#but anyways given how that’s supposed to be the point. he spends so much time describing the devil and ain’t got shit to say abt his girl

[seventh-district]

in other news i cannot stop fucking listening to Brokenheartsville by Joe Nichols and i’m starting to annoy myself with it but. i cannot stop. it’s too good

#Seven.txt #music stuff #it’s this perfect mix of being applicable to my current taste while also being a very nostalgic song for me #‘cause i liked it when i was a kid. and i recently heard it on my father’s radio outside. and man it’s been y e a r s since i’ve heard it #why is it so addictive to me #like. you cannot make a song that opens with the lyrics- #‘He wore that cowboy hat to cover up his horns. *insert seductive guitar sounds here* Sweet-talkin’ forked tongue had a temptin’ charm.’ #and expect my southern and devil-loving ass to not go fucking feral over it #even when i’m not listening to it it’s playing in my head. was analyzing the lyrics the whole time i was in the shower earlier #but what’s funny is i think i’ve listened to it so many times that i’ve developed a whole new story than the one actually being told #but like. with how much he’s supposedly upset that this guy stole his girl or whatever #which i know he’s probably just comparing some dude to the devil and not actually saying that it was the Devil Himself #but it’s so much better if u picture it as actually being the devil that’s picking up this dude’s girlfriend in a bar #but anyways given how that’s supposed to be the point. he spends so much time describing the devil and ain’t got shit to say abt his girl #like okay buddy. we know you liked his cowboy hat. we know you liked his sweet-talkin’ tongue. #we’ve heard all about the make and model of his Long and Chrome Very Red Hot Sexy Devil Car #do u not have anything to say abt ur girlfriend. are u not gonna wax poetic abt her? no? too busy admiring the Devil and his Hot Car?? yeah #we’re gathering that #like.. brother… i dunno how to tell u this but i think u might wanna fuck him a lil bit #‘Love’s gone to hell and so have I.’ yeah!! i’m gathering that!! good for u dude!! get it!! #so now the whole time i’m listening to it i’m just like. this is a love song abt the devil! #which it isn’t. but it could be!! and so that’s what i’m choosing to see it as. bc i’d feel the same way tbh #i much prefer the idea of him being pissed that he missed his chance to run away w/ the devil than being pissy over his girlfriend leaving #it’s just so much more appealing to me im sorry #also. side note. when i was a kid i thought the line was ‘that angel up in the air’ and not ‘that angel who did me in’ #and i don’t know how i misheard it so badly but now i sing it wrong every fuckign time cause it’s still cemented in my head from childhood #how young was i. hold on. #oh yeah it came out in 2002. so yeah i was quite young when i heard it a lot so i think im forgiven for mishearing it so badly lmao

[rogueddie]

Eddie slams his pile of books down on the counter, grinning at how hard Steve startles.

"Jesus, fuck," Steve holds a hand to his chest, glaring. "Man, come on, I'm too young to die of a heart attack."

"Are you sure about that?" Eddie reaches over, to tug at his hair- Steve bats his hand away before he can get near. "What are you now, seventy?"

"I'll have you know that the silver only adds to my charm."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that." He pats the pile of books. "I need to check all of these out."

"You know the limit."

"Please? Pretty please? I'll never insult you for going grey early ever again! Promise!"

"You've made that promise before," Steve grumbles, but starts to check the books out anyway. "What's all of this for anyway? New campaign or something?"

"Nah. Robin mentioned something about the cold war and nuclear shit. Got me curious."

Steve pointedly looks at the books, snorting. "Curious."

"What, you've never wanted to learn some new thing or something?"

"Not this much."

"What about all those sports you played?"

"That was more to do with my parents than me actually wanting to do it."

Eddies eyes narrow because... yeah. Outside of his old King Steve days, Eddie doesn't think Steve has ever wanted something. Not even for his birthday, or Christmas.

All he asks is for them to come to his and Robins flat. All he seems to want is confirmation that they're ok and alive.

"You always say you want kids though, right?"

"I mean, kind of. Though, I'm starting to think the brats we babysat might be more than enough for me."

"Chocolate?"

"Oh no..."

"What?"

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"No! No, no, no... but there has to be something, right?"

"Something?"

"That you really want."

"There's nothing I need."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"That's all the answer you're getting." Steve shoves the pile of books towards him. "Get lost, I'm supposed to be working."

"Ugh, fine, you're no fun."

But he can't stop thinking about it. He ends up returning the pile of books, despite the fact that he barely read one page. When he tries to use it to question Steve, he dodges the question again.

He very quickly gives up, deciding to pester Robin until she tells him. That takes three weeks of constant, daily efforts. And, in the end, the answer is obvious.

Steve just wants to spend more time with people he cares about.

It's not easy to gather anyone in the party, given that there's no holiday or significant occasion- he manages it, though. All the kids, now young adults, organize transportation. Nancy and Jonathan, over the phone, help Eddie and Robin plan out where everyone will sleep with their small apartments.

The effort, and pain of organizing it all, is worth it for the look on Steves face when he comes home to find them all waiting for him.

When Dustin almost knocks him over with how harm he hugs him, for a second, Eddie is worried that he's going to start crying. But he holds it together, greets them all with so much enthusiasm...

"I forgot that he used to be like this," Robin comments, late into the night. They're sat a little away from the group, watching them argue over their games. "The kids mean a lot to him."

"He means a lot to them."

"I know. I think he forgets though, so... thank you."

Steve doesn't corner him until they've got the kids asleep- half of them going with Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle to Eddies appartment, the rest of them fighting over the little space in Steve and Robins.

"You could've got me chocolate," Steve says, nudging him.

"This is what you really wanted though, isn't it? That was the whole point, big boy."

"Right. Sorry, it... I wanted to say thank you. I know this must have taken a lot to organize and-"

"Steve. You don't need to thank me. Besides, I could never have done this on my own."

"Still... thank you." Steve is quiet for a moment, looking out to the busy city street. "What do you want?"

"This."

"No, what do you really want?"

"Yeah, this. Everyones together, having so much fun. We're gonna do a one-shot when you go to work tomorrow. And, uh... you're happy. I don't need anything more than that."

"Right," Steve clears his throat. He shuffles a little closer, so their sides are almost flush together, tentatively reaching out to hold Eddies hand. "You don't need anything else. What about what you want?"

"You know what I want."

"I want you to say it."

Steve leans over, bumping their shoulders together when he hesitates. He smiles, reassuring, and gives Eddies hand a squeeze.

"What do you want, Eddie?"

"You. I- I want you."

It's terrifying to admit, a horrifying leap... but the smile Steve gives him, so soft and happy, is more than worth it.

"As you wish."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #flufffic

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk---

-to me.

p4 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Y/N unknowingly crosses a line, making it impossible for Lando to continue their little affair.

warnings: cursing, typos

Sometimes, the world of F1 really required one to grow up fast. Y/N had noticed strange looks from few of the team members during meetings and sessions for the whole week. She tried not to give it much thought - that was until her manager called, on a late Wednesday evening and broke the news. There were serious talks of her being replaced by someone, who used to drive for her team before and wanted back. She, as an average rookie, couldn't stand a chance and couldn't possibly play the "female driver" card (which she hated anyway). The phone call with her manager was a hard one, nothing seemed to be confirmed, but her pro active guardian angel worked on having enough close friendships around the team to know the news before it got to be known around the paddock. Her heart was racing for life, hand shaking, mind running wild. This couldn't be happening. They can't just drop her out of nowhere, she tried to convince herself.

She lived in this uncertainty for three days, constantly in contact with her own team, focusing on not failing at her job, completely ignoring any texts or calls from people outside her comfort zone. Yet, she didn't hesitate to schedule a hook up with Lando. A break though came when her manager called, informing her that she currently in negotiations with another f1 team for potential transfer, she called it a "just in case" back up, but sounded a little too excited for it being a back up team. Even when Y/N begged to know what team that was, her manager did not cave in, saying it was just too early stages.

//

What a perfect waste of time. Every evening in her busy life was a calculation, a plan to keep or alone time prescribed by herself. Tonight they were suppose to meet up with Lando, in the morning they'd texted about it, he even cracked a joke and appeared to be in a generally easy going mode. But 8pm rolled in and no text, call or even a doorbell. After a half an hour of pacing around and pretending to be busy, she found herself in a completely clean kitchen, finished emails and painted nails. Lando was rarely ever late without a note beforehand. She was not going to text him. That would be too needy. Few episodes of some sitcom, which she had to rewind several times as her attention span lasted about two minutes. Minutes rolled in like a cruel indicator of how much she took as a given that they'd see each other. How much it wasn't on the table that he would ditch her. At some point, she had to come to terms with it. But nobody was there to force to admit that she felt a strange hollow feeling in her stomach. She pushed all thoughts into the back of her head and focused on her next racing plan. That's what she was suppose to be anyway. She might face being replaced out of nowhere, she had to be at her best game. Only when she lost the option of the only distraction that seemed to work in the form of Lando's smirk, she realized how much tension she held within her. It wasn't a night filled with much sleep for her. The late night loneliness crept in, loveless mornings had pilled up over time into a tower blocking the sunshine in. She sat on her bed, second guessing every choice she ever made - was the racing even worth it all? She could have been married by now? What a strange concept. Was she ever going to do so? In a man's world, was there an option to find a lover who would not challenge her and only induce her anxiety? She circled back to her first and only love and wasn't even sure if she had the privilege to call it that as the memory of the slacker guy from her hometown literally slept through their break up. Often she'd watch her colleagues hop on the first plane to spend as much time as this lifestyle allowed with a loved one. She had yet to find out what that kind of a flight felt like.

A whole week had passed since that night. They saw each other on numerous occasions and both of them avoided each other's looks, as if they would turn to stone if their eyes had met. It was good for their public image.

Y/N was excited when her manager finally met up with her in person to tell her about a potential team transfer, should the silly season kick in hard. "I'm not saying anything is set in stone. There have just been few meetings, lawyers checked up your contract again for potential breach causes, so we did some work in the meantime," she stated dramatically over a coffee date they'd set up at Y/N's hotel room. Her manager seemed unusually giddy, excitement poking through her professionalism. "There is a possibility, now, hold your horses, just a possibility, that there might be an open seat at McLaren soon." This came as a shock wave. Y/N always admired her manager, who was always three steps ahead of everyone. Her mind started to race in many conflicting directions. McLaren was an exciting team, definitely a promotion. So was this why Lando ghosted her? Because she might potentially become his teammate? That was just a little too childish of him, she thought, judging her own choices in a hook up "buddy". "So does that mean that Oscar is thinking about leaving the team?" "Well, not exactly. Technically, nobody is thinking about leaving the team. Also, it's not Oscar, but Lando." And the penny dropped.

//

Lando had been in this business for years. He knew well enough what was up. Made sure to have people at the right places, faithful souls who loved him a little too much and were willing to breach their NDA for him. Of course he knew that Y/N's managers were speaking to McLaren. And also why. It took him by surprise, that was for sure. He was a great racer with a big potential. When he learned in secrecy that the reason why McLaren is thinking of changing up their driver line up, it wasn't exactly because of the actual racing, but more of marketing and appearing as a young hip team, it made him furious. Lando had started to become an old news for the marketers. Oscar and Y/N pairing had intrigued them. Of course he wasn't going to keep on with their little love affair. She was becoming a threat, more so outside the track than on the track. He was mad when he found out. Of course he had always kept his distance from Y/N. But this felt personal. She truly was a ruthless bitch, as his gut had told him from day one. It probably wasn't even attraction what he felt towards her, just his subconsciousness telling him to keep his enemies closest physically possible. He tried to hold of thinking about their glorious sex. There were bigger things at stake. He didn't feel threatened. Just little bit betrayed. He had to take action.

//

Once her manager left, she found herself pacing around her room yet again. Thoughts jumping one over another. Excitement skipping over anxiousness, joy being overrun by a sinking fear. She was always going to put her career first. So why was there a sudden urge to run to wherever Lando was and explain that she had no idea this was being set up in her name.

It was a strangely bittersweet feeling, standing at a photoshoot for her contract renewal. There was an unspoken tension between her and the team leaders, nobody willing to talk openly about the fact that they were about to drop her and she was talking about running to different team. But there she was, faking smiles, staying with the team for another two seasons, hating this industry more than ever before. In the end, she gave her everything just to stay in an environment that made her feel just like another clog in the all too big entertainment machine. McLaren calls were getting postponed and everyone knew what that meant, so her own personal team decided to jump for the first option that offered some security. With that, she smiled and posed again. Merely a shell of the fiery girl that bit Lando's arm just weeks ago. All this stress, loneliness and self-doubt had changed the course of her energy.

//

"Oh, you're taking the same elevator?" Lando asked, shooting arrows at Y/N as he pressed the close door button. He had imagined many times that he would slam a door in her face and this was the closest her could get to that. She put her hand into the door gap, giving him a strict eye roll. Finally, faith brought them into a place where they were alone again. "Really?" she said walking in the elevator. Lando tried to be the bigger and mature person. Being around her was making it impossible. He was angry and frustrated. "So...how are you?" she tried to break the ice. "You have never asked me that before. Are you sick?" "No, I'm just...we haven't spoken-" "-ever. No reason to start now," he said, acting as if this was all passing him by. Scrolling on his phone without a care in the world. "I didn't know..." "What..?" "I didn't know that my managers were having these talks," she said softly. There was an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say it. "And are you looking for my advice on how to keep the people who you pay in check? Or what is the purpose of this conversation?" "I'm just...I never wanted to try and push you out of..you know." Lando laughed. "That's some severe delulu vibe you're giving off." "Sorry?" she reacted, genuinely confused. "The audacity you have! Thinking you can manipulate the situation better than I do. Princess, I've been in the game years more than you and survived bigger shitstorms - do you really believed I'm here only because I'm a good driver? No, these games are half of the work. So no, I absolutely do not believe that you didn't know about this. And the fact that you're trying to convince me of that is highly disrespectful." Y/N was taken back, processing several conflicting reactions at the same time. The always calm Lando got pushed over the edge. And he was not done. "Next time you're drowning, don't reach out to drag me down too. You should be grateful, you got to keep your job and certainly no thanks to the shitty managers of yours, so you're welcome. I'm genuinely surprised that you landed the job you now have in the first place."

It was a lot of information blurted at her. But she got a hold of the important part. "Lando? What did you do?" He took a deep breath. He said too much. "You will never find out. Now stop talking."

Y/N hit a pause on the elevator. Not that it would help, she figured they had only few minutes extra before someone would be over to run the machine again. "The fuck are you doing," Lando exclaimed and tried to stop her. His hand grabbed her arm and Y/N got an instant flashback to the night he tied her to her own bed frame. "Did you help me?" she asked, anger spitting out of her lips. "Let's not dive into that, shall we? Now, get the elevator running." "I don't need your help, Lando." "This was not any help, I'm trying to keep you out of McLaren, so don't read into it." While that did sound reasonable, Y/N knew there was more. With that, the fire she'd been missing for weeks entered her system again. "Stop helping me, Lando," she said in a serious tone, stepping closer to the guy still holding her arm. She quickly pushed it away. "I don't need your help." She was really pushing it, he thought and bursted. "Is that so! I saw that last week. Your weak strategy and poor results nearly got you dropped. " "No, not dropped. Replacing you." "It would take the hell to freeze over for that to happen, Princess naivité. It was a straight path back to f2 at best. Get your shit together and get a grip over those who act in your name and grow up. Nobody is going to save you next time." She wondered what exactly he did, but knew that there will be a time and place for that conversation. Lando cursed himself for saying it all at once. He was there, lecturing her on strategy, while not being able to follow his own for a second when she was around. Said things he planned on keeping for himself forever. She stood in front of him and he could read the surprise on her face. Anger left her body and suddenly she never looked so innocent. Just a scared girl standing in front of him, trying to navigate their complicated world. The only reason he helped her was because he felt sorry for her. Nothing else. Definitely. "How can I repay you?" she asked, humbled by the newly found information. He took his time to respond. Prolonging this moment just a little. Knowing that soon enough, the innocent face he stared at would soon turn to its usual pseudo-tough-cool-girl mask. It was as if he saw the real Y/N for the first time. "You could stop whining and get this elevator running," he said slowly, as if his body was rejecting these words. Without any other comment, she obeyed his wish. They both turned away from each other and continued in silence. Lando had secretely hoped that she would question him more. She let out a little thank you when exiting the elevator. He watched her leave and forgot for a moment into which floor he was supposed to originally go. She paced away from his as fast as she could. These past few days have pushed her to the limit and the conversation with Lando was the last straw, the word "Princess" screaming in Lando's voice in her head.

part 5

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @multifandomwhore-003 

#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #lando norris x Y/N #f1 fanfic #meet cute #slow burn fic #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #lando norris x y/n #f1 smut #smut #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #ln4 fic

[quintinh43]

BFF's 4 Life

Set in the world of Loving You Is As Easy as ABC 123

Here are my head cannons, on before Quinn and the reader became a couple.

You and Quinn lived together for eight months before he finally found a place for himself. In that time the two of you grew very close.

Quinn was very sad to leave and debated just staying with you, but in the end he decided to go through with the move because his new place was closer to Rogers arena.

He did try to convince you to move in with him, but you didn't because your apartment was closer to the university and work.

Quinn would come into the coffee shop that you worked at every time you were working. And every time, without fail, you would present him with some obscene concoction of sugar and caffine that no one had ever heard of.

"I swear to god, i'm gonna get diabetes because of you." Yet without fail he would drink every last drop.

During covid, you started going on morning runs because otherwise, you would've gone crazy. Especially having all of your uni classes online.

Quinn started joining you after a while because he was also going crazy, and the runs really really helped, especially because he got to do them with you.

You were also the one who taught Quinn how to cook during this time. And you were genuinely infuriated when he became a better cook than you. "I'll never forgive you" you grumble, while Quinn cackles as he pulls burnt aspargus out of the oven. "Student becomes the master" he shrugs, and you throw a handful of asparagus at him.

When Quinn got covid, you showed up at his apartment covered head to toe, complete with gloves, a mask, and eyewear, holding a container of chicken noodle soup.

Quinn laughed, immediately took a photo and then proceeded to launch into a coughing fit so bad he turned the colour of a tomato.

