerine.  He had a dominant personality, but she'd never seen him that way until he unintentionally drove a wedge between them. His presence became   pesky. He became overbearing and protective but covered it with   an attitude that was unmatched.

Even now as he groaned to himself in pain, she felt irritated.

"Lay down." She instructed him, drying her hands with the hotel washcloth.

Tangerine    had been struggling all day. His gait gave him away, one that she   aided  in stabilizing with her arm locked with his. But that only did so   much.

"I'm fine."

The response lacked creativity like  all the times before, but the problem remained the same. Tangerine  liked to spin the story, and fabricate epic adventures that led to his  injury. But in reality, it was due to a bully of a kid that knocked him  down during a football match when he was a teenager. It never paired  well with the fresh injuries he received with his work.

"I  didn't ask how you were," She held back her bark, watching how he even    struggled to pull his own shoes off.  "I told you to lay down."

His  back begged for the brevity and complied easily as he crumpled forward  on the sheets with a deep sigh. It   felt wrong to crumple the fine   fabric of his dress shirt, but it  needed  to be done for the damage on Tangerine's back to being revealed to  her.  The bruising was so   sensitive it made his skin flinch even with  her  gentle touch.

"You have this looked at?" She commented when she peeled back the haphazard bandages. Lemon's work, no doubt.

"My back has been killing me," He caved when he felt her hands linger, "Lemon's convinced it'll clear up in a few days."

"It would if you didn't go gallivanting."

Tangerine put his body in every punch, no doubt only irritating the already uncomfortable injury further. Yet, he refused to answer her. Another reason why the dust never settled for them. He hated how her comfort could settle his anger. He wanted her to be gentle with him like she once had, but he wasn't sure if she still held him in the same regard.

It wasn't entirely unknown how the two felt about each other, especially with Lemon's intuitiveness and inability to keep quiet about it. It was a shared soft spot for another. It was exactly why Tangerine turned his back away from her to face her directly, to see if he was lucky enough to see it again.

"You think that?" His tone was like it was when they were teenagers; afraid of her judgment and hesitant.

"Of course I do," Her frown deepened, "I'm worried that-

"No, no," He shook his head, already forgetting the current conversation they were having. The comment played in his mind throughout the night, "That I'm quite nice to look at?"

There it was.  It was in the relaxation of every part of her face, her expression softening for him and his child-like eyes looking up at her for an earnest answer.

"I like this." She confirmed delicately, trailing her fingers to the small patch of hair below his lip.

"Go on, then," His lip quirked, "I bet you've been dying to say something."

"I have nothing bad to say," Her hand returned to itself. The facial hair suited him. It matched his energy more than a completely bare face. "I think I might keep it for awhile," He tried to tease her further, hoping to elicit more compliments from her. He knew he wouldn't get anything said to him straight, but he'd take anything she'd offer him.

Tangerine saw how he succeeded as a soft smile came on her lips to match his, "I think you should."

In the progression of the night and the fight, he'd shed some layers. His tie was missing. his jacket forgotten, and buttons now exposing his necklace that hung deep into his chest, something her eyes flickered down to as he moved impossibly closer.

"Tell me something," She started, eyes fixated on him intently, "...You didn't really need me tonight, did you?"

"Not particularly, no," He smiled like he was caught, but she'd been onto him from the start, "...Took me awhile to find you..."

This was how they worked, it wasn't as linear as it should have bee, but they could rely on guaranteed resolution. Usually, over something small or big, the density of it minuscule in comparison to the argument that would explode, would happen. It would happen in a cyclical way and always end in an almost confession. Then, in an attempt to ignore the unsaid, space was required. However, this was the first time an argument hadn't exposed them and the first that long of a period went by. Their kindness in feat of turmoil, became new territory for them.

"Don't get quiet on me now," Tangerine's whisper was desperate, exposing how badly he needed to hear he was in her good graces again, "...Almost like it better when you're yelling at me."

She squinted at him, turning her head slightly to say, "I'm trying to find the lesson to be learned."

It went unnoticed as all subconscious desires go; her scent now mixed with his and so did her desire. They looked entirely casual, propped side by side the way they were. Their bodies needed the come down after all the adrenaline.

"There's always a lesson to be learned," His eyes traced her face with ease.

"What could you teach me that I don't already know?"

