#NINE PERCENT SCENARIO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nonasuch · 1 year

Text

here is a fun little star wars scenario that has been pinging around inside my head like a screensaver:

so let’s say there’s some very zealous, very low-ranking fresh young Imperial officer on duty the day they take the Senator from Alderaan into custody.

and he is very very nervous because a) he’s been here for like a week and b) none of that week required him to be in a room with Darth Vader. which he now is. so he is trying to focus very very hard on Doing Everything Exactly According To Protocol, as a means of not focusing on the seven-foot evil wizard standing fifteen feet away.

and part of the protocol for processing new prisoners is to make a new file for them in the prisoner database, and enter all their biographical details and vital statistics and a gene sample and their known associates and the nature of their terrible crimes against the Empire and so on. which he does! very meticulously!

except the computer keeps throwing an error message. the stupid thing keeps beeping at him, this awful grating little noise that makes his shoulders ratchet up tighter and tighter every time it honks at him, and he can’t fix it and Darth Vader is right over there—

except oh god oh fuck the beeping noise must be annoying Darth Vader, too, because he’s coming over here and our poor junior officer is convinced he’s going to die before he even lives long enough to send his first paycheck home to his poor widowed mother —

he stammers out an apology. Vader just stares at him. he swears he’ll figure out the problem right away, sir, it’s probably a bug in the system, it’s just that for some silly reason it keeps saying this gene sample doesn’t match the one on file for the Senator so he can’t get her logged as a new prisoner just yet —

“Dismissed,” says Vader. the poor kid flees, gratefully.

Vader considers the matter. in fact, his underling was correct: the gene sample, which he saw taken through his very own helmet lenses, does not match the official record of Senator Leia Organa, heir to the throne of Alderaan. so: perhaps the sample on record was falsified. not impossible, but very, very difficult. and ordinarily a crime attempted by the lowly and desperate. he cannot see any need for it, in the daughter of a queen.

another possibility presents itself. Alderaan has no history of using royal doubles, as some worlds do. but Bail Organa has worked closely with royal houses where the practice is long-established. perhaps he was inspired. perhaps the girl they captured is not Leia Organa at all.

Vader runs the gene sample against the ship’s database. it is woefully incomplete, of course, containing only a fraction of the Empire’s billions of citizens: the ship’s own complement, a selection of known criminals and Rebels they might encounter, high-ranking officials whose identity must be confirmed should the Emperor require their presence. unlikely that this girl, whoever she is, would have a record here, or even a partial match—

the computer beeps at him. it’s a cheerful beep, this time, not the error message that stymied the junior officer. the computer reports that the gene sample is a partial match for Pooja Naberrie, the Senator from Naboo. they are, with eighty-nine percent probability, first cousins.

and Vader just. kind of stands there. for a minute.

when he goes to Leia’s cell, there’s no interrogation droid with him. he goes in. he shuts the door behind him. he stands there, silent, for frankly a worryingly long time, until Leia has run through her entire stockpile of “how dare you, I’m a member of the Senate on a humanitarian mission” and “whatever you want, you can’t possibly think I would be of any help” and “well, if you’re going to interrogate me, get on with it already” and “are you even listening to me?” and falls silent herself.

Vader has been listening to her. he has also been listening to the Force, which seems to think that she’s not lying. obviously the humanitarian mission part is bullshit, that goes without saying. but the “I’m Senator Leia Organa” parts and the “I won’t help you” parts? yeah. he searched his feelings. he knows them to be true. the Force is singing in his head, bright and clear, in a way it hasn’t for nearly twenty years.

there’s still Tarkin to deal with, though. Vader turns and leaves the cell without a word.

Tarkin wants to blow up Alderaan. this is unacceptable, obviously, and Vader forbids it on the grounds that the Queen and the Viceroy possess vital intelligence, not disclosed to their daughter, that must be acquired. said intelligence being, not that he’s saying this out loud, how the fuck Bail got his hands on his daughter, and who else knows about it.

“the fate of the galaxy rests on it,” is what he does say out loud. from the way the Force harmonizes with his words, that might even be true.

so the Death Star just. parks there. in an incredibly threatening orbit around the planet. they issue a demand that the Organas surrender themselves, or else, but apparently the happy couple just left for a low-tech weekend retreat in the mountains, what awful timing, they’re sending someone to fetch them right away. Vader shuts himself up in his quarters, to seethe and watch the surveillance feed from Leia’s cell. he’s not really paying attention to much else.

and it’s not like a random freighter getting tractored in for being an incredibly obvious smuggling vessel is the kind of thing you’d alert Darth Vader over, anyway.

so he’s still sitting there, one great big thought filling up his whole entire head, watching Leia take a frustration nap, when her cell door opens.

and a trooper comes in.

and the trooper takes off his helmet.

and he says, “I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”

(continued here)

#i have no idea what happens after that but it's definitely not the plot of star wars: a new hope #star wars #not fic

7K notes · View notes

chuunai · 4 months

Note

hey, congrats 100 followers !! i would love to join your celebration♡ may i request beastzai (or js adazai) with the scenario married life (1) & all in all, it was a typical tuesday (8) as the prompt ?

congrats on 100 again !!!! it’s a big number and a big achievement !!

I think Dazai is really hot too.

✧˚ · . vroom vroom, than a table for two - dazai osamu

he certainly couldn’t complain.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), SFW → icky PDA, cutesy nicknames, minor mention of sex (it’s like barely there though) and overall puppy husband dazai. also obvious mentions of suicide its DAZAI

It was Tuesday.

And also another hardworking day at the Agency. So, so tiring, according to your husband—not that he ever worked—to the point where he simply needed a break with his lovely spouse. That’s how you found yourself hand-in-hand with him during your lunch break, walking down the sidewalks of Yokohama while he excitedly spoke about a new suicide method he had heard of.

Yesterday was a homemade shrapnel bomb, today was a wrecking ball.

“Basically, you hide out in a building that’s scheduled to be demolished and eventually it collapses on you! Pretty sweet, isn’t it?”

Quirking an eyebrow, he turned to you expectantly, a cheery smile on his face. It was quick, painless enough method of suicide. Beautiful in a way, too. Sunlight would be warming his skin, the air fresh and crisp and then tons of concrete and plaster would crush his entire body in one fell swoop. No pain, just gain of access to the afterlife.

Looking back at him, you sheepishly shrugged, replying back to amuse both him and yourself. 50% of the time, his attempts were idiotic and funny, the other 50% was genuinely worrying and mildly terrifying. Today seemed to be the former, though. Thankfully.

Plus, it wasn’t like the method would even work due to some random info you found out about on the internet.

“Yeah, but I’m like, ninety-nine percent sure they check the buildings for people before they demolish them. So you’d get found out.”

Your tone was as equally playful and light as his. He wouldn’t really kill himself. You weren’t ready for a double suicide yet, sadly. His lips curled into a frown when you mentioned how it wouldn’t work, his fingers squeezing yours as he exaggerated his sigh.

“And here I was, certain of my demise! Guess that means I’ll be with you a bit longer, darling.”

Not that he really minded.

Sure, he constantly went off about suicide and how beautiful the whole concept was, but at the end of the day, he wouldn’t want to die without you at his side. He’s firmly one of those people who’d kill himself after his beloved died. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself after you died. Sure, he made Odasaku a promise, but he made you a vow.

Until death do them part.

When you died, so would he.

But no one was dying today. Just a happy day for a happy couple.

Dazai’s hand slipped out of yours, curling around your hips instead as he pulled you closer to his side. He wanted to show off his pretty partner to anyone who happened to look over at you two. Show off the person who owns his heart and soul and is his perfect reason to live for just a little bit longer. No one else deserved his gorgeous belladonna.

Just him and him only.

Only Dazai could kiss your lips at any given moment—publicly or privately—, and only he could watch you dress up for dates, brushing out your hair while he mumbled compliments into the spot where your collarbone met your neck. Only Dazai could spend hours with you at night, hearing his name from your lips while his fingers intertwined with yours at the intimate moments.

No one else could hope to do the same with you.

That’s why he soon was leading you into a bakery, the smell of pastries and bread flooding the air as he looked over the treats in the display cases. Black sesame roll cakes, all squishy looking and yummy. The cookies ranging from chocolate chip to matcha and plain vanilla. They all looked so good, but the prices weren’t quite the same.

God, when it came to money, Dazai wished he was still in the Mafia. At least he had tons of it back then.

Now, he had to be a bit more frugal with his income from the Agency. Sure, you guys weren’t dirt poor or unable to afford food and other necessities, but you couldn’t always get special snacks like this. Maybe once every week or two, if you could do so.

Nudging your shoulder, he tapped the glass, looking at you expectantly. He always did this—letting you choose what the two of you would eat. Dazai didn’t mind either. You had good taste unlike his diet of canned crab and alcohol.

“I trust my lovely spouse’s taste and that you’ll pick something good like always.”

He was such a puppy. Only for you, he thought.

“Uhmm…dunno. Pick a number, one or two.”

Dazai placed a finger on his lips, pretending to be in thought like it was the most important decision in his twenty-two years of life so far. Brows furrowed in concentration, eyes darting between you and the sweet treats while he hummed quietly. One or two? Eh. He’d go with two. There was the two of you here, after all.

“Two.”

He watched as you pointed at a slice of strawberry cheesecake, your eyes looking at him for approval. Honestly, Dazai never understood why you wanted his approval for everything. You were his equal—his life partner, nonetheless—so there was really no need for this behavior. But he couldn’t blame you. Even now, he had a bit of a commanding aura.

“Oooooh, that looks good! Knew you’d pick something tasty.”

Dazai pecked your cheek affectionately while he held your hand walking to the counter, ordering two slices of strawberry cheesecake, taking out Kunikida’s credit card that he had ‘borrowed’ from the blondie earlier at work. Compared to the thievery he had committed in his younger years, it was practically begging to be used with how his wallet was smack dab in the middle of his desk.

Carefully holding the two plates of the cheesecake slices, he led you over to a table in the corner, giving you a fork as he sat down across from you. He didn’t eat until you dug into your piece first, making sounds of contentment as sweetness coated both your taste buds. Geez, it was good. Worth the price for sure. The corner of your lips were stained with the white frosting, and so he swiped his thumb over the mess, cooing at you like a parent.

“Ah ah, ‘donna. You’re getting messy.”