At which point you took a photo of him. The two of you keep the photos as blackmail, and if either of you were to ever use them, all hell would break loose.

You own so so so much canuck gear, it's unhinged (courtesy of Quinn of course.) You joked about starting to sell some stuff on eBay, and Quinn looked so genuinely distraught that you never made that joke again.

When you officially started teaching, all the canuck gear came in handy. Especially when you were being lazy and didn't have time to pick an outfit.

At first everyone thought you were just a Canuck super-fan, until one day Quinn had to drop you off at work because your car was in the shop.

Then of course everyone though the two of you were dating. Which got really annoying.

The first time you officially brought Quinn to class was because he had a full day off and didn't know what to do with himself. He begged you to take the day off to spend it with him, but "Some of us have real jobs Quinn."

"Hey! My job is real"

"Well, unfortunately for you I can't just not show up. You had to have given me at least a two day notice so I could've found a substitute."

"Y/nnnnn," he whined, flopping off your bed dramatically while you finished getting dressed. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

" If you're really so concerned about being bored to death, get dressed and come help me be a glorified babysitter for the day" you snorted

Quinn's head snapped up excitedly "wait seriously?"

You were joking, but it happened anyway.

The kids were so well-behaved that you debated bringing Quinn to work with you every day.

Whenever you were on a break, Quinn pestered you to be hanging out with him the whole time. Which usually ended up with recipe expiramenting, Quinn helping you mark papers and lesson plan, or Quinn dragging you along to practice/games/events etc.

One time, he even pestered you to come on a week long roadie with him during winter break. To which you declined - because that was definitely stepping over a 'best friend' relationship line, and you were under the firm impression that Quinn would never love you the way you loved him.

The guys always teased him mercilessly about being in love with you.

"For fucks sake, Huggy. Are you blind? Do you see the way she looks at you?"

After Quinn became captain, whenever his teammates threatened to tell you that he was in love with you he threatened to make them do bag skates for an entire practice.

They shut up really quick after that.

The team loves you, and they always say that whenever they have kids they are sending them to the school you teach at.

Whenever Quinn watched you interact with Kids he gets a little starry eyed and drooly.

Quinn is a very common topic of conversation in your classroom. You often use him as your muse whenever you're doing projects.

He loves it, and he keeps every single piece you've done on him. From art projects, to Health projects.

You even managed to use him in a math project once. (You used little cutouts of his head as addition blocks, he laughed so hard he was crying.)

If Quinn has a game on a week day, you try to wear some form of his merchandise, and he always asks for a fit picture.

Quinn never ever ever let you pay for anything. "You don't even make 1/10th of my salary"

"Way to make a girl feel good about her job,"

"Wait, I didn't mean it like that im sor- no wait. I'm not insulting your job, I'm insulting the people that pay you. You are literally raising our future generations, and the government pays you like trash. If anything, our salaries should be reversed. I basically work in the entertainment industry."

"Ok, well I can still afford to pay for my own shit" you grumble.

Quinn rolls his eyes. "Don't be so stubborn. Put your plastic bank card away. it's insulting in my presence"

"Sorry we don't all have metal fucking credit cards that make noise when we drop them" you spit back.

It continues to be a fight every. single. time.

Whenever you do somehow manage to pay, Quinn is fuming and throughly debates not talking to you for a week.

He never lasts more than a couple hours.

Whenever Quinn left for the summer, you got really lonely. Especially because as a teacher, you had the whole summer off.

He always invited you to come to Michigan with him, but there was always a nagging in your head about "crossing the best friend line"

One summer, you decided to teach summer school for high-schoolers to keep yourself busy. And it was fucking hell. Hormonal sweaty teenagers trying to learn a subject in three weeks rather than four months was so so bad.

Quinn gladly listened to you complain every day, "shoulda come to michigan with me." He would shrug

"Mom and dad have been asking about you," he would throw in quietly.

Which leads us into your relationship with Quinn's family.

Over the six years that the two of you have been friends you've met his parents and both his brothers.

Luke was fourteen, and Jack was sixteen when you met them for the first time.

They both fell IN LOVE with you.

They would call you to ask for homework help, often saying something like, "You're a teacher, what do i do?"

"I'm not a teacher yet, guys. I still have to finish my degree, you know." You would laugh awkwardly and help them anyways.

You blamed both Jack and Luke for the dreadful summer you taught high-schoolers. Simply because you had enjoyed teaching Jack and Luke so much, you thought it would be the same.

They had much the same response as their shithead older brother "you should've come to michigan"

As they grew and saw how you and Quinn looked at each other, they would tease him mercilessly as good brothers do.

"Dude, if you don't confess, I'll marry her." sixteen year old Luke would smirk

That had Quinn seething, and it was quite funny. "You fucking imbecile."

"Mom! Quinn called me a bad word!"

Jack was often cackling in the background or telling Quinn to stop being the world's biggest dumbass.

The day you saw Luke in person and he had grown taller than you, you collapsed dramatically into his arms and pinched his cheeks aggressively. Crying about your favourite little kiddo being all grown up.

Ever the awkward teenager Luke just blushed and grumbled about not being a baby.

Whenever Jack and Luke visit Vancouver, they always ask to visit your classroom.

The first time all three NHL superstar hughes brothers were in your classroom it was fucking chaos throughout the entire school. You got yelled at by the principal, and they had to leave while the cops chased away reporters.

The four of you will never forget the dressing down you got in the principals office that day. It felt like you were a group of playground bullies getting scolded for pushing kids off the slide.

"This is getting brought up at ALL of our weddings." Jack grins as the boys hug you goodbye and head over to Quinn's place.

"Yeah, all three weddings," Luke says with a mischievous grin.

Both you and Quinn blush and choose to ignore Luke's statement.

Until he's winking at you over dramatically and making duck lips at you. The Quinn is dragging him towards the car by his ear and promising to pick you up when school is out.

The way luke can swing between awkward twenty-year old and Youngest child menace is so funny to you.

Now onto Ellen and Jim

They also absolutely love you.

They have loved you since you were freshly nineteen and offering up your apartment for Quinn, when all you knew about him was that he was an anxious teenager.

Jim gives the best advice. He's especially knowledgeable when it comes to kids, "its not very different than dealing with grown men who strap blades to their feet and call it a job." He says teasingly, while all his kids protest.

Ellen is the sweetest angel of a human you have ever met. She takes no nonsense from her kids, and always makes sure Quinn is good to you.

She has a knowing twinkle in her eye when she sees you and Quinn together and it makes your chest ache a little.

Her hugs are always long, and her words sweet, and she always reminds you that you have a family with the Hughes no matter what.

---

Hey guys! Guess who's back and better than ever 😎 we're getting a fic between tomorrow and Saturday, so stay tuned. Anyways, I hope yall like this! If there's anything from here you'd like to see turned into a blurb/fic let me know! I've been super inspired for this universe as of late. Also I am going through the requests in my inbox. So if you requested something it's hopefully coming soon! I've been super busy with school, but it's calming down for a couple weeks and then finals will be in full swing! I love you all and I hope you enjoy this! As always comment comment comment! And I hope you guys are doing amazing.

Love Soph 🫶🏼🫶🏼

#qh43 #quinn hughes #hughes brothers #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x reader #vancover canucks #jack hughes #luke hughes #nhl blurb #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #captain quinn #best friends to lovers #loving you is as easy as abc 123 #headcanon #love soph

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

it's very bad no good cupcake baking time for the hotel crew (save them) (charlie did you think this throu-) (NO)

Charlie: “I have! The most brilliant plan for a group bonding activity!”

Angel Dust: “Oooh~ Bondin’ or bond-”

Vaggie: “You live here for free.”

Angel Dust: “Buy my silence, Vaggity Fair, cause’ it sure ain’t free.”

Vaggie: (groans) (slips him a twenty) “Go on babe, what’s the mission statement?”

Charlie: “We should all bake CUPCAKES together!!”

Hotel Crew: "......"

Husk: “…Why.”

Charlie: “Beeeecaaaause it’d be so SWEET!”

Vaggie: “And you also live here for free.”

Husk: “Not of my own free will I don’t.”

Charlie: “Aw c’mon Husk, please? Baking is probably KINDA like drink mixing, right?”

Husk: “It’s not.”

Vaggie: (SIGHS) (slips him a twenty)

Husk: “I’ve got cooking sherry around here somewhere, I think.”

Alastor: “How thrilling! Extreme heat sources, flammable liquids, and so many little bottles and vials that couldn’t possibly get mix up with anything in the pest control cabinet!”

Niffty: “Hee hee hee…. Rat poison~”

Vaggie: “Twenty bucks and you LOCK that cabinet, okay?”

Niffty: “Thirty and a new knife set!”

Vaggie: (has given up) “Fine.”

Niffty: “OKAY!”

Charlie: “We need to go shopping anyway. We’ll need flour and sugar and uhhhh flavory things of some kind probably and um, those little paper thingies- the cup cake… skirts?”

Alastor: “Glad to see how prepared our intrepid leader is for this marvelous expedition!”

Charlie: “Cup cake… dollies…?”

Vaggie: “I’ll handle it. You remember how to pre-heat the oven?”

Charlie: “NOT with actual fire!”

Alastor: “Aww.”

Angel Dust: (handing back the twenty) “I want a new pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. Mine broke~”

Vaggie: “I don’t want to know.”

Husk: (handing his twenty back too) “Beer.”

Vaggie: “Beer? You run the hotel BAR.”

Husk: “What, you think I nip stuff under the table at work?”

Alastor: “Oh there isn’t much thought needed when it comes to you, I’m afraid.”

Husk: “You think I LIKE that I do that? That’s the stupid hotel’s shit, can’t relax sneaking shots that aren’t mine, racking up a tab like that. This beer is gonna be only for me.”

Charlie: “Husk…”

Vaggie: “Great whatever, guilt free beer for the alcoholic.”

Alastor: “How touching. And I require-”

Vaggie: “What YOU need is a-”

Charlie: “Happy place!”

Vaggie: “-which I’m not picking up for you. I’ll get more cleaning supplies too while I’m at it.”

Charlie: “More? Vaggie, have some faith! We’re all adults here! It’s not gonna be THAT messy. We just need to measure things, maybe chop some stuff up first-”

Niffty: “KNIVES.”

Charlie: “-put all in a- blender-? A blender would work for mixing, right? Then pour the batter in the things and into the oven! Which I WILL remember to preheat this time. Without fire.”

Vaggie: “Good point.”

Charlie: “See!”

Vaggie: “We should stock up on first aid stuff too.”

Charlie: (pouting) “We’ll talk about it on the way.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, thanks for wanting to help carry groceries, but I really think we need to divide and conquer here.”

Charlie: “Huh?”

Vaggie: “Husk is already halfway to the wine cellar.”

Charlie: “He wh- Husk wait! You can’t help make friendship cupcakes if you’re blackout drunk!”

Angel Dust: “Toots that’s the whole idea.”

Vaggie: “Fifty bucks if he’s still conscious when I get back. I’ll need him in the kitchen later if we’re gonna get through this alive.”

Angel Dust: “Spend it on getting’ him a really NICE beer and you’ve gotta deal.”

Vaggie: (eye twitch) “Why is all my money turning into drugs and sex toys?”

Niffty: “And KNIVES!”

Vaggie: “The one silver lining…”

Alastor: “You know, if you won’t extend simple shopping list courtesies to me, then I suppose I shall have to go shopping myself as well.”

Vaggie: “Keep your shopping on the other side of town from me or I’m coming home with a flat screen tv.”

Alastor: (annoyed channel switch sound) “….Noted!”

– LATER –

Hotel Crew: “………….”

Oven: (DING)

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “….cupcakes are done.”

Charlie: “Oh yay. Whoo. Hoo.”

Hotel Crew: “…….”

Vaggie: “If no one takes them out they’re gonna burn.”

Angel Dust: “Let ‘em.”

Husk: “Little fuckers deserve to fry.”

Charlie: (exhausted) “No one deserves to burn for all eternity.”

Niffty: “Yeah! I wanna RIP THEM APART and STAB THE CRUMBS.”

Alastor: “Well that’s two votes for burning and two for rescuing, to a certain extent. I myself would like to try out these DARLING cupcake toppers that I found while out doing my shopping completely alone.”

Vaggie: “Oh my girlfriend’s dad shut up. You won’t die just because no one was listening to you for ten minutes.”

Alastor: “In any case, that makes three for rescue and two for burn, with you as the undecided vote, Vaggie. Choose wisely~!”

Vaggie: (sighing) “Someone hand me the oven mitts.”

Husk: “They’re in the fucking blender.”

Angel Dust: “What’s left of ‘em.”

Vaggie: “Fine. Someone move the pile of dirty dishes off Charlie so SHE can be our oven mitts.”

Charlie: “It’s so peaceful under here…”

Vaggie: “The friendship cupcakes are dying, babe.”

Charlie: “UggghHHHHHH ‘kay. Coming.”

Angel Dust “That’s what she sa-”

Vaggie: “KNIVES.”

Angel Dust “-cough cough cough! I didn’t say nothin’, I got a piece of walnut shell stuck in my throat!”

Alastor: “Usual night for you then, hmm?”

Husk: “Who the fuck put in walnuts?”

Vaggie: “Who cares. If they shelled them then it’s at least better than the coconut thing.”

Charlie: “Did we add anything that wasn’t nut related?”

Vaggie: “Uhhh.”

Angel Dust “Nope!”

Husk: “Is that the only thing you were keeping track of.”

Angel Dust “Hey I know my strengths and I’m stickn’ to ‘em!”

Charlie: “Speaking of strength and sticking… um…”

Hotel Crew: “……….”

Charlie: “They’re bubbling.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.”

Charlie: “Or, breathing?”

Vaggie: “Yeah…”

Charlie: “Is that normal? It feels kinda… not normal.”

Vaggie: “It’s. Impressive.”

Niftty: “They’re ALIVE!” (knife) “For now.”

Charlie: “Well I guess we shouldn’t REALLY judge them until we’ve actually seen what they taste like-”

Angel Dust “Not it!”

Husk: “Fuck no.”

Alastor: “I’m terribly afraid that I am on a diet.”

Vaggie: “You eat rotting deer carcasses.”

Alastor: “And THEY aren’t still moving when I chow in, ha ha!”

Charlie: “Okay well, I guess I’ll just…”

Vaggie: “Wait. You’re probably immune to half the stuff that’d kill us.”

Charlie: “Right, so I should-”

Vaggie: “You’re not a good example of what happens when a non-demon princess person eats these, sweetie. If wanna test for uh, quality control, it shouldn’t be with you.”

Hotel Crew: “…..”

Vaggie: “….hand me a cupcake.”

Husk: (edges out of the splash zone)

Charlie: “You don’t have to do this.”

Angel Dust: “But you totally should! After I get my phone out though, hold on a sec-”

Vaggie: “I’m standing right in front of Radio Head over here so don’t even THINK about recording this.”

Alastor: “Aww my dear little angel-”

Charlie: “Alastor.” (calm smile) (horns out) “Her name is Vaggie.”

Alastor: “-Vaggie, yes, I would almost be willing to make an exception to my own morals for you.” (grins at angel dust) “Almost.”

Angel Dust: (lowering his phone) “I was jus’ takin’ a selfie. You know. Since I’m covered in sticky white shit anyway.”

Husk: “This fucking sucks.” (shakes his paws)

Vaggie: “No. THIS does.”

Vaggie: (bites cupcake)

Hotel Crew: “……………..”

Vaggie: “….hm.”

Hotel Crew: (STEPS BACK)

Vaggie: “It’s… well it’s kinda…”

Charlie: (cringing) “Break up worthy??”

Niffty: “PAINFUL?”

Vaggie: “It’s.. Fruity..?”

Hotel Crew: (stares at still moving cupcakes)

Angel Dust: “No. Fuckin’. Way.”

Husk: “Since the fuck WHEN did they have fruit in them?”

Angel Dust: “They didn’t! I swear I checked!”

Charlie: “Are they, um, edible?”

Vaggie: “Well I wouldn’t sign them up for a baking competition but I’m not dying either, so.”

Charlie: (excited) “So we did it? We all made actual cupcakes together?”

Vaggie: (smiling) “We did it. Mission cupcake completed.”

Charlie: “HAHA YUS!” (fist pump) “FRIENDSHIP POWERRRRRRR!!!!”

Alastor: “Now now now, no cupcake is fully complete without a lovely floral topper!”

Angel Dust: “Ain’t THAT the truth~”

Alastor: “Which I bought. Alone. Without any second opinion to rely on.”

Vaggie: (rolls eye)

Charlie: “And they’re so cute! Thank you Alastor- you picked wonderfully. Everyone, get decorating!”

Niffty: (drooping) “No stabbing?”

Vaggie: “You can poke ‘em each with a knife to check that they’re done.”

Niffty: “HEHEHEH.”

Vaggie: “Poke them with the knife ONCE Niffty- hey- NO- don’t leave it inside-”

Angel Dust: “That’s what-”

Husk: “Will be on your gravestone if she fucking hears you.”

Charlie: “Awww~ Now they’re adorable AND delicious!”

Husk: “Don’t.”

Angel Dust: “I didn’t say nothin’!”

Vaggie: “I actually kinda wish you’d go back to sex jokes instead of whatever you’re doing to that cupcake”

Angel Dust: “There’s more than one kind of oral performance in the world~”

Vaggie: “Say that and then look at what Niffty’s doing to her cupcake.”

Husk: “Unholy fucking shit!!”

Niffty: (GLEEFUL CACKLING)

Charlie: “Okay well, we clearly each have our own… unique ways of enjoying these cupcakes. Some more uh, graphic and concerning than others-”

Angel Dust: “Why the fuck are the insides RED like that?! Who put in red dye???”

Charlie: “-but the point is we all came together to make these sweets! Which. Taste like strawberries?”

Vaggie: “I didn’t buy strawberries.”

Charlie: “A-at least it and the redness go with the rose themed toppers!”

Angel Dust: “Yeah, I mean, is it weird that out of this whole maybe-living cupcake thing, the professional spun sugar parts are the ones with the funkiest taste to ‘em?”

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “Alastor. Where the fuck did you buy the rose themed cupcake toppers.”

Alastor: “Hmm? Does my private, SOLITARY shopping FINALLY interest you?”

Vaggie: “Where you literally on the other side of Pentagram City from me.”

