#and sometimes its what i want and they really do scratch that itch

[houndpitspub]

I know I and many other people make fun of betheada titles for what they are, but I really do think they do the 'expansive open world you can get lost in' better than anyone else who tries to make that claim

#like i can absolutely get lost exploring in skyrim fallout or starfield in a way i just dont have the desire to do with other games #and sometimes its what i want and they really do scratch that itch

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 11 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, Reader has a baby bump and stretch marks (briefly mentioned), talk of insecurities

WC: 1.2k

A/N: this was inspired by an ask that I got for Eddie feeling so grateful when he witnesses a sweet moment between Ms. Sweetheart/Reader and Harris, but I can't find who sent it. If it was you, thank you!

November 1999

“Har? You ready for bed?”

Harris nods, peeling back his Spider-Man comforter and slipping beneath the covers. He points to the laminated list that’s Velcroed to the back of his door. You run your finger down the column where he’s used the dry erase marker to check off each task in his routine: shower, comb his hair, brush his teeth, pee, and change into his pajamas.  

“Nice job!” You walk—though at this point in your pregnancy, it’s a bonafide waddle—from the doorway towards the small bookshelf in the corner of his room and pluck the newest Magic Treehouse from its spot. Removing the bookmark, you cautiously lower yourself onto his bed, resting your free hand on your belly to keep steady. 

He snuggles into you, head nestled against your arm as you read aloud. “Chapter four,” you begin, but before you can continue, Harris speaks. 

“Mommy?” His voice is tiny, very much unlike his usual boisterousness, and you can’t help but feel worried. 

You brush an unruly lock of his hair from his forehead. “What’s up?”

Harris pauses for a moment, singular front tooth scraping over his bottom lip anxiously. “What if Baby Brother doesn’t like me?” His hazel eyes are shiny with incoming tears. “What if he doesn’t think I’m a good big brother?”

Your heart splinters into a thousand pieces when you hear the concern in his voice. “Oh, Har,” you murmur, shifting your weight to find a more comfortable position, “he’s going to love you. More than that; he’s going to look up to you. You’ll be his role model.”

“But I don’t know how to be a role model.” He keeps his gaze trained on the webbing shooting from Spider-Man’s fingers. “An’ everyone keeps saying that being a big brother is a really important job, but I’ve never been one before! What if I’m not good at it?”

You consider your words for a moment. “Can I tell you a secret?” you finally ask, softly smiling when his attention immediately snaps back to you. “Do you remember when I was your teacher, and you wanted me to be your mommy?”

“Mhm. An’ now you are.”

“And now I am,” you agree with a laugh. “But when your dad and I first started talking about me being your mommy, I was so scared.”

Harris’s eyes widen in disbelief. “You were scared?” His nose wrinkles as he tries to discern your reasoning. “Why?”

“Well, being a mommy is a super important job, too,” you tell him, tucking the bookmark back between the pages and setting the paperback down on the bed. “And I didn’t want to mess up or make any mistakes. But guess what?”

“What?” He places his hand on top of yours. 

You lean in and whisper, “I’ve messed up and made mistakes.” Your tone stays lighthearted, but both of you know that the words are spoken with truth. “There have been times where I should have been tougher, and times that I should have been more easygoing. And sometimes, I look back and think, ‘why did I do that?’” You shake your head to combat the memories of missteps you’ve inadvertently conjured up. “But you still love me, just like Baby Brother will always love you.”

Harris exhales with a heaviness that’s almost comical coming from a seven-year-old. He’s not wholly convinced, so you continue. 

“Har, you are gonna be the best big brother the world has ever seen.” The promise is honey-sweet and just as natural. “There are so many things you’ll get to teach the baby that Daddy and I can’t.”

He allows himself to look at you once again, curiosity overtaking nervousness. “Like what?”

“Like…drawing,” you say, scratching an itch on the side of your stomach where a stretch mark has formed. “You’re our resident artist; no one draws a family portrait better than Harris Munson.”

He giggles at this. “Yeah, an’ you guys don’t know a lot about superheroes; only a little bit.”

“Exactly. Only what you’ve taught us.” You kiss the crown of his head. “Baby Brother is so lucky to have you.”

Harris nods, letting out a yawn that alerts you to the time. 

“Come on, let’s get you into bed so you’re not snoozing in school tomorrow.” You lower his pillow from where he’s propped it against the wall, but he doesn’t move from his spot.

“I wanna say good night to Baby Brother.” He rests his cheek on the swell of your stomach with his hand just above your belly button. “Good night, Baby Brother. I love you, and I can’t wait to meet you in…” he rotates his neck so you’re looking directly at his nostrils, “how many days?”

“Thirteen, if he comes on time,” you say, adding a gentle reminder, “but sometimes babies show up a little late, so he might not get here until closer to Thanksgiving.”

“Oh.” He considers this for a second, his gaze shifting back and forth from your belly to your eyes. “If he comes on Thanksgiving, do I still get to eat mashed potatoes?”

You shrug. “I don’t see why not. As long as you save some for me when I get home.”

Harris harrumphs at the prospect of sharing and you laugh, which gives you the urge to pee—again. “Sweet dreams, Har Bear.” You kiss his scalp again, slowly rising to flick off the light switch. There will be a time when he eschews the nickname, labeling it babyish, but it lives on for another day. 

In your beeline for the bathroom, you find Eddie waiting just outside Harris’s room. His cheeks are pink as though he’s been caught, and you notice the glassiness coating his chocolate eyes. 

“Eds? You okay?” You murmur the question under your breath, not wanting to alert Harris. 

“Mhm. Yeah, ‘m fine.” He hooks his fingers into the white cotton sleeves of his undershirt and wipes at his face. “Just pregnancy hormones,” he teases with a soft chuckle, and you nudge his hip with yours. “Really, though; everything’s good.” 

You want to press him further, but the full-term baby tap-dancing on your bladder has other plans, so you have to surrender. 

Eddie sighs, contentment flooding his body as he blinks away the blurriness and closes Harris’s door. Domesticity has wrapped itself around him, and the softness with which you talk to Harris only has him falling deeper into its embrace. 

He used to describe himself as lucky, but you’re always quick to point out that luck has nothing to do with it. He’s deserving of his little family and the unconditional love that comes with it. 

But deserving doesn’t explain you showing up at the Hideout three years ago, or him picking you out of the crowd, or you being Harris’s teacher and fostering an awkward but necessary reunion. There’s a solid chance that he’d still be the angry and defensive man who’d shoved his dreams away, because holding hope that they would come to fruition was simply too scary to consider. But now, despite years of self-sabotage, he’s got everything he could ever want. 

So, yeah. Eddie Munson is a lucky man. 

--

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[dduane]

Hello! I was wondering if you’ve shared your ao3 account? Like, have you acknowledged “this account is mine,” or do you keep it personal? Totally respect if you keep it under wraps I just wanted to know if I’m missing something. Hope my wording of this makes sense!

No, it's OK, I get it. You're asking "Have you publicly ID'd a given AO3 account as yours?"

No, and I'm not going to. Because it contains fanfic I've written for pleasure—exactly as I started writing it in my teens—and I have no desire to have that publicly connected with me.

Leaving the usual legal concerns aside (and not being even slightly concerned that a judge would fail to find the fiction "transformational", if the truth came out in a court of law) a significant part of this effort is about answering the question: "What would happen if people read fiction of mine and they didn't know Diane Duane was responsible for it? What would their reaction be?" That urge to discover whether the fiction stands on its own, without the inevitable shadow cast by one’s reputational backstop, still comes up for me in some moods. So when the itch to write fanfic comes up, I scratch it. And all I can say is that, by and large, the results have been satisfying.

Frankly, it's a ton of fun. There's no one to satisfy (at the most immediate level) except me and the local embodiment of the Creative Urge. No one will ever accuse me of "just churning [this] out for more $$$$", because there is no $$$$. And there's room to stretch further and harder than I might normally do in my public work (because there's more forgiveness for failure: and in the arts, I think, failure is absolutely one of the most effective ways to grow). Whatever comes back to me in return for this work—and it is work, some of the hardest I've ever done—is in the form of raw appreciation. So, people, on behalf of my colleagues, let me just say: comment on AO3 fics, yeah? You don't have to be fulsome about it. A word or two will do. And bestow kudos where you may. It's all an AO3 fanfic writer asks.

...And of course some people will say: "Are you off your rocker? You're traditionally published for decades, you have awards, you've been on bestseller lists, how can you not be sure that what you're doing's any good?" ...But you know, no writer is sure all the time. All of us wake up in the middle of the night some time(s), thinking "I'm not sure I've still got it..." and squeezing our eyes shut in terror of future reviews containing the horrible conjecture that Maybe We Never Really Had It To Start With. When you've spent a significant portion of your lifetime making stuff (up) out of nothing, the horrible suspicion that maybe it really has been nothing all the time—I mean, nothing nothing—is unavoidable.