Dazai liked the flush of your face. How flustered you were as you insisted you could clean yourself and that you weren’t a baby and a fully capable grown adult.

“I’m not a baby, ‘samu! I can take care of myself, ‘kay?”

Of course, of course.

“Uh-huh. And you’re not a baby. You’re my baby. My clumsy little baby who can’t eat without making a mess.”

Chewing on the rest of his slice, minutes passed, filled with conversations between the two of you about work, how Atsushi was doing—probably still traumatized and fucked over, is what you both agreed about—, plans for dinner. You tastefully ignored his comment about what he wanted for dessert. At least there weren’t any kids in the bakery.

Thankfully for everyone else in the establishment, your ‘lunch’ was finished. Walking out of the cafe, he clasped onto your hand firmly, feeling his wedding ring rub against your skin. The sounds of honking and birds chirping filled the air, but all Dazai could hear were your gentle breaths coupled with the sound of your footsteps.

Nothing really mattered besides you, in his eyes.

His everything—his reason to live.

Eternally.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts

299 notes · View notes

ambrossart · 2 years

Text

DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART ONE

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. ❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader ❖ word count: 2,489 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

You were more than a little caught off guard when Chance Gallagher asked you to the senior prom.

Chance was popular, Chance was on the basketball team, and you were just Chrissy Cunningham's snarky best friend. The "bitchy" one—yeah, that was your identifier (so that you wouldn't be confused with her other, much perkier friends). You were confident that ninety percent of the student body had no idea what your actual name was. To them, you were simply Chrissy Cunningham's Bitchy Best Friend. Depressing as that was, it was an enormous step up from constantly being referred to as her "chubby" best friend. All that dieting must have finally paid off.

Needless to say, you were a little skeptical when Chance Gallagher, dressed in his green letterman jacket, showed up at your locker six weeks before the big night.

He swung by and said, "Hey, you..."

In hindsight, that should have been your first clue that this was going to end in disaster. Hey, you? Come on, the boy clearly didn't know your name. But at the time, you weren't thinking about that. No, you were too busy admiring his long dark hair, those deep-set brown eyes, and that shy, crooked smile that slowly crept up the side of his face...

"Hi," you said back, and you thought your voice sounded oddly high-pitched for some reason, like Minnie Mouse. You had to clear your throat and try again. "Hey, uhh, what's up?"

"Nothin' much." Chance paused and ran his hand through his hair. Shamelessly, you watched him do it, and you caught yourself wondering if his hair was as soft as it looked. It probably was.

"I was just thinking," he went on, "you know, about prom coming up..."

You retreated into sarcasm. "Oh, is prom coming up?"

"Uh... yes?" Chance cocked his head, looking so confused.

You winced. "Sorry, just ignore me. So, what about prom?"

"Well, I was wondering if anyone asked you yet."

You squinted at him for a second, thinking, Seriously? "Uhh, no, no one's asked me yet."

"Good," said Chance, nodding and smiling, and you stood there, thinking, Wow, those are some white teeth.

Then, while you were distracted by those white teeth, he snuck in a quick: "So you wanna go, then?"

You blinked slowly. Once. Twice. "I'm sorry... what?"

"I'm asking if—"

"You're asking me to prom?"

"Well, I'm trying to, but you're making it kinda difficult."

"Well, I'm a difficult person," you said under your breath. Then: "Wait a minute, is this like a Taming of the Shrew scenario? Is there a Bianca somewhere in this?"

Chance's brow furrowed. "Taming of the what?"

"The shrew."

"What's a shrew?"

"Well, it's actually a small, mouse-like animal, but it's also the word for an ill-tempered woman, which is the definition I'm referring to—not the mouse, obviously; although I could see the mouse making sense too, you know, within a different context... Anyway, The Taming of the Shrew is a Shakespearean comedy. We read it in English last week. We took turns playing the parts... well, not me, I mostly just read the stage directions. See, I've got a thing about public speaking and, you know, speaking in general..."

"Really? 'Cause you seem pretty good at it." Chance was smiling at you.

And now you were smiling back... and laughing, too. It was a colorful laugh that burst out of your chest like confetti out of a New Year's Eve popper.

"That was a good joke," you said. "I liked that."

Silence. Heavy and awkward.

Chance broke it. "So... is that a yes to prom? Or do I need to leave, come back, and start this process all over again?"

You laughed again, but this one made your chest hurt a little.

Your gut reaction was to say, Yes, absolutely! but you never listened to your gut. You listened to the small voice in your head, the one currently showing you all the possible worst-case scenarios on a teeny tiny projector: frame after frame after frame. This is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea. You should just say no right now and save yourself the embarrassment.

But then you heard Chrissy's voice in your head, that sweet Disney princess voice. You know you're the only one getting in your way, right? Stop sabotaging yourself. You would be so much happier if you would stop shutting everyone out. Just open up a little, let people in, and I promise they'll think you're amazing, just like I do... and then I'm gonna have to tell them all to back off because you're my best friend. I found you first.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay, look, at the risk of making this all blow up in my face, can just I ask why? Why do you wanna go to prom with me, Chance? I mean, sure, we sit at the same lunch table, and yeah, you're friends with Jason and I'm friends with Chrissy, but we've never spoken a word to each other... so why?"

Chance shrugged. "Because I want to? Because I think we'd have a good time? Do I need another reason?"

You bit down on your lip. That wasn't the answer you were hoping for, but then again, maybe that was just your anxiety talking. You shook all those ugly thoughts away and said, "Okay."

Chance took a step back, seeming delightfully surprised. "Okay?"

"Okay... yes, I'll go to prom with you." And you felt a little like Sissy Spacek in the movie Carrie.

Was this your Tommy Ross?

Oh, hopefully he doesn't die...

Chance pumped his fist. "Well, all right!" And for a second, you thought he was going to give you a high five or a slap on the back. Instead, he backed away slowly, heading toward his own locker. "This will be great. Yeah, I'm really looking forward to this."

"Me too," you said.

And that was the problem. You started looking forward to it. You started getting excited about it. Daydreaming about it. Flipping through magazines and dog-earing your favorite pages, because suddenly you had favorite pages. And that's why you were absolutely gutted when Chance called you up six hours before prom and said he couldn't make it.

With just five words, all your prom plans went up in flames.

"Food poisoning? Are you kidding me right now?" You were sitting on your bed with the phone pressed against your ear. It almost slipped out of your grasp when you first heard the news. "Can't you, like, take some Pepto-Bismol or something?"

"Seriously?"

"No, not seriously, Chance. I'm not a monster." You let out an angry huff and switched the phone to your opposite ear. "What am I supposed to do now? I bought tickets and a dress and some really, really painful heels." You had even practiced walking in those painful heels so that you wouldn't look stupid—or worse, trip and fall on your face in front of everyone. "There's gonna be pictures and dinner and a frickin' limo... Oh my god, I'm gonna be the only one there without a date!"

"I know... I'm so sorry."

"Well, great, can I bring your 'sorry' with me to prom? Can I pose next to it during pictures?" You swallowed hard, feeling the sharp sting of oncoming tears. You lowered the phone to your shoulder (while Chance continued to utter apology after apology) and squeezed your eyes shut before a single one could escape.

After a minute, you heard Chance say, "You still there?"

You brought the phone back to your ear. "Yeah," you said, and wiped your runny nose on your wrist. "Look, don't worry about me, okay? I'll, uhh, I'll figure something out."

"Yeah, okay... And, hey, I'm really, really sorry."

"Yeah, I know," you said, numbing yourself to it. "Anyway, I'm gonna go. Uhh, feel better, okay?"

You slammed the phone down before he could say goodbye. Then you saw the stack of magazines on your nightstand. And the pink shoebox on the floor. You buried your face in your hands and had yourself a good five-minute cry before picking the phone back up and frantically dialing Chrissy's number.

She answered in a chirpy voice: "Hello, hello... Cunningham residence."

"He's not coming!" you blurted out in a stuffy, near-to-tears voice.

"What? What do you mean, he's not coming?"

"Food poisoning! He got food poisoning!"

"He got food poisoning? Oh, no..."

"Yeah. That's just my luck, right? I just spent three hundred dollars for nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, obviously I can't go now..."

"What? But you have to go!"

"Chris, I can't—"

"No, Y/N, you have to go! This is the senior prom. This is supposed to be our special night."

You rolled your eyes. "Pretty sure Jason thinks it's his special night."

"Well, he's wrong," Chrissy said, and stifled a laugh. "Come on, you didn't go to junior prom, and that was fine, but this is the senior prom, our last prom, and I wanna spend it with my best friend. I want us to go get our hair and makeup done, and put on these outrageous, obnoxious dresses, and go make asses of ourselves on that dance floor. That way, when I'm old and wrinkly, I can look back on this moment and think, Wow... I so peaked in high school."

You both laughed. Despite the tears, you laughed.

"Yeah," you said, "I want that, too... but I don't have a date, Chris."

"So what? You can come with me and Jason."

"Oh, the third wheel. Yeah, I bet your boyfriend would love that."

"He won't mind. And if he does, screw him. We'll leave his ass at home and go to prom together. Deal?"

You smiled and dabbed your eyes dry with your sleeve. "Deal."

Overjoyed, Chrissy squealed so loud you had to pull the phone away from your ear. "Now, hurry up and get your butt over here, pretty lady! Our appointment's in an hour."

"Fine, fine..."

You said your goodbyes and hung up. That's when the dread finally set in, twisting your stomach into one giant pretzel. "Food poisoning, huh? Boy, is he lucky." You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling for what felt like forever.

"I'm calling it now: this is gonna be the worst night of my life."

Three streets down, Gareth Lozinski’s garage was exploding with the thrashing chords of heavy metal.

Corroded Coffin was currently six songs deep into their ten-song set list (a tribute to all their favorite metal bands), which would eventually get whittled down to just five songs. Any more than that and the manager of The Hideout would pull the plug on them. That happened last Tuesday, after Eddie Munson tried to sneak in a second Iron Maiden song when he thought the manager had stepped outside for a smoke break. They were only six bars in when their mics and amps suddenly died. Eddie, lost in the music, played another eight bars before he realized what had happened.

“Boo,” he said into the dead mic; then he strummed an angry riff and walked off the stage.