He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he tutted lightly, "Well, for example..." Tangerine started with the confidence she always envied. He drew out his words as his hand bravely came to the side of her neck, tapping on her artery that pumped harder than usual, "Did you know that-

The sound that shattered their attention came from the door, resembling a doomed future. Their bodies reacted accordingly, pulling anything to be on the defensive. However,  the sturdy steps belonged to Lemon as he finally came into view looking worse for wear. "We need to move, now!"

#q #tangerine x reader #tangerine #bullet train imagine #bullet train tangerine #tangerine angst #tangerine x oc #tangerine x femme!reader #soft tangerine #tangerine imagine

[roxiewritesstuff]

The Life I Want

Hi guys! This is my first fic posted online! This being said, a little feedback would be appreciated.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct any mistakes!

Warnings: family problems, reader’s mother is an asshole, mentions of death of a minor character, Fareeha is an amazing girlfriend (tell me if I missed any)

Pharah (Fareeha Amari) x Fem! Reader

“Can you hand me that shirt, Habibti?” Fareeha asks from across the room. She’s currently sitting on the floor in front of a suitcase, packing for our upcoming trip. 

Summer vacation is almost around the corner. Some agents have already left, some are arriving soon. For a week or so, Overwatch headquarters are almost deserted from agents. The only people left are backup agents or simply the ones who didn’t want to take a vacation. In a way this is good, me and Fareeha can be more affectionate with each other without worrying as much about people finding out about our relationship.

Not even Ana, Fareeha’s mother, knows about us. Not because I think she will judge us, never. I know Ana is accepting since Fareeha already came out to her some years ago. My mother on the other hand…

My mother and Fareeha’s mother do not have a good story. This hate that my mother, specifically, has for Ana began when I was just a kid. You see, my mother works at Overwatch’s executive office, while my dad worked as a field agent. Back in Overwatch’s glory days, the three of them had a companionship no one could break.

Until the accident. A routine mission was being executed, everything seemed well. Ana commanding and my father being her right arm. Then everything went south. I’m not sure what happened that day since no one wanted to explain to a kid why she no longer had a father. My father and five other elite field agents died that day. Ana barely made it out alive. Nonetheless, my mother blamed her for the loss of her husband.

As I grew up, I tried to find more information about that mission but came out empty. Like it never existed. But one thing I’m sure of, it wasn’t Ana’s fault.

Ever since I read what little scraps of reports I could find about that day, me and my mother grew apart. Our different perspectives about a crucial day in our lives made it impossible for us to carry a normal mother and daughter relationship. It only got worse when I entered Overwatch as a field agent. My mom was not happy at all. She almost-

“Habibti? Can you hear me?” The sudden trip back to reality scares me enough to hit my head on the bedside table, making me whine in pain.

“Oh my Ra! I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Fareeha pulls me up, hugging me gently. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. You just scared me.” I laugh it off. The pain gradually leaving my skull.

In an attempt to make me feel better, my girlfriend kisses my scalp.

“You looked so lost in thought that I got worried.”

Before I could even disclose to her what I was thinking about, a blasting siren makes my eardrums tingle. It’s a mission alert. Both our watches beep, Athena alerting us that we are the last minute assigned agents for this mission.

“Shoot. We should’ve left earlier.” I sulk a little.

“C’mon, darling. This one will just take a few hours.” She reassures me, grabbing my hand and rushing to the armory.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Well, Fareeha was right. It only took a few hours. But those few hours completely worn me out.

On our way back to headquarters I’m so exhausted I could sleep on the floor. I did try to sleep on the bus’ floor but Fareeha, being the thoughtful girlfriend that she is, pulled me up and allowed me to sleep against her.

“I’ll wake you up when we arrive.” She whispers to me.

Being so drained, I can’t even thank her, so I simply rub my head deeper on her shoulder.

Something that neither of us are aware at the moment is Captain Amari smirking at the cute scene.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Finally. After a power nap on my way back to headquarters, the only thing I want is to finish packing and get out of here. Of course, something always gets in the way.

“I’m sorry! Agent!” An executive assistant calls for me.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Your mother demanded to see you upon your arrival.”

He doesn’t need to say anything else. Everyone around us gives me looks of pity. Word got around that me and my mom have a complicated relationship.

“I’ll be in the hangar when you get out.” Fareeha assures me with a back rub.

As I walk to my mother’s office I change my demeanor to be as neutral as possible. It’s easy to get enraged with her.

I knock on her door and wait for permission to enter. I barely have time to close it before I’m getting screamed at.