So sometimes some of us want to go out in disguise (and I don't mean paid pseudonymic work: that proves nothing in this particular arena) and see how we fare. I know other traditionally-published writers who've done this—names that would surprise you—and who, by and large, have done it for the same reasons. We are the dark figures, hooded and cloaked, sitting in the shadows of some of the more prominent fandoms that express themselves on AO3; eyes glinting in the firelight, enjoying the reactions to the stories we've got to tell.

It's not bad here, in the shadows. For one thing, you're in a better position to appreciate the figures moving in the light. There's a lot of extraordinary talent on AO3 (and elsewhere in the online fanfic world), sharing stuff with us out of their own hard work and from their own urge toward grace. It's a privilege to read them. (Some of them are better writers than I am. I appreciate them: and comment, and leave kudos, because that's how appreciation is concretely shown. And I take notes.)

Beyond that, there's nothing much to add except that I have no plans to stop. And also: that I think kindly every single day of the very small and exclusive group of people who know "who" I am on AO3, and have kindly kept that data to themselves. Your confidence honors me, friends. May the Work do you honor in return. :)

And now: I owe you all an update, so you'll have to excuse me while I get on with it. :)

#AO3 #fanfic #anonymous writing

[ghouljams]

NO BECAUSE imagine cowboy!könig listening to darling after a long day of working and he gets worried because she sounds so breathless and whiney and then bro just realizes she's touching herself

i'll see myself out bye

Oh you are absolutely fueling the stalker cowboy thoughts I have in my head. The bug is technically in the living room but Darling lives alone, so the whole house is really free reign for her.

It's become a sort of daily ritual. König gets in from tending to the horses, showers, and switches on the receiver as he fixes dinner for himself. Usually you're making food around that time too, the sound of your absent-minded singing filtering through the static and filling his kitchen with life. Sometimes you talk to yourself, bitch about your day, praise yourself on jobs well done, remind yourself of things you need from the store, day-to-day minutiae that you must think no one would care about. König cares. Every little detail is stored for future reference and use. How else is he supposed to drop by with just what you need right when you need it?

You're very quiet tonight. He turns the volume up with a frown, did you go out? That would be good, you need more friends. König goes to the kitchen window to check the pasture. No sign of Honey, so you haven't gone chasing after her. Maybe he'll just go over and check on you. The soft whine through the receiver stops him from reaching for his bandana.

Concern hits him first, moving to turn the volume up more. Did you hurt yourself? Were you alright? 

Another breathless sound, high and tight, and Needy. Not a whine, a whimper, "Fuck, mm." He recognizes the slick sound under your whimpering. Maybe not from you, but… his fingers itch the dial up higher, leaning over the table to listen. Your moan echoes through the kitchen and König's grip on the table scratches hard enough to splinter the wood. 

Naughty, Needy little thing. He could almost see you on your couch touching yourself. Your fingers dipping into your soaked cunt, dragging that wetness to ease the slide as you circled your clit. Fuck. You whine and he sits heavy on his kitchen chair, fingers working to undo his belt and pull his rapidly hardening cock out.

His cock is barely free before his hand wraps around it, grip punishing as he strokes the length of it. The wet sound of your dripping cunt fills the room. He wonders: are you fucking yourself on your fingers, or do you have a toy? The way you whine, whatever it is seems to be doing the trick. 

König rubs his thumb against the head of his cock, God if you only knew how it was drooling for you. Would you whine on your knees for him? Stare up at him with those big doe eyes and whimper like you are in your living room? Fucking yourself where anyone could hear you like a little slut. If he walked over there now would he have time to catch you? Would he even be able to control himself when he saw you?

"Please, please, König, fuck," you gasp and König groans. You are just perfect for him, aren't you? Already know who you belong to. Are you imagining his fingers, his cock? Do you want to cum, is that why you're begging him so prettily?

"Not yet, Schatz," he mumbles, imagining the drag of his calloused fingers might be your slick cunt. You whine in response, suppressing a moan that should be his. He's so close. Heat coils tight in his stomach, the stroke of his hand slick with pre-cum as he listens to the delicious whimpering coming over the receiver. He wants to hear you cum, wants to pretend its from riding his cock and not whatever puny thing you’re fucking yourself with. God he wants to break you, and you’ll beg him to.

You already are, your pleas chant like a prayer, his name falling from your lips like water as you moan. That’s all he needs, feeling his balls pull up tight as he cums into his fist with a low groan. He can hear your heavy breaths in tandem with his own as he leans back against the chair. Fuck. God, you don’t know what you do to him, but you will. You will.

#absolutely inspired by this at fucking midnight last night when i was possessed #the bug is really paying for itself good call on that King #cowboy!König #könig x you #könig modern warfare #könig cod #colonel könig #konig x reader #könig x y/n #reader x König #love writing this boy he's insane

[hadesoftheladies]

if you're a radfem (or feminist in general) chances are you're dealing with these: repressed anger and the effects of gaslighting

if you're exhausted a lot (without strenuous physical activity and lack of sleep), find yourself having outbursts of strong emotion, feeling desperate for a form of escape, fantasizing about drastic measures, anxious and "forgetful" about memories you have, nervous about speaking about your experiences . . .

here's some tricks on how i've been coping:

-boundaries. if you can cut off people (irl or online) that cause you to spiral into hate, frustration, anger at their ignorance/malice, do it. even if it's a musician whose one song you like. or your brother or dad. limit time as much as possible with them. the less access they have, the less relevant they become, the more energy you conserve.

-do art! create something, it doesn't matter what it is. express those emotions! make sure you're doing it in a judgement-free zone. it's important you don't become a critic at this time. do messy, honest art (sometimes i write short scenes of gay/lesbian characters to cope with the homophobia in my life, and it makes me feel MUCH better and less cynical, sometimes you need to create beauty to remember it exists in the world)

-get out! get out into nature, if you can. if you can't immerse yourself in some form of it. try watching a potted plant for a while or watch insects. take interest in the mundane aspects of life. see that leaf curl? that ant? you're part of that. when you see the clouds, remember they are part of the cycle. the earth grows into its beauty as you do. the moon is the sky's cycle tracker. you belong to this world. you belong in it. this is your home. revel in it.

-if you can, and if you want to, hang out with animals. animals are great companions with none of the misogyny, internalized or otherwise! they don't mind if you cry, either. seriously, if you need non-draining, non-complicated companionship, animals are a good option. it's also good to remember you're a simple animal sometimes, with simple needs. sometimes all you need is a nice belly rub and a little treat.

-cultivate female friendships where it's safe to rant and also not all about ranting. your friendships should be a comfort, not a chore. you need irl community. if you can access it at this time, if you can find a way to cultivate it, please do. it may save you

-it is okay to enoy things despite the evil in the world. you don't have to be an activist 24/7. go watch your favorite movie. listen to your favorite comedian. and let down your guard while you're enjoying that little something. it's important you don't fall into analyzing things.

-for the gaslighting, start having conversations where you make it explicitly clear that you want the other party to ONLY listen. also, JOURNAL, even if it's just a paragraph or two sentences. write down the small important facts of your day. you'll either build a more reliable memory or come to see how reliable your memory is. just don't hang out with people that are constantly testing you. that is not an environment where you develop healthy trust in yourself.

-fight back! these are some ways to heal from the bruising of the world, but honestly? you need to acknowledge how RIGHT and GOOD your anger is. and one of the best ways to do that is to fight back! do something that addresses part of the injustice your heart is screaming about. it doesn't have to be big, it just needs to help someone and address the situation. address the alarms in your brain telling you something isn't right and you have to do something about it. scratch that itch! do that something. you will feel really good

please feel free to add any other tips you guys may have for cultivating joy, hope and energy, because we don't have to be miserable while/for doing the right thing

#radfem #radblr #feminism #radical feminism #radfems please touch

[stardewvalleybut-i-draw]

popping in to say i am OBSESSED with your farmer interpretations. im not a big stardew valley fan (not bc of anything, its just not my sort of thing) but gahhhhhh. oh my god. that one painting comic and the background-music writing rattle around in my head so muchhh. they just scratch such a specific itch in my brain.

like. interacting with the world around you on such a different, alien level from anybody else- but not noticing or caring because its just what you've always seen the world as. it isnt scary, it doesnt completely warp your mind, it doesnt drive you to the brink of madness- its just normal. what the world is supposed to be.

it gives you advantages in some situations. but it also isolates you, in a subtle way. because you're different, 'biologically' (for lack of a better term), you cant see what people "should" see, or do what "normal" people should do. you will always just be a little off to people- just through your habits, which seem completely normal and logical to you- enough to put them on edge. its not enough to set anything bigger off, but it shows that you will always be different. you will never be like them, whether you want to or not.

..whoops. sorry for waxing poetic or whatever in your askbox lol i am just a very very big fan of this specific type of thing. anyways! thank you for making this specific interpretation that will probably haunt me for a bit. i hope you have a good day ^-^

Yep, you hit it right on the hammer! That's exactly what I'm going for!!

And with the new update (no spoilers here) it seems that's what the game is encouraging you to be!