The band took a short break after Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid” so that Gareth could help his mother carry in the groceries. Mrs. Lozinski made a comment about their playing, said they were “really coming along” because she didn’t know what else to say. Gareth’s little sister was more succinct with her feedback. She skipped past the open garage with a paper bag full of fruit and said, “No, you guys still suck.”

Five minutes later, Gareth returned with half a turkey sandwich, sat down behind his drum set, and played the majority of Motörhead’s “Ace of Spades” with the sandwich hanging out of his mouth. He wolfed the rest down during Eddie’s excessively long guitar solo.

Just when you thought he was done, the guy kept on going…

These rehearsals usually carried on well into the evening. Gareth’s family sat down to dinner at around six-thirty, and they didn’t appreciate the unique ambiance of Eddie Munson’s screaming guitar, so that’s when the band typically called it quits.

Today, however, was no typical day. Today was the senior prom.

Jeff was the first one to unstrap his guitar. “All right, guys, I’m outta here.”

Gareth, a junior who had yet to experience prom, said, “Dude, it’s only three. Prom doesn’t start for another four hours.”

“Yeah, but Tara’s parents wanna take pictures, and my parents wanna take pictures, and then we gotta go to dinner… It’s a whole event.”

Grant heard that and unstrapped as well. “Yeah, shit, I better get going, too.”

Meanwhile, Eddie Munson was staring off into space and silently strumming his guitar, trying to work out some of Motörhead’s trickier chord progressions in his head. He stopped momentarily when he felt Jeff’s hand on his shoulder.

Jeff said, “Hey, good luck tonight, man.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth raised into a lazy smile. “Thanks, man. See ya.” Then he bent his head and went back to strumming, his left hand fingering the beginning chords of Dio’s “The Last in Line.”

Gareth put down his drumsticks and stood up. “You’re really going through with this, huh?”

“Mhm,” said Eddie, only half listening.

Gareth shook his head, utterly dumbfounded by his friend’s reckless determination. “You’re crazy, man. What makes you think Chrissy Cunningham’s gonna wanna dance with you?”

Eddie’s fingers slowed and eventually stopped, those final chords lingering for a moment… then drifting away.

“Because this is my year, man.” Eddie was confident, but not arrogantly so. He simply believed his words to be true. “I’m telling you, all the stars are aligning for me. As long as I don’t blow Ms. O’Donall’s English final, and I don’t plan on blowing her English final, I’m gonna be out those doors and onto better things. Now all that’s left to do is steal a dance with my dream girl.”

“Yeah… that sounds great and all, man, but this is Chrissy Cunningham we’re talking about. There’s no way she’s gonna dance with someone like you, especially not at prom.”

“Really? I think she will, and especially because it’s prom.”

Because Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t like the other popular girls. She wasn’t vain or pretentious. She didn’t strut around school like a princess amongst peasants. No, Chrissy Cunningham was something special, a very rare diamond in a pit of precious stones.

And tonight, for at least one song, she was going to be his.

Eddie unstrapped his guitar and carried it over to its case. “Gareth my good man… Gareth the Good, Gareth the Great… I think tonight might be the best night of my life.” He smiled on his way out. “Wish me luck, buddy.”

“Good luck,” Gareth said, and watched him go. “Boy, he’s gonna need it.”

______________

CURRENT // NEXT

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #chrissy cunningham #jason carver #chrissy x jason #chrissy x eddie #hellfire club #st4 #ambrossart #just me using fanfiction as therapy for all my high school trauma #dancing with myself #dwm #fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

wannabepapa · 4 months

Note

I see you’ve been reboggling a lot of old asks from me which has also gotten my brain juice flowin like

Lately I’ve been thinking about roommates who bond over a pregnancy. A one night stand or a surrogacy, doesn’t really matter, all we care about are the roomies who are now stuck in this fun situation of finding a new groove. Bonus points if the pregnant one gets big and uncomfy quick, leading to far far more late night rendezvouses.

The way I picture it, it starts with your typical incredibly awkward “I gotta come clean about something” scenario, with roomie B expecting a broken appliance or a forgetting power bill, but certainly not a pregnancy! Then as roomie A grows, they get needy, which sends roomie B into overdrive. Late night pizza runs become a regular occurrence, waking up way too early to hold their roommates hair, sitting up at night cause roomie A thinks they felt a kick and wants witnesses.

Then break happens, they go home, and when roomie A comes back they’re HUGE, which changes everything. Suddenly they need so much more to be comfy, and roomie B begins to realize just how much they like being there for their pal. They spend all afternoon at school just to come home and both collapse into the same twin bed, using the other bedroom as storage because who needs it? Sharing is caring after all. Roomie B is there to hold roomie A when they’re sobbing at a ghibli film or some advertisement about sad animals, they’re there to help with anything academic or physical, they’re driving their expectant buddy to and from appointments now that they’ve outgrown the drivers seat.

Bajshxjhshxhs it is 5 am and this ask is ridiculously long winded but I am tired and sappy and obsessed with this idea and thought you’d like it okie bye

uh hello???????? you have left this beauty of an ask in my inbox?????? Marin i am kissing your forehead right now.

roommate B has had nothing but terrible experiences with past roommates so when A comes to confess something they brace themselves for a problem. it's expected, especially when A looks anxious and worried before spilling the secret. the last thing that B would have ever expected was to be living with someone who was going to have a baby. they don't hate babies but they never hung out with people who had children of their own. it was going to be a learning curve to say the least.

the roommates were never close in the beginning, keeping to themselves as they had only recently roomed together but now they find themselves in each other's space. A has asked for help in the morning because the nausea makes it tough to function early in the morning so B is on kitchen duty. B tends to do a lot of the clean up now to give their roomie a break in the first trimester. it's only fair that someone does the bulk of the housework when A is creating a whole person over the course of nine months!

B is also in this weird "I'm not the parent of this child but I feel responsible for A and this child" state of mind that is confusing to them. they don't know why their brain has latched onto being the caretaker for a pregnant person but whatever A asks for, they get. A is feeling cold and wants to borrow a blanket? it's put in the dryer so it's extra warm. it's two am and they have an intense craving for pizza, but only the pizza at this shop that is an hour away? yeah just let B get dressed and get coffee in them before they take the drive. they don't want to be sitting alone at their doctor's appointment and want moral support? of course B will be driving them to and from every appointment now so they don't have to be alone. A meekly knocks on the bedroom door and says the baby needs a cuddle? get in under the covers and pick a movie! it's this perfectly platonic relationship that both just don't acknowledge but now all of their family and friends wonder if they're dating.

when they have to go home for their respective holidays there are definitely tears shed by A. it's seventy-five percent hormones and twenty-five percent not wanting to be away from B for weeks on end. they're ending their second trimester right now and terribly needy. the roomies have forgone sticking to each other's rooms to alternating every few days—it's become their routine. A also worries that something catastrophic will happen and B will force them to move out which B shuts down immediately. they're stuck with each other now whether they liked it or not. this comfortable thing the roomies have with each other is too precious to B for it to ever cross their mind to end it. A has become more than a friend, they've become a companion that has made their days more exciting ever since they got close. it isn't long after A is dropped off at the airport (with more tears shed) and B not even out of the parking structure that a text is sent that reads "we already miss you :c"

they talk every day of the break. A leaves no details of the crazy antics sprinkle (the baby has a thing for funfetti cake and B said they were probably a sprinkle now so it stuck) has been up to and complaining how cold it was where their family lives. they've sent many a selfie where they were hidden under piles of blankets or bundled up in multiple layers of warm clothes with a pouty lip and silly quip about how nobody does the dryer trick here like B does. it's too cute for B to handle. the weeks drag on for eternity to their dismay, their mind straying to how their gravid friend was doing.

to make matters worse A was stuck for an extra week due to a surprise blizzard that grounded all planes going in and out of the state. that was nearly a month apart and it drove B mad. too much time has been spent away from A and there was going to be hell to pay if this new flight would be canceled. if they were stuck any longer with their parents A wouldn't be cleared to fly, leaving them with no other choice but driving hours back down. B would have gone up there themselves to bring A back if it was necessary but to their happiness there were no cancelations and A was in route back home. B couldn't pick them up—work had switched schedules without asking—so they sent a friend to go to the airport for pick up. luckily A would already be home by the time B was off work so they wouldn't be alone in the house for long.

B never considered how fast someone grew in their final months of pregnancy. A's clothes still hide the bump before they left. now, walking into the apartment, B could do nothing except stare at their roommate. A hadn't grown, but popped in the last month since they were apart! there was an undeniable swell that tented A's shirt, their stance wider as they waddled to the door to greet B with a watery grin. the bump is pressed between them which makes it impossible to really hug while making it hard for B to not plaster their hands on the belly. the baby takes the opportune moment to shift between them as they were clearly unhappy about being squished. A chuckles at the movement but B is completely losing it.

after that they don't really stay apart for long. they're very, very close to one another at every second of the day just to revel in the fact that the baby will be born soon. A likes to complain about the pains from the movements of the nugget but they will actually miss it. B, however, has made it loud and clear how they'll miss being able to cuddle up with the belly and feel the nugget move. though both are equally excited to meet the little kicker that they've been waiting nearly ten months to hold.

#;ask and ye shall receive #darling marin #domestic things #platonic friends

63 notes · View notes

beelsnack · 1 year

Text

Nine to Five - Obey Me! Boys and a Burnt-out MC

*crawls out of a trench* I LIVE BITCHES

Sorry I haven't been active, turns out working 40 hours a week is exhausting. Which is what inspired this piece because there are all scenarios I've imagined in order to get myself through a particularly rough shift.

-----

Lucifer: It smelled like coffee.

The scent was strong enough to give the human pause. Did they make coffee this morning before leaving for work? They honestly couldn’t remember, but even then, there was no way that the smell would still be lingering throughout the house nine hours later.

They probably would have been a bit more curious if the exhaustion of working all day wasn’t pressing down on them. All they could bring themself to think about was falling face-first into bed. Maybe a nice hot shower to relax their sore muscles if they could stay awake long enough. Even just standing in the doorway taking their shoes off was draining what last precious bits of energy they had.

“Oh, good, you’re back.”

They yelped, almost slamming their head against the wall as they jumped at the sudden noise.

Standing in the doorway, taking a sip of coffee out of one of their old, slightly chipped mugs, was Lucifer.

“I - huh - you - Lucifer?” they stammered, reeling from the absurdity of the situation. The Avatar of Pride looked completely out of place in their dingy one-bedroom apartment.