Alastor: “I do believe that is what you requested, and I, being a proper gentleman even to someone who might be considered a less than proper lady, was only too happy to oblige!”

Charlie: “Vaggie are you okay? You’re looking kinda pale.”

Vaggie: “I’m.”

Vaggie: “Alastor did you get these rose themed toppers-"

Vaggie: "-in Cannibal Town?”

Angel Dust: “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Alastor: “I did.”

Angel Dust: “FUCK!!!”

Husk: (hairball noise)

Charlie: “Oh no.”

Alastor: “Dear Rosie gave me quite the discount. Wasn’t that sweet of her?”

Charlie: “Oh. Nooooooooo-”

Alastor: “I think it utterly darling of her~”

Niffty: “Alastor, hey hey!”

Alastor: “Yes, murder of my eye?”

Niffty: “I stabbed my cupcake topper heheheh WHO did I just stab????”

Charlie: “NOOOOOO-”

Alastor: “I believe it was an unsatisfactory husband by the name of Bill.”

Niffty: (grinning) “A BAD boy?”

Alastor: “Not bad enough to escape Rosie’s Emporium intact but yes, in a manner of speaking.”

Niffty: “Oooh.”

Niffty: (snatches up another cupcake and hugs it) “For my collection.”

Charlie: “GAAAHM NOT HEARING THIS! I DIDN’T HEAR IT!”

Angel Dust: “GREAT CAN YA MAKE IT SO’S I DIDN’T EAT ANY OF IT EITHER!??!”

Alastor: “Not to your tastes, Angel Dust? And here I though you enjoyed have strange men in your mouth.”

Charlie: “DO WE KNOW HIS ADDRESS SO I CAN SEND AN APOLOGY LETTER???”

Alastor: “I suppose his business card might still be in the hand Rose tore off him-”

Charlie: “AAAAAGH!”

Vaggie: “Hostia. You really can’t not be the center of attention for five minutes can you.”

Alastor: “I can, truly I can and very happily! It seems however that YOU cannot withstand the consequences of your own, short-sighted actions.”

Charlie: “Um guys-”

Vaggie: “Oh yeah? You’re not the only monster here, dumbass.”

Charlie: “We’re getting a little off topic-”

Alastor: "But as I am the only one not mired in glorious self-pity, certainly I am the most impressive specimen here.”

Charlie: “Okay this is going a bit-”

Vaggie: “Impressive HA! Fuck your empty grin and your stupid suits. You’re not even the one with the highest body count.”

Angel Dust: “Are we talkin’ sex stuff orrr-?”

Vaggie: (takes topper off her cupcake and pops it in her mouth)

Hotel Crew: “………”

Vaggie: “What?”

Charlie: “Vaggie, um. Person.” (points) “Person food.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, you know how murder crazy exorcist are. You really never thought we didn’t lick a little blood off our weapons now and then, to feel extra badass about slaughtering people sometimes?”

Charlie: (dazed) “I’m thinking about it now.” (covers cheeks)

Niffty: “BLOOD!”

Angel Dust: “Oh ew. Oh you're getting off on that- Oh that’s just-”

Charlie: “Part of her past, a thing EVERYONE has.”

Angel Dust: “BLEH.”

Husk: “Also step one to seeing her shitfaced.”

Charlie: “Ha haaa…” (claps hands) “Okay everyone- that’s a wrap on today’s bonding activities! I uh, I think we can save the clean up until we’ve all recovered from the actual cupcakes a bit, right Vaggie?”

Vaggie: (shrug) “Whatever.”

Husk: “About damn time.” (sighs) (walks out) “I’ll get the fucking vodka.”

Niffty: "HEE HEE." (carrying cupcake over her head) "TO THE COLLECTION!"

Angel Dust: “Hold up baby! I wanna get shitfaced too after this!”

Charlie: “Well I think it’s all very interesting! Angel stuff is interesting, isn’t it Alastor?”

Alastor: “Yes. Quite.”

Vaggie: “Uh-huh.” (slumps and drops cupcake) “Bill tastes boring as hell, by the way, maybe let Rosie know before she sells anymore of these.”

Charlie: “Oh? Maybe THAT’S why she gave such a steep discount?”

Alastor: “Perhaps.”

Charlie: “Awww cheer up Alastor. You can bring her some of our cupcakes as a thank you, now that we uh, we’ve um, had our fill of them already.”

Alastor: “Hmph.”

Vaggie: “Think I’ll head up now.”

Alastor: “While grabbing a drink along way, hmm?”

Vaggie: “Yeah. Why not.”

Charlie: “Vaggie-” (catches her hand) (squeezes) “-grab one for me, too? I’ll be right behind you.”

Vaggie: “…wine from the cellar then, huh?”

Charlie: “I’m having whatever you’re having.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, you hate the shit I drink.” (small smile) “I’ll get us something from the cellar. Meet you up there.”

Charlie: “In a heartbeat.”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “Alastor.”

Alastor: “Oh don’t scold me for her baggage, dear, I don’t make her carry it.”

Charlie: “I’m not scolding. I just- I get that you have this whole-” (air quotes) “-annoying big brother who hates being ignored thing going on with Vaggie, and while it IS kinda sweet-”

Alastor: (microphone feedback) “Excuse me?”

Charlie: “Could you turn it down a tiny bit when it comes the exorcist stuff?”

Alastor: “I do not-”

Charlie: “I know I know you don’t mean to make her all droopy like this, it’s boring for you, totally a killjoy-”

Alastor: “There is NOTHING enjoyable about that woman!”

Charlie: “-So maaaaaaybe back off a little when things get too serious?”

Alastor: “NO!”

Charlie: “Think about it okay?” (pats his shoulder) “Anyway, thanks for sticking around for the friendship cupcakes, see you at the next hotel bonding session, Dadastor!”

Alastor: “At the next-”

Alastor: “………”

Alastor: (hissing) “DADastor!?”

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #alastor the radio demon #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #niffty hazbin hotel #incorrect quotes #WHATEVER WHATEVER #it just happened whatever setting it free #do not know enough about baking to show it going wrong #/have/ made breathing cupcakes before

[bcyhoods]

could I request [ rest ] sender lays their head on receiver's shoulder and falls asleep there with shy!reader and steeb? 🫶🏼

posting this before the scary lady in my head tells me to delete it! ily thank you for the req <33 | 0.9k gn!reader

“I am not tired, Steve.”

It was a complete lie, and he looked at you with a poorly-concealed grin like he knew it, too. The inside of his cheek is bitten between his molars, lips still curling up at the ends, and it makes you want to sink into the cushions of the loveseat.

Steve never gets enough credit for how observant he is. It really only increases tenfold when it comes to you, so he knew you were sleepy as soon as you crossed the threshold into Nancy’s apartment. He noticed every abnormally slow blink, every stretch and readjustment of your posture, every swallowed-down yawn. He knows you too well.

An arm is thrown over your shoulders as he dips his head to speak quietly into your ear. “Are you sure? ‘Cause we can leave whenever you want.”

When you lean back to look at him, his eyes rake over every feature of your face. The pools of honey make the journey from your lips, across your nose and cheeks, to finally land on your own eyes. Any mischief you thought you’d find in his gaze is replaced by something much sweeter, softer. His arm slithers from its place around your shoulders so that he can cup the back of your neck, gently massaging the knots so that your shoulders relax.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat. You can smell the licorice candy still on his tongue.

It almost made you concede. Almost.

While you would’ve loved nothing more than to leave and spend the rest of the evening hidden underneath the covers with Steve, it felt too much like an imposition. It’s only so often that everyone’s free at the same time, you don't really want anyone to suffer at the hands of your lethargy.

And the implication that you were bailing on movie night for other reasons would earn groans and whistles that you don’t think you’d ever live down.

A nervous giggle bubbles up as you push at his chest with your growingly clammy hands. “I promise. I couldn’t be more awake.”

“Really? That true?”

“Mhm.”

He challenges you with a hum of his own, furrowing his brows to look more stern. But that same infectious grin from earlier threatens to crack and spill the fondness underneath the surface. When you nod, with a cute big smile on your face, he’s a goner. He leans over to press a kiss into your hairline and pull you closer into his side before turning back to the tv.

You think he’s given up. It was just one movie, it really wasn’t supposed to be that difficult.

But then his fingers kept brushing shapes and swirls into the exposed skin of your arm. In between the occasional forehead kiss, he’d whisper his commentary into your hair. At some point he’d picked up your legs and thrown them over his lap — something that lit a fire in your chest and had the flames licking your face. Then he’d started scratching your back, caressing your calves.

It was all his fault. Your head just inevitably became too heavy to bear on your own, and now you’re effectively drooling on his shoulder.

Steve is having a really hard time holding in the I told you so that sits so impatiently on the tip of his tongue. But he’s managing. Equal parts because he thinks you’re adorable and because he wants you to be fully cognizant when he says it.

“Baby,” he coos, pushing strands of hair out of your face. A quiet noise of acknowledgement comes from your mouth, but you only push further into his hold. Steve’s face starts to burn at the snickers from the kids that you’re blissfully unaware of. At the moment, anyway. He tries again, “Baby, the movie’s over. Ready to go?”

You stir, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your palms. “Huh?”

“The movie ended.”

“Oh,” you reply lamely, still disoriented. It isn’t until you see Robin and Eddie’s smirks of amusement from across the floor that an anchor of embarrassment sinks into your stomach. You lift your head up and immediately wipe at the dampness on the corner of your mouth.

“Good morning,” Steve pokes fun. He tries to rub soothing circles into your back, but it’s entirely too overwhelming, and it makes you move to sit properly and hide in your hands.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I swear I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I was just so drowsy, and now you have drool on your shirt and it’s…it’s so embarrassing, I'm sorry.”

He chuckles, “Hey, no it’s not.” He decides to double down when you stay quiet, “I promise, it’s not. Don’t be sorry.” His voice is soft, touch gentle as his hand rests on your knee.

You turn to peek at him through the space between your fingers and just as you suspected. His smile is easy. Warmth radiates off of every bit of his being and it makes your embarrassment slowly begin to melt away. Your hands fall into your lap and reach out for his own, intertwining your fingers.

“You know I would’ve taken us home, right?” He asks. The word home slips from his mouth so easily that it makes your heart bang relentlessly against your rib cage.

You bite your lower lip to contain the smile that mirrors his own. “Yeah, I know…that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Wh…That’s fair.”

#eighth time’s the charm !! #this ending sucks but we ball!!! #you also sent this a very long time ago im sorry <33333 #ᝰ cece’s scribbles #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington hc #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things #joe keery

[plussizefantasia]

hey ok ok here it goes please: i was wondering if you could make a thor x plus size reader where. she was one of his online friends when he was chubby and drunk. and then he didnt update his profile picture so you thought he would look like chubby thor when you both decided to meet in person. but he actual was normal fit thor when he showed up and the plus size reader is afraid to accept a date from him thinking its all a joke. no one could like her in her head and she didnt wanna get hurt from him thinking he couldnt like her being plus size and thor being all charming and loving and thinks she looks like a goddess? idk something like that?

My Goddess

A/N: Dear god I'm so sorry. I have fallen off the face of the planet and have left this amazing ask in my box for literal months. Anyway... I hope you like this I've been working on it for a while.

Pairing: Thor x PlusSize!reader

Word Count: ~1,600

You were nervous, beyond nervous. Even though it had been probably five years since you had gone on a date you were going on a date with a guy you had only ever seen pictures of. Through a convoluted chain of friends who knew friends who knew single friends, you had been given the number Thor. Yes, that Thor, the God of Thunder himself, actual Avenger, and totally hottie Thor. 

No matter what his reputation was he was very sweet. He talked to you all the time, the two of you texted and called and had been speaking for about six months now. The distance had been off-putting at first, you were in New York City working your dream job and he was leading his people in New Asgard halfway across the world. Regardless you had made it work, even with the time difference.

 You had exchanged some pictures about two weeks in and while you were surprised at the shape the actual God was in you found him arguably even more attractive with the bit of gut he had grown. He had told you about his battle with his mental health, how losing his brother and the battle with Thanos had taken a toll on his confidence in himself. He confided in you that he didn’t feel fit to be a King, that he thought he had let his people down, and that he knew he had let himself go but he didn’t see the point in training anymore. 

You sent pictures of yourself in exchange and also revealed your insecurities. How you thought that you were too much in every way, too loud, too big, too opinionated. That the messages you had received from the people in your life had torn you down and that you sometimes struggled to hold the pieces together. You both bonded over your vulnerabilities and for the first time in a very long time, you were happy.

At first, you had expected him to stop talking to you, it had been a good run and you were happy that you had talked to the literal legend at all. But the sight of your body had been a turn-off for so many before, you didn’t think a literal god would be any different. But he just praised you for your beauty and continued flirting with you. He made you feel stunning with the way he articulated his thoughts about you. He spoke in sonnets and was generous with his praise. You had never been in a relationship like that before, sure you had had boyfriends before but they never waxed poetic about you. Your weight was always something to be looked over because your personality was so great. 

They hadn’t liked you because of your body but despite it.

Thor wasn’t like that, he was charismatic and charming, you supposed that came with the territory of being a prince. He was also terrifying. 

The first time he asked to meet up in person was a few days after you sent over the first picture. He had told you how much he loved talking with you and that he wanted to spend time with you in person and show you a good time. He had told you he could come to New York, that he wanted to just see you, to hold you, to be with you. You had turned him down.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet him because you would be crazy to not want to be wrapped up in his arms, not only was he one of the most amazing guys you had ever met but he treated you well (and he was a god). It was just your insecurity that kept you from meeting in person, your worries about yourself always got in the way. And they continued to get in the way until you got a little too tipsy one night and dared yourself to invite him out dancing. You woke up the next morning with a massive hangover and a place and time to meet the God of Thunder.

That led you to tonight, meeting Thor at one of the more relaxed clubs near your place in an outfit that had taken way too long to settle on being nervous as hell. You knew that you would recognize him when he walked through the door, he was pretty distinct even without all the fame. But your anxiety had you arriving half an hour early and now you were just sitting and waiting for the moment he walked through the double doors opposite of the bar you were currently residing at.

What you weren’t expecting was the beefy Viking-esque hero who had waltzed in the door. He looked good. He looked more than good, he looked majestic. He looked thinner than in his photo. 

You had heard about the second battle the Avengers had had with Thanos, you had tearfully thanked Thor over the phone when you had received an extremely confused text from your little brother who had been dusted the five years prior. You just didn’t think that Thor getting back into the Avenging game would mean that he would zap back into perfect shape this soon. After all, it had only been about a month.

But here he was. Decked out in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled about three-quarters of the way. Dark jeans that hugged his ass just right and some deep red sneakers that looked to be somewhat well-worn. His golden hair was braided intricate and adorned with metal rings and beads to hold it into place. He had shaved his beard you clocked, and the long locks that cascaded off his face were replaced with a closer cut, it was still there but it was much neater, and you could see even more of his beautiful, beautiful face.

It took several seconds to decide on whether or not to flee. This was not the guy you had agreed to meet, you agreed to meet the soft man who was vulnerable with you, this was a warrior who commanded attention. The attention you weren’t sure you wanted on yourself.

In the time you took debating with yourself and making an escape plan, he had noticed you and made his way over to where you were seated at the end of the bar.

“Your pictures did not do you justice, you are even more angelic in person” his words caught you off guard and sent a jolt up your spine and right into your cheeks, turning them crimson. You took another sip of your drink and placed your cup down on top of the napkin laying on the bar. 

“Neither do yours, You're much… taller than I thought you’d be.” He laughs at your words and leans his hip against the bar in front of you. His upper body encroached in on your space and sent more blood rushing toward your cheeks. 

In a sudden moment of vulnerability, he looks into your eyes and asks “Is that a problem? Me being too… tall?” You know what he was asking, he had changed and he knows that. He was asking if you still wanted him. If you wanted to be with him now even though he was no longer the man in the pictures whom you have connected to.

“No, no I don’t think it is” You smile and place your hand on his. The smile that lights up his face is more than enough for you to know you said the right thing. 

The two of you talk and talk all evening. He charms you and you charm him right back. You feel like a live wire, energy coursing through your veins. He is a drug and you are already an addict, but there is something that holds you back.

“I have to ask,” you started “Why did you want to meet me?” apparently it was your turn to be vulnerable. “I know I’m not exactly the most gorgeous woman out there” You duck your head and get suddenly get very interested in your drink. You think this is your fourth, maybe it’s your fifth you can’t remember. Either way, you're feeling floaty and need to know what’s going on in his brain before this goes any further.

He places two of his fingers under your chin and lifts until your eyes meet his. “I wanted to meet you because you have bewitched me. Your beauty is beyond measure, I have traveled the nine realms and have never beheld a more marvelous visage than when I was graced with your image. You have captured my heart with your wit and charm and most importantly you have made me want to be better.” His words stole the air from your lungs and there was only one thing you could think to do.

You lunged forward and grabbed his face with your hands, you placed your lips on his and closed your eyes, waiting and praying for him to reciprocate your bold move. You didn’t have to wait for very long, in the next moment his fingers had woven into your hair and his tongue was swiping against the crease of your lips.

It felt otherworldly, you and he wrapped up in each other, as cliche as it sounded everything but you two fell away. You could live like this, you could die like this and you would go happily. Eventually, you two had to separate, even gods had to breathe.

Your foreheads met one another and he chuckled against you.

“My goddess” he had whispered in between the two of you.

You kissed him again.

#plus size reader #plus size!reader #fluff #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #thor odinson #thor x plus size reader #thor x you #thor x reader

[astorytotellyourfriends]

The one thing that everyone seems to know about Eddie Munson is that when he's not out touring the world with his band, Corroded Coffin, he makes a point to be as invisible as possible in order to spend time at home with his family. Eddie, along with his wife Chrissy of seven years and their two young children, graciously invited Vogue into their Hollywood Hills home that's about as secluded as you can get while still having that coveted Los Angeles zip code.

Vogue: I have to admit, given what I've seen of Corroded Coffin on stage, I think I expected your home to reflect a bit more of that personality.

Eddie Munson: [laughs] You can thank Chrissy for that. She's the brains behind this whole operation, I just do what she tells me.

So there's no hidden dungeon in the basement?