I like writing them in this way because it adds a wonderfully comedic depression to them! A subtle psychological horror I can use for drama later👀

And again... cuz funny haha 😂

I noticed the Farmer's quirks are only sometimes included in others' writing and only really included for comedic purposes. Still, I think the farmer's odd behavior can add to almost any situation if you know how to work with it!

I hope to haunt you more in the future! Have a great day as well :D

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew farmer #sdv farmer #ask #I do plan on doing something horror related in the future! #but that's a LOOONNNG ways away

[boydepartment]

Pastry- Jungwon x Fem! Reader

a/n: HELLLLP WHAT IS WRONG W ME. another comfort fic 😨 this is moreso inspired by this post! when i was sad an old friend tried to get at me lolz ITS NOT LOLZ ITS ACTUALLY REALLY UPSETTING BUT ILL GET OVER IT !

MASTERLIST

wc- 750???? again half of this was written on phone so idk

warnings- insecurities, reader gets objectified, jungwon reassures her she’s much more than what she thinks people see her as. i’m sorry to anyone who has ever felt like this. i assure you, you’re more than that, and the person who made you feel like this- isn’t worth shit.

song- what was i made for by billie eilish

You sat on your couch with your head in your hands, you had just finished texting an old friend. The thought of texting an old friend previously made you so giddy. However, you quickly found their one motive to talk to you. You felt so grossed out and used in a sense. Of course, you didn’t give them anything, but that fact didn’t make that painful feeling go away. You think what hurt the most was that you didn’t expect that from them.

Immediately trying to get at you; offended you, as it would offend most people. You took a deep breath and laid down on your side. You tried to close your eyes to make the feeling go away. When you felt someone looking at you, you opened your eyes.

You saw Jungwon staring at you from the floor, he was leaning on the couch and all you could see was his cat-like eyes. His eyes gave you enough of a clue that he was confused at your state. You sighed and rolled on your back.

“Do you think people just think I’m pretty?”

Jungwon made a noise before standing up to look over you, “what do you mean?”

You sighed and rolled back on your side, Jungwon followed your lead and went back to leaning on the couch looking at you.

“I feel like I am just an object.”

Jungwon felt his fist clench a bit, “who made you feel like this?” He never failed to get upset when you were mistreated by someone. Jungwon couldn’t put you in a bubble and protect you from all harm though, this is life and shit happens sometimes. He’s just lucky enough to be in your circle.

You looked away from him, itching your hands like you had a plague, “I don’t know…”

“Y/n… You are a horrible liar.” Jungwon deadpanned and grabbed your hands softly to stop them from scratching.

“That old friend I was telling you about.” You mumbled, Jungwon’s grip tightened.

“The one you were excited about?”

You nodded and you felt your tears well up, “I feel gross, so gross, I don’t know why I even thought that they would want to talk to me again for any other reason. I feel like a stupid obje-“

“Y/n…” Jungwon got up and sat next to you, you sat up and leaned on him. Your hair was a mess, and your hoodie and shorts were disheveled. You felt as bad as you looked.

“They are stupid for objectifying you.” Jungwon started, his thumb rubbing your palm, “you are so much more than a pretty face, you have brains, you are really funny, and you have a dorky personality. You aren’t just pretty; you are so much more than that.” His voice was quiet, he didn’t want to raise it in fear you would just keep getting upset, “if they are stupid enough to make you feel like this, like an inanimate object, they are so stupid.”

“Thank you…” You mumbled and leaned your head on his shoulder, “I’m just tired of this… I don’t think people like me for me I feel like they just want to get something- anything- out of me. I’m so tired of it…”

“I know… I wish I could take that feeling away and give it to myself so you don’t have to feel like this anymore…” Jungwon looked down at your guys’ hands. He truly did want to take this feeling away from you and give it to himself. He’d rather deal with it for you. He didn’t want you to feel this way anymore.

You watched as he rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand, “I’m sorry you have to hear about me moping around…”

“No don’t be sorry… I want you to talk to me when you feel like this… Talk to me so I can listen and help…” Jungwon felt like he was made to help people, including you.

“Thank you Wonnie…”

He smiled softly at you, “are you hungry or want water or anything?”

“Can we get tea? Or a pastry?” You rubbed your eyes. Jungwon helped you.

“We can get as many pastries and cups of tea as you want.”

#jungwon x reader #yang jungwon imagines #jungwon imagines #yang jungwon x reader #yang jungwon #jungwon fluff #enha jungwon #jungwon enhypen #enhypen jungwon #jungwon #enhypen imagines #enha imagines #enhypen #enha #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enha fluff #kpop imagines #jungwon angst #enhypen comfort #enha comfort #jungwon comfort #heeseung #sunghoon #jay park #sunoo #nishimura riki #jake sim #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jake

[angelkhi]

mirrorball - j.m

pairing: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader (3rd person)

summary: a gala isn’t your thing, dress shopping isn’t Joel’s. It’s a shame no one can get their way.

warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut in future parts, mentions of alcohol, references to being roofied, language, sexual themes (no actual sex), mentions of blood, joel is a massive dick. let me know if i missed anything!word count: 2.8k

a little note: it’s here! (kinda). ive been kinda busy (i graduated!) but also wanted to take my time with this, and maybe explore some aspects of writing that i usually skim over (my bad). i estimate that this will be maybe 3 parts? i hope i do it justice either way, this fic was born out of this hc, but mostly your encouraging responses. thank you for being so kind 🩷

series masterlist part two>>

For a price tag of almost three grand, her dress is itchy. Sure it's beautiful enough that the slimy little daddy's boys will fawn over her, and each superficial gold digger will give her one syllable compliments in an overly saturated tone, but it fucking itches. She hikes the material further up her thigh for the third time since the short car ride began, trying to scratch at her skin. Maybe it's an allergic reaction. She hopes so, that way she can avoid the event all together. She's half way to pulling her sleeve away from her shoulder, ready to scratch the irritated skin, but a firm grip around her wrist prevents her from that sweet sweet relief.

"Stop fidgeting." Joel's tone is clipped, the usual hint of strain pulling across his words. She swears she's never seen him relax, not since he became her live-in bodyguard anyway. She cuts her eye at him but of course he's not looking. The only time she ever really has his attention is if her life is in danger, other than that its pure nonchalance and ignorant glances. She can admire his desire to fulfil the position, what with the pay and free accommodation, hell if she had a real job she'd probably be just as uptight as him. But there's only so much a person can take.

"It's itchy." Of course she sounds like a whiny little brat. It's fine, that's all he thinks of her anyway, she's sure of it.

"Should've picked the other one then."

She almost laughs.

She had walked him around the store at least four times, each trip resulting in the same two dresses. She couldn't decide between the colours, then the length, and then the sleeves. In the end he forced her into the changing room, mumbling she either picks one of those or goes in nothing. They both know that's not an option. Both dresses felt nice, as nice as a constricting piece of fabric could feel, they both looked as nice as they could in the dreary washed out lighting. In the end she had asked Joel, who sat just the other side of the door, arms folded, shoulders tense, scowl mastered.

Joel isn't one for verbal communication, unless it's telling her to 'go here' or 'stay there' or his most frequented phrase, 'shut up'.

But his eyes say it all.

Sometimes it's a simple twitch, letting her know he's not as irritated as he lets on, others it's a slight squint. That's her personal favourite. That's when she knows she's got him right on the edge.

His eyes fix on her, moving slow and calculated over the second dress. The way the fabric moulds to each divot and curve of her body, lingering on her chest, on the slightly too high slit exposing her thigh. It's a clear winner.

His levels of exasperation had clearly spiked in the time it took for her to change again, his constant glaring, huffing and puffing dialled up to 100. His wide steps only seem to grow wider on the way to the checkout, his whole demeanour screaming get me the fuck out of here. Which is why she doubles back on herself, not needing to check if he's following, she knows he will.

She stops, a wide array of underwear in front of her. She takes her time, making sure to show each and every barely there pair to him, watching that eye twitch with a perfect mix of irritation and lightly tethered resolve.

He'd dragged her out of there in the end, though not after she held up the skimpiest pair of panties she could find. His hand wraps tight around her arm, not enough to hurt her, she knows he'd never do that. But enough to tell her she's officially pushed his buttons a little too much.

Soon enough the car rolls to a slow stop in front of a grand building. Stone columns tower over her when Joel leads her from the car. She likes to pretend it's not in his job description, that instead he's simply just an emotionally constipated gentleman, but she's not stupid enough to believe it. Still, when his hand finds the small of her back, when he guides her up the steps and into the vast museum-turned-ballroom, it's hard to believe that his behaviour is entirely obligatory.

The event is just as grand as she expected. Her father certainly has no trouble with throwing his wealth around, even less so when it presents the opportunity to show just how wealthy he is. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm twinkling light over the guests. An sizeable portion of an orchestra plays dreary classical music from the back of the room, and the guests are filling the space, drinking overpriced champagne and nibbling on bite sized canapés.

She waltzes through the sea of false affluence, painting on her best smile, choosing her most pleasant tone, saying all of the right words. She embraces her father heartily, pushing down the small piece of resistance when he pulls her close. She puts on a good, exhausting show. The only thing that keeps her grounded is Joel, hot on her 5-inch heels, anticipating her every move, being ten steps ahead of her.