“Are you surprised?” he smirked, placing the mug on the coffee table on his way across the room. “You’ve been so busy with work these days, I figured I would come visit you.”

“But aren’t you busy too?” the human asked, finally managing to kick their shoes back into place and meeting Lucifer by the table. “Making sure your brothers don’t set the Devildom on fire?”

“My dear, I would set the Devildom on fire myself if it meant spending an evening with you after so long,” Lucifer engulfed them in a hug, and for a moment they allowed themself to melt into the familiar warmth before they pulled away to look at him.

“So you left Barbatos in charge, right?”

“Of course.”

Mammon: They hated taking the bus.

Standing around in freezing weather waiting for it was awful, it was always crowded and it was late a solid sixty percent of the time, if it even showed up at all. But it was cheaper than buying gas, and parking where they lived was a nightmare, so they had to pick the lesser of two evils.

At least there was room in the shelter this time. The plexiglass didn’t do much to protect them from the wind and the freezing rain, but it was better than nothing.

Shivering, they stared out at the cars driving past with slight envy. Some heat sounded lovely right about now. Even though they were wearing gloves and had their hands shoved in their pockets, they could still feel the tips of their fingers beginning to go numb.

One of the cars pulled up to the stop. A sleek, silver sports car with tinted windows, definitely the kind that had heated seats. It wasn’t that unusual from someone to get dropped off at the bus stop, so the human didn’t really pay thay much attention until the window rolled down.

“Hey, need a ride?”

THe human’s head snapped up at the sound of the voice. “Mammon?”

“The one and only,” Mammon grinned at them from behind his shades. “Damn, you do this every day? How haven’t you gotten frostbite yet?”

“Humans aren’t that fragile,” the human huffed, stepping up to the car. “But there have been a few close calls.”

“Well, come on, then, get in,” Mammon motioned to them with his head. “Lucifer will string me up if he hears I let your fragile human fingers fall off, and there’s a line of cars behind me about to get real mad.”

They could see the other people at the bus shelter staring at them in the reflection of the car, so they quickly opened the door and hopped in. Almost immediately, feeling began to return to their extremities, and they sighed as Mammon started driving. “Thanks, Mammon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mammon replied, reaching over to hit a button on the dashboard. Yup, called it, heated seats. “Can’t have my human freezing to death.”

Leviathan: “You’re late.”

It would never fail to surprise them how well the internet connection worked between dimensions. There was no way Levi should be able to voice chat with them from the Devildom but here they were.

“Sorry,” they mumbled, adjusting their headset. “Just got home, boss asked me to stay another hour since someone called off.”

“Tch,” Levi clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Sounds annoying.”

“Kinda,” they shrugged. “But money’s money, y’know?”

“You sound like Mammon,” Levi snorted. “Don’t go doing shady things to pay off debts.”

“I’m not doing anything shady,” they laughed. “Aside from indulging in capitalism but I don’t have much of a choice in that.”

“Rip.”

They were about to reply when they got a glimpse of themself in the camera. Oof, they looked rough. Their hair was messy, they were practically sliding down their desk chair, and they looked like they were about to fall asleep.

Apparently Levi noticed as well, because his expression twisted into something like concern. “You alright?”

“It was very people-y out today,” the human replied, shrugging. Now that the work flow state had been interrupted, the tiredness was started to seep in and they realized how exhausted they were. But Levi and them gamed the same time every week, and it was the only thing giving them incentive to not just crawl into bed and hide from the world.

“We don’t have to play tonight,” Levi said. “If you’re too tired.”

“No, I want to!” they sat up straighter in their chair. “Really, I do.”

“The raid will still be going on tomorrow,” Levi said, clicking around at something on his screen. “...Yup, 13 hours remaining. You’re not going to be much help if you pass out mid-dungeon, so let’s just save it for later.”

“Levi, are you prioritizing me over video games?” the human play-gasped, pressing a hand to their chest in sarcastic shock. “Be still my heart!”

“Sh-Shut up!” he stammered, blush visible even in the blue light coming from his computer screen. “I’m just not missing out on good loot because you can’t stay awake! It’s not because I care about your wellbeing or anything!”

“Oh my God, you tsundere,” they laughed. “Fine, I’ll go take a nap.”

Satan: “...and then, there was this other guy…”

The human was well aware that they had been ranting and raving for far longer than was probably socially appropriate. But they were tired, both physically and emotionally, and Satan was a great person to bitch to.

The brothers were all under strict orders not to bother them while they were at work, but Satan had heard that and went “challenge accepted.” He showed up after their shift was over to get coffee at least three times a week, and when Lucifer had called him out on it, Satan had smirked and said, “I’m not bothering them while they’re at work, I’m coming to see them after their shift.” And as much as Lucifer had wanted to reprimand him, Satan had gotten him on a technicality.

Satan had long drained his coffee, sitting there and idly drumming his fingers against the empty cup as the human regaled him with horror stories of their job. He looked way more invested than he should have been, honestly.

“Satan, just tell me to shut up already.”

“I would never.”

The human huffed out a laugh, taking a sip of their rapidly-cooling drink. “First of all, you would, and have. Second of all, there is no way you are this into me bitching about people at work.”

“I’m the Avatar of Wrath,” Satan replied. “Bitching is quite literally in my blood. And out of all my brothers, I’m the one who understands how vital it is to let off steam the most.”

“...so then, this absolute Karen comes up…”

Asmodeus: Why did their keys always end up in the bottom of their bag?

All they wanted to do was get inside their apartment and flop down on the nearest comfortable surface, but of course they couldn’t find their keys in the hot mess that was their work bag. They had to be in there, they had definitely locked the door this morning -

“Ugh, honestly, what is taking so long?”

The human froze as their door opened to reveal Asmodeus, clad in a silk pink bathrobe that they could only assume was the only thing making him decent. He was pouting, hands on his hips.

“Asmo, what the actual fu-”

“I wanted to see your surprised face when you walked in and saw me all spread out on your bed, but you were taking too long!” he huffed.

“How did you get in my house?” they asked.

“That’s not important!” Asmo grabbed their sleeve and tugged them inside. “The important part is that I have a surprise for you! Well, more than just me being here, which is a delightful surprise all on its own!”

He guided them into their bedroom, gesturing to their bed with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

In the center of the bed was a very large basket filled with various types of spa supplies. Different scented body washes, bath salts, scrubs, face masks, all arranged neatly in the basket with a pink bow tied around the handle.

“Whoa, you got all of this for me?” they asked, stepping up to inspect the products. Quite a few of them were stuff they had complimented Asmo on in the past, but there were a few things that seemed like the demon had tailored them specifically to things that they liked.

“Of course!” Asmo grinned. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone lately, darling, I can tell. No human of mine is going to have eye bags unless they’re Prada.”

Instinctively, they touched the skin beneath their eyes. Did they really look that bad?

“Oh, don’t look so worried,” Asmo took their face in his hands, thumbs training over their cheekbones. “I’m going to take good care of you tonight.”

Beelzebub: “I really forgot my lunch.”

They could kick themself, they really could. They had been in such a rush to get out the door this morning that they left their lunch on the counter. By the time they realized it, they were already clocking in for their shift. Now they were left staring longingly at the empty spot in the fridge where their lunch would be and trying not to think about how hungry they were.

“Hey,” one of their coworkers called their name. “Some guy out there is looking for you.”

“Huh?” they asked. “Who?”

“Didn’t say his name,” their coworker responded. “Really tall, ginger, built like a brick shit house -”

“Beel?” they stood from their seat. “What would he be doing here?”

Their coworker shrugged, going over to the cupboard to get a plate. “Dunno, but he’s out there.”

Frowning in confusion, they left the break area and poked their head around the corner. Sure enough, there stood Beelzebub in all of his excessively jacked glory. Even in his human form he made most humans look like toys.

“Beel, what are you doing here?” they made their way over to him. When he noticed them, his face broke out into a wide grin and he reached down to envelope them in a hug. Even in their confusion, they couldn’t resist hugging him back.

“I brought you lunch,” he said, voice rumbling through his torso as he spoke. It took a minute for the human to register what he was saying.

“What?”

“You said you forgot your lunch, so I brought you some,” he held out the bag of fast-food. “You should probably take it before I eat it.”

They had texted Beel earlier bemoaning their forgotten lunch bag, since he would be the most sympathetic towards their plight, but they didn’t think he would actually bring them lunch. They were almost crying with gratitude as they took the bag out of his hands. “Thanks so much, Beel, you’re a lifesaver!”

Beel grinned. “Of course. I would never let you go hungry.”

Belphegor: “You should take a sick day.”

The human shot Belphie a glare, sniffling. “It’s just a cold, Belphie.”

The Avatar of Sloth had invited himself into their apartment, even though he knew they had work in a few hours. At first, they had been impressed that he had managed to get himself up that earlier, but then they realized that it was probably more likely that he had slept all day the day before and was just nocturnal.

“So?” he asked, stretching himself across their bed. At least he had had the decency to take his shoes off before crashing. “You humans get sick so easily, if you don’t rest up and get better you might die.”

“Not dying from a cold, Belphie,” they replied, rolling their eyes at him in their reflection as they continued getting ready. They talked a big game, but they felt like garbage. It felt like all of the mucus in their body had traveled to their head and someone had run them over with a truck.

“I thought I was stubborn,” Belphie sighed. He sat up suddenly, leaning forward to wrap his arms around their waist and pull them backwards into the bed. They yelped, thrashing a bit before Belphie maneuvered them into a more comfortable position. “You’re sick, so call off. Your shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”

“But-”

“It’s just going to get worse if you don’t rest,” Belphie put a hand to their forehead. “Are you running a fever? I can never tell with humans, are you supposed to be hotter or colder than demons?”

“How would I know that?” they grumbled, making a valiant but ultimately futile effort to not sink down into the pillows. Belphie was good at making them sleepy on a good day, but when they were sick? Game over. And maybe they did feel a little warm…

“Ugh, fine, maybe I should call off.” they huffed, reaching for their phone. “How dare you be right?”

“Sorry I make better decisions than you do.”

“Don’t make fun of my choices, you were one of them.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

175 notes · View notes

missscarletrosesett · 11 months

Note

can I request for yandere Giyuu HCs? Like in general.

Summary: Yandere Giyuu Hcs

Warnings: Mentions of blood, faked death, death, kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, and forms of manipulation.