Hate to burst your bubble, but nope. I've been trying to get a sacrificial altar for the backyard, but I haven't found one I liked yet.

Really?

[laughs] I'm kidding. But I had you going, right?

You really did. But that's what you've always done, right? Leaned into the mania of Satanic Panic and made it work for you?

Yeah, I guess so. I mean, people are gonna believe whatever they wanna believe anyway so I might as well give 'em what they want, right? Plus, [laughs] it's a hell of a lot of fun.

What's it like having that devil-worshipper stage persona with two young kids at home? Do either of your kids know what their dad does for a living?

Oh, yeah. They [redacted] love it. Wait, can I say [redacted]?

We can't print it, but you can say it.

[Redacted] yeah. Our little one doesn't really get the whole stage thing yet, but she sure looks cute in those big-ass headphones.

And your other daughter?

Oh, if she could be on stage with me every night, she would be. On our last tour, we had this gimmick where Gareth rigged a bunch of blood packs to his drums to explode during the encore and she thought it was the coolest [redacted] thing in the world. He even offered to let her do it when we were in rehearsals!

And did she?

Maybe.

From the look on your face, I'm guessing she did.

[laughs] Don't tell Chrissy.

Scout's honor. Until this article comes out, anyway.

[Redacted]. Is it too late to say off the record?

Way too late.

[Redacted]. Oh well. Worth it. She had the biggest [redacted] grin on her face when she was covered in fake blood, it was priceless.

Seems like you might be raising a mini version of yourself. Would you support your kids following in your footsteps and joining the music industry?

[Editor's note: At this point in the interview, the eldest Munson child came running out of the back door and pounced on her father, who took it in stride and continued answering questions as though he didn't have a six-year-old hanging over his shoulder.]

I mean, if that's what they wanna do, then hell yeah.

[gasps] Daddy said a bad word!

Daddy did not, Daddy said hell.

Mommy said hell's a bad word.

Mommy also said you were supposed to stay inside, didn't she?

Pip was crying. She misses you.

Do you need a moment?

[laughs] Believe me, if I took a moment for every time I wanted to be with my kids, I'd never get anything done.

Because you love us so much?

Exactly.

How much?

To the moon and back.

That's a lot!

Sure is, kiddo. Now shush and let the nice lady ask her questions.

Ooh, ask me! Ask me! I got lots of stories.

If you don't mind?

It's your funeral. [laughs] She'll talk your ear off if you let her.

What do you think about your dad being a rockstar?

[shrugs] It's okay.

Wow, thanks for the endorsement, kid. You heard it here first: being a rockstar is just okay.

Would you rather he had another job?

[shrugs] What other job?

I dunno. Playing music's the only thing I've ever been good at.

Nuh-uh! Daddy's good at lots of things.

Like what?

Telling stories. Playing with me. One time, he built me a big castle out of pillows and chairs and blankets and we played in it all day 'til Mommy said it was time for dinner. And then we all went to bed in it. Like camping!

Camping? When did you go camping?

Mommy let us sleep outside and said it was like camping. It was when you were gone. I don't like when you're gone. It makes Mommy sad. And then I'm sad. And Pip's sad. You're not going away again, are you?

No, baby. I'm staying right here with you.

Good. [to Vogue] Do you wanna see what Daddy brought home for me last time he went away?

I'd love to.

Okay!

[Editor's note: just as quickly as she came, Munson's daughter ran off to go fetch the present from inside the house.]

Do you need a minute?

Nah. It just… [sighs] never gets easier, you know? Hearing how much they miss me when I'm gone. I miss them all the [redacted] time.

I'm not surprised. Just from the last five minutes, I can see how much she adores you and I can't imagine what it's like to leave that behind, even when it's to go on a worldwide tour.

It's tough. I love my job, don't get me wrong. It's what's given us this house, all the [redacted] that the girls need, anything they could ever want, but… [shrugs] I dunno. Sometimes giving it all up doesn't sound half as hard as leaving them is. Maybe that's just me being ungrateful.

I don't think so. I think it means you're human. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you know? Torn between two worlds.

[laughs] Now there's an idea for an album. The dichotomy of being a rockstar and a father.

I'd listen to it.

Hell, so would I.

(might continue this with a lil follow-up fic of chrissy and eddie reading the interview before it goes to print... thoughts? 👀)

#hellcheer #eddissy #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic #hellcheersource #just a lil something me and shia cooked up earlier today #the hellcheer brainrot is still alive and well

[miyosei]

LOVE IS A CHORE !

premise. a step by step guide on how ( not ) to fall in love with your best friend. — ft. xiao

reader is gender neutral, modern (?) au, everyone is in university here, mentions of throwing up but it doesn’t actually happen, xiao is a musician but it isn’t a major plot point i was just inspired by the newest promo video.

one. realize you are in much deeper than you thought.

The first time Xiao felt the switch flip inside of him, the cherry blossoms were starting to bloom on the first day of spring.

It was the last day of the seasonal fair—and you had invited him out to enjoy the evening together. Because your friend had bailed on you and you didn’t want the spare ticket to go to waste. Of course he agreed, what reason did he have not to?

And when he shows up ten minutes late with flushed cheeks and tousled hair and more apologies than he's ever said in his entire life—you laugh it off, assure him it's okay, and jokingly let him know that he still had the rest of the evening to make it up to you.

Xiao takes your words extremely seriously, and as nervous and paranoid and cracked out of his mind he is—he is determined to make it a night the both of you remember. And as always, he keeps his word. You aren’t sure of the last time you had this much fun.

When it’s time for the fireworks to start, he finds himself looking only at you—because you insisted that this is where you get the best view. ‘How cliche,’ he thinks to himself when you drag him to the attraction. But he makes no move to sway you otherwise, and you soon find yourself suspended in the air, sitting right beside him in the ferris wheel's carriage.

You look so nice like this. Well, you always look nice, but this time it’s different. This time it’s just you and him and the muffled sounds of the fireworks booming in the distance. And Xiao thinks that if every day could be like this, with just you and him, maybe that kind of life wouldn’t be so bad.

The realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning. That this is a problem. That he’s really screwed now. That ones Hu Tao finds the cheesy photos the two of you took at the photo booth it is absolutely over for him.

But, Xiao has never given up before. So, in theory, he should be fine… Right?

two. accidentally confess your feelings thinking you’re alone, run away when it turns out you aren’t.

The answer is no; Xiao is not fine. He has spent way too many sleepless nights cursing himself and trying to get you out of his head. It is so easy to not catch feelings for your best friend, how could he have messed up this bad? Xiao thinks it’s stupid, idiotic, and so not like him. It’s just some stupid crush, it’ll go away—it has to go away. Because it’s interfering with his every day life, and Hu Tao will not leave him alone.

The time is noon, this was supposed to be a joint study session between him, Hu Tao, Kazuha, and you. But this time you were the one running late, Kazuha is off in his own world, and Hu Tao decided that instead of actually studying, she wanted to spend her time trying to get a certain phrase out of Xiao’s mouth. One that definitely wasn’t even true.

“Are you done?” he finally speaks and looks at her from across the table with an unamused expression. “Why are you so adamant on this anyway?”

She rolls her eyes and lifts up a finger directly up to his face, “Because you are so obviously in denial! By the way, everyone already knows you like each other. The only two people dumb enough to not realize it are you two.”

Denial is a strong word. And quite honestly, Xiao thinks he could get pretty comfortable with it.

But the corners of his eye twitch ever so slightly, his grip on the pen tightens in his hold, and those two smug grins are almost enough to send him right into a coma—even if he doesn’t physically show it.

“Right… So then what if I do?” He chooses his words carefully, like he’s only entertaining the thought. Like he doesn’t actually have these feelings for you. Because that’s ridiculous, and he would never fall in love.

“You do,” Hu Tao corrects him without missing a beat, and Xiao finally gives up.

“Okay, fine. I do. Now what?”

The grin on her face spells nothing but trouble, and the regret that settles upon seeing it is enough to last Xiao a lifetime and more of embarrassment and shame.

Hu Tao echos your name, something that irritates Xiao more than it should have because yes, obviously it was you. Who else would it be, they were quite literally just talking about this? Unfortunately for him, Hu Tao finds nothing but joy in playing tricks like these—especially if it got a reaction.

“Hmm…. I don’t know, the only thing left to do is start dating and get married!”

Xiao almosts bursts at that sentence alone, his face exploding into the brightest shade of red anyone has ever seen. “Are you crazy?!” he stares at her in a flustered fury, “Don’t even joke about something like that, I’m not going to marry—”

His voice calls flat when he spots you out of the corner of his vision. You’re standing in the doorway, shocked with the most deer in the headlights look carried onto your face. Anything Xiao wants to say finds itself caught in his throat, and he decides to do something he hasn't done for years to come—he bolts for the door and rushes himself right out of the library.

three. try to go back to the way things were, curse yourself when it’s not that easy.

Three days have passed since that incident, and to say things were awkward would be a horrible understatement. Xiao, against his own will, had completely forgotten how to talk to you.

He called you later that night to apologize. That Hu Tao was just trying to rile him up, that he was sorry if you were uncomfortable at all, that you could just forget that entire thing had even happened in the first place. Anything to save both him and you the embarrassment.

You tell him it's alright—you always do. And you invite him to hang out at the nearby arcade, to make things up and to hopefully ease the heavy tension.

It doesn't work. because the moment he sees you he feels like running all over again. Xiao doesn't know if you feel it too, but the awkwardness that lingers in the air is so thick he feels like coughing up the springs in his chest. But he pushes through the discomfort—he promised a fun afternoon, and he doesn't break promises.

And he tries to avoid the subject of his “confession” by any and all means possible. It’s easier than it turns out to be, because Xiao is too busy dragging you around to even think about anything else.

There’s a monotonous buzz in his ear, something he dismisses as a byproduct of being around all of the beeping machines and blasting music. He can hear you call out to him, something out of concern he can only assume—everything is a blur, but Xiao promises he just needs to sit down for only a little bit.

When did he become so scatterbrained? It was never this bad before, he was never nervous around you before. You’ve known each other since elementary school, you were neighbors for even longer than he can remember, he’s slept in the bed of your childhood bedroom. So what changed? What happened to him?

No, nothing happened to you. It was definitely him, something was deeply and fundamentally wrong with him. Because you’re so close, and your hand is on his back because he keeps coughing up a storm, and the scent of your perfume is so sweet that it makes him want to throw up.

Xiao goes home with a high fever and guilty apologies. What was supposed to be a fun day out turned into you walking him back to his dorm room. You promise him it’s okay, and that you only want him to feel better soon. And Xiao, despite wanting to say so much more, says nothing.

He wakes up in a cold sweat later that night, smothered in bed sheets and in the same boring-walled dorm room.

Really, Xiao doesn't think he can keep up this act for very much longer.

four. know that love means being vulnerable, but not weak.

Ganyu almost drops the vase in her hands when Xiao gives her the run down. They were moving things from the concert hall when she’d noticed he was out of it, more so than usual. And against her better judgement, the ever so kind Ganyu prodded him with a stick and jumped back when he actually took the bait.

“And you just… Ran away?” She repeats, wide eyes in disbelief like he had just told her something blasphemous. When Xiao only confirms everything with a bored shrug she almost wants to pull her own hair out. Of course, she was more understanding than most other people, but even Ganyu had her limits. How could he treat this situation so casually? Like he wasn’t ruining his chances with you at this very moment? Like he wasn’t going to cause everyone in his inner circle to start aging prematurely?

Xiao doesn't even deny it and admits to everything with a straight face—that he did run away after indirectly confessing to you, that he’s been trying to avoid you in hopes that these feelings would finally die down, that it’s not working in the slightest and now he only misses you even more than he already did.

Truly, you’re the only one that knows. That underneath his blank eyes and bored expression, Xiao is just as afraid of his own feelings as anybody else. And he could never hate you for simply being you. But you know things about him that he doesn’t even know about himself—and that’s more than terrifying to think about.

He’s spent so long building his character and making sure he’ll never been used again. But you come in with that stupid smile and your dumb sparkly eyes and Xiao feels himself grow weak in the knees and heavy in his chest.

“Would you be okay with that? Dating, I mean.” Ganyu asks after a silence that lasts a little bit too long.

Xiao doesn't say anything. Would he be okay with it? Of course he would. Because you don’t flush at the thought of holding your best friend’s hand, you don’t think about what it would be like to date them, and you definitely don’t dream about kissing them under the moonlight.

And Xiao thinks to himself, that if you were willing to have him, he’d be more than okay with it.

five. confess your feelings — for real this time.

It’s raining, one of the harshest days of the season, and Xiao has caught the weather on a horrible day. He hadn't even bothered to bring an umbrella, soaked through his jacket and pounding his shoes against the slippery pavement in a rush to get to the library, where he was supposed to be 10 minutes ago in a last minute project group work.

He stops only when a shop door opens suddenly and skids to a halt just in time to avoid running straight into you. He stiffens ever so slightly when your eyes meet and you immediately shift to avoid contact, a small part of his heart squeezes in his ribcage. But Xiao’s throat is tight and dry, and any words caught in his chest are unable to come out.

Of course it would be awkward, he's been avoiding you for his own selfishness after all. And at this point, Xiao wouldn't even blame you if you began to resent him even just a little bit. But instead, you silently lean the umbrella over his head and give him a gentle smile. The same one as always.

“Come on,” you tell him, “I’ll walk you to wherever you need to go.”

He lets you, not even daring to argue back. There’s a lot of things he needs to say before his nerves finally kick in and he chickens out. But his hands are sweaty in his pockets and he can feel his chest on the verge of exploding by the second.

What are you thinking about right now, he wonders—stealing glances at you every so often when you aren’t looking. He just has to say it, just has to force the words out of his throat, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can't do it. And the two of you arrive at the library before Xiao can even blink, and he curses himself for being such a coward in such a crucial moment. Of course it would turn out this way, how humiliating.

“Well, we’re here.” You say with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, something close to regret flutters in your irises. “It was nice, seeing you again. I don't know if you have something going on, but you've been acting weird lately, I guess I missed you a little bit. But if you ever—”

“I like you!”

Xiao blurts out the words without thinking of anything else, exploding them out into the world like confetti on new year's day. His cheeks are flushed, he’s still soaking wet. It’s messy, disorganized, and it’s not even close to the perfect scenario he crafted in his daydreams. But It’s so perfectly him that you just can’t say anything else.

“I like you a lot. I always have. and I think I was so scared that you would hate me; or you would think I’m weird, or that you didn't like me back. And when you walked in that day I was so panicked I didn't—”

He stops talking only when he finally takes note of the tears that build up in your eyes. He blinks once, twice, a third time—then, the reality sinks in and his mind goes into overdrive. In one moment you were standing in front of him, and in the next he met you with a tight embrace, not caring that he was getting your own clothes absolutely drenched.

“I’m sorry,” Xiao whispers quietly when your hands tighten around the sleeves of his jacket.

“Shut up,” you grumble through muffled words and your umbrella fallen beside you on the pavement. For once, you’re thankful that the rain is able to hide your tears—or make them less obvious at the very least, “I’m mad at you right now.”

You aren’t, he knows you aren’t. But really, Xiao thinks he just might've just deserved that one.

six. remember that nothing necessarily has to change at all.

Two weeks have passed since his clumsy confession, two weeks since he’s “officially” become your boyfriend. In quotations, because it feels like it’s always been this way with you. You still watch cheesy romcoms every Saturday, you still support him whenever he has a performance due, Xiao still clings to you in your sleep like he’s done ever since the two of you entered high school.

The only difference now is that he can hold your hand whenever he wants to, and you don’t feel weird about coming around just to hug him from behind anymore. And while he still gets butterflies every time he even thinks about it, it’s more socially acceptable for him to kiss you when he feels like it.

And most times they don't even feel like dates, but now he gets the special 'couples only discount,' at the local cafe, and Hu Tao’s annoying kissy faces become more of a tease than a taunt, and Kazuha is, well, Kazuha.

It’s messy, it’s unorthodox, and it’s a long way from being perfect. But it’s with you, and for Xiao, that’s already more than enough.

#🌊 — miyosei #xiao x reader #xiao x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact

[femmesandhoney]

Here's Judith Jarvis Thomson's "A Defense of Abortion"

"Most opposition to abortion relies on the premise that the fetus is a human being, a person, from the moment of conception. The premise is argued for, but, as I think, not well. Take, for example, the most common argument. We are asked to notice that the development of a human being from conception through birth into childhood is continuous; then it is said that to draw a line, to choose a point in this development and say "before this point the thing is not a person, after this point it is a person" is to make an arbitrary choice, a choice for which in the nature of things no good reason can be given. It is concluded that the fetus is. or anyway that we had better say it is, a person from the moment of conception. But this conclusion does not follow. Similar things might be said about the development of an acorn into an oak trees, and it does not follow that acorns are oak trees, or that we had better say they are. Arguments of this form are sometimes called "slippery slope arguments"--the phrase is perhaps self-explanatory--and it is dismaying that opponents of abortion rely on them so heavily and uncritically.

I am inclined to agree, however, that the prospects for "drawing a line" in the development of the fetus look dim. I am inclined to think also that we shall probably have to agree that the fetus has already become a human person well before birth. Indeed, it comes as a surprise when one first learns how early in its life it begins to acquire human characteristics. By the tenth week, for example, it already has a face, arms and less, fingers and toes; it has internal organs, and brain activity is detectable. On the other hand, I think that the premise is false, that the fetus is not a person from the moment of conception. A newly fertilized ovum, a newly implanted clump of cells, is no more a person than an acorn is an oak tree. But I shall not discuss any of this. For it seems to me to be of great interest to ask what happens if, for the sake of argument, we allow the premise. How, precisely, are we supposed to get from there to the conclusion that abortion is morally impermissible? Opponents of abortion commonly spend most of their time establishing that the fetus is a person, and hardly anytime explaining the step from there to the impermissibility of abortion. Perhaps they think the step too simple and obvious to require much comment. Or perhaps instead they are simply being economical in argument. Many of those who defend abortion rely on the premise that the fetus is not a person, but only a bit of tissue that will become a person at birth; and why pay out more arguments than you have to? Whatever the explanation, I suggest that the step they take is neither easy nor obvious, that it calls for closer examination than it is commonly given, and that when we do give it this closer examination we shall feel inclined to reject it.