She's seated with a handful of the elite from the gathering, laughing when they relay the same stories as always, gasping and feigning surprise when they compliment her. She eats the bland food with a sweet smile and laughs off propositions from parents who just know their son would be a perfect match for her.

In between convoluted speeches, she listens to them drone on about their latest investments, or how well their darling daughters are performing in their ballet classes. She smiles, she drinks. she laughs. She's the perfect daughter. The luckiest girl in the room, with the richest daddy and all the luxuries life could offer. But sat at that table, choking down specs of gold in the dry champagne, she feels more akin to the age old scrolls and scriptures.

A caged artefact, another one of her father's prized possessions, on display to be gasped at. She'd give anything for the glass to shatter, for tiny shards to rain down on each and every person in here. She'd marvel in their horror as they learn they bleed the same as everyone else on this planet. That they're not special, and neither is she.

From the corner of her eye, she spots Joel hiding in the shadows, standing to attention. His eyes constantly scan the room and every few seconds, they're on her. She almost feels bad for practically ogling him whilst he's doing his very best to keep her alive. But his black suit fits his form so well it'd be a sin not to look. She watches as he readjusts his cufflinks for the third time, the material catching around his biceps, the single button clipped across his stomach almost straining with every moment.

Yes, Joel is an insufferable bastard, but he's an unfathomably good looking one. His stoic behaviour is almost forgiven on that basis alone.

A round of applause pulls her from her Joel induced trance. She fixes her smile and joins in, nodding jovially with those around her. Not soon enough, she's free to leave the table, thanking them for their company, and heads straight for the bar. She feels Joel's presence before she sees him, perching a few seats down, eyes still wondering.

She doesn't pay much attention to the man next to her. His suit probably cost more than what most people make in a year, and his charming smile is more snake-like. She smiles when he pays for her drink, laughs and touches his arm, letting him think he has a chance. He's been talking about his most recent investment in overseas stocks for ten minutes, and all she wants is to go home and take off these fucking uncomfortable heels. To be able to breathe without the rigid dress digging into her skin. She wants to be alone, or as alone she can be with her human shadow.

"... and profits are at an all time high. My old man reckons I'll be taking over from him soon enough" The man, Matt? Mike? Manny, speaks. She flashes him a smile.

"Wow. That's amazing." Or at least she hopes it is, he could be talking about his dead childhood pet for all she knows.

"Let me buy you another drink?" He asks. Though it's more of a demand, he's already flagged down the bartender, ordering something sweet and fruity her, and a "real man's" drink for himself.

"You got the last round. I'll get these." She pretends to root around in her too-small purse knowing he'll decline, they always do. Men like him take any chance to throw their money around, wave it in peoples faces, impress the men and woo the ladies.

By the time she's ended the facade, he's waving his amex at her dismissively, nudging the drink towards her. Once again she smiles. She doesn't even want the drink, certainly not in his company.

His beady eyes watch her, a hint of something beneath the thick layer of painted on charm. That snake-like nature increases tenfold and it takes everything in her not to tip the drink down the front of his Givenchy shirt. The glass is barely in her hands when it's ripped from her hands, the familiar scent of Joel invading her space.

His face is taught, that scowl he loves so dearly gone, in its place pure rage. His eyes are dangerously dark, and she's sure if she looked hard enough, there would be smoke blowing from his ears.

It all happens so quickly. The sloshing drink flies from the glass straight into Manny's face, dripping down onto his clothes, turning his sickly white suit into a damp shade of pink. Then Joel is moving, slamming the empty glass onto the bar and gripping the terrified man by his collar.

She can feel the eyes of almost everyone at the gala trained solely on them, she almost expects the music to come to a screeching halt.

She can barely make out Joel's enraged words, despite the silent crowd. She's barely aware of his hand gripping her arm, pulling her through the parting guests. A sea of shocked faces, some sympathetic others purely confused. She stumbles on the top step, her stupid heels and Joel's insane pace working against her. The world turns upside down, and her hands reach out to brace herself, hitting his sturdy back. Even with a layer of clothing between them, she swears she can feel his bare hands across the back of her thighs, the tight muscle of his shoulder pressing against her stomach.

He's thrown her over his shoulder. Like a damned child. And now he's shoving her into the back of the car, as though she's the one that threw a tantrum and caused a scene. He rounds the car and slips in beside her, and they're speeding off back towards her apartment.

The last few minutes slowly slip from a hazy blur to a sharp reality, and she can't help but stare at him. Confusion and pure embarrassment hit her first, then comes the anger. He speaks to the driver for a second, and then the partition is rolling up again.

The car feels ten times smaller and itching of her dress is long forgotten. She wants to ask him what happened, why he dragged her out of there like an insubordinate child, but he's busy typing on his phone, making hushed calls as though a whisper wouldn't travel the few feet of space between them. His chest heaves, small tufts of hair peaking through the now open buttons of his shirt, the once neat tie hanging loosely from his collar.

He barely looks at her the whole time. Even as he helps her out of the car, or guides her into the elevator, or pushes open her front door, bolting it behind them. She throws off the heels the moment she steps into the large living room, knocking an ornament sideways. Not even that gets his attention.

"Sunshine secured." He speaks into his wrist, a small undetectable microphone hidden in one of the cufflinks. Sunshine. She remembers it like yesterday, the first time he'd called her that. She'd stumbled into the kitchen after a late night, barely acknowledging the hulking man sat at the island. She remembers the exact moment his eyes met hers with that all consuming gaze and the slight quirk of his lips as he studied her from head to toe, then in that deep texas drawl, uttered morning sunshine.

She had quickly come to learn it was not as endearing as it seemed. Joel doesn't do endearing.

There's a growing urge to throw something, at a wall or at him is still undecided, so she crosses her arms across her chest instead. She calls out his name, though it falls on deaf ears, his nose buried in that stupid phone of his. She tries again, and again until throwing something doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. Finally, he grants her the privilege of his attention and she considers for a moment, if that's all she wanted. Not answers, just his acknowledgement. He raises an eyebrow, his nonchalance pushing her over the edge.

"What was that?" It comes out as a high pitched shout, rather than the calm and controlled manner she had hoped.

Once again, he quirks his brow saying nothing any everything . This doesn't concern you, or are you really that stupid?

"Joel, you just threw a drink on someone and dragged me out of a room filled with hundreds of people. You would think that warrants an explanation!"

He has the nerve to huff and shake his head, shoving the buzzing phone in his pocket and takes a step towards her.

"You want an explanation." He eyes her again, focusing on the slow curve of her dress. "There was a threat. I eliminated it."

She scoffs, "You were being a dick."

"I was doing my job."

"Oh that's what it was! Your little tantrum was you doing your job?" She's aware that she's now the one throwing a tantrum, not that she cares when he's acting so high and mighty, as though the status of his role outweighs her own peace of mind.

"Go to bed." His phone buzzes again, he ignores it. "It's been a long night and I have a bunch of shit to deal with."

"Are you being serious right now? You just humiliated me in front of everyone. Was carrying me down the steps really that necessary?" If she was itching to throw something a few minutes ago, she's desperate now. Maybe her shoe, right in his face.

"He would've done a lot worse Sunshine, now go to bed." For fucks sakes.

"No! Not until you tell me what is going on."

He sighs, pinching the small bump along the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He does this a lot, when he's trying not to yell at her or even better still, quit his job. He shoots her a pointed look.

"If you weren't so busy flirting with your little boyfriend, you would've noticed him slipping something in your drink." His words are met with a long silence, and the space between them seems to stret even further.

The dress feels tighter, and she wobbles a little, though this time she can't blame it on the shoes. She was wrong. He hasn't humiliated her in front of everyone, he'd done it in her own home.

"Unzip me." Her voice is clipped. She's not sure if she wants to scream or cry. Maybe both. He hesitates for a moment, but then he's there right behind her pulling the zip down so torturously slowly, the soft brush of his knuckles on her skin threatening her with a shiver. She almost hates herself for it.

He steps back, but she doesn't face him. The dress slides off easily, leaving her in barely anything not that she cares. She's already humiliated herself enough, what's another notch in the belt? She gathers up the crumpled fabric, wanting nothing more than to throw it in the bin, and walks down the hall pausing at her door. She turns to him. She refuses to let him have the last word, he doesn't deserve it, not tonight. With tears already threatening her voice and Joel's beyond sour mood she's not sure she cares much either. Making sure to look directly into his eyes, she bares herself, lets him see the hurt he has caused.

"Fuck you."

She makes sure the door slams behind her, leaving him alone in the dark.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #bodyguard!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic

[watermelonsugacry]

SORRY TO BOTHER!! But i cant stop thinking about band member y/n just being a young pop star like all of the boys, going out to parties together, and sometimes hook ups with random people. harry does it too and so does other band members, its never a big secret between them all but imagine harry walking into y/n's hotel room after a night out to check up on her and seeing a guy leave her room with a few of his belongings packed in his arms.. IDK i feel like harry would just get so jealous and get pissed off really easily by anything and anyone for the rest of the day but not know why and having to try keep his cool

stooooop because when this happened the first time in 2013, he was so heartbroken about the whole thing.