This man is lonely, that much we know. So if you managed to catch his eye, whether you were a demon slayer or not, that is quite the accomplishment.

The first time you meet it would be quite awkward at first, with you bumping into him and him just standing there with his stoic demeanour plastered to his face as he just stands there watching you apologizing.

As time goes on, you two seem to be seeing each other more and more, and the more time you two spend together, the more he comes to enjoy your company.

He would feel a sense of responsibility to protect you from harm as it is his job as a demon slayer.

In his eyes, you are the definition of purity. You are the only good thing in his life

If you were a demon slayer as well that would complicate things a bit more than he would’ve liked. If you're both demon slayers then he would be filled with worry and even be more overprotective of you than he already was. Death could be just around the corner for either of you.

If you two ever get into bickers, he would use forms of manipulation on you. Nine times out of ten it works.

Guilt-tripping, lying, over-exaggeration on things, you name it.

He would 100% percent use his survivor guilt on you as a way to make you stay and comfort him.

As for kidnapping, he would definitely consider it, scratch that, he would kidnap you, no consideration needed.

If you're a civilian and get attacked by a demon, he will kill it with no hesitation. He will then be by your side in a matter of seconds and asking if you're alright.

You can say goodbye to your freedom after that incident.

If you’re a demon slayer and away on long missions, his mind will be filled with worry for your safety and come up with the worst-case scenarios.

If you’re battling a really strong demon, he will instantly rush to your location and deal the final blow.

He will be filled with a sense of relief seeing as you are okay but then the next second his protective instinct takes over and knocks you out.

He will fake your death as an extra measure.

He will grant you the freedom to walk around his estate with him watching you but going outside is absolutely prohibited.

When he's not around, you're locked away in his room, away from prying eyes, most likely your ankle’s chained to the ground.

I believe his way of showing his affection would be through acts of service and gift-giving.

Like he just returned from a mission? He will have a gift in hand.

You're not eating? He will feed you.

If he sees any of the kakushi trying to help you escape he will instantly kill them.

Hell, he might he kill all his kakushi just to ensure you’re safety.

He will hug you while covered in blood, trying his best to comfort you while you're crying and begging in his arms.

You won't leave his side.

“You’re safe now. Don't worry as long as you have me, you're protected, Water Droplet.”

#yandere giyuu #yandere giyuu x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #giyuu x reader #demon slayer #kny #yandere headcanons #headcanons #kny headcanons #demon slayer headcanons #character x reader

126 notes · View notes

shiorimakibawrites · 11 months

Text

Fantasy (Part 9 of Alley Cat)

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3108

Summary: Reader is feeling anxious about upcoming discussion with Daredevil and needs to relax.

Warnings: MINORS DNI - EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. Masturbation. Vaginal Fingering. Fantasies about oral sex (female receiving and male receiving), penis in vagina sex, and implied unprotected sex. Reader being anxious.

Can also be read here. The Masterlist for this series can be found here

Author’s Note: While trying to write the conversation between Reader and Matt, the muses informed me that was another chapter before that one could happen. A chapter involving smut. I have never written smut. I've read it. Never written it. Until now. Hopefully it isn't terrible. I now have increased respect for writers of smut. It is (hee) hard.

Fantasy

by Shiori_Makiba

You were waiting for Daredevil (who was probably Matt Murdock) to show up. At least you thought he would be visiting you tonight. There was no way to know for sure. It wasn't like you had set up a meeting with him. You just assumed that he would want to have a discussion with anyone who had discovered who he was under the mask.

Assuming you hadn't completely misinterpreting everything. You were pretty sure that you hadn't. He hadn't been subtle with his hints. At all. The only way he could have less subtle was if he had walked in and said 'I am Daredevil.'

You were ninety-nine percent certain that Daredevil and Matt Murdock were the same person but that little sliver of doubt was enough for anxiety to latch onto and make you start second-guessing yourself.

There were reasonable explanations for every hint or clue that didn't involve Murdock being Daredevil. Yes, all of them together stretched plausibility but sometimes improbable things happened. Ten years ago, if you had been asked if it was possible for a World War II soldier, a billionaire, a monster, an archer, and a lady assassin to stop an alien invasion, you would have said it was not. And yet, that is exactly what happened.

The biggest thing that was making your brain run in circles was simply that it was a very serious accusation to make. An accusation for which you had absolutely no proof. Your case was built entirely on guesswork, assumptions, and personal opinion. Any defense attorney worth their salt would able to shred it to pieces with ease.

If you were wrong, the best case scenario was that Daredevil and Murdock would find your crazy theory that they were same person to be funny. You'd be embarrassed but everyone would have a good laugh and move on. Worst case scenario? Daredevil would be offended that you would accuse his blind friend of breaking the law and violating his oaths as an attorney. He ends your friendship and you never see him again outside of the news. And you would need a new legal team because such accusations would be completely justified grounds for them to sever the attorney-client relationship with you.

You tried to distract yourself from such anxiety-fueled thoughts.

You started with Houdini. Who deserved some extra attention anyway. He gladly accepted a session with the fishing pole toy. It was always fun watching him chasing after, jumping at, and pouncing on the dancing ribbons. When he started to tire, you put the toy down and gave him some treats.

Feeling more relaxed, you made yourself comfortable on your couch and decided to continue reading your book. A fantasy romance novel that you had picked out because the swashbuckling hero in the cover art resembled Daredevil from his The Man In Black days. The plot was a little formulaic but you liked the characters and the sex scenes were steamy.

And honestly, it was far less embarrassing than the other novel you had recently purchased. A superhero romance whose half-demon hero the Red Devil was very obviously inspired by Daredevil. You hoped Daredevil never found out that you had read it. And it's two sequels. And pre-ordered the fourth and final book in the series. Because you had gotten invested in the story. And the sex scenes were really hot.

As soon as you started reading, Houdini made himself at home on your lap and started bumping your hand with his head. You took the hint and starting petting him with one hand while holding your book with the other. It didn't take long for him to start purring and then fall asleep.

You thought you had successfully headed off that anxiety spiral until the sun started to go down and that discussion with Daredevil became imminent. Soon you were too anxious to sit still and had to get off the couch. Houdini appreciated neither being woken up from his nap or being moved when he was comfortable. Which he informed you of. Loudly. Before curling up in the warm spot you had been laying in and going back to sleep.

You started pacing around the apartment and knew you were too keyed up. You needed to relax. Normally you would cook but the marinara in the slow cooker didn't need anything except to be turned to the keep warm setting. You already had enough homemade pasta in your freezer to feed several people. Which also had an ample supply of soups, sauces, and other make-ahead meals for the upcoming week. And then some. You always seemed to make too much food for one person. Granted your friends were usually happy to take your overflow. Especially Jo since she can't boil water without burning it.

Maybe that was for best. You were jittery enough that maybe handling a knife was a bad idea. Kneading bread dough was great stress relief but you were still working through the results of your last stress induced baking spree.

You needed something else. Maybe a shower? A shower sounded good. It had a lot of benefits. It would relax you. And ensure that you didn't stink when the man with the bloodhound nose showed up. Mind made up, you headed for your bedroom to grab some fresh clothes.

You were debating about what to wear – what was the appropriate attire for secret identity discussions – when your eyes landed on your copy of The Red Devil. Which was on the floor along with a couple of other books that had been in the bookcase. The cleared out space was suspiciously Houdini sized. You rolled your eyes. It seemed that you had found his new napping spot which rotated every couple of days and had included the places like the breadbox on the kitchen counter. And the molded shelf in the shower stall. His favorite seemed to be your underwear drawer. And like with the bookcase, he wasn't afraid to dump some of your panties on the floor in order to make room for himself.

You picked up the fallen books and stacked them in another spot in the bookcase. There was no point in putting them back in their shelf until Houdini got bored of napping there. He would just push them off the shelf again. Looking at the cover art of the Red Devil books with its titular hero in skin-tight red leather, you couldn't help thinking about your vigilante in red leather and Kevlar. You blushed a little remembering how many times you had re-imagined the sex scenes with Daredevil instead of Red Devil and yourself instead of the journalist heroine. The memory alone was enough get you a little worked up. Which only made you blush harder.

You shook your head and decided firmly that you were at least going to be comfortable during your potentially awkward conversation. Besides he already been exposed to your sleep wear. It wasn't going to horrify him now. So you grabbed a pair of thin sleep pants and an oversized tee shirt along with clean underwear and socks. Then headed for the bathroom.

After depositing your clothes on the counter, you reached into the shower stall and twisted the knob. With a loud hiss, the shower sputtered to life. As you waited for the water to heat up, you stripped out of your slacks, blouse, panties, bra, and socks. You tested the water but it needed another minute. Which left you with nothing to do but stand there naked in the rising steam and think.

Your mind tried to retread the same anxiety-filled spiral but you pushed away those thoughts. You were supposed to be relaxing. You needed to think of something else. Anything else.

The something else your brain finally settled on as you entered the shower stall and slide the door shut was sex. Specifically sex with Daredevil . . .

You flushed and tried think of something else. You needed to be able to look Daredevil in the eye tonight, possibly very soon if he decided to talk to you before his patrol, and that would be impossible to do if you had just been picturing him naked and getting off to it. The fact that Daredevil was probably Matt Murdock who was blind and (probably) wouldn't know that you were avoiding his eyes was irrelevant.

But your brain had decided on what it wanted to latch onto next. And that thing was imagining Daredevil naked.

His Daredevil suit wasn't skin tight but it fitted his body close enough to give your imagination a good starting point. You pictured broad shoulders, solid pecs, and abs that you could bounce a quarter off that tapered into a trim waist before flaring out into the finest ass on the East Coast. Possibly the world. Thick thighs that would encourage your legs apart whether you were on your back or straddling his lap. Powerful arms that could easily hold you up against the wall or pin you down the bed. And, through it might be setting you up for disappointment later, a big dick, long and thick enough to make you feel the stretch when he entered you, that you would feel full when he was inside you.

Your cunt began to throb with need just at the thought of him being inside you. You leaned against the wall of the shower, hissing as the coolness of the tile touched your warm skin. Using your back to brace yourself against the wall, you spread your legs. You reached a hand and was unsurprised to feel that you were already wet. What surprised you was just how wet you already were. You gasped when your fingers grazed your clit and began to rub gentle circles.