I propose, then, that we grant that the fetus is a person from the moment of conception. How does the argument go from here? Something like this, I take it. Every person has a right to life. So the fetus has a right to life. No doubt the mother has a right to decide what shall happen in and to her body; everyone would grant that. But surely a person's right to life is stronger and more stringent than the mother's right to decide what happens in and to her body, and so outweighs it. So the fetus may not be killed; an abortion may not be performed.

It sounds plausible. But now let me ask you to imagine this. You wake up in the morning and find yourself back to back in bed with an unconscious violinist. A famous unconscious violinist. He has been found to have a fatal kidney ailment, and the Society of Music Lovers has canvassed all the available medical records and found that you alone have the right blood type to help. They have therefore kidnapped you, and last night the violinist's circulatory system was plugged into yours, so that your kidneys can be used to extract poisons from his blood as well as your own. The director of the hospital now tells you, "Look, we're sorry the Society of Music Lovers did this to you--we would never have permitted it if we had known. But still, they did it, and the violinist is now plugged into you. To unplug you would be to kill him. But never mind, it's only for nine months. By then he will have recovered from his ailment, and can safely be unplugged from you." Is it morally incumbent on you to accede to this situation? No doubt it would be very nice of you if you did, a great kindness. But do you have to accede to it? What if it were not nine months, but nine years? Or longer still? What if the director of the hospital says. "Tough luck. I agree. but now you've got to stay in bed, with the violinist plugged into you, for the rest of your life. Because remember this. All persons have a right to life, and violinists are persons. Granted you have a right to decide what happens in and to your body, but a person's right to life outweighs your right to decide what happens in and to your body. So you cannot ever be unplugged from him." I imagine you would regard this as outrageous, which suggests that something really is wrong with that plausible-sounding argument I mentioned a moment ago.

In this case, of course, you were kidnapped, you didn't volunteer for the operation that plugged the violinist into your kidneys. Can those who oppose abortion on the ground I mentioned make an exception for a pregnancy due to rape? Certainly. They can say that persons have a right to life only if they didn't come into existence because of rape; or they can say that all persons have a right to life, but that some have less of a right to life than others, in particular, that those who came into existence because of rape have less. But these statements have a rather unpleasant sound. Surely the question of whether you have a right to life at all, or how much of it you have, shouldn't turn on the question of whether or not you are a product of a rape. And in fact the people who oppose abortion on the ground I mentioned do not make this distinction, and hence do not make an exception in case of rape.

Nor do they make an exception for a case in which the mother has to spend the nine months of her pregnancy in bed. They would agree that would be a great pity, and hard on the mother; but all the same, all persons have a right to life, the fetus is a person, and so on. I suspect, in fact, that they would not make an exception for a case in which, miraculously enough, the pregnancy went on for nine years, or even the rest of the mother's life.

Some won't even make an exception for a case in which continuation of the pregnancy is likely to shorten the mother's life, they regard abortion as impermissible even to save the mother's life. Such cases are nowadays very rare, and many opponents of abortion do not accept this extreme view. All the same, it is a good place to begin: a number of points of interest come out in respect to it.

1.

Let us call the view that abortion is impermissible even to save the mother's life "the extreme view." I want to suggest first that it does not issue from the argument I mentioned earlier without the addition of some fairly powerful premises. Suppose a woman has become pregnant, and now learns that she has a cardiac condition such that she will die if she carries the baby to term. What may be done for her? The fetus, being to life, but as the mother is a person too, so has she a right to life. Presumably they have an equal right to life. How is it supposed to come out that an abortion may not be performed? If mother and child have an equal right to life, shouldn't we perhaps flip a coin? Or should we add to the mother's right to life her right to decide what happens in and to her body, which everybody seems to be ready to grant--the sum of her rights now outweighing the fetus's right to life?

The most familiar argument here is the following. We are told that performing the abortion would he directly killings the child, whereas doing nothing would not be killing the mother, but only letting her die. Moreover, in killing the child, one would be killing an innocent person, for the child has committed no crime, and is not aiming at his mother's death. And then there are a variety of ways in which this might be continued. (1) But as directly killing an innocent person is always and absolutely impermissible, an abortion may not be performed. Or, (2) as directly killing an innocent person is murder, and murder is always and absolutely impermissible, an abortion may not be performed. Or, (3) as one's duty to refrain from directly killing an innocent person is more stringent than one's duty to keep a person from dying, an abortion may not be performed. Or, (4) if one's only options are directly killing an innocent person or letting a person die, one must prefer letting the person die, and thus an abortion may not be performed.

Some people seem to have thought that these are not further premises which must be added if the conclusion is to be reached, but that they follow from the very fact that an innocent person has a right to life. But this seems to me to be a mistake, and perhaps the simplest way to show this is to bring out that while we must certainly grant that innocent persons have a right to life, the theses in (1) through (4) are all false. Take (2), for example. If directly killing an innocent person is murder, and thus is impermissible, then the mother's directly killing the innocent person inside her is murder, and thus is impermissible. But it cannot seriously be thought to be murder if the mother performs an abortion on herself to save her life. It cannot seriously be said that she must refrain, that she must sit passively by and wait for her death. Let us look again at the case of you and the violinist There you are, in bed with the violinist, and the director of the hospital says to you, "It's all most distressing, and I deeply sympathize, but you see this is putting an additional strain on your kidneys, and you'll be dead within the month. But you have to stay where you are all the same. because unplugging you would be directly killing an innocent violinist, and that's murder, and that's impermissible." If anything in the world is true, it is that you do not commit murder, you do not do what is impermissible, if you reach around to your back and unplug yourself from that violinist to save your life.

The main focus of attention in writings on abortion has been on what a third party may or may not do in answer to a request from a woman for an abortion. This is in a way understandable. Things being as they are, there isn't much a woman can safely do to abort herself. So the question asked is what a third party may do, and what the mother may do, if it is mentioned at all, if deduced, almost as an afterthought, from what it is concluded that third parties may do. But it seems to me that to treat the matter in this way is to refuse to grant to the mother that very status of person which is so firmly insisted on for the fetus. For we cannot simply read off what a person may do from what a third party may do. Suppose you filed yourself trapped in a tiny house with a growing child. I mean a very tiny house, and a rapidly growing child--you are already up against the wall of the house and in a few minutes you'll be crushed to death. The child on the other hand won't be crushed to death; if nothing is done to stop him from growing he'll be hurt, but in the end he'll simply burst open the house and walk out a free man. Now I could well understand it if a bystander were to say. "There's nothing we can do for you. We cannot choose between your life and his, we cannot be the ones to decide who is to live, we cannot intervene." But it cannot be concluded that you too can do nothing, that you cannot attack it to save your life. However innocent the child may be, you do not have to wait passively while it crushes you to death Perhaps a pregnant woman is vaguely felt to have the status of house, to which we don't allow the right of self-defense. But if the woman houses the child, it should be remembered that she is a person who houses it.

I should perhaps stop to say explicitly that I am not claiming that people have a right to do anything whatever to save their lives. I think, rather, that there are drastic limits to the right of self-defense. If someone threatens you with death unless you torture someone else to death, I think you have not the right, even to save your life, to do so. But the case under consideration here is very different. In our case there are only two people involved, one whose life is threatened, and one who threatens it. Both are innocent: the one who is threatened is not threatened because of any fault, the one who threatens does not threaten because of any fault. For this reason we may feel that we bystanders cannot interfere. But the person threatened can.

In sum, a woman surely can defend her life against the threat to it posed by the unborn child, even if doing so involves its death. And this shows not merely that the theses in (1) through (4) are false; it shows also that the extreme view of abortion is false, and so we need not canvass any other possible ways of arriving at it from the argument I mentioned at the outset.

2.

The extreme view could of course be weakened to say that while abortion is permissible to save the mother's life, it may not be performed by a third party, but only by the mother herself. But this cannot be right either. For what we have to keep in mind is that the mother and the unborn child are not like two tenants in a small house which has, by an unfortunate mistake, been rented to both: the mother owns the house. The fact that she does adds to the offensiveness of deducing that the mother can do nothing from the supposition that third parties can do nothing. But it does more than this: it casts a bright light on the supposition that third parties can do nothing. Certainly it lets us see that a third party who says "I cannot choose between you" is fooling himself if he thinks this is impartiality. If Jones has found and fastened on a certain coat, which he needs to keep him from freezing, but which Smith also needs to keep him from freezing, then it is not impartiality that says "I cannot choose between you" when Smith owns the coat. Women have said again and again "This body is my body!" and they have reason to feel angry, reason to feel that it has been like shouting into the wind. Smith, after all, is hardly likely to bless us if we say to him, "Of course it's your coat, anybody would grant that it is. But no one may choose between you and Jones who is to have it."

We should really ask what it is that says "no one may choose" in the face of the fact that the body that houses the child is the mother's body. It may be simply a failure to appreciate this fact. But it may be something more interesting, namely the sense that one has a right to refuse to lay hands on people, even where it would be just and fair to do so, even where justice seems to require that somebody do so. Thus justice might call for somebody to get Smith's coat back from Jones, and yet you have a right to refuse to be the one to lay hands on Jones, a right to refuse to do physical violence to him. This, I think, must be granted. But then what should be said is not "no one may choose," but only "I cannot choose," and indeed not even this, but "I will not act," leaving it open that somebody else can or should, and in particular that anyone in a position of authority, with the job of securing people's rights, both can and should. So this is no difficulty. I have not been arguing that any given third party must accede to the mother's request that he perform an abortion to save her life, but only that he may.

I suppose that in some views of human life the mother's body is only on loan to her, the loan not being one which gives her any prior claim to it. One who held this view might well think it impartiality to say "I cannot choose." But I shall simply ignore this possibility. My own view is that if a human being has any just, prior claim to anything at all, he has a just, prior claim to his own body. And perhaps this needn't be argued for here anyway, since, as I mentioned, the arguments against abortion we are looking at do grant that the woman has a right to decide what happens in and to her body. But although they do grant it, I have tried to show that they do not take seriously what is done in granting it. I suggest the same thing will reappear even more clearly when we turn away from cases in which the mother's life is at stake, and attend, as I propose we now do, to the vastly more common cases in which a woman wants an abortion for some less weighty reason than preserving her own life.

3.

Where the mother s life is not at stake, the argument I mentioned at the outset seems to have a much stronger pull. "Everyone has a right to life, so the unborn person has a right to life." And isn't the child's right to life weightier than anything other than the mother's own right to life, which she might put forward as ground for an abortion?

This argument treats the right to life as if it were unproblematic. It is not, and this seems to me to be precisely the source of the mistake.

For we should now, at long last, ask what it comes to, to have a right to life. In some views having a right to life includes having a right to be given at least the bare minimum one needs for continued life. But suppose that what in fact IS the bare minimum a man needs for continued life is something he has no right at all to be given? If I am sick unto death, and the only thing that will save my life is the touch of Henry Fonda's cool hand on my fevered brow. then all the same, I have no right to be given the touch of Henry Fonda's cool hand on my fevered brow. It would be frightfully nice of him to fly in from the West Coast to provide it. It would be less nice, though no doubt well meant, if my friends flew out to the West coast and brought Henry Fonda back with them. But I have no right at all against anybody that he should do this for me. Or again, to return to the story I told earlier, the fact that for continued life the violinist needs the continued use of your kidneys does not establish that he has a right to be given the continued use of your kidneys. He certainly has no right against you that you should give him continued use of your kidneys. For nobody has any right to use your kidneys unless you give him this right--if you do allow him to go on using your kidneys, this is a kindness on your part, and not something he can claim from you as his due. Nor has he any right against anybody else that they should give him continued use of your kidneys. Certainly he had no right against the Society of Music Lovers that they should plug him into you in the first place. And if you now start to unplug yourself, having learned that you will otherwise have to spend nine years in bed with him, there is nobody in the world who must try to prevent you, in order to see to it that he is given some thing he has a right to be given.

Some people are rather stricter about the right to life. In their view, it does not include the right to be given anything, but amounts to, and only to, the right not to be killed by anybody. But here a related difficulty arises. If everybody is to refrain from killing that violinist, then everybody must refrain from doing a great many different sorts of things. Everybody must refrain from slitting his throat, everybody must refrain from shooting him--and everybody must refrain from unplugging you from him. But does he have a right against everybody that they shall refrain from unplugging you frolic him? To refrain from doing this is to allow him to continue to use your kidneys. It could be argued that he has a right against us that we should allow him to continue to use your kidneys. That is, while he had no right against us that we should give him the use of your kidneys, it might be argued that he anyway has a right against us that we shall not now intervene and deprive him Of the use of your kidneys. I shall come back to third-party interventions later. But certainly the violinist has no right against you that you shall allow him to continue to use your kidneys. As I said, if you do allow him to use them, it is a kindness on your part, and not something you owe him.

The difficulty I point to here is not peculiar to the right of life. It reappears in connection with all the other natural rights, and it is something which an adequate account of rights must deal with. For present purposes it is enough just to draw attention to it. But I would stress that I am not arguing that people do not have a right to life--quite to the contrary, it seems to me that the primary control we must place on the acceptability of an account of rights is that it should turn out in that account to be a truth that all persons have a right to life. I am arguing only that having a right to life does not guarantee having either a right to be given the use of or a right to be allowed continued use of another person s body--even if one needs it for life itself. So the right to life will not serve the opponents of abortion in the very simple and clear way in which they seem to have thought it would.

4.

There is another way to bring out the difficulty. In the most ordinary sort of case, to deprive someone of what he has a right to is to treat him unjustly. Suppose a boy and his small brother are jointly given a box of chocolates for Christmas. If the older boy takes the box and refuses to give his brother any of the chocolates, he is unjust to him, for the brother has been given a right to half of them. But suppose that, having learned that otherwise it means nine years in bed with that violinist, you unplug yourself from him. You surely are not being unjust to him, for you gave him no right to use your kidneys, and no one else can have given him any such right. But we have to notice that in unplugging yourself, you are killing him; and violinists, like everybody else, have a right to life, and thus in the view we were considering just now, the right not to be killed. So here you do what he supposedly has a right you shall not do, but you do not act unjustly to him in doing it.

The emendation which may be made at this point is this: the right to life consists not in the right not to be killed, but rather in the right not to be killed unjustly. This runs a risk of circularity, but never mind: it would enable us to square the fact that the violinist has a right to life with the fact that you do not act unjustly toward him in unplugging yourself, thereby killing him. For if you do not kill him unjustly, you do not violate his right to life, and so it is no wonder you do him no injustice.

But if this emendation is accepted, the gap in the argument against abortion stares us plainly in the face: it is by no means enough to show that the fetus is a person, and to remind us that all persons have a right to life--we need to be shown also that killing the fetus violates its right to life, i.e., that abortion is unjust killing. And is it?

I suppose we may take it as a datum that in a case of pregnancy due to rape the mother has not given the unborn person a right to the use of her body for food and shelter. Indeed, in what pregnancy could it be supposed that the mother has given the unborn person such a right? It is not as if there are unborn persons drifting about the world, to whom a woman who wants a child says I invite you in."

But it might be argued that there are other ways one can have acquired a right to the use of another person's body than by having been invited to use it by that person. Suppose a woman voluntarily indulges in intercourse, knowing of the chance it will issue in pregnancy, and then she does become pregnant; is she not in part responsible for the presence, in fact the very existence, of the unborn person inside? No doubt she did not invite it in. But doesn't her partial responsibility for its being there itself give it a right to the use of her body? If so, then her aborting it would be more like the boys taking away the chocolates, and less like your unplugging yourself from the violinist--doing so would be depriving it of what it does have a right to, and thus would be doing it an injustice.

And then, too, it might be asked whether or not she can kill it even to save her own life: If she voluntarily called it into existence, how can she now kill it, even in self-defense?

The first thing to be said about this is that it is something new. Opponents of abortion have been so concerned to make out the independence of the fetus, in order to establish that it has a right to life, just as its mother does, that they have tended to overlook the possible support they might gain from making out that the fetus is dependent on the mother, in order to establish that she has a special kind of responsibility for it, a responsibility that gives it rights against her which are not possessed by any independent person--such as an ailing violinist who is a stranger to her.

On the other hand, this argument would give the unborn person a right to its mother's body only if her pregnancy resulted from a voluntary act, undertaken in full knowledge of the chance a pregnancy might result from it. It would leave out entirely the unborn person whose existence is due to rape. Pending the availability of some further argument, then, we would be left with the conclusion that unborn persons whose existence is due to rape have no right to the use of their mothers' bodies, and thus that aborting them is not depriving them of anything they have ~ right to and hence is not unjust killing.

And we should also notice that it is not at all plain that this argument really does go even as far as it purports to. For there are cases and cases, and the details make a difference. If the room is stuffy, and I therefore open a window to air it, and a burglar climbs in, it would be absurd to say, "Ah, now he can stay, she's given him a right to the use of her house--for she is partially responsible for his presence there, having voluntarily done what enabled him to get in, in full knowledge that there are such things as burglars, and that burglars burgle.'' It would be still more absurd to say this if I had had bars installed outside my windows, precisely to prevent burglars from getting in, and a burglar got in only because of a defect in the bars. It remains equally absurd if we imagine it is not a burglar who climbs in, but an innocent person who blunders or falls in. Again, suppose it were like this: people-seeds drift about in the air like pollen, and if you open your windows, one may drift in and take root in your carpets or upholstery. You don't want children, so you fix up your windows with fine mesh screens, the very best you can buy. As can happen, however, and on very, very rare occasions does happen, one of the screens is defective, and a seed drifts in and takes root. Does the person-plant who now develops have a right to the use of your house? Surely not--despite the fact that you voluntarily opened your windows, you knowingly kept carpets and upholstered furniture, and you knew that screens were sometimes defective. Someone may argue that you are responsible for its rooting, that it does have a right to your house, because after all you could have lived out your life with bare floors and furniture, or with sealed windows and doors. But this won't do--for by the same token anyone can avoid a pregnancy due to rape by having a hysterectomy, or anyway by never leaving home without a (reliable!) army.

It seems to me that the argument we are looking at can establish at most that there are some cases in which the unborn person has a right to the use of its mother's body, and therefore some cases in which abortion is unjust killing. There is room for much discussion and argument as to precisely which, if any. But I think we should sidestep this issue and leave it open, for at any rate the argument certainly does not establish that all abortion is unjust killing.

5.

There is room for yet another argument here, however. We surely must all grant that there may be cases in which it would be morally indecent to detach a person from your body at the cost of his life. Suppose you learn that what the violinist needs is not nine years of your life, but only one hour: all you need do to save his life is to spend one hour in that bed with him. Suppose also that letting him use your kidneys for that one hour would not affect your health in the slightest. Admittedly you were kidnapped. Admittedly you did not give anyone permission to plug him into you. Nevertheless it seems to me plain you ought to allow him to use your kidneys for that hour--it would be indecent to refuse.

Again, suppose pregnancy lasted only an hour, and constituted no threat to life or health. And suppose that a woman becomes pregnant as a result of rape. Admittedly she did not voluntarily do anything to bring about the existence of a child. Admittedly she did nothing at all which would give the unborn person a right to the use of her body. All the same it might well be said, as in the newly amended violinist story, that she ought to allow it to remain for that hour--that it would be indecent of her to refuse.

Now some people are inclined to use the term "right" in such a way that it follows from the fact that you ought to allow a person to use your body for the hour he needs, that he has a right to use your body for the hour he needs, even though he has not been given that right by any person or act. They may say that it follows also that if you refuse, you act unjustly toward him. This use of the term is perhaps so common that it cannot be called wrong; nevertheless it seems to me to be an unfortunate loosening of what we would do better to keep a tight rein on. Suppose that box of chocolates I mentioned earlier had not been given to both boys jointly, but was given only to the older boy. There he sits stolidly eating his way through the box. his small brother watching enviously. Here we are likely to say, "You ought not to be so mean. You ought to give your brother some of those chocolates." My own view is that it just does not follow from the truth of this that the brother has any right to any of the chocolates. If the boy refuses to give his brother any he is greedy stingy. callous--but not unjust. I suppose that the people I have in mind will say it does follow that the brother has a right to some of the chocolates, and thus that the boy does act unjustly if he refuses to give his brother any. But the effect of saying, this is to obscure what we should keep distinct, namely the difference between the boy's refusal in this case and the boy's refusal in the earlier case, in which the box was given to both boys jointly, and in which the small brother thus had what was from any point of view clear title to half.

A further objection to so using the term "right" that from the fact that A ought to do a thing for B it follows that R has a right against A that A do it for him, is that it is going to make the question of whether or not a man has a right to a thing turn on how easy it is to provide him with it; and this seems not merely unfortunate, but morally unacceptable. Take the case of Henry Fonda again. I said earlier that I had no right to the touch of his cool hand on my fevered brow even though I needed it to save my life. I said it would be frightfully nice of him to fly in from the West Coast to provide me with it, but that I had no right against him that he should do so. But suppose he isn't on the West Coast. Suppose he has only to walk across the room, place a hand briefly on my brow--and lo, my life is saved. Then surely he ought to do it-it would be indecent to refuse. Is it to be said, "Ah, well, it follows that in this case she has a right to the touch of his hand on her brow, and so it would be an injustice in him to refuse"? So that I have a right to it when it is easy for him to provide it, though no right when it's hard? It's rather a shocking idea that anyone's rights should fade away and disappear as it gets harder and harder to accord them to him.

So my own view is that even though you ought to let the violinist use your kidneys for the one hour he needs, we should not conclude that he has a right to do so--we should say that if you refuse, you are, like the boy who owns all the chocolates and will give none away, self-centered and callous, indecent in fact, but not unjust. And similarly, that even supposing a case in which a woman pregnant due to rape ought to allow the unborn person to use her body for the hour he needs, we should not conclude that he has a right to do so; we should say that she is self-centered, callous, indecent, but not unjust, if she refuses. The complaints are no less grave; they are just different. However, there is no need to insist on this point. If anyone does wish to deduce "he has a right" from "you ought," then all the same he must surely grant that there are cases in which it is not morally required of you that you allow that violinist to use your kidneys, and in which he does not have a right to use them, and in which you do not do him an injustice if you refuse. And so also for mother and unborn child. Except in such cases as the unborn person has a right to demand it--and we were leaving open the possibility that there may be such cases--nobody is morally required to make large sacrifices, of health, of all other interests and concerns, of all other duties and commitments, for nine years, or even for nine months, in order to keep another person alive.

6.

We have in fact to distinguish between two kinds of Samaritan: the Good Samaritan and what we might call the Minimally Decent Samaritan. The story of the Good Samaritan, you will remember, goes like this:

A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was, and when he saw him he had compassion on him. And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, "Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee." (Luke 10:30-35)

The Good Samaritan went out of his way, at some cost to himself, to help one in need of it. We are not told what the options were, that is, whether or not the priest and the Levite could have helped by doing less than the Good Samaritan did, but assuming they could have, then the fact they did nothing at all shows they were not even Minimally Decent Samaritans, not because they were not Samaritans, but because they were not even minimally decent.

These things are a matter of degree, of course, but there is a difference, and it comes out perhaps most clearly in the story of Kitty Genovese, who, as you will remember, was murdered while thirty-eight people watched or listened, and did nothing at all to help her. A Good Samaritan would have rushed out to give direct assistance against the murderer. Or perhaps we had better allow that it would have been a Splendid Samaritan who did this, on the ground that it would have involved a risk of death for himself. But the thirty-eight not only did not do this, they did not even trouble to pick up a phone to call the police. Minimally Decent Samaritanism would call for doing at least that, and their not having done it was monstrous.

After telling the story of the Good Samaritan, Jesus said, "Go, and do thou likewise." Perhaps he meant that we are morally required to act as the Good Samaritan did. Perhaps he was urging people to do more than is morally required of them. At all events it seems plain that it was not morally required of any of the thirty-eight that he rush out to give direct assistance at the risk of his own life, and that it is not morally required of anyone that he give long stretches of his life--nine years or nine months--to sustaining the life of a person who has no special right (we were leaving open the possibility of this) to demand it.

Indeed, with one rather striking class of exceptions, no one in any country in the world is legally required to do anywhere near as much as this for anyone else. The class of exceptions is obvious. My main concern here is not the state of the law in respect to abortion, but it is worth drawing attention to the fact that in no state in this country is any man compelled by law to be even a Minimally Decent Samaritan to any person; there is no law under which charges could be brought against the thirty eight who stood by while Kitty Genovese died. By contrast, in most states in this country women are compelled by law to be not merely Minimally Decent Samaritans, but Good Samaritans to unborn persons inside them. This doesn't by itself settle anything one way or the other, because it may well be argued that there should be laws in this country as there are in many European countries--compelling at least Minimally Decent Samaritanism. But it does show that there is a gross injustice in the existing state of the law. And it shows also that the groups currently working against liberalization of abortion laws, in fact working toward having it declared unconstitutional for a state to permit abortion, had better start working for the adoption of Good Samaritan laws generally, or earn the charge that they are acting in bad faith.

I should think, myself, that Minimally Decent Samaritan laws would be one thing, Good Samaritan laws quite another, and in fact highly improper. But we are not here concerned with the law. What we should ask is not whether anybody should be compelled by law to be a Good Samaritan, but whether we must accede to a situation in which somebody is being compelled--by nature, perhaps--to be a Good Samaritan. We have, in other words, to look now at third-party interventions. I have been arguing that no person is morally required to make large sacrifices to sustain the life of another who has no right to demand them, and this even where the sacrifices do not include life itself; we are not morally required to be Good Samaritans or anyway Very Good Samaritans to one another. But what if a man cannot extricate himself from such a situation? What if he appeals to us to extricate him? It seems to me plain that there are cases in which we can, cases in which a Good Samaritan would extricate him. There you are, you were kidnapped, and nine years in bed with that violinist lie ahead of you. You have your own life to lead. You are sorry, but you simply cannot see giving up so much of your life to the sustaining of his. You cannot extricate yourself, and ask us to do so. I should have thought that--in light of his having no right to the use of your body--it was obvious that we do not have to accede to your being forced to give up so much. We can do what you ask. There is no injustice to the violinist in our doing so.

7.

Following the lead of the opponents of abortion, I have throughout been speaking of the fetus merely as a person, and what I have been asking is whether or not the argument we began with, which proceeds only from the fetus's being a person, really does establish its conclusion. I have argued that it does not.

But of course there are arguments and arguments, and it may be said that I have simply fastened on the wrong one. It may be said that what is important is not merely the fact that the fetus is a person, but that it is a person for whom the woman has a special kind of responsibility issuing from the fact that she is its mother. And it might be argued that all my analogies are therefore irrelevant--for you do not have that special kind of responsibility for that violinist; Henry Fonda does not have that special kind of responsibility for me. And our attention might be drawn to the fact that men and women both are compelled by law to provide support for their children

I have in effect dealt (briefly) with this argument in section 4 above; but a (still briefer) recapitulation now may be in order. Surely we do not have any such "special responsibility" for a person unless we have assumed it, explicitly or implicitly. If a set of parents do not try to prevent pregnancy, do not obtain an abortion, but rather take it home with them, then they have assumed responsibility for it, they have given it rights, and they cannot now withdraw support from it at the cost of its life because they now find it difficult to go on providing for it. But if they have taken all reasonable precautions against having a child, they do not simply by virtue of their biological relationship to the child who comes into existence have a special responsibility for it. They may wish to assume responsibility for it, or they may not wish to. And I am suggesting that if assuming responsibility for it would require large sacrifices, then they may refuse. A Good Samaritan would not refuse--or anyway, a Splendid Samaritan, if the sacrifices that had to be made were enormous. But then so would a Good Samaritan assume responsibility for that violinist; so would Henry Fonda, if he is a Good Samaritan, fly in from the West Coast and assume responsibility for me.

8.

My argument will be found unsatisfactory on two counts by many of those who want to regard abortion as morally permissible. First, while I do argue that abortion is not impermissible, I do not argue that it is always permissible. There may well be cases in which carrying the child to term requires only Minimally Decent Samaritanism of the mother, and this is a standard we must not fall below. I am inclined to think it a merit of my account precisely that it does not give a general yes or a general no. It allows for and supports our sense that, for example, a sick and desperately frightened fourteen-year-old schoolgirl, pregnant due to rape, may of course choose abortion, and that any law which rules this out is an insane law. And it also allows for and supports our sense that in other cases resort to abortion is even positively indecent. It would be indecent in the woman to request an abortion, and indecent in a doctor to perform it, if she is in her seventh month, and wants the abortion just to avoid the nuisance of postponing a trip abroad. The very fact that the arguments I have been drawing attention to treat all cases of abortion, or even all cases of abortion in which the mother's life is not at stake, as morally on a par ought to have made them suspect at the outset.

Second, while I am arguing for the permissibility of abortion in some cases, I am not arguing for the right to secure the death of the unborn child. It is easy to confuse these two things in that up to a certain point in the life of the fetus it is not able to survive outside the mother's body; hence removing it from her body guarantees its death. But they are importantly different. I have argued that you are not morally required to spend nine months in bed, sustaining the life of that violinist, but to say this is by no means to say that if, when you unplug yourself, there is a miracle and he survives, you then have a right to turn round and slit his throat. You may detach yourself even if this costs him his life; you have no right to be guaranteed his death, by some other means, if unplugging yourself does not kill him. There are some people who will feel dissatisfied by this feature of my argument. A woman may be utterly devastated by the thought of a child, a bit of herself, put out for adoption and never seen or heard of again. She may therefore want not merely that the child be detached from her, but more, that it die. Some opponents of abortion are inclined to regard this as beneath contempt--thereby showing insensitivity to what is surely a powerful source of despair. All the same, I agree that the desire for the child's death is not one which anybody may gratify, should it turn out to be possible to detach the child alive.

At this place, however, it should be remembered that we have only been pretending throughout that the fetus is a human being from the moment of conception. A very early abortion is surely not the killing of a person, and so is not dealt with by anything I have said here".

#yes this is the complete essay #read it.

[moonlight-prose]

i think i would go bonkers for joel and ❛ it hurts that you still can’t trust me after all this time. ❜

VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for so long, but an idea struck me so i wrote it. it's messy and all over the place and probably way too short, but i'm actually okay with it. i hope you enjoy it darling! i based it on the song by etta marcus, because that whole album has my heart.

summary: the past was off limits, but at what cost?

word count: 1.1k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, grief, joel once again being emotionally unavailable, fluff, some heartfelt romance.

The city looked different from up here. Then again, the once beautiful Boston city had turned into a small few blocks radius with people who were terrified of even breathing. Everyone had lost their hope in the QZ. Their sunken eyes and gaunt frames told you just how much people were suffering, how much they would give to have just a small piece of their past back. You used to be one of them. Once.

“Hell of a view,” you said, sipping from the canteen of water you had attached to your pack.

The echo of his footsteps came up behind you, the sound familiar and comforting after spending so long with him. “I’ve seen better.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice.

You snorted, turned to see him leaning against the edge of the bridge railing, the sun glowing behind him. “Oh yeah? Where?”

“Texas had some pretty views too.”

“Ah…of course,” you replied, biting back the smile that threatened to bloom on your lips. “Do you miss it there?”

The question was a dangerous one to ask given the circumstances. You weren’t his partner, or even his lover. You were the person who tagged along behind him. Someone he would probably feel nothing for if you were to ever die or leave his side. Which left the question to hang in the air. Unanswered.

He cleared his throat, turning back to stare at the view with a different look on his face. One that told you enough. You weren’t supposed to ask those kinds of questions. The agreement you shared was simple enough; both of you were meant to work together with an ease that only came from people who were more. The both of you were supposed to keep the other alive. That was it. You didn’t divulge secrets, you didn’t bring up the past. 

What was the point? When you were both going to die eventually anyways.

You could still feel the lingering loneliness in your chest every time you looked at him. The ache that slowly ate away at your insides. Telling you that you would never be able to have more than just this—more than two people who were on the verge of breaking apart entirely. Unable to heal from the damage done to both your souls.

“We need to go,” he said, staring in the distance at the QZ. Neither of you were supposed to be here in the first place, but listening to the rules was never either of your fortes.

“Why do you do that?” you sighed, stepping away from him, adamant on catching the last few rays of the afternoon sun.

“I didn’t do—”

“You know it hurts right,” you finally admitted, unable to look at him. The sun glowed against his face, turning you breathless at the sight, and you wouldn’t be able to handle that. “It hurts that you still can’t trust me after all this time.”

His breath caught in his chest. The echo of pain in your voice breaking off a piece of his heart as he watched you struggle to fight back the flood of emotions. For months he had avoided letting you in like it was his own kind of infection. It was better to stay alone. To keep everyone at arm's length if only to save his own sanity. He knew it hurt you. Saw the crushed expression you continued to wear whenever he pulled away, but Joel was unable to do anything about it.

How could he let you in when he knew what the cost was in the end?

“I trust you.”

You scoffed, finally turning your gaze on him. The shine of unshed tears punched him in the chest. “No you don’t Joel. You never did.”

He sighed, stepping closer and half expecting you to step back, but that’s never who you were. “You know why I can’t.”

“No actually I don’t,” you muttered. “Because you never told me.”

“Honey—”

“And that’s fine. I don’t need to know your whole history, or why you’re so fucking broken. But did you ever stop to think that I’m just as broken as you Joel?” The tears that fell were hot, filled with a salty rage that he could practically taste on his tongue.

He knew bits and pieces of your history. He knew that the ring you wore on a chain around your neck used to sit on your left hand. A promise you made to another man, long before the outbreak. You had a life with that person. A home that belonged to you. Yet that was all ripped away from you on the same night it was ripped from him.

The reason he knew all of that was because you told him. You let him in to see the most vulnerable parts of you. So why couldn’t he do the same?

Breaking away from his gaze, you wiped at the tears. “Forget I said anything. It’s getting late. We need to head back before they notice we’re gone.”

Joel felt his heart drop at the prospect that this was it. This was the moment you would walk away for good. So, he grabbed onto your arm and dragged you close. He kissed you, swallowed your sharp gasp, and attempted to show you exactly how much he needed you in his life. You were his. The partner he turned to when he needed comfort, when he needed to be reminded of the person he was before all of this.

“Joel—” you gasped, your hands gripping onto his jacket.

“I will tell you,” he breathed, his forehead pressing against yours. “It’s just gonna take me some time honey. I’ve never…”

You nodded, cupping his cheeks to bring him closer. “I know.”

He shut his eyes against the sight of your smile, feeling as if he didn’t deserve the sweetness of it. Not yet at least. Tonight he would go home, explain to you what he could without breaking his own soul again, and do his best to keep you. Joel wouldn’t lose another person. He couldn’t. For now though…he admired the view of your eyes once again holding a hope he wished he could have himself.

“Hell of a view,” he murmured, his thumb running along your jaw. His breath caught at the sight of your eyes fluttering closed, your sigh of contentment rocketing to his heart.

You smiled, pulling him closer by the front of his jacket—your lips brushing against his. “Eh,” you shrugged. “I’ve seen better.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller #the last of us fic #the last of us #my writing

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

How do you think Jack is when he’s sleepy?

This is based on a funny TikTok I saw:

While you were getting a couple hours of sleep, Jack was up with baby Brooklyn in her nursery late into the night.

She was colicky and very fussy, and the only time she would quiet down was when Jack or you were holding her.

"Shh...it's okay baby girl", Jack rocked back in forth in the rocking chair, quietly trying to soothe his infant. His eyelids felt as heavy as lead.

A new baby already meant he was already sleep deprived, but he was also spending any free moment in the studio trying to work on his album, and he wasn't sure how longer he was going to be able to keep up this schedule.

He allowed his eyes to close, quickly falling asleep.

You awoke to the sound of the alarm you had set for Brooklyn's next feeding. You threw on your robe and tip toed down the hallway to the nursery, giggling to yourself as you noticed Jack sleeping. He was rocking back and forth in the chair, his arms cradled around a stuffed animal your in-laws had given you at the baby shower.

Brooklyn was peacefully laying in her crib, so you gave her a pacifier before turning back to your husband.

"Jack, baby. Jack." You placed kisses on his face, gently stroking his cheek to not startle him, but he woke up in a panic anyway when he remembered he was supposed to be watching Brooklyn.

"Oh my god", he raked a hand down his face, "I'm so sorry baby, I promise I was watching her."