Like he just closed his hotel door behind him when he stops in his tracks as he spots a man closing YN's door that's across the hall from his room. The man doesn't even have his socks on and holds his black denim jacket and sleek Chelsea boots in his arms. The bloke looks up and he's a deer in headlights.

After a beat of awkward silence, the guy clears his throat, throwing a nod in the pop star's direction as he heads down the hall, "Sup, man."

"Sup," Harry furrows his eyebrows at the brunette stranger and looks towards his bandmate's hotel door. The crease in between his eyebrows when he knocks on her door, taking a glance down the hallway.

"Morning, babe," YN beams at her bandmate and his eyes immediately go towards her messy bedhead and the way she bites at her swollen bottom lip. "Was just gonna make a cuppa tea, want one?"

He follows her inside and sees the way she practically floats into the small connected kitchen. The oversized t-shirt she's wearing has her reaching up to cover her exposed shoulder and he has to look away when she reaches up to grab a mug to avoid his gaze from falling to the bottom of her short pj shorts.

Harry leans his hip against the kitchen island and awkwardly clears his throat, "So...how was your night?"

He doesn't know why he feels the boiling heat of jealousy at the pit of his stomach at the sound of her giggling to herself when it would usually cause the familiar flutter of butterflies.

"Satisfying."

He's grateful when she hands him his mug, already prepared just the way he likes it, as he has something to grip his fidgety fingers onto.

"And you?" YN asks into the rim of her mug.

"Oh, same yeah," Harry lies, knowing full well that he slept alone in his king sized bed the entire night. "But judging by your mood, this lad must have been something else, huh?"

He doesn't know why he's torturing himself further by wanting to know more about her night. It's an odd itch that he has to scratch even if the mere thought of someone touching, kissing, licking at his crush the way he wishes makes him want to drive his fist through the nearest wall.

"He was..." YN bites her lip in an attempt to tame her smile, shaking her head as she gets lost in her thoughts. "Let's just say that he knew what he was doing. Oh, but m'sure you don't wanna hear all of the details—"

"I don't mind," Harry casually shrugs his shoulders, hoping to pull off a cool demeanor. "We are friends, lovie."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Harry," She warns with a tempting smirk.

"Yeah but satisfaction brought it back, didn't it?"

There are two knocks on the door before the sound of the keycard beep is faintly heard.

"Rise and shine, YN—oh, hey Harry," Emma, her personal stylist, smiles as she walks into the room. "Sorry, bub, but you gotta head out. I need to get YN ready for a day full of interviews today. Go get ready with the rest of the boys, H. Now shoo."

With a final small smile her way, he says, "Thanks for the tea, lovie," before making his way out. When he enters the chatty hotel suite where the rest of the band has already started to get ready for the day, their stylists and other team members walking around the room, the crease between his eyebrows returns. It stays there for the rest of the day and when asked about his unusually quiet mood by the other boys, he shakes them off with a muttered, "M'fine."

YN plops down on the couch and once they hear the door softly close, Emma begins to take out some potential heel choices from her suitcase.

"So...how was your night?" Emma inquires.

"Disappointing," YN rubs her face before pushing her messy hair back. "Had to finish meself off, as per usual."

"Oh, m'sorry, love. I always hope these lads would be different. Well, at least you didn't say Harry's name like last time."

"Hey, that was one time," YN points out with a knowing look. "And the bloke was too drunk to even notice. All of which stays between us, Em."

"No need to remind me, I know, I know," Emma reassures the young woman before her with a sigh. "But that bloke in the elevator did look an awful lot like—"

"Don't," YN quickly interrupts.

There's a pregnant pause before the two women share a look and burst out into girlish giggles.

#harry x 1dbandmember!reader #1dbandmember!yn #since 2010 series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles icons #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles and reader #harry styles and you #harry styles and y/n #harry styles masterlist #harry styles concert ukraine #famous!yn #famous!reader

[quitealotofsodapop]

Okay, let's be real: there is no effing way none of the kids were asking for pets - zilch! Even if they are demons/celestials/dragons, they gotta have wanted a pet.

So, who nearly gave in, who was the voice of reason, and what pet did the fam get in the end?

Absolutely.

MK and Mei are def the kids who tried to scheme/bargain to have a dog throughout their childhood. Nezha is a lot chiller on the subject, but would argue that a growing up with a pet would help with social stuff. Chenxiang would also like a pet, and tries to argue for the kiddos, but can be easily distracted with a marimo (moss ball). A lot of the time they can scratch that wanting-a-pet-itch by chilling on the boat with Sandy's foster cats, but sometimes a kid just really wants a dog.

Wukong wants to give the kids some pet responsibilities, but this man has bad history with dogs so none of those. Probably shows the kids the gnarly scar "an old war buddy's dog" [aka Xiaotian Quan] gave him to try and dissuade them. No fish either - he's seen what evil goldfishes can get up to. His fave animals are of the large hooved variety, so he's not allowed to get a pet either. He almost gave in one time when he met a really affectionate chihuahua once though, tiny dogs be a different matter. Will frequently use his limited magic to turn into whatever animal the kids are arguing for and cause havoc around the apartment until they admit defeat.

Macaque is sneakier. He knows his kids aren't gonna take great care of a whole pet by themselves if he just gives them one - cus they're kids, and have the attention spans of a monkey and a lizard combined. So he slyly says something like; "Your Uncle Sandy has a new batch of foster kittens, maybe he needs help raising them?" And the kids go nuts all the way to the boat. After weeks of bottlefeeding, butt-wiping, and litter changing for foster kittens; MK and Mei don't ask for a pet for a while. Macaque knows that the easiest way to halt the "Can we have a pet?"-train is to give the kids *actual* responsibility that they have to do. Vaguely considers guinea pigs or rabbits as a pet option, but that goes out the window with the addition of a certain little cat demon into the family.

Pigsy is the one to put his foot down and say: "No, absolutely not. Pets are a huge responsibility, and you live above a restaurant." Thinks most animals are just health hazards waiting to happen. Ironically the One Time he agreed to let the kids keep a pet, was when a stray kitten came into the restaurant. That kitten turned out to be Bai He. Pigsy is suspicious of any future animal additions to the family.

Tang ends up offering the ultimate compromise in this situation. He's great at "bargaining" with the kids to distract them for a while. He offers that if the kids can successfully raise a caterpillar into a butterfly - then they might be ready for a bigger animal. Cue a little terriarium in the apartment, and the kids are fixated on a little wormy guy for the next couple of weeks.

MK: "Pama! We did it!" Tang: "Huh?" Mei: "The caterpillar! It came out of its crys-alis!" Tang: *looks at terriarium in surprise* Tang, laughing to himself: "Sorry kiddos. But your "butterfly", is actually a moth. I must have grabbed a silkworm on accident." MK & Mei: "Aw..." Tang: "But hey, lets go to the pet store and see if you guys are ready for an upgrade!" MK & Mei, eyes sparkling with joy: "Upgrade! Upgrade!"

Tang's idea of an "upgrade" was one of those sea monkey/aqua dragon kits. MK and Mei were very disappointed when the eggs hatched and weren't tiny monkey-mermaids or baby dragons - Nezha on the otherhand was fascinated and now keeps one of those mini-aquariums in his room.

Sandy is def the one to make the kids truly understand the Effort and Responsibility a pet requires by having them help out with foster cats. He would however, completely fold if the kids ever asked to to keep one of the cats as a foster fail. He can't say no to them.

Eventually they accidentally find the perfect animal while visiting their "Grand Aunts/Uncles" [the Stalwarts] in the mountains. A frequent vistor to Uncle Beng's garden.

Mei and MK, eyes sparkling: "What are you?" Tortoise: :> Mei: "You're our friend now." Tortoise: *seems ok with this*

Wukong and Macaque just looked at the kiddos with their new buddy like; "Yeah sure I guess. Can't live that long can it?"

Its been over ten years since that moment, and Pangu the Tortoise is still alive and chilling around the (now-MK's) apartment. Mei takes care of Pangu every-so often and has a "bachelor pad" for him (+a bearded dragon) in her apartment. Pangu is currently the size of a small dog and bites tf out of Red Son whenever he visits. Completely normal animal. Unamused by magic, even when he and the other pets get babysat by the Stalwarts during the chaos of S3 - he's more mad that LBD's ice froze his lettuce.

SWK and Mac honestly didn't know Pangu was a long-lived species when they took him in but are glad it stopped any talk of pets... from kid MK and Mei.

Now the Eclipse twins are starting to complain about wanting pets too ever since Shadowpeach upgraded to an actual house. Bai He has to be talked down from keeping every street cat she finds. And of course MK is now a grown adult and is starting to think he's ready for the responsibility of a dog.

Its a never ending struggle.