You pictured a kiss. One that started out like the one of your cheek. Just the gentle press of those soft, pink lips against yours that soon deepens into something firmer, something hungrier. You imagined those hands, rough with calluses, roaming over your body. Followed by his lips, creating a trail of fire with alternating kisses and little nips down your neck to the tops of your breasts. The light scrap of his beard scuff causing the skin to sing with sensation that would leave you squirming against his body.

You started moaning his name as your fingers increased their pace on your clit, picturing those clever fingers teasing your nipples until they tightened into stiff peaks. You would cry out when he latched onto one of the stiff peaks and sucked, arching your back to press more of your breast into his mouth.

You whined as your cunt clenched around nothing. You slide the fingers of your other hand along your soaked slit, coating your fingers in slick. You started panting as those fingers rubbed against your entrance and then began to dip inside. Soon you were pumping that finger in and out. It felt so good but not enough. You wanted more. You needed more. You quickly worked in a second finger. Which was better but you wished it was his fingers, thicker than yours, that were inside of you. But you made do and once you had a rhythm, your other hand resumed rubbing clit.

Soon the tension inside of you began to coil tighter and tighter . . . until it shattered as you came with a guttural moan. Legs trembling, you slide down the wall to sit on the floor of the shower. You felt more slick coating your thighs as your cunt clenched and twitched. You leaned your head back, closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath.

Well, you were definitely more relaxed now. And as much as you would like to sit there and enjoy your post-orgasm bliss, you needed to finish cleaning yourself before you ran out of hot water. You pushed yourself up onto still wobbly legs and reached for the soap . . .

*****************************************************************************************

Matt hadn't been trying to be a voyeur. Honestly. He had come to your apartment with the intention of speaking to you before starting his patrol. Otherwise he would be distracted and being distracted while fighting would lead to injuries. Which would annoy Claire who had been running off her feet caring not only for the civilians at her hospital who had been injured during Tuesday's attack but also the vigilantes who had responded. He made a mental note to talk to Danny about buying her a day at the spa or something. Didn't want her thinking that they didn't appreciate all of her hard work.

Furthermore, especially after his stunt at the office today, if he showed up at work tomorrow injured because he was distracted by a pretty girl, Foggy might actually kill him.

At first, his timing had seemed perfect. He had caught Houdini in the act of making his way down the fire escape. The cat made a spirited attempt to evade capture but ultimately failed. Not that he accepted his defeat quietly as Houdini immediately started monologuing at him. And squirming as soon as he started to scale the fire escape.

Which rather distracted Matt as he didn't want to accidentally drop your cat. A fall from this height could be lethal. Which would upset you greatly. He knew how much you loved your cat. Such an occurrence would also upset him as Matt had grown rather fond of Houdini.

The result was that he didn't notice the situation until he was standing on the platform by your bedroom window. But once he did, he immediately froze and didn't even notice Houdini taking advantage of his suddenly slack hold to slip out of his hands.

The scent of your arousal hung heavy in the air, stirring his cock to life. He couldn't stop himself from inhaling deeply, his tongue from sweeping out to taste the air. He wished he was in the shower with you, his nose nuzzled against your neck. Filling his lungs with your pheromones and the sweet, sweet smell of your body getting wet for him.

Or even better, laying you down on the counter and burying his face in your cunt. He wanted to feel the muscles in your thighs twitch and tremble under his hands as he licked up your slit. To hear your panting moans as he lapped at and sucked on your clit. Or started fucking you with his tongue. He hoped you would pull his hair, gripped tightly in your hand, as he drew you closer and closer to release . . .

Then he heard something that only made his twitching cock harder. You started moaning his name. Daredevil at first but soon you were also panting out Matt. Confirmation that it was him you were fantasizing about while you touched yourself . . .

It took more willpower than was pretty to leave. And even more to stop listening to you get off. One day, he promised himself. One day, if you agreed to it, he would replicate this moment but this time, he would get to participate as something other than an accidental voyeur. One of a growing list of fantasies that he hoped you would be agreeable to fulfilling someday.

But not today. Regardless of the outcome of your discussion tonight, sex wasn't happening. He wasn't going to fuck you without taking you to dinner first. He had at least that much class.

His patrol was going to be delayed. He was even more distracted now then he was before. His erection was refusing to be willed away. His cock knew what it wanted. To be buried in your sweet cunt, to feel you gripping him tightly with each thrust until he spilled himself inside you. It would have to settle for his left hand.

Once back to his apartment, Matt wasted no time stripping off his suit and pushing down his boxers, hissing with relief at the cool air on his aching cock. Your apartment wasn't very far from his but it was long enough that the silk of his boxers rubbing on his erection was starting to make him oversensitive. That same sensitivity made him sit on his impatience and retrieve the lube. It didn't smell anywhere near as good as your slick but it would have to do.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he gripped the base of his cock and began to stroke the length. He tried to imagine that it was your hands wrapped around his cock but the sensation wasn't right. Your hands were smaller than his. Softer too. He vividly recalled the feel of your hand against his when he shook your hand after signing the retainer agreement as well as your cheek under his lips.

He was looking forward to discovering if the rest of your skin was just as soft. How your curves would feel under his hands. How your breathe would hitch when he cupped your breasts or grabbed a handful of your ass.

The pace of his hand increased as his mind flicked between all the things he wanted to do with you. He wanted you to sit on his face. Gripping your hips as you moved against his mouth, chasing your orgasm. Licking and sucking you afterward until you are squirming and whining from overstimulation.

His hips gave an involuntary jerk at the thought. Another fantasy rose to the surface.

You on your knees in front of him sucking his cock. He groaned at the thought of his cock engulfed in the tight, wet mouth of your mouth. Your tongue licking his length and discovering every sensitive spot, teasing him until he begged for more. Your lips closing over just the head and sucking. Your nails digging into his thighs, the little pain adding a sweet edge to the pleasure you brought. Would you moan as he fought not to start fucking your face? Would you let him come down your throat? Would you keep sucking and licking after his release until he also started whining from overstimulation?

That did it. He swore as he began to cum, coating his hand and abdomen in a sticky mess. He worked himself until it was too much. He needed to be spent before he came near you again with your arousal lingering in the air. Or he might given into temptation and take you on your kitchen table. Even after all that, his cock still gave an aborted twitch at the thought.

He cleaned up himself and was getting the suit back on when he heard the first signs of trouble. He growled. Looks like your conversation would have to wait until after he put the fear of the Devil in some people.

Ending Notes:

The first romance novel Reader mentions is basically Stardust if Tristan was Zorro / Dread Pirate Roberts.

The Red Devil ones are basically a original novel version of Falling For The Devil (Daredevil fic by BellaGiornata here on AO3 – go read it. Yes, I know it is at current point 79 installments long. Read it anyway).

The Devil books are quite popular. There might be a screen adaptation in the works. And I may have cast Charlie Cox as the lead in said screen adaptation.

#daredevil #the alley cat series #fan fic #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader smut

48 notes · View notes

transgenderer · 8 months

Text

Evidence of interbreeding is detected today not just in Europeans but also in East Asians and New Guineans. Europe is a cul-de-sac of sorts within Eurasia, and would not have been a likely detour for modern humans expanding eastward. So where could Neanderthals and modern humans have met and mixed to give rise to a population that expanded not only to Europe but also to East Asia and New Guinea? Archaeologists have shown how in the Near East, Neanderthals and modern humans traded places as the dominant human population at least twice between 130,000 and 50,000 years ago, and it is reasonable to guess that they might have met during this period. So interbreeding in the Near East provides a plausible explanation for the Neanderthal ancestry that is shared by Europeans and East Asians.

Did interbreeding happen in Europe at all? In 2014, Pääbo’s group sequenced DNA from a skeleton from Oase Cave in Romania, the same skeleton that Erik Trinkaus had interpreted as a hybrid of Neanderthals with modern humans, based on features of its skull that were similar to both. 28 Our analysis of the data showed that the Oase individual, who radiocarbon dating studies had shown lived about forty thousand years ago, had around 6 to 9 percent Neanderthal ancestry, far more than the approximately 2 percent that we measure in present-day non-Africans. 29 Some stretches of Neanderthal DNA extend a third of the length of his chromosomes— a span so large and unbroken by recombination that we can be sure that the Oase individual had an actual Neanderthal no more than six generations back in his family tree.

The discoveries about the interbreeding in the recent family tree of the Oase individual suggested that modern humans and Neanderthals also hybridized in Europe, the homeland of the Neanderthals. But the population of which Oase was a part— and which carried this clear imprint of interbreeding with European Neanderthals— may not have left any descendants among people living today. When we analyzed the genome of Oase, we found no evidence that he was more closely related to Europeans than to East Asians. This means that he had to have been part of a population that was an evolutionary dead end— a pioneer modern human population that arrived early in Europe, flourished there briefly and interbred with local Neanderthals, and then went extinct. Thus, while the Oase individual provides powerful evidence that interbreeding between Neanderthals and modern humans occurred in Europe, he does not provide any evidence that Neanderthal ancestry in non-Africans today is derived from European Neanderthals. It remains the case that the most likely source of Neanderthal ancestry in non-Africans is Near Eastern Neanderthals.

The finding that Oase was from a dead-end population accords with the archaeological record of the first modern humans of Europe. The stone tools these humans made came in a variety of styles, but like the population of Oase himself, most were dead ends in the sense that they disappeared from the archaeological record after a few thousand years. However, one style known as the Protoaurignacian— thought to derive from the earlier Ahmarian of the Near East— persisted after thirty-nine thousand years ago and likely developed into the Aurignacian, the first widespread modern human culture in Europe. 30 These patterns could be explained if the makers of Aurignacian tools derived from a different migration into Europe compared to other early modern humans like Oase. This scenario could explain how it could be that Oase’s population interbred heavily with local European Neanderthals, and yet the Neanderthal ancestry in Europeans today is not from Europe.

David Reich. Who We Are and How We Got Here

26 notes · View notes

babiebom · 2 days

Note

Howdy do! I just found your blog not too long ago and I already absolutely love your headcanons for everyone! (Esp my baby, Seb). I was wondering if you could possibly do like headcanons or a scenario of Mr. Qi finding out that y/n/the farmer is preggo with his kid? (assuming that they would already be married or together in some way). If not, then that's totally okay! I just think that he'd be a really good dad and hubby

A/N: HIII lmao the howdy lowkey triggered me(not in a bad way I promise I’m just southern) but yes it’s no problem at all!! Idk which you’d prefer of headcanons or a scenario so I’m going to combine them <3 hope you enjoy!!