"Its okay baby, she's fine." Jack nodded, still half asleep. You laughed out loud as he pulled the teddy bear into his chest, patting its back.

"Jack, look at what's in your hands, baby." He looked down, startled when he realized he wasn't even holding his daughter. "Wait where's Brooklyn", he panicked, standing up. You stopped him, patting his chest.

"At some point, you must have put her in her crib and not realized it." Jack pulled you into a hug, resting his head on your shoulder. You stroked the curls at the back of his neck, placing a kiss into his hair.

"Baby, you need some sleep. You're running off of fumes."

"I'm fine. I think those few minutes of sleep did me some good." He lifted his head up, immediately gripping you to steady his self when he got dizzy.

"Jack, I've got Brooklyn. Go to bed, we'll be here when you wake up." You gave him one more quick kiss before picking Brooklyn up out of her crib. Jack smiled, brushing his finger across Brooklyn's nose, making her wiggle in your hold.

"How can something so beautiful be so much work?" You asked, watching her eyes flutter closed.

"She got your beauty, its only fair that she also got your high-maintenance personality", Jack joked, walking out of the room.

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jack harlow x reader #jackman harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fanfic

[eddiemunsonswhxre]

Heyy! So I adore Eddie Munson, right? As we all do, and I came up with this idea where the reader and him are just lay in the readers bedroom with the window open at like, 2:00am and all of a sudden Eddie just starts coming out with this bulls**t about “Why do you love me” and “I’m a monster”. Then maybe the reader is all like “well if your a monster, I suppose I’m the village sacrifice, given to the monster in the hopes of it sparing their town” or something along those lines and it gets really flirty and fluffy at the same time, maybe leading onto a little bit of smut?

Anyways, sorry if your not taking requests right now! I just thought this was kinda cool, anyhow I must depart for it’s nearly 4am and I have stuff to do as I’m sure you do to!

From, Elsie xx

oh did i take this idea and run with it...

beauty and the beast / eddie munson

one shot

rated: m (18+, minors DNI)

cw: self-hate, sad eddie, comfort, mentions of drug and alcohol use, soft sex, fingering, light nipple play, light breeding (?cumming inside?)

you were his beauty, and he always feared he wasn't the right beast.

--

the time on the clock read 1:57am as you were deeply into the book you were reading. you laid against your headboard, bathed in the soft light of your lamp as soft music played in the background. the window above your bed was open, allowing your room to accommodate a comfortable chill and allow the last remnants of your boyfriends blunt to fall into the night. your boyfriend, slightly stoned, laid on your bed next to you with his arm strewn across your thighs. his calloused fingers drew gentle designs into the skin of your thigh as he hummed along to the music coming from your record player. 

eddie laid shirtless, only in his pair of boxers underneath your warm, fuzzy blanket. and you wore only in a pair of short sleep shorts and one of eddie’s shirts you had stolen at one point. times like this were your favorites. laying around just doing nothing with the man you loved more than life was a more than perfect way to spend your saturday nights. all you felt with him was pure love, he was your everything. 

but, you and eddie were two very different people. you lived in a big house with your two parents, siblings, and a dog. eddie lived with his uncle in a trailer he was ashamed to take you to for the entire first month you were together. eddie had a problem of not believing he was good enough for you, even though he was the perfect boyfriend. he had many insecurities, and all though they broke your heart, the fact that he shared them with you made you love him that much more. 

while you were reading, eddie had a lot of time to think. and, as per usual, his mind drifted back to those dark places. places that convinced him he didn’t deserve to be right here with you. places that told him he was worthless. places that told him he was a monster. his thoughts became too much to keep to himself, so he let out a sigh. “baby?” he asked you quietly.

immediately you were able to identify the sadness, no, the brokenness in his voice. you closed your book, setting it on your bedside table and turning to give him your full undivided attention. “yes, darling?” you ask, smoothing his wild hair down with the palm of your hand. 

eddie almost wants to cry at your touch, feeling as though you’re too perfect for him to even be near. “why… baby, how can you love someone like me?” he mumbles insecurely, burying his face into the side of your thigh. 

you frown, stroking his face gently. “what do you mean someone like you, hun?” you whisper.

eddie shakes his head, nuzzling his nose into your skin as he hugs your legs tighter. “someone so… so… worthless,” he says in a defeated manner. you go to correct him, but he keeps going. “i don’t do anything worthwhile. i mean, i’ve done my senior year three times. i drink all the time in front of you and i shouldn’t, i got you smoking, i fucking deal drugs for money, and i can’t do anything right. people are scared of me, and- and i really don’t blame them. i’m a freak… a fucking monster. you deserve so much better than me,” he says, more and more sorrow filling his body as he speaks. 

eddie looks up at you panicked when you move his arm from around your legs. he thinks maybe you’ve finally realized he’s no good. but you scoot down on your bed, closer to him and cuddle under your blanket. you tangle your legs into his and rest your hand on the side of his face. “you’re wrong, eddie,” you say quietly, watching as he closes his eyes. “you’ve had trouble with school, yeah, but if you hadn’t we wouldn’t be here. i wouldn’t have someone so amazing in my life, let alone as my perfect boyfriend. i don’t care that you drink, you don’t over do it. i smoke with you because i want to, and i still deny it if i’m not feeling it. you do what you can to get your money, baby, that doesn’t make you a bad person. look at me,” you comfort him, stroking the apple of his cheek until he opens his eyes.

they’re glossy, and looking into them makes your heart clench in pain. “what do you always tell me when people start talking shit? huh? people don’t matter, eddie. they don’t matter because they’re not us. let them think whatever they want because i know you’re not a monster,” you explain. eddie shakes his head, biting his lip and looking away from you. “hey, no, i’m not done,” you grab his attention once more. “i love you, eddie. you are the best boyfriend in the world. you always know what to do, you always make me feel loved, and you always do what’s best for us. above everything, you love me and i love you. i don’t want anything else, baby. you’re not holding me back, if anything you make me want to do more. you’re perfect, darling. and i hate that your brain doesn’t let you see that all the time,” you say, tears welling in your own eyes as they begin to fall from his. 

you thumb away his tears waiting for him to say something. “you’re too perfect,” he mumbles, reaching up and grabbing your hand before bringing it to his lips and pressing kisses along your knuckles.

with a shake of your head you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his nose. “no, because you’re also perfect. we’re perfect for each other. what’s the name of that song you wrote about us?” you ask him with a squeeze of his hand even though you know damn well what the name of the song is. 

“soulmate,” he says shyly, stroking your knuckles and focusing on them instead of your face. 

you smile solemnly at him and use your intertwined hands to pull him closer. his eyes drag up to yours, lingering on your smile for a moment. “exactly, because that’s what we are. we’re meant to be together forever, i will never find anybody better for me than you,” you say seriously.

“what if i can’t give you the future that you want?” eddie asks insecurely. 

you lean forward, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “the only future i want is with you,” you whisper with raised eyebrows, as if daring him to challenge you. eddie gives you a sad smile, another group of tears falling from his eyes.

you wipe them away before pulling him into a longer, more passionate kiss. “i love you,” he mumbles into your lips.

with a smile, you mumble back, “i love you, too.” you thread your fingers into his long hair, letting out a small sigh into his mouth. eddie uses his hand on the side of your neck to keep your lips on his, drinking you in as if he was dying from dehydration. you two kiss until you have to pull apart in order to catch your breath, chests heaving. 

you place your hand on his chest, looking at him in pure admiration. “if you’re a monster, then i think we’re definitely in a beauty and the beast type of love,” you say with a fond smile. eddie chuckles at that, comforted by your attempt to lighten the mood.

“you definitely are my beauty,” he says in a love-drunk type way, stroking your jaw with his thumb. 

a smirk falls on your face, as an idea comes into your mind. “do you think the beast is good at sex?” you ask teasingly.

eddie raises his eyebrows at you, a knowing smile falling onto his face. “oh, i know he is,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder to make you lay flat on your back. “want to find out?” he questions, climbing on top of you and nestling himself between your legs you so kindly spread open for him.

you giggle, wrapping your hands around his neck and playing with his curls. “i definitely do,” you say, and eddie wastes no time diving down to attach your lips once more. this time, they clash with more need but with just as much if not more love seeping into it. eddie wastes no time letting his hand wander inside your shirt, caressing your body as if it were a delicate statue. 

his palm covers your breast, his fingers squeezing you in the most delightful way. you let out a moan into his mouth, arching your chest into his hand. eddie bites on your lower lip, asking for entrance which you don’t hesitate in granting. moments later his fingers begin pinching and twisting your nipple, sending a wave of arousal towards your core. “mm, eddie,” you hum into his mouth, tugging back on his hair making him groan. 

eddie separates your lips, pulling back and grabbing the sides of your (his) shirt and giving you a look as if to tell you to sit up. you do so, letting him take off the piece of clothing and let it drop onto the floor. even though he’s seen them millions of times, his hands go straight to your boobs as he plays with them. he pushes them around before pinching at both your nipples, causing you to let out a moan as your head falls back. “my pretty girl,” he says to you, massaging your tits before leaning down to reattach your lips. you hum, grabbing the sides of his face as he uses one hand to hold himself up and the other to play with your tits. 

you buck your hips up against his, desperate for some friction. eddie grunts into your mouth, biting down on your lip as he ruts into your heat. his tongue then continues mingling with yours as he begins a steady rhythm of grinding into you. you let out small gasps into his mouth when he hits your clit just right with his clothed member. his hand then falls from your breasts down to your small shorts. he teases the waistband for just a moment before detaching your lips to hook his fingers into them and your panties and pulling them off in one swift motion. you replace your legs on either side of him as he removes his own boxers and settles between you once more.

eddie this time attaches his lips to your jaw, placing kisses along it as his fingers fall down to your mound. two gather some arousal at your entrance and drag up to your clit, dancing in small circles. “oh, yes,” you moan, cradling eddie’s head as he begins sucking and biting at the tender skin where your neck and jaw meet. eddie smiles into your skin, always loving when he was able to make you feel good. 

he stops rubbing sweet circles at your clit and pushes his fingers down to your entrance. “ready?” he asks into your skin, moving to start leaving another love bite on you. you nod, tugging on his hair as you’re rolling your hips against his fingers. “desperate girl,” he laughs into you and then pushes his fingers in slowly. you whine lowly at the feeling as he sinks in to his knuckles.

“so good, eddie, so good,” you say in content, letting your head fall back as he begins thrusting his fingers into you. he smiles, moving back up to your lips as he finger fucks you. you let out small moans into his mouth as he changes between thrusting, curling his fingers, and scissoring them as he got you prepped and ready for him. the warm walls of your pussy welcomed eddie’s fingers as if they were home which they practically were. eddie loved the way your velvet walls felt against his fingers as he slowly worked more and more drips of arousal out of your gorgeous pussy. but, he loved the way you felt around his cock even more. 

he swallowed your moans, curling his fingers inside of you until he felt you were ready for him. but, you were getting needy and wanted him to finally get something good too. “baby?” you moan in question.

“mhm?” he hums, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before pulling away. 

you shiver as his fingers brush your sweet spot, but you didn’t want to cum this way. “i’m ready, need you inside me now,” you say, brushing his hair back so you can once again hold his beautiful face. 

eddie smiles, removing his fingers and using the slick on them to stroke his cock a few times. “you sure, baby?” he asks, waiting for an extra confirmation. you nod, reaching down to grab his hand that was holding his hard dick. “anything for my princess,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead before guiding his head through your folds. you assist him in pressing his tip into your waiting hole and the both of you let out short moans. eddie slowly sinks into you, letting you adjust to him before leaning over you and pushing all the way in.

“fuck,” you murmur, reaching around and holding his back. you tap his shoulder, giving him the go ahead to start thrusting and he begins withdrawing his hips from yours. he starts with small, shallow thrusts as he takes in the feeling that he’d never get tired of. your pussy clenching around him, sucking him back in and keeping him warm as he made you both feel so good. 

you hooked your ankles around his ass, pulling him closer to you as he dipped his head down into your neck. “feel so good, pretty baby,” he groans into your neck, peppering kisses. 

“mm, harder,” you moan, eyes closing in pleasure. eddie complies, pulling his hips further, leaving it so only his tip was left inside you before snapping them back forward and slamming into you. he lets out a shudder at the feeling as your nails dig into his back. he repeats this, reveling in the feeling of you spasming around him. 

your heels dig into his ass slightly, signaling him to pick up his pace. “getting close, already, babygirl?” he asks through breaths, beginning to fuck you at a steady pace.

you whimper, grasping his back as his cock hits deeply inside of you. “want to,” you moan in his ear. he grumbles, snapping his hips in particularly harshly before returning to his pace. he felt the pull begin in his naval, causing him to groan. 

“feel so perfect, so good for me, made for me,” he mutters in your ear, picking up the pace of his hips. you twitch in reaction to his words, heat further flooding your core as the knot in your stomach began to tighten.

you cling to him as your life depends on it, living for this calmer than normal sex you were having. this wasn’t sex, no, this was making love. and you couldn’t help but crave it. “my boy, my perfect boy, fuck you fuck so good,” you whine, moving one hand to tangle in his curls. eddie groans at your praise, moving his weight to one arm so he can move a hand to your clit. you gasp at the contact and thrust down onto eddie’s cock.

eddie moves his fingers at the same speed of his thrusts, feeling his high approaching quickly. “you getting close baby? want you to cum- fuckkk, want us to cum together,” eddie moans, feeling you clench around him. 

your head is thrown back into your pillow, whole body rocking with his thrusts as his fingers assault your clit. “m’close, baby, want you to cum in me,” you say to him.

eddie moans at your words. “you sure, darling? i can cum in you?” he asks for reassurance, his hips picking up speed as he drives his cock as deep as it will go. 

“shit, yes, i’m close,” you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulder blade, hand wound tightly in his curls, and legs holding him impossibly close to you. 

eddie grunts, chasing his own high, the pull in his naval becoming more and more prominent. “almost there baby, almost there,” he says, closing his eyes and letting the feelings take him over. you mewl as your legs begin shaking, signaling you were close. eddie moans, his breath hot against your skin as his cock twitches. “you gonna cum? c’mon baby, i’m right there,” he grunts desperately, knowing he was about to tip over the edge. he presses down on your clit more as you cry out.

your pussy pulses as you feel the brink of your orgasm hit you. “yes! i’m cumming, shit,” you cry, eyes rolling back into your head. your back arches off the bed, pressing your chest to eddie’s as your legs tremble, pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock as waves of white hot heat flood your body.

simultaneously, eddie’s hips falter, his cock spurting out his first string of cum deep inside you. he ruts into your clenching pussy helplessly as you milk him, more and more of his cum filling you up as the arm holding him up begins shaking. his mouth is fallen open, a string of low moans leaving his mouth as they mingle in the air with your high pitched whines. “fuck, i love you, y/n,” he grunts, as he rides through the end of his high.

“i- oh, i love you, eddie,” you whimper, whole body shaking as the last waves of your orgasm roll through you. the two of you fall limp, panting and touching each other everywhere possible as you try to regain yourself. 

eddie winces as he finally pulls out of you, you feeling his cum seep out causing you to shut your eyes in pleasure. eddie brings his mouth to yours, catching your lips in a kiss much softer than those previous. “mm, just as i thought, amazing at sex,” you say as he pulls away, running your hand through his now frizzy hair. eddie smiles at you confidently, pressing one more kiss to your lips. 

“come on, my princess, time to go clean up,” he says, patting the side of your thigh before getting up. he helps you stand, your legs feeling like jello from the sex you just had, and holds you up as you both walk to your en suite. you used the bathroom and both you and eddie freshen up with the help of some rags and then make your way back into your bed.

eddie tucks you into his chest after you flick off your lamp and you sigh contently. “i love you, so, so much, eddie,” you say, looking up at him. 

“and i love you so much more,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your eyes. you cuddle into him, closing your eyes and letting sleep take over you. eddie does the same, after taking a few extra minutes to appreciate just how much he cares about you. 

#stranger things eddie #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things 4 #munson #stranger things smut

[adoptable-fanfic-prompts]

Danny Phantom + DC Writing Prompt

I know, so ‘original’. Anyway, the idea is as follows:

Danny is the son of Batman (I know, shocker 😂). He can also be the son of Talia or someone else (although this idea would probably work better if Danny is the full-blooded older brother of Damian).

At some point in time, he finds out that Bruce is his dad. He gets in contact and it’s decided he’ll spend the summer in Gotham at Wayne Manor. Unfortunately, when he is preparing to head over and when he is taking a plane to Gotham, Bruce ‘dies’ (aka, disappears into the time stream). By the time Danny gets to Gotham, no one realizes that he is supposed to be there. So, he manages to find his way to Wayne Manor.

When he gets there, he meets Tim, who is storming out after his argument with Dick Grayson (after the reveal that Dick gave Robin to Damian). Because of this meeting, he doesn’t meet the rest of the Wayne family and instead decides to join Tim with looking for Bruce (can be because he phased into the batcave and saw everything, could be because he thinks Bruce could potentially come back as a ghost, whatever reason).

Tim doesn’t want Danny there at first and proceeds to ditch him but Danny (using his powers) manages to find Tim pretty quick (this may lead to Tim questioning if Danny is like Damian but is putting an act of ‘friendliness’ on to distract Tim before murdering him). Tim reluctantly allows Danny to join since he can’t ditch him. Eventually, he learns that Danny is Phantom. Red Robin comic proceeds but with Danny’s assistance (and some assistance from Tucker and Sam behind the scenes (tech and cash)).

Danny meets Ra’s Al-Ghul after Tim loses his spleen. If the writer decides to make Danny related to the al-Ghul’s, then Ra’s will take an interest in his missing grandson (if not related, he gains interest upon learning of Danny’s powers). Danny begins learning there (academics and physical training. Finds out he’s actually smart when not fighting ghosts most of the time). Ra’s is interested in making either Tim or Danny his heir.

Red Robin continues with Danny interference.

Upon Bruce Wayne’s return, Danny returns back to Amity Park (it is the end of summer). Tim decides to visit him regularly and slowly begins to drift from Gotham to Amity. The other Bats pick up on this and decide to investigate. They learn about Danny and Bruce remembers that he had plans to have Danny stay in Gotham over the past summer (the trip down the time stream messed with his memories and he forgot some of what happened before he vanished). They decide to meet Danny and Danny, who elects to be a little shit, decides to pretend he doesn’t know the Wayne’s are vigilantes and makes comments about how Bruce ditched him to go on ‘vacation’ or to manage his business (excuses given for Bruce’s disappearance) and that the others thought themselves too good to meet him (or something of that degree, not sure).

That’s pretty much it for this idea. Only other things to know is that it doesn’t t need to be Phantom Planet compliant and mainly takes place during the Red Robin comic.

#dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #writing #writing prompt #fanfic #fanfic idea #fanfic ideas #fanfic prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #tim drake #red robin #batman #dc comcis #dcmultiverse #danny Fenton is a wayne

[pyramid-of-starrs]

seriously I'm so interested in your story about vampire minho and biting likeeee cannot wait ❣️

The Mansion in the woods

Kinktober request: 5 Vampire Leeknow, Biting

Pairing: Vampire LeeKnow x afab reader

Summary: You decided to take a scary camping trip with your friends and end up exploring the mansion in the woods. You find a ring that changes the entire course of your life.

Word Count: 3.0K

Kink: Biting

Warning: Biting, blood, fangs, unprotected sex

A/N: I was on vacation but I'm back lol, this isn't great but enjoy!

Minors dni

"Okay Y/N you're next, truth or dare?" I.N asked as he took a swig of his beer and asked as the fire cracked louder, the cold fall winds blew but the alcohol and blazing campfire kept you and your friends warm. The sweater given to you by your crush Han also kept you pretty cozy. You and a few of your friends decided to do a random camping trip this fall and when your best friend Yuna told you that Han and his friends would be there you were all in. After a long day of failed fishing and hiking you and your friends ate then the boys made a fire for everyone to sit around, a few shots and beers later you all started playing truth or dare, Chan having to jump in the freezing river naked and Lia having to tell the truth about her and Felix, now it was your turn.

"Dare." You answered trying to seem cool for everyone.

"Hmm... I dare you to spend the night at that creepy mansion in the woods." Right, the whole reason you were there in the first place, Changbin had heard a rumor about this older mansion deep in the woods and suggested that the group all go visit it. Yeji and a few of the other girls said it would be too scary, so the group landed on just camping nearby.

"By herself ?? Nah man pick something else." Han interjected, it made your face hot the way he jumped in to protect you.

"Then you go with her bodyguard Han." Chan said in a mocking tone.

"Why don't you go since you're the one suggesting it." Ryujin jumped in, everyone started to argue back and forth then you spoke up.

"Why don't we all go, it could be like a test of courage to see who can stay the longest, that was originally supposed to be the point of this trip anyways right?" when you finished talking everyone looked around at each other.

...

After about a 15 minute walk the group made it, everyone stood in front of the abandoned home after all the boys worked together to pry the mansions rusted gates open.

"Well... ladies first." Seungmin said then Changbin punched him in the arm.

"Come on guys, it can't be that bad right?" Hyunjin said looking at everyone hoping someone would agree. After much hesitation the group finally entered the house. The foyer was dusty but overall, the house was actually in much better shape than you thought it would be outside of the dust, vines and cobwebs. Everyone ventured deeper into the home, eventually everyone split up into their own groups, your heart was racing from fear but also because now you were alone with Han.

"Stay behind me Y/N, here hold my hand." Han reached his hand back for you to grab it as you both continued to walk but you tripped over a deep crack in the floor and fell on top of him instead. That's how you ended up here on top of your crush, both of you just gazing at each other.

"S-sorry, I tripped." You stuttered out, your brain started to short circuit.

"Y/N I.N told me you liked me, is that true?" he looked directly into your eyes and your face was flushed.

"Y-yeah."

Han wasted no time after your confirmation and kissed you, once you were over your state of shock you kissed him back, leaning deeper into him, you didn't think your first time with Han would be on the dirty floor of a possibly haunted mansion but the way he was gripping your ass and his tongue was exploring your mouth who knows. As the kiss continued the door to the room flew open and it startled the both of you, you looked back to see Chan with the group of your friends.

"See, I told ya'll they were fucking not killed by a ghost." Seungmin said, embarrassment written all over your face. You got up and helped Han up on the way up.

"Well, I'm so glad you two were in here getting chummy, come on lets go Ryujin fell and twisted her ankle, so we have to take her back to base camp." Chan said, you looked over to see Changbin holding Ryujin on his back. The group exited the room and left you and Han there.

“Let's head back then." He looked at you and smiled, while on your way out you saw a something bling in the corner of your eye under one of the chairs in the room, as Han continued out the room you ran over to investigate, it was a ring with a dark purple jewel in the middle, something about it was so alluring. You picked it up and it was almost like a voice telling you to put the ring on, you slid it onto your ring finger, and it fit perfectly, suddenly the rooms temperature drastically dropped, before you could acknowledge it Han called your name and you left.

...

It's been a week since the camping trip and everything was back to normal, you hadn't talk to Han about the kiss but honestly that was the last thing on your mind right now. You have barely been able to sleep since that day, always feeling like someone is watching you in the distance even when you are home alone or in your room, hearing a very random yet familiar voice in your head trying to tell you something and you keep having dreams about a man, a very handsome man that you never met before. The dream would be about you in the house in the forest, when you walked in the man just stood there with beautiful silver hair and gorgeous red eyes, you know you've never met this man before yet his aura felt so familiar, every time you tried to get closer to him you were awaken from your sleep. Later that night you decided that tonight would be the night that you would confront the man in your dreams. You laid down for bed and there you were, back in the forest standing in front of the abandoned mansion, when you walked through the doors you saw him standing at the top of the stairs looking down at you.

"W-who are you?" you yelled out, however that man didn't respond, instead he continued to watch you with a grin on his face.

"What do you want? Are you the one that's been watching me ?" again no response.

"Do you know me?" he slightly giggled at your question and stopped toying with you.

"Come back to see me if you want me to answer your questions my love." He walked away, his figure disappearing into the dark hallways of the mansion, before you could ask any more you were woken up, you were drenched in sweat and your mouth was dry, you needed to find out who this mystery man was.

...

You couldn't wait anymore and took a cold shower to wash off your sweat then got dressed and headed to the woods. You found yourself standing in front of the mansion door, you pushed the old door open and entered the foyer like in your dreams. You stood in the middle of the room and looked around to find no one but the room was chilled, you shivered and flashed your light around the room to find nothing.

"Hello?" you yelled out, no response but there was a whisper.

"Come to me my love..." You heard the voice echo, it came from up the stairs. You walked up the stairs, you felt beckoned to the master bedroom, you could see a light coming from under the door. You entered the bedroom, it was a decorated room with a large bed with red and black sheets and a comforter, the room with had electricity and was the only part of the house that was warm.

"Hello?" you called out again, that when the door to the connected bathroom open, steam seeped out and a man with a towel on came out. He had another towel to dry his wet hair, he tossed it to the side then gripped the towel sitting on his waist.

"You've finally arrived my love." the man’s cat like sharp eyes met yours and it made your heart skip a beat.

"Wh-who are you?" you asked hesitantly.

The man walked over to you, he stopped just in front of you, the room got cold, but you could feel the heat of his damp body. You looked down as your face started to heat up, he placed his fingers on your chin and lifted your face.

"Your heart, mind and body didn't tell you beloved ? I am the man of your dreams."

Thats when your eyes got wide, and you darted your eyes to his.

"It's you... you're the guy from my dreams, how? Why? What are y-" before you could spew anymore questions, he silenced you by kissing your lips. Though the kiss caught you off guard you didn't stop him at first since the kiss felt warm and welcoming, this wasn't like the kiss you shared with Han, for some reason this had meaning. Eventually you pushed off of him, his body stayed firm, and you took steps back.

"What are you doing?!" you demanded an answer, the man giggled at you.

"I guess I'll introduce myself, I am Minho, the owner of this house and your fiancé." as he talked, you lifted your eyebrow at the last part.

"Fiancé???" you questioned, and he smiled.

"Yes my love, fiancé, the ring you put on that you found in our home, it's an enchanted item I brought with me from home, it's meant to only be able to be worn by my soulmate, meaning only my true love can wear it, Truthfully I lost it years ago and gave up on finding love. I thought I was damned to roam this world alone for an eternity, that is until you came along and found it. Once you slipped it onto your lovely finger, we became soul bonded." He moved his hand from your chin to cup you hand bring it to his lips to kiss the ring, the beautiful purple jewel on the ring glowed for a moment and your heart started to beat faster.

"Wait, what do you mean for eternity... what are you?" Minho knew the question would come up at some point but he was surprised you caught on so fast, many humans can't tell he isn't one of them, instead of answering you he flashed his red eyes and open his mouth slightly, his k9 teeth began to grow into fangs and his nails grew into sharp talons. You stepped back a bit to drink in his slightly different appearance.

"Oh my god so you're saying accidentally soul bonded myself to a fucking vampire?" you said as you started to panic.

" Well, I'm old fashioned and prefer the name Nosferatu but yes vampire works as well. It's funny when I lured you and your friends to my manor my only intention was to drain you all but finding you, my love, was the ultimate outcome, I'll even forgive you for kissing that peasant human boy." His teeth and nails reverted back to normal, and he walked over to the bed to sit down.

"Right, Han... I've been so focused on thinking about you that I haven't went to see him... so, what happens now?" You questioned.

"Well, before we can marry, I have to turn you so we can spend our lives together." once he finished, he waved his hand for you to come closer, so you walked over to him.

"How would you do that, do you just bite me?" He smiled at you once you finished your question.

"Yes, but don't worry." He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his lap, he crossed his hands over your waist and placed his lips on your neck, you were both facing the same direction so you couldn't see what he was doing which made you feel shy. "I'll make this fun for both of us."

Minho reached his hand into your pants and slowly ran his fingers over your panty covered clit, a soft moan left your lips as his other hand reached for your breast and began to gently massage your fleshy mound. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder exposing you beautiful neck to him, a devious smile flashed on his face. you had your eyes closed then you felt a sting sensation on your neck and a feeling of liquid running down, you yelped at the pain but the sensation felt amazing, Minho had sunk his teeth into you, he removed his fangs from your neck and he started to lick up the blood, before you could enjoy the feeling of his tongue fully a burning sensation rushed through your body.

"Ah, Minho... I feel so hot." you said as you felt your body heating up and becoming more sensitive, suddenly the feeling of his fangs touching you and was driving you crazy.

"Don't worry beautiful, that’s just my venom entering your blood stream, I have to bite you a few more times so you can be nice and full of me." once he finished his moved his hands from your core to your waistband to inch your panty and pants off, you helped him because you wanted him, right now. Once your pants were off you spread your legs wide for him, he moved his fingers back to your core, you hadn't noticed how wet you were for him as he slid his 2 fingers into you with ease. Your moans could be heard throughout the empty mansion as he continued to work his digits in and out of your needy cunt and his tongue danced around the new holes on your neck until he kissed his way to your shoulder blade. The pace of his fingers sped up, your moans getting louder as you felt your climax on the rise, your hips bucked as you felt his pipe hard length growing under his towel, he detached his lips from your shoulder.

"Cum for me my love." He continued to pump his fingers into you, as you focused on how amazing his fast pace felt, you felt him bite into your shoulder, you yelled out a string of moans feeling your shoulder throb with pain as his fangs dug deep into you. You covered his fingers in cum as he pulled them out slowly and brought them to your lips, he didn't need to say anything you opened wide and took his digits into your hot mouth as you sucked all of your slick off of them, he popped his fingers from your mouth and you huffed and puffed heavily. You had never felt this way before, your entire body was hot like you had a fever, yet you were shivering, all you wanted was Minho, he was the only thing on your mind, the only want.

"Please, Minho, please fuck me, I need you so bad, I need your dick in me please." you started to beg, a tear sat at the corner of your eyes as you continued to buck your hips, your pussy was leaking and needy still.

"Of course my queen, I'll fill you up with my venom and my cum." he gently laid your hot body back onto the bed and crawled up to you, he clicked the bedside lamp off and removed the remainder of your clothes along with his towel, he couldn't help but to stop and stare as he looked over your body as it shined in the moonlight. "How was I so lucky to find such a beautiful wife." Your face heated up as he complimented you.

"When I take you home one day everyone will be so jealous of my beautiful wife, so perfect and made just for me." He continued as he gripped your legs and pulled you closer them placed them on his shoulders. He lined his dick up with your entrance then slowly sank into you, you felt like screaming, the sensation was like no other, you needed every inch of him in you, you felt feral like a wild animal in heat, he bottomed out in you then watched your face to make sure you were comfortable.

"Please, Minho, fuck me, break me." You begged, and he listened, he didn't waste another second and started to drill into you deeply, his long dick reaching your spot easily as he beat down your gummy walls with no hesitation.

"I'm going to make you all mine Y/N, would you like that?" he groaned out as your walls squeezed him.

"Yes please~ Make me all yours Minho, I want to be yours, I want to belong to only you." He hissed at your words, his pace becoming sloppy and animalistic, your tears started to flow as he pounded into, he drew his fangs once again you watched his eyes glow as his pupils split like a cat then he bit into your thigh, you yelled out once again as you came, you felt a rush of his seed begin to spill into your core, it was hot as he filled you up, he removed his teeth from your thigh and sucked and licked your blood, he wiped your blood from his mouth then laid next to you.

You both breathed heavily then you cupped his face and kissed him deeply, the metallic taste of your blood still on his tongue, you pulled back the kiss then pulled him into your body, he pulled the covers over your naked forms and held you tightly.

"Minho, I love you?" you said.

"I love you too beautiful and please, you can call me Lino, Minho is my royal court name." he said as he kissed your forehead

"Royal court??"

"I'll explain it later."

#kinktober 2023 #writenbypyramidofstars #leeknow smut #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #lee minho smut #lino smut #lino x reader #minho x you #minho smut #skz smut #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut

[terezipyropescrocs]

saw the barbie movie and am finally free to be a Hater on main without being accused of criticizing something without having watched it- anyway here is a non-exhaustive list of my Thoughts

this movie could have been nothing but fun dance numbers :(

i will say.........i like the costumes and barbieland set design. comparatively the way the real world is shot is so drab and visually uninteresting imo which. i don't feel is great given how much time we spend in it and that barbie ends up living there

the fact that barbies are supposedly affected by the people playing with them but they all act like..... That. just how shallow do they think kids imaginations are? why is there only one "weird" barbie???

admittedly i've never been to LA so maybe i'm completely off-base here but am i expected to believe that ken is automatically respected and admired (but not ogled! with no undertones of violence!) just for existing while my man is constantly dressed like he walked straight from a pride parade

on that note there was a lot of queer subtext/references but it was all very... wink wink nudge nudge in a way that honestly felt a little, idk, uncomfortable to me? but nothing overtly inclusive or even that subversive really

like with the construction workers scene i honestly can't tell if this was meant to be a trans positive moment or just a joke about them being dolls but if so it's like. you have these sexist catcallers but they support trans identities...? literally just as incoherent as everything else going on in this movie

why is barbie simply allowed to walk right into a school cafeteria

gloria and her daughter's relationship and the conflict between them was... very ill defined aside from the apparently all consuming and ever present suffocation of Womanhood™ like wtf is with sasha's line about hating women being the one thing everyone agrees on???? it's the kind of pseudo-pithy cynicism-laced quote that i would expect from a bitter 50s housewife or aging hollywood star, not a teenage girl who, idk, overuses buzzwords?

actually come to think of it pretty much all the female relationships in this movie are very surface-level and hinge almost exclusively on their shared gender identity and not much else!

the fact that all of the barbies were brainwashed to the point where they couldn't even remember their own achievements from ken mansplaining the patriarchy to them.......... and the fact that this is """explained""" with a fucked up and insensitive smallpox joke......... i am mad enough to spit tacks actually

pretty much the only thing i could think of during gloria's big feminist speech and subsequent appeals to the brainwashed barbies is that nothing she's saying actually applies to any of the dolls' experiences "You have to be their mommies but not remind them of their mommy." they don't have parents gloria

the use of push by matchbox twenty in the context of the movie sure is a Choice, seeing as the singer based it off a relationship where he was being emotionally abused by his girlfriend but had the lyrics widely misinterpreted as misogynistic.... anyway.

the way that all of the kens (and even allan) resort to violence and all of the barbies defeat them using manipulation and ~feminine wiles~.. thanks i hate it

i did like how the kens seemed to overcome their differences through singing and holding hands. also fellas is it toxic masculinity to want your girlfriend To see the man behind the tan / And fight for me?

confused by ken's "kenough" revelation from talking to barbie because he.... literally just sang all of that? I’m just Ken / And I’m enough / And I’m great at doing stuff / So, hey, check me out / Yeah, I’m just Ken is that all supposed to be just bravado? it's the same message but he needed barbie to articulate it to him for it to sink in. hm.

feel like barbie's motives for wanting to live in the real world could have been explored better because tbh... the pitch wasn't great!

like her arc is genuinely: experience insecurity for the first time ever because someone else was projecting it onto her > get over said insecurity (that till this point she had never struggled with) because that same person made a speech > gynecologist

not that gloria, the woc who all of barbie's issues represent and originated from gets any kind of satisfying resolution of her own other than pitching "everyday barbie"

the fact that barbie gaining an expanded range of emotions, many of which are negative, indicates that she is no longer a barbie and has to live in the real world to be fufilled- even though all of the insecurities barbie gained from entering a world that doesn't value her and not having a specific career, ken already HAD. men are automatically more human by default ig!!!

people saying that whole point of the ending is that barbieland is a mirror to the real world and the kens will only gain equality when women do as if it's not explicitly stated that the kens have LESS power and influence then women under the patriarchy... but that's fine because the barbies are nicer then men in the real world and kens have to earn their rights because we don't want to reward bad behavior and they need to prove their competence first /s

saw some other butches mention this but the fact that sasha dresses increasingly feminine to represent her character growth and overcoming internalized misogyny is an unfortunate trope

there was absolutely nothing that made me go "oh!!!" as a fan of the animated barbie movies + life in the dreamhouse, or someone who has the most basic understanding of barbie lore (they have one version of midge, skipper, and allan, but no chelsea, teresa, nikki, RAQUELLE, etc.?)

"stereotypical barbie" Her Name Is Barbara Millicent Roberts

#texts #barbie critical #barbie spoilers