#the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #lmk shadowpeach au #shadowpeach #freenoodles #shadowpeach being parents #freenoodles being parents #sandy being the best uncle #qi xiaotian #long xiaojiao #lmk mei #dad sun wukong #dad macaque #momcaque #lmk dadsy #dad tang #sun wukong #liu er mihou #six eared macaque #lmk pigsy #lmk tang #lmk sandy #lmk nezha #lmk ocs #lego monkie kid #lmk au #lmk

[forlorn-crows]

Hey Crow! :D I think this might be my first time sending you a ficlet request, how fun! I feel like your style would scratch a specific itch I have so well ❤️

So listen, I've been having this persistent migraine for *days*. It's not constantly blasting me with pain, sometimes it lowers into just a fuzz for a few hours and I think it's gone but then it builds back up and it smacks me in the face again. I'm very tired of said migraine loop and in need of my projection ghoul going through it and the pack helping them. May I please request Swiss dealing with a shitty headache and getting some comfort from someone? Any other ghoul is fine, or a group of them, all good, I just want my projection boyo being comforted and cared for. Can be gen, can be smutty cause Satan knows some fun play time can take your mind off of a headache alright, it's up to you.

If that's something you'd be interested in wreiting of course, no pressure!

Mushy May Day 11: Unspoken 'I love you's

a little quip about Swiss' raging headache coming up! featuring Aether and Sunshine. what says 'i love you' more than helping your packmate ease their pain without being asked?

Pairings: Aether/Swiss/Sunshine

Words: 715

Swiss grumbles in Sunshine’s lap, begging her thighs to smother him so he doesn’t have to feel the incessant throbbing behind his eyes anymore. He claws into his own hair as a spike of pain sears through his right temple, knocking his breath right out of his chest. 

Sunshine gently pries his fingers out of his hair and redirects them to latch onto the hem of the blanket scrunched around his shoulders instead. She pets his hair with soft, flat palms, offering what little warmth she can conjure. 

“Fuck,” he hisses in their infernal language, the curse sounding more like a hex on his tongue. 

“That bad?” Aether asks from the hallway. When the waves of pain emanating from his packmate started branching off in sulfuric tendrils across the void, the quintessence ghoul roused himself from the comfort of his bed, unable to relax while Swiss was suffering. 

Sunshine nods. Her expression is one of empathy and concern, eyebrows upturned as she regards Aether across the room. “Going on hour three, now,” she says, still running her hands across Swiss’ tight curls. I’m trying, she mouths with a sad smile. 

I know, Aether mouths back, genuine. 

“Brain feels like it’s in a fist fight with my skull,” Swiss mumbles. 

Aether motions for Sunshine to let him switch places with her. She settles on the other end of the couch, lifting Swiss’ feet into her lap. 

“You’ve just got such a big one,” he jokes in hushed tones. “Okay, marshmallow,” he soothes as Swiss grumbles at the displacement, “there you go.” 

Swiss buries his face into Aether’s lap just as deeply as he had with Sunshine. The quintessence ghoul runs a hand down his neck, running between his shoulder blades and back up again in long, slow motions. 

“These bodies of ours,” he begins quietly, “are fragile. The magick that runs through all of us, in each varied way, hits a limit, in which it has nowhere productive to go.” Aether’s fingers sparkle with that telltale ultraviolet hue, floating just under the base of Swiss’ skull now. “So it manifests as pain. You’d do well to let that glamour go sometimes, give that soul a little more room.” The words are targeted at Swiss, but it serves a gentle reminder for all of them, really. 

The multi-ghoul sighs heavily as Aether brings his hand to the crown of his head, pressing gently with his fingertips. Sunshine tentatively rubs little circles into his calf muscles. She observes the way Swiss’ shoulders melt into Aether’s lap at his touch, quintessence seeping into the pain-filled crevices of his brain and scooping it out with its magick tendrils. He groans with relief, tail finally uncurling from around his own thigh. The spaded tip falls limp to the floor with a soft thud. Sunshine can’t help but trill happily at the sight of Swiss finally relaxed. 

“But,” Aether continues softly, “we can’t face the burden of pain alone. As I’m sure Sunny already told you, marshmallow.” The ghoulette nods in agreement, having done her best to usher a curled-up multi-ghoul into her lap after breakfast once he started wincing.

“I know,” Swiss whines, voice muffled by Aether’s legs. Aether just chuckles, continuing to massage his magick along his scalp, trailing down his neck and shoulders every so often. But he knows there's an unspoken thank you in there somewhere.

The three sit in silence, Aether and Sunshine running their warm loving hands over their packmate until a low purr kicks up in his chest, the multi-ghoul finally and truly relieved. 

“Hey Aethe,” Sunshine chirps inquisitively after a while. 

“Hey Sunny,” he parrots back.

She giggles. “How come you call Swiss ‘marshmallow’?” Swiss snorts a laugh in Aether’s laugh. 

“Well, couple years ago there was this little packet of hot chocolate in one of the hotel rooms—you know, the drink Papa likes to carry around during the winter time and insist it’s actually coffee?” Sunshine nods. “I don’t know why I noticed it. But the brand was ‘Swiss Miss’.”

“The kind with mini marshmallows,” Swiss chimes in. 

“So,” Aether gestures vaguely, “marshmallow.”

“So dumb,” the multi-ghoul mumbles amusedly.

“I think he secretly likes it,” Aether stage whispers across the couch. Swiss shakes his head in defiance, rubbing his face in the quintessence ghoul’s lap, but Sunshine can hear him holding back laughter. 

#this one took me a while to get to but i needed some comfort ghouls too <3 #perfect for #mushy may 2023 #! #the band ghost #fanfic #ficlet #the band ghost fanfic #aether ghoul #swiss ghoul #sunshine ghoulette

[ahomeganeyatsu]

Photogapher He Tian, who's in a funk and looking for inspiration comes across Momo feeding a cat.

- + - - + -

He Tian's bored. Bored and restless. His skin feels too tight, an itch crawling over his being he can't scratch because he has no idea what it is. All his recent photos look like crap to him. Jian Yi says they're all great, that he's just a goddamned perfectionist. Zhan Zheng Xi tells him he probably needs a break, nothing wrong with giving yourself a proper break, besides you can afford it.

He Tian listens. Somewhat. He can't really turn it off. His eyes are always looking for the perfect moment to capture. He's traveled a lot in the years. Maybe it's time to go home. So he does.

He doesn't tell his family he's back in the country. What's the point when he knows they monitor him? They'll know when his plane touches down.

He tries not to stay in his apartment for too long. There's nothing really in it. It's just a place to sleep in. Sometimes he doesn't even do that, waking up in someone else's bed more often than he would have liked.

He tries to do it this time. They haven't exactly helped him getting out of whatever the hell has him in this state.

One day, as he's walking around. His eye catches something. A curious little red head. He's hunched over himself, hands tucked protectively in his jacket. Like he's hiding something. He's being a bit suspicious and He Tian, piqued, decides to follow him.

He ends up witnessing something quite interesting. Litte Red who has such sharp eyes a single glance could practically kill, face seemingly etched into a permanent scowl, is crouched and feeding a little kitten and talking to it in such a sweet voice.

He Tian barely realizes he's lifted his camera and captures the moment. His shutter goes off and the guy notices him. He expected to be confronted. He's all fire and He Tian was ready to be consumed by it.

But the other man looks so shocked and books it out of there. He Tian's surprised by the response he wasn't even able to give chase.

He looks at the kitten and its big dark eyes blinking at him innocently. "I don't suppose you'll tell me where I can find him?"

It meows at him once and goes back to eating.

He Tian waits but Red doesn't come back.

That night he looks at photos he took just to pick out ones he wants printed or posted on his SNS account.

He feels his breath catch when he finds the one he took of little Red. He hadn't expected it to come out this good.

The lighting lends a surreal feeling to it. The smile on his lips is small but it softens his face. His eyes lit with fondness, and—dare He Tian say it—love. The kitten is looking at him, mouth open in a soundless meow. It makes it look like it's smiling back at the red-head.

There's a feeling rising in chest he can't quite name. His heart racing in a way he's never felt before. An inexplicable twinge he refuses to examine. A familiarity he's not ready to confront.

But He Tian is sure of one thing—he needs to see him again.

#ficlet #19 day #tianshan #tianshan fic #19 days au #19 days fic #he tian #mo guan shan #rn writes

[lilivae]

Hey uh question. How do you do perspectives so well? Like, u know how some art makes you think that there’s definitely something wrong, but you don’t know what it is? I just don’t get that feeling whenever I look at your art. Ur art is just so djskdisjkxksj it scratches my brain the right way. Hope this doesn’t sound rude.

aww it doesn't sound rude at all! I love getting comments or questions about art beyond everything, it makes my day!

With perspective I sometimes struggle with it since it's always how perspective works vs how I want to render it so I try to balance it out to hopefully scratch both itches. For my art I usually do very rough sketches and most of the drawing comes in when I do lineart. For the perspective stuff I really render out the sketch as much as I can to make it easier as I go along and once I color, I fix up things since shading can warp some elements.