Tw: some cursing, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy troubles, I refer to him as Qi instead of Mr.Qi bc I think it would be strange to refer to your husband like that lmao. M

AFAB reader lmk if I should tag anything else!!

Bc/wc: 10/ I think around 400-500

Stardew Valley Masterlist

I think if you get pregnant it’s because you were purposefully trying to have a baby

Like dude is taking no chances he is not in his slutty era he likes being cool and mysterious and being a baby daddy to random kids is not that

I personally think that he wouldn’t jump for joy or anything

Like yes he’s excited and happy but I don’t think that’s him at all

That baby would actually be the most loved child because again I don’t think he’d just be making a baby if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he wanted one.

Actually would spend so much time trying to make everything as comfortable as possible for you

Helps with all the decorating even if he has a few odd tastes

I think he knows a few tricks to be more comfortable during pregnancy and labor

Is absolutely already getting everything ready for labor even if you just find out that you’re pregnant

Again I think he is more excited than he shows. He’s just good at maintaining a clam exterior

After months of negative tests, your excitement and hope has dwindled. Like yeah, getting pregnant takes some time but it still hurt every single time you didn’t get what you want. But now, by the grace of whatever God there may be, you’re holding a positive test in your hand while three others sit on the counter in front of you. You haven’t even pulled your pants up because after the first test had come back positive you had sat back down on the toilet to take another test.

Everything you had been wanting is coming true, and while things could go wrong between now and nine months ahead of you, you still feel the excitement crawling its way into your body after being lost. You can’t help the squeals of excitement that leave your mouth as you struggle to breathe and dance around in happiness with your pants still at your ankles.

There was so much to do, so much to plan. Baby showers, getting a birth plan, your hospital bag, the nursery, working more so you have enough money to splurge, baby clothes, diapers, decorations, doctor’s appointments…there’s so much that you’re unable to keep the joy in.

And you still had to tell your husband. You wanted to have a cute little reveal for him, to let him know that the two of you had finally achieved the first part of your dreams, but the actual you knew that you would have no time really to plan, nor do you think he would be surprised. He somehow always had a way of knowing things you didn’t.

Without any predictability, Qi walks into your home, the only way you’re able to tell is the front door closing a bit loudly. Quickly you pull up your pants and gather the positive tests, shoving them all into the boxes hands shaking with your giddiness. “You’re home!” You run over and engulf your husband with a hug. He grasps you just as tightly and when you pull back he’s smirking as if he knows something you don’t. You have the same facial expression because this time it’s you who knows something he doesn’t.

“You’re rather excited aren’t you?” He asks, eyebrow quirking up in amusement.

“I am, you wanna know why?” You ask, unable to keep still. You bring the box’s in between you two, smiling at him. “Take a look.”

He pulls a pregnancy test out of a box and his smile never falters, and he doesn’t really seem surprised. You don’t let it upset you though, knowing that he feels exactly the same as you do. He presses a kiss to your head and returns the test to the box.

“Well,” he clasped his hands together, “we have a lot to do now don’t we?”

8 notes · View notes

scarareg · 2 months

Note

For OTP asks, for any of your favorite ship(s) from PJO/HOO:

4 5 16 21 22 32 34 36 39 (choose any which you find interesting (or) all!!)

Oh thank you, thank you thank you, I am so excited about this!

My OTP is percico!

4. Their favorite show to watch together?

Oh this is super fun because Percy would be eager to show Nico different shows from different decades and discover new ones together! Percy probably likes Brookly Nine-Nine and The Amazing World of Gumbal and Nico is a geek who may like darker stuff like Link Click, GOT/HOTD or Dark, maybe even Succession!

So, their fave shows to watch together may be something fun, but a little bit of mistery or drama or something along those lines. Maybe Hazbin Hotel, Barry, ATLA, Bluey and Breaking Bad. It would be adorable if both love Anne With An E too!

5. Who is the cheesier one of the two?

Percy!

16. Who hogs the covers?

Percy! Nico does not mind, but he pretends to just to tease Percy about it

21. Any routines one has that the other had to get used to (ex. morning, nighttime, sleeping habits)?

Percy is more of a morning person while Nico is the opposite, so they probably have discussed about it because Percy is trying to help Nico fix his sleeping schedule to be healthier. Nico would protest at first and feel like a zombie but he eventually get used to it. They agree for Nico stay up late on weekends!

Percy also makes sure Nico is eating properly.

After Tartarus and both having PTSD, I think both are a little messy, but would rely on each other to ground the other when they are having a hard time, a nightmare, panic attack, etc, and that will make them bond more

22. Love languages? How do they get around differences, if any?

Percy's are physical touch and words of affirmation; Nico's are quality time and acts of service.

Nico is probably learning to talk about his feelings, he may be awkward but honest about them; Percy appreciates him trying! Percy had to learn to read Nico's body language so he could be comfortable with his touch and not overdo it or overstep a boundary Nico is not ready yet

32. Who's so affectionate they can't stop touching the other?

Percy a million percent!

34. How do they cheer the other one up during sad times?

When Percy notices that Nico is sad, he sits next to him and tries to ask him what's up. Then he is his optimistic-self and starts listing all the good scenarios that can happen and how great everything will be and assures him that he will be by his side (and Hazel and Reyna too!) so he has nothing to worry about!

When Percy is sad Nico would try to talk with Percy and make him laugh , then would hug him and kiss the palm of his hand; he know Percy would appreciate the gestures, especially since it is a little weird for Nico to initiate physical contact

36. Who is more protective?

They are both equally protective but Percy is in more obvious ways, so everyone thinks it is him. For example, if someone is making mean comments about Nico behind his back, Percy would not stay still and would defend him.

Nico is subtle, like when he helped Percy to have the Curse of Achilles , or when he talked to Bob about Percy. He always has Percy's back but Percy would realized the things Nico did for him after a while

39. Do they get along with the other's family? If not, how do they deal with the other's family?

Percy gets along with Hazel and only Hazel. They probably hang out constantly and when Percy needs help with something related to Nico, she is the one he goes to for help.

Percy and Hades have beef so at the beginning Hades tried to convince Nico to change his mind, talk about guys who would be better suitors, or constantly ask if Nico is sure about his decision. Nico always shuts down his father's comments. After some time, when it was obvious that his son's relationship with Percy Jackson would last, he made peace with the idea, but privately he was still a bit grumpy about it. Low-key, he appreciates the way Percy treats his son and how happy he seems, but that is only something Persephone knows

At first, Nico is awkward around all of Percy's parents, even if they like him. Sally always welcome him and try to start conversation and Nico would answer but he was all polite, Sally thought he is adorable! After a while Nico starts to relax a bit and he and Sally have long afternoons filled with conversations and activities together; Sally made it her mission to teach everything a still-growing child needs to learn! Paul and he get along and have conversations about history and the past Nico missed and misses.

Poseidon does not mind Nico, he is just happy his fave son is happy. Nico has not interact a lot with him, but when he does he is respectful, just like he is with any other God.

Thank you so much for the ask! This was really,really fun! If you have any other specific ship you want me to answer questions about, I am all ears!

Send a ship + a number and get an answer.

#maygirlsposts #Percy Jackson #Nico di Angelo #PJO HOO #Percico #pjoverse #PJO #HOO #rrverse

13 notes · View notes

harringroveera · 1 year

Text

Eleven: I know you’re in love with Steve

Billy: Just how sure are you?

Eleven: Ninety nine percent sure

Billy: Okay! So there’s still one percent of me hating his guts!

Eleven: Actually, no, the other one percent is you and your weird scenarios I saw in your mind

Billy: …what did you see?

Eleven: It’s like the thing I saw under Lucas’s bed, but it’s really just Steve

Billy: …

#harringrove #actually pretty sure it’s a lot of scenarios but well #el knows everything #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy x steve #billy and el #incorrect billy hargrove quotes #incorrect harringrove quotes #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove au #el hopper #jane hopper #eleven hopper #harringrovera

97 notes · View notes

wrencatte · 7 months

Text

there's a very specific type of water-related torture (There was a mythbusters episode abut it.) I've been meaning to subject a character to and Jason gets to be that lucky character! I just could never figure out the scenario and I didn't actually want him to be tortured by someone, just have it be unfortunate circumstances. Well...I've figure it out!!! Here, have the WIP i literally just started.

Jason opens his eyes to darkness. Which, yanno, is great, fantastic, abso-fucking-lutely the best thing ever. He groans and tries to sit up – finds himself unable to, something heavy pinning him to the ground. Oh. Okay. We’re doing this.

He wrenches one arm free and tries to leverage what has to be a concrete slab off of him. His glove slips and he nearly punches himself in the face. Wouldn’t hurt his face, but he’s seen what punching his helmet has done to other people’s hands so he’s very glad for that nearly. His other arm is trapped between his body and another piece of concrete. He wiggles his fingers, makes a pained noise as it sends spikes of pain up his arm. At least he can move them, yeah?

So. Trapped. Like…trapped-trapped. Great. The comm in his ear is nothing but static when not even – ten? Twenty? How long has it been? – who knows how long ago he remembers someone shouting HOOD. His helmet is dead, he can smell burnt electronics and the cushioning is starting to feel not great. Jason fiddles with the latch and takes it off, drops it from nerveless fingers.

It makes an echoing thunk and it’s like it shattered some barrier because suddenly Jason can hear everything. From the sirens outside to the shifting sound of the building settling to the sparking of severed wires to the dripdripdrip of broken pipes – one of them is dripping right on his face. He glares up into nothingness, as if the heat of his glare will be enough to weld the pipe close.

No such luck.

He’s trapped under a building. Jason squeezes his eyes shut. Fuck. He went through a lot of effort to minimize his reactions to various predicted triggers – crowbars, explosions, very specific laughter, just the general gamut – because he was not going to let his reactions get the better of him. And it worked! Maybe he gets a little shaky afterwards, like a delayed panic attack, but he’s never once frozen up when faced with red numbers flashing on a countdown. Hell, even when the Joker got to him last year and the Bats had to stage a rescue (really, how embarrassing) he managed to delay the fall out by a whole two days in order to clean up the mess the bastard left behind.