“Have you lost your damn mind?! What the hell were you thinking?!” She stands from the chair only to slam her hands flat on the desk.

“Don’t look at me like that. It was an emergency. I didn’t have a choice.” From all the years dealing with my mother, I learned that yelling back would only get my voice sore. It doesn’t matter how much I scream, she never hears.

“Your choice was to never be a field agent.” She’s not screaming anymore but her voice is filled with hatred. For her own daughter.

“We’ve talked about this. I won’t live the life you want for me. This is my life and I’ll do whatever I want with it.”

Her head drops in disappointment.

“It’s Amari’s daughter, isn’t it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t try to lie to me. I saw you two kissing the other night! She’s the reason you’ve been so irresponsible later, right? She’s a bad influence.”

I can’t even begin to wonder how she even got to this conclusion. 

“You know, just because you hate Captain Amari doesn’t mean you can talk about her and her family in any way you want. She’s still above you.” I try to keep my tone as monotone as I can.

“That woman killed my husband! You’re rolling in bed with the daughter of the woman who killed your father!”

“She didn’t kill him. You know that. You know that better than me. But your mind still needs someone to blame, so you attack the first person you can think of. Hating Captain Amari is going to end up ruining your life, mother.”

As happens every time she knows I’m right, she diverts the subject.

Sitting back down, she recollects herself as to be ‘the bigger person.’ Whatever that means to her.

“You are forbidden to see her from now on. And no more missions, I’ll do my best to get your contract terminated so you can work under me.”

I can only stare at her like she’s crazy. But then again, she may be.

“You cannot order me around! No one is getting between me and Fareeha nor me and my job.” And the calm is out the window.

“It isn’t up for debate.”

“No, it isn’t.” I get closer to her desk, leaning right above her. “You do not tell me what to do anymore. I don’t follow your orders. You are not my superior. You are barely my mother anymore.”

That finally catches her attention, her eyes widen. She has the nerve to act as if it is a surprise.

“I am your mother. I am your only family.”

“You are not my family. Those people out there are my family. They’ve been through hell with me! They held me when I was down! They’ve carried my body when I couldn’t move! They’ve literally saved my life in every way imaginable! They are my family!”

“If you think like that, how about we make it official?” She stands up again, making me take a step back. A defense mechanism for her… unpredictability during arguments.

“How so?” I ask, curious.

“Since I can’t punish you, how about I forbid you to use my properties?”

My eyes darken before my head drops. Mine and Fareeha’s planned trip was to a beach house my mother owns. Even though Fareeha would be disappointed, I can’t back down. It’s time to face my mother.

“Go ahead. I don’t need anything that comes from you. I don’t need you.”

My mom leans back surprised with the venom in my voice, completely speechless.

Finally, the arguing is over. I can leave. So I do.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

I walk in the hangar with my head low. Fareeha will be disappointed when I tell her we can’t go on our vacation anymore. At least I still have my apartment, which is in my name, so my mother can’t take that away from me. Maybe me and Fareeha can have a summer vacation in my apartment? Yeah, that doesn’t sound nearly as good as a beach house.

Looking around for the Egyptian woman, I spot her putting our suitcases in the trunk of her car. She must have finished packing everything. Now I feel even worse.

Before I have the courage to walk up to her, her eye spots my figure. I assume I look bad because as soon as her eyes land on me, her expression screams worry.

When I finally get to the car, my head is still hanging low. There’s no point in masking my feelings with Fareeha, she reads me like an open book.

“Oh habibti…” She hugs me tight. Comforting arms embracing my body. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“We need to talk about it, Fareeha.” I still don’t look up at her. All I want to do is nuzzle my face in her neck forever. “We can’t go on our vacation.”

She forces me to look at her with her hand on my chin. “Why is that?” her voice much more gentle than I predicted.

“My mother forbade me to use her properties. The beach house is hers so we can’t go there now.” I bury my head in her neck again.

“That’s okay, love.”

“No! That’s not okay! You wanted to go to the beach. How the hell are we gonna do it now?”

“Love, I wanted to be with you. I don’t care if our summer is spent on the beach or on your apartment floor eating ice cream, as long as I’m with you.” She explains.

“Are you sure?” I ask, looking at her in the eyes to grasp her genuine answer.

“Of course.” Her soft, warm eyes disclose that she is telling the truth.

When I give her a simple nod, she pulls me even closer to give me a reassuring kiss. But before our lips meet, a voice echoes through the hangar.

“Hello, lovebirds.”

The hangar makes a tremendous amount of echo, so when I hear Ana’s voice it makes me jump away from Fareeha so fast that if it wasn’t for her I would’ve landed on my butt.

“Oh- Greetings, Captain Amari.” Fareeha giggles behind me at how formal my nervous tone was.

“Call me Ana, sweetie. No need to be formal to your future mother-in-law.”

Fareeha, sensing that I’m completely frozen in place, holds my hand and steps in front of me.

“I’m sorry, mother. This is not how we wanted to tell you.”

The Captain only quirks one eyebrow up.

“Who do you take me for? I’ve known for months.”

Both me and Fareeha stare at her in disbelief.

“How did you know?” Asks Fareeha.

“A mother knows.” She gives her daughter her signature smirk. Then her eyes land on me. “Besides, the heart eyes you throw at each other since you met were dead giveaways.”

Finally finding my voice, I speak up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

“So… you’re okay with this? Me and your daughter?”

Ana approaches me and grabs my shoulders gently.

“You make my daughter happy. That’s all I care about.”

“Thank you, Ana.” I say before hugging her. I let my body relax against her comforting embrace.

“Of course, dear. Now…” The woman pulls away. “I heard what happened with your mom. You two are looking for a beach house?”

“H- How did you know?” I ask.

“Your mother screams very loudly. Anyways, I have a beach house you can use for your vacation if you want.”

Fareeha stares at her mother, curious. “Since when do you have a beach house?”

“Since I died. It was one of my safehouses. You can use it all you want.”

Ana walks to her daughter and gives her the key.

“Thank you, mother.” They hug each other. It might be the first time I witness their beautiful bond.

“Thank you, for choosing an amazing daughter-in-law for me.”

My face heats. It may be a little too soon for that.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, okay?” Fareeha starts guiding me to her car. “I’ll call you when we get there!” She half screams.

“Good trip, girls!”

“Thank you!” I shout back.

And we finally went on our summer vacation.

#Fareeha Amari x reader #Fareeha Amari #Fareeha Amari Imagines #Pharah x reader #pharah amari #pharah amari x reader #overwatch x reader #overwatch imagines

[arrow-dodger]

Having friends is hard. Having friends as an adult is hard, specifically.

I miss the time in my late teens and early 20s when nobody had any responsibilities at home, so we could just hang out whenever. Go crash at each other's houses. Go grab chips and salsa after work whenever. Now my work friends (the people I spend the most time with by far) are all married people with obligations and shit to do. My male friend has a wife I've barely hung out with who I know doesn't like our friendship. That's always been a thing for me, but at least in the past they were just random passing girlfriends and not entire spouses. Some of my other friends hang out still, but at like, bars? I hate bars.

My older friend group is another story. Since I don't live close enough to hang out with everyone much, I only get invited to big events where everyone and their dog is there, so my frame of reference for everything is pretty limited. But the thing about the "friend group" as a living being is that people get added to it or removed from it as time goes on, and it's always really weird for me because I usually don't know any of the new people at all. That kinda happened this past year where some people were ousted and different people were added that I really don't vibe with as much? So I honestly just feel very weird, precarious, and out of place in general.

And I was already kind of feeling like I wasn't vibing with certain people as much just after months of seeing them say things that seemed really ignorant and dumb, or just things I don't personally agree with at all, but then some drama happened (while I was elsewhere, so I came back to this like the guy in the pizza fire gif) that sowed discord amongst the ranks and REALLY changed my opinion about some people for the worse. It was ultimately related to political beliefs and just... the ability to have adult discussions? And some people really showed themselves as people who spout certain beliefs but don't actually believe those things or support these causes in their daily lives, which is something I can't stand. It takes zero brain cells to repost an instagram infographic about a political issue and is another thing entirely to really learn about things, challenge yourself, and have informed beliefs. Some people just have no curiosity about the world around them and I can't understand that.

And some of it was just regular old ignorance or being uninformed, but I'm like... almost 30, so I don't want to have to constantly explain shit to people that I feel like they should already know in order for us to be on the same page about literal core values. That's not what I want out of my close relationships. Some of my friends do that on the regular for their close friends and don't seem to mind, but I don't like it. My work friends and my best friends and I are always having deep discussions, so it's hard to treat people with kid gloves or talk to them like they're five about shit, especially while [hahahahaha I just backspaced something really mean hahahahaaaaaahaha whatever, the point is I feel like some people think they're incapable of or exempt from learning new things and I disagree]

It may seem shitty to even be posting about this but I've been ruminating on it for like, three months, and haven't hung out with anyone since like April. Plus people in that group can handle their interpersonal issues however they want. PLUS, I'm slightly tipsy, so jot that down.

Anywayyy. It's also just weird to hang out with a large group of people where several of them seem to dislike each other. So I keep my distance for now. And my work friends are having a Friendsgiving and I don't think I'm gonna go because fuck holidays. I absolutely can't make myself do it when nothing about them feels true to me. But I also need to take every opportunity I can for human engagement because I never regret it.

[capriciouscaprine]

oooooops, accidentally called out my mom about her weird eating habits yesterday! (followed by my usual rambling about this fun little body hobby we share)

she was fussing about me not getting everything out of her car when I was helping her out (she had told me to do one specific thing, which I had done), and I joked that I didn't want to be asking questions about all of her stuff, and when she said, 'like what?', I said, 'oh, you know, all of your rice cakes' which she has also mildly joked about before (she'll have more than one pack open at a time rolling around in the passenger seat), but this time she got all serious and mumbled something about wanting to look good for my cousin's wedding in July (when she's been buying them for 10+ years now at least)

I handled it in the moment by pointing out that she's made it this far in life and has friends who love her no matter what (of course this means nothing for how you feel about yourself), and she just brushed it off and moved on

meanwhile, I'm HYPED to stick to what I've been doing and work towards being even more consistent and doing more aka consuming less

from other people's comments and behaviors towards me, I seem to be teetering on the edge of 'are you okay?'/being 'too' small (5'4", one-thirty at last check, skele just barely beginning to pop out) with about four months still to go before this wedding with all the relatives who are very supportive of each other but still gossip about which eating plans each of them and their friends are doing

I WILL be their warning, their omen, the representation of what happens when you take that sort of talk to the extreme, because ultimately there is no way to be, essentially, fatphobic in moderation

once you value being small and alter your life to chase that even as it makes you miserable, there is no way to do that in a healthy way:

if you are healthy, you are working out because you value the strength and flexibility of your body or the camaraderie of the gym, you eat a variety of vegetables and proteins because they are tasty and keep you full and energized, and you enjoy your drinks and desserts because they're tasty and fulfill you emotionally; a scale might be informative, but mostly because it's good to know if your weight changes suddenly, because it could be an indicator of a health issue of some sort (tumors can show up as weight gain, a digestive illness can present as a loss, etc)

we aren't healthy, and we (should) know that; restricting, doing only liquids for days at a time, straight up pacing to hit step goals, consuming media specifically to encourage all of our behaviors, etc: all symptoms of a particular illness that we would claim openly on here except for the part where our blogs keep disappearing over it

the younger folks among us might not realize it consciously (and some older folks, too), but we're all here because of societal fatphobia that values being tiny over being healthy; there are SO MANY people who are considered medically overweight that are by all other metrics perfectly healthy, but their doctors aren't satisfied until they're under a certain BMI, even if that results in muscle loss, anemia, etc.; fat people are uniformly treated worse for doing the exact same things as skinny people (eating, sweating, shopping, existing), to the extent that they are on average paid less for doing the exact same job as a thin person

anecdotally, I've noticed that the people on here who acknowledge this and work to combat internalized fatphobia (no 'fat inspi', no using fat folks as a comparison in 'unkind inspi', no making fun of other people to motivate yourself) often seem to have better mental health than the folks who indulge in it; reacting negatively, even in your own head, to someone simply existing while fat just keeps your brain full of negativity, which, we have a famous phrase relating to that sort of thinking: 'if shame worked, it would have worked already'

your 'why' can't just be 'to not be fat'; there's nothing wrong with being fat, and in plenty of situations it's even beneficial for your health

which, to circle back, alllllllll of my relatives, every 'mainstream' adult I've heard talk about traditional eating less culture (excuse me for avoiding potential no-no words) with their no breakfast/only nuts for lunch/pull the crust off bread/whatever 'rules' or branded eating plans, all of them are only trying to not be fat

and all of them are failing at it

to be 'successful' at what we are doing, you must be clear on how our goals are not to be healthy and knowingly, consistently engage in unhealthy habits, all the while pretending that you totally aren't doing that and everything is fine

we really don't want to encourage anyone to be like us, because we want them to be happy without restrictions; we just know that once you're in here, you know there are advantages (attention, kindness from strangers, improved salary, being listened to by doctors, getting gendered correctly, and more) to be claimed by sacrificing that happiness in specific ways, and we will unashamedly share those specific ways with each other

#cc og #the slimmening

[devythebaddie]

Give 'Em Hell (a Hangman x reader story) - Chapter 1: Reminiscing and Reconnecting

PROMPT:

Timeline: Pre-TGM to TGM

Reader: Victoria "Stony" Kazansky (Iceman's daughter)

Background:

Tori is 4 years younger than Rooster (her BFF), and due to the whole paper-pulling incident, the two went to flight school together and graduated from Top Gun together. Tori ended up getting engaged to another pilot, Jeffrey "Phantom" Hart, but he was killed in combat a month or two before the events of TGM.

Story:

Upon being called back for the special mission (she was supposed to have 4 months leave due to the tragedy but as she is an incredible pilot with 2 confirmed air combat kills - suck it Hangman - her dad informed her of the mission and she decided to go), Rooster is there to comfort her after the whole death thing. Let's just say Hangman takes it the wrong way and thinks the two are a thing jealous Jake alert but when Tori explains the real story to him after being injured during a training session, he confesses his love, cheesy as ever.

*I aim to have 10 chapters of this story eventually, hope you like it!*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flashbacks. Victoria Kazansky was no stranger to them. She’d had them every night since the accident. Usually they’d wake her up with a start around two or three in the morning, then she’d get up, drink a bit of warm milk, and go back to sleep, but this time it wouldn’t work. She tried everything, but she couldn’t go back to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his plane shot down by enemy aircraft while she just sat there in her F-18 with a horrified look on her face, she heard his screams and promises of eternal love as the plane fell towards the water below, she lost her fiancé over and over and over. 

It wasn’t a coincidence that her nightmares were worse than usual. It was the day of Jeffrey’s funeral. She was just supposed to stand there in that black dress, let a few tears flow down her cheeks, and accept the condolences of the naval aviators around her. But all Tori felt like doing was rolling up into a ball on her bed - one that now felt too big - and crying herself to sleep. She couldn’t even fathom standing in front of two, let alone two hundred, people in only twelve hours. So Tori did the one thing she thought had a chance of working. She called Rooster.

Being Iceman’s daughter, Tori’s whole childhood was spent playing with Bradley Bradshaw. He may have been four years older than her, but the two were inseparable. As the two got older, and Maverick pulled Rooster’s papers from the naval academy, they grew apart a bit. It was only when Bradley and Victoria ended up in the same class at flight school (and later Top Gun) that they really became best friends again. The two called each other for everything - Rooster called Tori when he set it off with a girl, Tori called Rooster when she and Jeffrey got engaged, and normal, non-relationship-related things. They spent so much time together that people even assumed the two would end up together, but they truly had no feelings for one another except for brotherly and sisterly ones. Rooster was actually supposed to be Jeffrey’s best man at the wedding, as the two had been close at Top Gun, but now that was all ruined. He’d tried to call Tori countless times since the incident, but she’d only picked up once, saying, “I’m so sorry. I know you and Jeffrey were so close” and hanging up. This made her extremely nervous to call him this time, especially since it was extremely early in the morning.

She clicked on his contact on her phone and hesitantly hit the call button. It rang twice, and then he picked up. Tori let out a small gasp. 

“Tori? Victoria? Um, did you call me on purpose?” He asked. She didn’t know what to do, but somehow she found her voice and answered.

“Brad! Yes, uh, yeah, I did mean to call you. I…I need someone to talk to. I can’t sleep, and I don’t know how I’m gonna make it through the funeral.” Victoria admitted. She didn’t get a reply right away, hearing rustling, walking, door-slamming, and the sound of a car turning on before Bradley responded.

“I’m so sorry, Tor. I honestly couldn’t sleep either. I know this is really hard for you. But hey, I’m here. I’m always gonna be here. I got you, Stony.” It was the first time Tori had heard her call sign in a while, and it was surprising.

“Thank you, Bradley.” She sat there in silence for a minute, but the absence of sound wasn’t awkward at all. 

“So, what did you end up doing?” Bradley broke the silence. Tori almost asked, “In regards to what?”, but then realized what he was referring to. Her eyes immediately found her left ring finger. 

*timeskip: two weeks before*

“Lieutenant Kazansky. Thank you for coming in. I know you’ve had a really hard few days, but we have an important question to ask you.” Vice Admiral Simpson, aka Cyclone, gave her a solemn smile as he spoke. Rear Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates sat beside him.

“Of course, sir.” Tori responded, sitting down in the chair before her.

“The funeral for Lieutenant Hart - Jeffrey - is to be in two weeks. We have preparations all set up, so you don’t have to worry about anything, especially funding, but the people who are taking care of Lieutenant Hart’s…person…would like to know one thing. Would you like to bury anything with him?”

Tori sat there for a second in shock. The question was simple, and one she should’ve expected, but it seemed to be coming out of nowhere. 

“You don’t have to answer right now.” Warlock added. “You can set up another meeting with us in a week’s time, or even send your correspondence - with any potential items you’d like to bury - so it will arrive by then.”

“Okay. I’m not quite sure at the moment, but is there a time next week that I can meet with you?” She asked hesitantly. 

“Yes, of course. How about next Tuesday at 1600 hours?” Cyclone asked.

“Sure. That sounds good. Thank you both.” Tori replied, then saluted the two men. She received two nods and sad smiles as she left the room.

*back to original timeline*

Tori looked at her now-bare finger, where the small but beautiful diamond sat for many months.

“I’m having them bury it with him. My ring. It seems too soon to even be talking about this, but I know Jeffrey would’ve wanted me to move on, and if I do, it’s a bit weird to be wearing my engagement ring from my late fiancé.” She let a lone tear slip down her cheek as she spoke.

“That’s very brave of you, Tori.” She could hear the smile in Rooster’s voice. “You’re right. Phantom would’ve wanted you to move on.”

There was a knock at the door. 

“I’m proud of you.” Rooster said to her face and through the phone. Tori immediately put her phone in her pocket and flung her arms around him.

“Oh, Bradley, you didn’t have to come all the way here!” Tears came to her eyes, and they were finally happy ones.

“All the way here? My apartment’s five minutes away, Tor!” Bradley laughed.

“Let me make you something. What do you want? Toast? Tea?” 

“You sound like my mother,” Rooster smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “It’s three in the morning, Stony, I’m good on food. Sleep sounds great, though.”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s not like you haven’t slept in my bed before.” Tori blurted out. “Okay, that sounded way too suggestive, you know what I mean!”

“Of course I know what you mean, Vic. You’re fine.” 

Bradley and Victoria slept through the morning, waking up around eleven - giving them plenty of time before the funeral. She was extremely thankful for his presence, as it took her mind off things and allowed her to feel normal again as they went out for breakfast, went grocery shopping, and watched TV, as best friends do. When Tori got a call from her dad at one, she especially needed Bradley, as she nearly fainted upon hearing the news.

“Tori. I know this isn’t the right time, but I wanted to get to you before Bradley gets the official call.” The older man said. “You might have to go back to Top Gun.”

#hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin #top gun: maverick #hangman x reader #hangman x y/n #top gun maverick #jake seresin #hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun

[silent-silver-slip]

Hi!! In the fic you wrote for me, you alluded to some backstory for your ocs (like what happened to Sasha thirty years ago?) if you wanted to go into that I think it could be fun :)

Not me answering this ask MONTHS later but I have had Thoughts recently and am back on my shit.

For those curious, the fic in question is Dare to Fight Impossible Fights and I had such a fun time writing it. The OCs in question are Eli (been there the longest), Sasha (been there for a while as well), and Jamie (the newest of the three). I'll share a few of the ideas that I've come up with for these OCs and their backstories starting with Jamie and ending with Sasha (below the line so others can skip this lol).

Jamie (warnings for cancer mentions & death; they are a ghost)

Jamie is the youngest and also has managed to avoid Caleb's attention the most! Up until the events of the fic of course

Main reason that Jamie is coasting is that they're super upfront about things which means that Caleb though he knew what was going on

Jamie is a massive fan of chaos and will willingly cause mischief, you might've noted their tendency to steal as well

In ghost years, Jamie is only a decade or two old, so still figuring most things out

This is more something that I'm figuring out now but I think that Jamie's always been a fighter and someone to advocate things--they died due to terminal cancer, and now that they have a chance to not-quite-live again, they plan to make the most of it and be really true to themselves

Eli

I kind of gave each ghost a "knack" or a magic speciality, and Eli's is being able to change their facial features--specifically to lure someone closer (and you can imagine how Caleb has used this to further his own gains)

Probably spent about eight decades with Caleb? He doesn't remember much from before but he assumes that he'd been someone then

He's also lost time at the Club, too, which I think is very fitting considering the Phantoms' own awareness of time when they went there for the first time

I mentioned another OC known as 'Blair' in the fic and I am imagining that they had had Something despite Blair not being part of the Club--not sure whether it was romantic or platonic in nature, but don't think it matters either

Eli just knows there's nothing outside of the Club for him and despite everything, despite how much he hates it all sometimes, he still wants to live (for given meaning of life--I mean they are ghosts after all)

Sasha

Sasha has been around in the Club for about five decades according to my notes!

I have also made a mention in my notes about something that happened thirty years ago but all it says is 'house band' and I am SO confused, did I not want to include more information?

Thought about it for a bit and I was inspired by our latest conversation of trying to get a song 'perfect' in two weeks. The reason why Sasha is still watching herself around Caleb is because three decades ago, the band and dancers were being forced into heaps of practice and many hours spent practicing and they're dead so they don't need to stop, right? but they're exhausted and Caleb is just saying again again again and they're only getting worse and Sasha looks around and just decides fuck this. She manages to put a stop to the practices for a day and Caleb spaces them out a bit more--but needless to say, she's definitely on his shit list afterwards and that's not something easy to get off

Anyway, that is all from me for this ask! I hope you enjoyed and if I ever write more of these characters, you can bet it'll end up being a fic on ao3 lmao

#ask #julie and the phantoms #ghost oc club wip

[dollsonmain]

You are getting worried over a lot of incorrect information. First, you are not married, you can file your own taxes and he can still claim you as dependent, but you will not be taxed at his rate. Second, you don't even have to file unless you make $12,500. Third, if you did have to file the 1099k is reported on a schedule c, not the other form you're looking at, that is for different 1099 forms. You need to calm down and get better information.

See that's the thing: I have no idea what is or isn't good information because this is 100% new to me (unemployed for the past 15 years and only earned W-2 income before that) and my attempts at looking it up for myself via the IRS are not working because they're not specific enough to answer my questions, only bring up more questions.

I do know that I can file separately and still be claimed as a dependent which would keep me in a lower tax bracket (presumably a don't touch my pennies tax bracket).

As far as I know I DO have to file because of the new tax reporting laws that go into effect for the 2022 tax period.

As far as I know.

Because the laws have changed. Or will. Or something. And a few people are trying to change the change before it goes into effect from $600 to $6000 but I'll hit that anyway, probably.

That's where the confusion is coming in. Last year's rules no longer apply and I've had different people come at me citing last year's rules.

Trying to look that up I get conflicting information, old info, or multiple sources that directly contradict each other. I'm finding like "If you work for someone else, didn't earn more than $12k-ish and get a W-2 you don't have to file but you might want to. Though you may have earned more than $400 and gotten a 1099." and that doesn't help, it just stops there.

A couple places I can find outdated info (like 2019) saying "You have to file if you earned $400 and got a 1099." with no information about whether or not you'll owe taxes on that, just that you must file.

Almost all of the "You don't have to file if you earned less than $12k" resources are talking about W-2 earnings, not 1099 earnings.

What I've been told directly by a tax person is that I do need to file because will be generated a 1099-K by eBay, and do need to fill out those itemization forms because they will drop my taxable income considerably, but won't owe income taxes because my gross individual income will be below $12k.

Which means I'd need to get the rest of this information ready because I'm at around $3k right now (well over the new $600 reporting threshold), looking to earn maybe another $2k through the rest of the year which wouldn't be enough to have to pay if I were getting a W-2 but I'm not getting a W-2, I'm getting a 1099-K.

AND all of that info is federal taxes only, not even starting on state taxes.

The literal most anxiety inducing thing for me is not knowing exactly and this is the kind of thing I don't want to assume I understand and be wrong.

It would help if the multiple sources I'm trying to draw good information from would all give the same answers.

The only person I haven't asked, yet, is a CPA and I can probably contact That Guy's CPA and get his input without too much hassle he's pretty chill.

-

But also, as stressful as this has been for me, very very, if it's true that I'm stressing over nothing right now and everything I'm worried about doesn't apply to me because my income is so low, better to get into the habit and routine of doing it right in case it does matter next year or the year after.

And also yes, a lot of this stress is just my anxiety making it worse than it really is.

#HECKINNUMMBERS