I want to do more perspective drawings since there is a lot I still want to improve with and I have a lot of ideas already sketched out, its just a matter of picking which one I want to do first! Thanks for the ask!

#ask me anything

[quills-of-freedom]

First-time drabble ~

First time Reiner notices his feelings are becoming more than a crush...

I don't know why I am pumping out so much Reiner content these days. Here's just a little dumb drabble...

Includes a moment with Jean.

Y/N was alone, resting against a trunk of a tree after squeezing in some extra practice - she loved being out in the forest by herself. The sun was casting rays through the beautiful tree canopies and the slight summer breeze rustled the leaves joyfully. It was a shame thereweres never any birds singing in this forest due to the heavy ODM usage scaring them away.

“You doing some extra training?” A voice rang out.

y/n looked up and saw Sasha walking towards her.

“Yeah. Jean showed me some better ways to save my gas consumption.” She explained. “…What are you doing?”

“Hm… Sometimes I just miss the woods, ya know?”

Getting to her feet, y/n smiled at her friend. “I know. And you slipped into your accent again. I wish you wouldn’t hide it. I think it sounds nice.”

Sasha covered her mouth and began blushing.

y/n let out a laugh as Sasha shook her head and quickly changed the subject.

“Uh, speaking of Jean…” she laughed nervously, scratching her head. “Did I tell you about what happened yesterday?”

“um…no?” y/n replied, curious.

A mischievous glint sparked in her eye. “Well, we were talking with Connie and just yapping on about family and stuff. Like how I’m from a hunting village and Connie’s siblings. And well… From the sounds of what Jean was saying about his mom, it really sounds like she still treats him like a baby.”

“…That actually explains a lot.”

“That isn’t even the best part. So, one time he was alone in his room and his mom walked in and he –”

“Sasha!” Jean roared, bursting up towards them.

“Oh!” Sasha exclaimed, surprised.

What were the chances?

“Stop talking out your ass!” he barked, face flushed pink.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She lied, slowly edging away. “Oh… Look at the time, haa. I gotta go do that thing. See ya!”

Jean reached out to grab her to prevent her from running away but she was too quick. “Slippery little –” he fumed before turning his scowl to y/n.

“What did she say? You didn’t take any notice of that shit, right?”

“…Jean.” She said slowly. “…What were you doing in your room?”

His face flashed an expression of horror before being replaced with rage once again.

“Nothing! You shouldn’t listen to rumours! And here I was about to check in on your training.”

He stomped away, muttering under his breath only feeding y/n's itching curiosity. Guilt tugged at her heartstrings and with a small laugh began to follow him.

“Hey Jean, come on… I’m just messing with you.”

“Save it.” He seethed, still strutting away. “You’ll tell your little boyfriend and you can all sit back and laugh at how my mom still treats me like a kid!”

Of course, she knew by “boyfriend” he meant Eren.

“Jean, stop.” She frowned, grabbing his arm.

She could see he wasn’t only angry but a little upset too. His jaw tensed and his fist was clenched.

“Jean…” she repeated, more softly.

He stopped in his tracks and glared at her, almost seeming like he had flames behind his light brown eyes.

“Its not like that.” She said, letting go of his arm. “Listen, I know we don’t get along but if you don’t want me telling anyone all you have to do is say so.”

He relaxed a little bit but was still unsure.

“Why wouldn’t you? You hate me for always fighting with Eren.”

“I don’t hate you.” She laughed softly. “Hate is a strong word. I dislike you at times sure. But even if I did hate you, if you had something you wanted keeping quiet, it’s not my business to spread it around.”

Jean looked pretty flabbergasted. “R-really…?”

He was genuinely surprised she was being so nice to him after everything. After all the arguments and fighting with her best friend.

“Really.” She nodded. “…Mom’s the word.”

Her cheeks inflated as she burst into laughter, Jean's snarl returning.

“N-no, wait!” she cried through her giggles. “I'm being serious. I just couldn’t help myself. I promise I won’t say a thing.”

“Well…okay. I appreciate it.” He nodded, a little wary.

They began walking back to the main grounds together.

“I mean, it’s not true anyway.” He insisted.

“If you say so.” She smiled sincerely.

Jean couldn’t help but feel a little touched by her kindness.

“So uh…” he began, blushing a little at the surprise of this feeling towards her. “How did your training go? Did my advice help?”

“Yeah, it helped loads. Thanks to you, I’m no longer running out of gas too quickly.” She grinned at him, gently hitting her fist against her gas canister.

Her smile radiated the usual beauty, the cruel irony of her not being the slightest aware of how gorgeous she was.

She’s a goddess… Jean thought, the shade of pink morphing to a deep red. But still… for me, there’s just Mikasa…

He still couldn’t help but notice his palms beginning to sweat a little, taken back by this sudden crush on y/n. They chatted all the way back to the training grounds where, with each sentence that flowed from her mouth, he felt himself seep deeper and deeper into a crush.

Damn it, control yourself. He silently scolded in his head. No use liking another one of Eren’s flunkies…

But each syllable, each little laugh and every smile, even the smallest was catching him off guard and by the time they’d reached the cabins, his palms were clammy and he was visibly nervous; this sudden onslaught of emotions that just came out of nowhere, knocking him off his feet. They stopped outside of the supply/ changing room, which was a large cabin on the outskirts of the large, dirt clearing that made up the grounds. As she spoke, she began to remove her jacket, ready to head inside and get changed as well as put away her gear.

She released the tie from her hair, her thick h/c strands spilling down around her. Jean’s face went even more crimson, he even began to tremble slightly.

She is not of this world! He thought in sheer awe as she was oblivious and continued to speak.

Not too far away, Reiner emerged from the forest with Bertolt after doing some cardio. His eyes snapped onto y/n straight away and noticed she was talking to Jean. His eyebrows flickered up for a second when he noticed her jacket was removed and her hair was down. This didn’t go unnoticed by Bertolt who was watching his actions around her closely.

“What the hell is that blushing mess doing?” Reiner frowned as they drew closer and saw the state Jean was in.

Was he…. Did he…?

Of course, she was so beautiful there were bound to be more men than Reiner to have a crush on her. He silently scolded himself for not trying hard enough to get her to notice him more.

“Uh… you know, y/n…” Jean almost whimpered.

“Hm?”

“You have really beautiful hair. …You’re uh, not going to cut it, are you?”

There was no way he was having a repeat of what Eren told Mikasa. It was y/n's turn to blush. She shyly grabbed a strand and looked down at it, not used to compliments about her appearance, and especially not from Jean.

“I’ve been thinking about it, you know, for ODM. But that’s why I just tie it up…”

Reiner noticed y/n now blushing and looking a little uncomfortable.

She wasn’t uncomfortable with Jean, she just wasn’t used to being flattered. But Reiner didn’t know that.

“Little shit.” Reiner scoffed, his brain beginning to race to look for an idea.

Any idea.

Come on big guy, act and act fast! Do something to get her to notice you!

“Reiner?!” Bertolt gasped in surprise when Reiner suddenly burst into a sprint towards them.

Jean timidly scratched the back of his head, relieved. “Oh good. It’s just it would be a shame if you did cut it. You know, since Mi-”

“DEFENCE CHECK!” A familiar voice boomed.

Reiner tackled Jean at full speed, both of them hurling down to the dirt below, a loud groan of pain and surprise erupting from Jean’s lungs.

y/n blinked in surprise.

One moment, Jean was there, then she heard a yell and now he was a crumpled mess on the floor as Reiner leapt to his feet with a small jump.

“Ah, you failed.” He laughed, his signature smirk spreading across his face.

Y/n held in a loud belly laugh, covering her mouth as Jean groaned in pain, coughing and wheezing.

“Are…you okay, Jean?” She asked, still holding her mouth shut.

“Yeah…fine…” He lied, not wanting to look like he was actually hurt.

With confirmation that he was okay, she let out her laugh to Reiner’s sheer delight.

“On your feet, Soldier.” Reiner smiled, pulling Jean up who was now covered in patches of dirt.

Bertolt arrived over to them, confused and a little concerned. “Reiner, that was mean…” He muttered, checking Jean over as he doubled up.

“A soldier is always prepared.” Reiner shrugged. “I was just giving him some… surprise training.” He grinned mischievously.

“…You asshole.” Jean breathed.

Reiner let out a loud laugh and slapped his back, his eyes fixing onto y/n's. “Am I wrong here?”

“It was a little mean.” She admitted. “Watch your back, Braun.”

“Oh, that sounds like a threat…” He narrowed his eyes playfully and leaned in closer to her. “Jean won’t catch me off guard.”

Playing along with his game, she inched even closer to his face, mimicking his eye narrowing. “I wasn’t talking about Jean.”

She then turned and slapped Jean on the arm. “Walk it off, you’ll be fine.”

And with that, she went into the supply building, leaving both Jean and Reiner awestruck and slack-jawed gazing after her. Pulling himself together, Reiner smirked, entertained by how she could make him feel. “Come on. Let’s get you some water.” He then chuckled, putting Jean’s arm over his shoulder and helping him limp towards the mess hall.