So, yeah. He’s got a great handle on this shit.

Doesn’t mean he likes being trapped like this. Who knows how stable this building is? Who knows what injuries he’s got under this concrete – because he can’t feel anything from the bottom of his ribcage down. He thinks he’s wiggling his toes, but he can’t tell for sure.

There’s a comfort, though, that he knows for a fact that someone is up there trying to get him out. He’d been with both Red Robin and Robin, providing cover fire from an adjacent building’s window…a building that wasn’t supposed to be blown up. In fact, he’s ninety-nine percent sure the voice shouting his name was Tim’s. He’s in good hands between the two of them and Oracle.

If this water would fucking stop – !

Jason grits his teeth and strains up again, huffing and puffing like a goddamn big bad wolf, and it does nothing to blow the house down. The concrete slab is twice as heavy compared to what he normally benches outside adrenaline, and he’s honestly surprised he wasn’t smashed to bits.

Another droplet hits his forehead. He flinches. It’s almost cold with how superheated he feels – like a fever but worse because there’s no relief. Hopefully it’s not actually a fever. That would monumentally fucking suck.

#red hood #jason todd #my writing

16 notes · View notes

radiostaticsmile · 1 month

Text

Hello kinky asexual community I need some help if you would please

Going to get a bit personal here but I am trying to figure out if I am ace or not so here is the situation

I do not know if I had sexual attraction to another person? Like looking at them and going hot or not. I may have aesthetic attraction because how hot someone is is completely entirely dependant on what they are wearing and additionally the clothes are exactly the same amount of hot without a person in them.

I get turned on by behaviours like kinkiness and if someone is being subby I want to Bite them but I am not really interested in sex itself at least not super actively. However I do become interested in sex if it is used as part of a kinky scenario, and essays I have seen so far from kinky ace's seem to not want genitals involved at all and I am like. Into it if horny enough and its kinky but I am kinda sex repulsed most of the time? There is no scenario where I would be happy having vanilla sex

Though I know there are sex positive asexuals and it is based on sexual attraction but im autistic i dont understand what sexual attraction is???

Please send help

Edit: also most of the time i am attracted to 'someones apperance' it is an drawing. I can find someonea fursona hot or their headspace self or kintype but if I see a real human face its low key a turn off 90 percent of the time im just like ah sure is a human face. Also why i hate sending selfies unless im dressed to the nines bc i dont think im hot otherwise

#nsft text #now broadcasting #kinky ace #kinky asexual #asexuality #questioning #help #idk what else to tag so ppl find it ;w;

3 notes · View notes

they-are-a-prolife-autist · 2 years

Note

I’m 13. If I got r*ped do you want me to be forced to have the baby? I certainly wouldn’t want to go through 9 months of misery.

If I said yes and admitted that your incredibly unlikely, very specific, worst case scenario was the exception, would you concede that the other 92+ percent of abortions are unacceptable?

For one, I don’t want anyone to go through nine months of misery due to a rape. I argue that all convicted rapists and abusers should be castrated to further prevent situations like your hypothetical.

I’m thankful that, in cases where only one life can be saved, doctors almost always will prioritize medical care and attention on the most viable human. However that decision is a pretty complicated and must be made on a case by case basis as those scenarios have many shifting variables.

No, I don’t want you to be in a forced pregnancy (forcibly made pregnant.) I also don’t believe a second vulnerable and innocent human should be destroyed on account of the circumstances of their conception. As this goes against Article 2 of the human rights act, the basic principles of medicine ethics, and the Geneva Convention of 1949. (Murder, extermination, and serious injury to body or to mental or physical health.)

When liberation costs innocent lives it is merely oppression redistributed.

Edit: I’m including this because God Damn it’s true.

#pro life #i am the prolife generation #prolife #prolife feminist #feminism #feminist #abortion #womens rights #autistic #prolife feminism

69 notes · View notes

randomvarious · 7 months

Text

1990s Hip Hop Playlist

Welp, the 50th anniversary of hip hop completely passed me by over the summer, and I didn't end up saying a single thing about it here, even though hip hop really was my first true music love. So, to make up for it, I've got a bunch of hip hop playlists on the way, starting with this massive update to my 90s one, which adds twenty new songs. The original iterations of this thing were backloaded with late 90s stuff, but now, with this update, I've managed to frontload it with a bunch of early and mid-90s stuff too. So, let's dig in!

Every single song in this update can be found on a quadruple-disc compilation called The Best Rap Album of All Time, which was put out in 1999 by budget UK label Dressed to Kill. It's a superb collection that spans from the late 70s through mid-90s, and comes with some unmistakable classics, but its 90s fare consists of a bunch of underheard and forgotten gems. And those gems seem to be derived from a couple different sources: one, a super overlooked scene that Americans don't know anything about called Britcore that emerged during the late 80s in the UK underground, and saw people (mostly guys) spitting raw, hardcore raps over seriously banging breakbeats; and two, the catalogue of the great, New York-based Profile Records, who put out some fantastic rap tunes during their tenure.

So, first the Britcore. I added a bunch, but Da Hoodzmen's back-to-back tracks, "The Rhyme Ripper" and "Runnin' Rampant," are probably my favorites here. This totally obscure group is actually originally from Orlando, Florida, but their lone release was a 1993 12-inch that was only put out in the UK, on one of the country's top hip hop labels, Music of Life, and it really suited that whole boom-bappin', old school Britcore sound to a T. "Rhyme Ripper" has almost 12,000 Spotify plays and "Runnin' Rampant" has about 3,200. And obviously, they deserve a whole lot more, because even though they're not actual posse cuts like A Tribe Called Quest's "Scenario," they still definitely have that same level of gravitas and energy 😤.

And now, Profile. This label put out a lot of cool and gritty street rap from New York and New Jersey over the years, but they also had deals with people on the west coast, down south, and in the UK too.

So, the most popular add among all of these is "Word Iz Life," a mid-90s rap classic by New Jersey trio Poor Righteous Teachers that feels like it was made to be blasted out of a car's stereo on a hot summer's day. This one currently has about 8.7 million plays on Spotify and is fronted by a serially underrated emcee named Wise Intelligent, who is one of those five-percenter conspiracy rappers with pretty wacky views, but the guy can definitely rap circles around just about anyone, as he clearly shows on this very track here.

Then there's two vets from New York who both happen to possess really deep and distinctly gravelly voices: Nine, from The Bronx, and Smoothe Da Hustler, from Brownsville, Brooklyn. Nine's biggest hit was "Whutcha Want," which hit #3 on the Billboard rap chart and #50 on the Hot 100, but his follow-up single, "Any Emcee," was terrific too, which only peaked at #35 on the rap chart. That song, which pairs his rough vocal with a smooth sample of The Spinners' "I'll Be Around," has about 166,000 plays. And then Smoothe Da Hustler's fantastic piece of 1996 gangsta rap, "Hustler's Theme," which was deeply inspired by Curtis Mayfield's own "Freddie's Dead," only has about 25,000 plays, which is, just, way too low.

And another pretty popular track in this update comes courtesy of LA's legendary DJ Quik, whose slice of g-funk in "Summer Breeze" has about 2.2 million plays on Spotify, and should be everyone's golden age rap summer go-to instead of DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince's "Summertime." Both aim for that same exact feelgood, laid-back, nostalgic party vibe, but "Summer Breeze" is just a better song in every way.

Speaking of g-funk, you can't sleep on Dallas' Ganksta C either, who delivers one of the coolest pieces of hazy, whining synth gangsta rap you'll ever hear in your life, with "Just Another Day," which has about 44,000 plays.

And keeping it south, comes one of Profile's most slept-on signings of all time: M.T., who hails from New Orleans. This guy sounds a bit like Method Man, but he's also able to do that silly thing where you slightly open your mouth, vigorously shake your head, and then produce a noise. And he does it while he raps, which is wild! Comparable in quirkiness to someone like Ol' Dirty Bastard or early Busta Rhymes, M.T.'s excellent "Set It Off" has under 1,000 plays!

And then across the pond in the UK, Profile had Daddy Freddy, who originally hails from Jamaica. He's someone who's unmatched when it comes to that furious ragga style, and he shows why on "Go Freddy Go" and "Haul & Pull," which have about 16,000 and 33,000 plays, respectively.

Standing Ovation - "Onslaught" Daddy Freddy - "Go Freddy Go" Monte Luv & DJ Rob - "Silk Smooth" Militant Posture - "Down of Terror" Brothers on Organised Missions - "B.O.O.M." Brothers on Organised Missions - "Delivering the Answer" 2nd II None - "Ain't Nothin' Wrong" Kobalt 60 - "Kaos From Order" Daddy Freddy - "Haul & Pull" Killa Instinct - "Un-United Kingdom" Da Hoodzmen - "The Rhyme Ripper" Da Hoodzmen - "Runnin' Rampant" Potna Deuce - "Can U Dig It" Ganksta C - "Just Another Day" DJ Quik - "Summer Breeze" Nine - "Any Emcee" M.T. - "Set It Off" Smoothe Da Hustler - "Hustler's Theme" Poor Righteous Teachers - "Word Iz Life" Big Al Zoota - "Zoota Bang"

I also added a couple songs that can't be found on Spotify to the YouTube version of this playlist too. And both tunes happen to be by guys who sport British accents, but only one of them is actually from England itself, while the other, Dana Dane, hails from Brooklyn. Dana faked his British accent in order to stand out from his peers, and it proved to be a successful move, because a bunch of his singles actually managed to chart, including his late 80s classic, "Cinderfella Dana Dane" 😂. But his 1990 song, "Something Special," which currently has about 70 plays, is pretty great too. And then the actual British act, a London duo called 499, supply "Don't Categorise Me," a sweet piece of chill jazz-rap that sounds like it could've been produced by someone like Pete Rock, and currently has about 11,500 plays across its handful of YouTube uploads.

Dana Dane - "Something Special" 499 - "Don't Categorise Me"

And this playlist is also on YouTube Music.

So, with this large update, the Spotify version of this playlist now has 31 songs that end up totaling 2 hours and 9 minutes, and the YouTube version has 52 songs that total 3 hours and 35 minutes. So, if you want a lot more 90s hip hop gems, be sure to check out the YouTube one.

Enjoy!

More to come, eventually. Stay tuned!

Like what you hear? Follow me on Spotify and YouTube for more cool playlists and uploads!

2 notes · View notes