That night, Reiner lay in the dark with his hands behind his head. The light snoring of Bertolt next to him was being taken over by Connie’s loud grunts.

His mind was troubled.

On one hand, he was focused. Dedicated and determined. All he cared about was getting home.

Then in the other… was her.

It’d been hard, it really had, to stop that smile from just appearing in his mind at the most random times. And recently after these short seven months, it had been getting more and more frequent.

How could he be so pathetic?

Such a simple, primal urge distracted him to the extent that it had his best friend voice his concern earlier. He’d told him not to worry about it, but was he telling him that or was he just trying to convince himself that it wasn’t a big deal? Then whenever she was around he just had to somehow grab her attention, now apparently to the point of hurting his friends.

It’s just a girl.

A girl with the most beautiful smile, hair, eyes, laugh…

He gritted his teeth in frustration. This was pointless, so how come he couldn’t just forget about her and treat her like everyone else? He then realised this girl had him even unable to sleep, thinking about her.

Shit.

His head turned slightly when he heard Bertolt shift position in his sleep.

How come Bertolt couldn’t see what he did? That this young woman was an exception to everything. She was a goddess. She wasn’t even of this earth…

Stop. He told himself harshly.

He knew this feeling wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t exactly avoid her, they practically lived together. It looked like he was just going to have to suffer for the next three years…

…Nothing new there.

With a deep sigh, he turned and closed his eyes for the night.

#reiner brainrot #reiner x you #reiner x reader #snk x reader #reiner braun #reiner imagine

[marrowcrunch]

What are your top 3 favorite vtm clans (or bloodlines)?

Bonus: which clan do you think you'd fit in with? :3c

Oh boy, this is going to be long lol

Favorite: Tzimisce 

Gosh, what a surprise :O

But yeah. I mean, firstly, the cool factor is undeniable. It's always such a joy designing Tzimisce characters because even toeing the strictest borderlines of canon they're allowed to get real weird with it in a way that most other clans aren't. I don't mean this as hate at all so I hope it doesn't come across like that, all clans are beautiful <3 but if you're playing Ventrue, Brujah, Tremere etc to some degree you'll always just be playing as Some Guy. With a Tzim it’s like…Do you want some sick-ass bone blades on your arms? No problem! Another pair of arms to put more bone blades on? Sounds good! Do you want to be bioluminescent like a squid? Great! Go crazy! 

Second: Full disclosure, I am the “My fursona is my TWOO SELF” flavor of furry. And the idea of having near total freedom of form— to be able to give myself a tail, claws, fangs, horns, [long censor beep], whatever I want, to abandon my human shape, fills me with Yearning. 

In the complete opposite direction, I also find personal meaning in the clan as someone who suffers from chronic pain. Shamelessly copy-pasting a reply to another post: 

The flavoring of Vicissitude as a creeping infection, as the actual body of the Eldest spread from generation to generation, able to rise up and consume its bearers at any moment, resonates with me very deeply as someone whose pain is caused by congenital tissue defects and which will inevitably get worse over time.

The idea that…there’s something horrible lurking inside your body. It can’t be cured. It can’t be removed. It is part of the very fabric of your being. And it is going to eat you alive, it is going to eat and eat until there’s nothing left. That no matter how you struggle, eventually it’s going to win. But you struggle anyways, because what the hell else is there to do?

The clan also has its revenant families, who are all collectively my most Specialist Little Guy in the world. I am a huge sucker for ye old trope of Special Family Bloodline Technique, and they scratch that itch for me in a really fun and interesting way. 

Second favorite: Giovanni. I actually don't have any deep reasons for this one, I just think that “fucked up necromancer vampire crime family” is such a fun concept lol. I like organized crime stories. It's also another one for the “bloodline technique” category— in v20, they even have their own associated revenant family, the Rossellinis! 

Third favorite: Salubri. The vibe I get is that they’re deeply underappreciated because people feel like their designation in both fluff and crunch as “the nice ones” means that they’re boring and clash with Masquerade’s overall tone. But I STRONGLY disagree— I think that's exactly what gives them so much potential for the sort of personal, existential horror that is supposed to be at the heart of Masquerade. I actually want to write a much longer post sometime that really gets into why, but part of it is this— being a magical pacifist unicorn prancing in a sunny flower field isn't “horrifying,” but being a magical pacifist unicorn in a dark forest where the only other animals are wolves that want to eat your face sure is. I also think the contrast between mainline (healer) Salubri and Salubri antitribu is a really rich thematic vein— again, I want to write more on this later. 

Bloodline lightning round:

Ahrimanes: Cat-themed woman power. I like the concept of Gangrel in tune with the spiritual elements of nature. Spirits in World of Darkness are fun because they can be anything. 

Ventrue antitribu: Knights in modern settings are cool.

However, if the question was “Which clan are you most like?” instead of “What's your favorite”, the answer is far and away Toreador. I love making art, and while I mostly just write now because my body has kind of fallen apart, I used to dabble in a bunch of different mediums and loved them all. That and I already do the “oh that flower/painting/ random pattern of light on the wall is really pretty *zones out and stares at it*” thing in real life lol so that would just be business as usual. If I couldn't be a Meat Criminal this is actually the clan I'd choose to be embraced into. 

Thanks for giving me a chance to talk :)

#would have gotten to this earlier but the Horrors. u kno how it is. #fwiw I do think all clans have potential for really fun and interesting character concepts and designs #ask #txt

[itsclydebitches]

Tonight I came across a post (that won't hit my blog until July because I queued it) about how it's unfortunate that "fun" has supposedly become a requirement of video games, given that this severely limits how they can function as works of art. We don't limit other mediums by insisting that they only produce positive emotions and experiences in the recipient, so why would video games be any different just because they're (more) interactive?

This post isn't actually about video games, but rather how that argument got me thinking about RWBY and the recent resurgence of this "Why are you still here if you hate the show?" question. Now, setting aside the acknowledgment that 99.9% of people asking that are merely trolling behind their faux-concern—they have no actual interest in hearing a RWDE poster's reasons for sticking around, they simply want a way to say, "Get out" with plausible deniability—but if we treat this question seriously, I think that post on video games may offer some insight. I have numerous reasons for keeping active in the RWBY/RWDE fandom (initial love of the show, intellectual exercises, the community we've made, etc.) but there is also some level of investment in what would traditionally be framed as non-positive emotions. RWBY can make me feel very frustrated... similar to how playing Pathalogic makes me frustrated. Many of its plot-lines make me angry... the same way numerous video games' discriminatory writing can make me angry. RWBY's community, at times, feels like an insult-laden battlefield... but I've been doing PvP in WoW since it came out, so that's familiar too.

There are so many times when I've enjoyed engaging with a piece of media even when I really didn't enjoy it. Perhaps a better way of putting it would be that I found something worthwhile in the experience, even if I couldn't label that as "fun" or "happiness" or "satisfaction." Sometimes sitting with negative emotions is a good thing. Yes, you can take that too far just like you can take any behavior to an extreme, which is where the continual demands to "watch another show" highlight those posters' willful ignorance. We're already watching other shows. Reading other books. Playing other games. Engaging with a huge, diverse variety of art. Those who gain their own enjoyment from targeting strangers online (and isn't that a significant aspect to all this) want to make it sound like RWDE posters haven't touched a single piece of art other than RWBY in ten years and if they just found something they enjoyed without reservations then they'd drop RWBY like a hot potato. But I'm already watching numerous shows that I love unconditionally and have nothing substantial to critique; shows that have me internally kicking my feet and twirling my hair because they're just sooooooo good. I have that! RWBY is a different experience. It scratches a very specific itch of "I once adored this thing and now it's disappointing, but I want to see it through to its end and unpacking the ways in which it fails is a fascinating, cathartic mental exercise." I can't get that from anything else—not right now, anyway—so why would I want to give up this unique experience to fill my time solely with art that only makes me feel Generically Good? Art I have little to say about because it already feels #perfect to my mind? Sure, I could analyze a show's positives and sing its praises (which I often do), but at a certain point you run of out ways to say, "I like it." There's a reason why transformative fandom is built around the gaps in media: missing scenes, plot holes, retcons, failures, missed opportunities, horrible disappointments. Transformation comes more easily when you're already inclined to change the canon in the first place.

Idk, I feel like there's also an element of purity culture here where there's this push to make people think they must only engage with art that aligns precisely with their moral stance, produces only positive emotions, and invites nothing but praise. If the art makes you feel bad in any way than it is bad and you have a duty to remove yourself from it post-haste just ignore that we wanted you gone the whole time. Frankly, I think we humans can handle a bit more complexity than that? Obviously, as said, you wouldn't want to make Art You're Upset With the be-all and end-all of your media engagement, and this certainly isn't a call for anyone to engage with triggers unless they're inclined to do so, but a story you're primarily here to critique, or—yes—even a bit of hate watching can be "fun" in a non-traditionally fun away. Just because the art hasn't made you grin and pump your fist in triumphant doesn't mean it's not worth interacting with as art.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas