#everyone's freaking out and Wild's thinking it's fine

[tashacee]

I think I already sent this but idk, tumblr glitchy sometimes lol

Anyway, I can’t find the post where this idea first appeared so I’m not trying to take credit. Basically the person said something like “I think it’d be funny if when the chain was together Wild could still just eat food to recover. So he’s bleeding out and they all are freaking out but then he just starts shoveling 15 apples down his throat and all his injuries start closing up and everything and the chain just looks at him like he gained three heads.”

So I thought a mini scenario would be funny. So they’re all fighting a hoard of monsters, and Wild has a bunch of cuts and bruises and whatnot but he’s still fighting. All of a sudden Twilight is about to get impaled so Wild jumps in front of him (self sacrificing idiot lol). He goes down bleeding out profusely as Twilight screams and cries thinking he’s about to die on him.

“Nonononono! You can’t die on me!!”

“Twi-“

“Shhh! Y-you’ll be ok! Don’t use your energy. It-it’s fine! I have a potion!”

Twilight dumps his whole pack on the ground and grabs a red potion. He uncorks it and tries to give it to Wild, but he pushes it away.

“Don’t…need…”

Twilight is absolutely panicking thinking Wild is slipping mentally.

“Wild, you have to! It’s the only solution. I don’t have a fairy!”

Hyrule has also seen what’s going on and has sprinted over to try and heal him but Wild grips his hands and tries pushing them away too.

“St-“ coughs up blood “Stop Hyrule…slate…”

Twilight and Hyrule are looking at each other through their tears, confused.

“Wild, we have a red potion right here. You don’t need your slate.”

“Y-yes…I do!” Knowing they won’t just give it he says “Have…fairy!”

Which isn’t a lie. He does, he just doesn’t plan on using it. So finally Twilight reaches for Wild’s slate and hands it to him. Wild swipes quickly through his slate and just keeps clicking on apples with one hand while shoving them down his throat with the other hand. During this process everyone has come over and all are crying thinking he’s gonna die soon. After like 10 apples they start seeing changes: his cuts and bruises are fading and his huge stab wound is closing. After another 10 he’s completely healed. After he finishes they all look at him like “WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED?!” There’s still one monsters left that they neglected for Wild and so he gets up, kills it like normal, and walks back over to everyone, who are all still just staring at where he just was laying on the ground bleeding out, frozen in place.

“Uh…guys…? I’m over here…hello…? I killed the last monster by the way.” Wild tries to get their attention but they won’t move an inch. Eventually he gives up and goes to start dinner. He makes everything like normal but at the end he says with a smirk, “Alright, so I’ll take it that y’all want a whole jar of Goron spice too?”

That snaps everyone out of their stupor and they all jump up and scream a “Nooo!” Unanimously.

The end.

Though they definitely have questions at dinner.😂

this is perfect. No notes. Fabulous. I have nothing more i can add to this cause it's WONDERFUL

#it me #replies

[lovebugism]

hi!! shy!reader with eddie and love confession???

ty for requesting xoxo — eddie tells you he (doesn't) have a crush on you at a party (shy!fem!r, friends to lovers, 0.8k)

The local freak is greeted with thunderous applause.

Eddie’s late, fashionably so. His hair is wild, his eyes are smudged black, and his smile is lopsided. He makes the rounds across the dimly lit living room, acknowledging just about everyone he sees, and gets handed a drink along the way.

You feel strangely honored when he decides to settle next to you.

He plops down on the couch beside you — where you’ve been alone for some minutes now — with enough vigor to jostle the cushions below you. He doesn’t bother to leave anything more than an inch of space between your thighs. He throws his arm over the back of the couch and flashes a crooked pink smile your way.

“Hi,” Eddie greets, all cool as he sips from the plastic cup in his ringed hand.

Your face burns with his attention. You duck your gaze to your lap and fight back a too-big smile. “Hi.”

“How’s it going?”

“Fine,” you hum, peering sweetly beneath your lashes. “You?”

“Awful,” he quips. Then he beams. “Until now, anyway. ‘Cause I missed you.”

His words set your skin ablaze — you think you’d burn him if he touched you just now. Your chest swirls with the billowing flames. You couldn’t hide your giddy smile if you tried. “Missed you, too, Eds.”

The boy huffs. He rolls his eyes, hardly serious, as he says, “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

You shoot him a half-hearted glare, too pretty to be threatening. “There are no other boys, Eddie,” you murmur, visibly shy because he knows that. It’s why he’s smiling so damn big. 

“Good,” he hums with a lazy grin, letting the tension between you linger for a moment. He brings the cup to his mouth for another taste of bitter alcohol. It shines on his rosy lips before he licks it away. After a second or so of silence, he confesses, “‘Cause I kinda like having you all to myself.”

A weird ache settles behind your ribcage. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” you murmur with an averted gaze, anxious hands fidgeting with the solo cup you hold between them. It’s a joke — mostly — but it comes out more serious than you mean it to.

Eddie scoffs. “There are no other girls. You’re the only person in Indiana willing to give a freak a chance, turns out.”

“Is that why you’re sitting here?” you squint, still impossibly sheepish. “Because I’m the only one who’ll give you a chance?”

“I’m sitting here ‘cause you’re the only person in Hawkins I can stand for more than five minutes,” he answers without missing a beat. Then he tilts his cheek to his shoulder and smirks. “So you having a big, fat crush on me was just fate.”

Feeling seen and half-embarrassed, you turn away. “I don’t have a crush on you.”

“Oh. Right,” Eddie says with a slow, sarcastic nod. “The same way, I don’t have a crush on you either, right?”

And it’s so like the both of you — to confess something so deep by not confessing at all.

His grin widens when you roll your eyes. He knocks his leather-clad shoulder against yours but doesn’t try to move away. Still leaning against you, he continues. “Then it might also make you feel better to know that I haven’t been in love with you since tenth grade, either.”

You peek at him, just barely. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “And, you know what? I actually want other girls lookin’ at me.”

“Do you?” you hum and face him fully. 

With your chin to your shoulder, Eddie’s much closer than you thought he’d be. Your noses are mere inches apart. You can smell the whiskey-mint-nicotine concoction on his breath. The proximity makes your head swim.

“‘Cause I don’t see you at all,” he jokes with a dramatic inflection, obviously teasing.

The rest of the world is invisible when I’m with you, he’d say if he weren’t such a coward. It could be falling apart right now, and I wouldn’t even know it.

“Not even a little bit?” you press, lips quirked in a shy smile.

He shakes his head. The wild strands of his hair tickle your jaw. “Not at all,” he answers and prays you understand him in his sarcasm.

You purse your glossed lips to the side of your mouth and turn away from him again. Your cheeks feel on fire as you duck your gaze to the hardly-sipped cup in your lap. “Well, that sucks,” you quip after a few moments of silence. “I thought we had something going here.”

The boy scoffs. He drops his arm from the back of the couch to wrap more fully around your shoulders. The musky scent of his cologne swaddles you the same way his touch does.

“Oh, c’mon,” he croons with a lazy smile. “You know you can’t deny our chemistry.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Didn’t you fail chemistry?”

His lips jut in a soft pout. “I don’t see how that’s—”

“Twice?”

You bite back a grin when he glares playfully at you — the roles now sufficiently reversed.

“Stop being mean. I’m already in love with you,” he grouses with a feigned pout scrunching his flushed features. “Now you’re just rubbing it in.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

[sunderwight]

Crack SVSSS Mpreg AU where when Shen Yuan transmigrates in, the system impregnates him with the displaced soul of the original Shen Qingqiu.

For the purposes of this AU, we'll say that male pregnancies or trans men being pregnant in the PIDW universe are uncommon but not especially noteworthy concepts.

So now not only does he have to deal with recovering from his qi deviation and of course being pressed into the role of the scum villain from the novel he was just reading, he's also mysteriously knocked up, can't explain it, and doesn't even know for sure if the baby will recollect being Shen Jiu when its born -- and of course hate him for stealing the Shen Qingqiu life.

What's more, Shen Yuan can't bring himself to get rid of it, because he does have mixed feelings about stealing Shen Jiu's life as well. Even though he knows it's probably the best tactical move, and he doesn't even like Shen Jiu, and the system has said there wouldn't be any penalties because it wouldn't impact the major important plot milestones, he opts to just... keep it. And not think too hard about it.

Luckily(?) cultivators have a lot of control over their bodies, which means a pregnancy can last however long they want it to, so Shen Yuan doesn't have to worry about giving birth in a hurry. SJ seems fine in utero, stalling his development doesn't have adverse effects, so Shen Yuan just swears Mu Qingfang to secrecy and figures out how to keep his pregnancy at the early stages for as long as possible while he hashes everything else out. So apart from internal freak-outs, most of the early plot proceeds as usual.

Unluckily(?), this state of affairs changes when Shen Qingqiu gets infected with Without-a-Cure, as that makes it so that putting off the inevitable is no longer a viable course of action. He can't spare the extra energy and doesn't have the stability of cultivation required to mess around with his pregnancy anymore, so things have to proceed at a more normal rate.

Which means the other peak lords and the disciples on Qing Jing find out that Shen Qingqiu has been harboring a secret pregnancy for an undetermined length of time. Shen Yuan has to bite the bullet and use the amnesia excuse to explain his lack of insight to the existence of any other parents (he's surprised it works so well, because he doesn't know that the rest of the sect has already figured out he doesn't remember some things after his fever), which inspires a lot of behind-the-scenes chaos because everyone has ALSO figured out that Shen Qingqiu's amnesia seems to pertain to things that must have traumatized him in the past.

So if he's pregnant, and he lost his memories of how he got that way...

Well. Cang Qiong is now on the hunt for an attacker who might already be dead and doesn't actually exist.

But everyone agrees that Shen Qingqiu doesn't need to be troubled by these details, so if he's okay with not remembering, then they're okay with letting him not remember. The only one who tries to bring it up is Liu Qingge, and that's mostly in the context of wanting clues so he can track down the culprit and stab them until they are dead.

Luo Binghe supports the quest to find the persona responsible and violently murder them, but as a disciple he has no resources to actually go on some wild goose chase for a mystery rapist. Besides, he has more important things to do on the peak, like making Shizun's meals, keeping Shizun's house, and preparing to help raise Shizun's baby. Luo Binghe is not going to be the stepdad, he is going to be the dad who stepped up! (Binghe please cool your jets you're like fifteen you're going to give your future shizun whole new inner turmoil about whether it's possible to accidentally babytrap your own teenage disciple via immaculate conception reincarnation pregnancy...)

Anyway eventually baby SJ arrives, and Shen Yuan immediately decides to block all recollections of the childbirth process and never dwell on it again. Something happened, he's no longer going to think about it, oh look a baby! A potentially evil villain baby. With cute widdle toes and tiny fingers and a squished, grumpy baby face that gets all red when he cries...

Yeah. Despite his reservations, there's no way he's not getting attached.

He gets Binghe to help him pick out a name for the baby, partly because he feels terribly presumptuous when he actually knows this kid's real name (but he can hardly call his son "Shen Jiu"), partly to encourage Luo Binghe to have some fondness for the kid so that if he someday hates his old shizun, he might still spare his "son" from his revenge. Even though it's actually SJ's fault. Well, he's a baby now. He probably doesn't even remember anything! He sure does cry a lot! Would the OG villain cry and fuss and settle down only after being sufficiently cuddled?

Turns out, yes. Shen Jiu remembers everything from before his fatal qi deviation. He's just also still an infant. So what can he do but cry? And maybe pee on the beast and that body-stealing creature that has reduced him to this. He spends most of his early infancy waiting for someone to come smother him with a pillow, but the conspirators must want to keep him alive for some reason, because it doesn't happen. Instead he gets looked after and soothed and taken care of in a way he never has been. Also, his stupid baby instincts keep insisting that the creature which stole his body is actually the safest person in the whole world.

It's like a cruel joke. SJ finally gets the childhood he always wanted deep down inside, but the one giving it to him is some kind of monster.

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain #bingqiu #mpreg #long post #sj's gonna be a toddler by the time the abyss arc rolls around #that's gonna be a whole entire mess

[uplatterme]

all out?

—sub!scara/dom!reader, amab!reader | office sex, exhibitionism

—not beta read so excuse some mistakes if there are any TT

honestly, scaramouche should have seen this coming.

he stares at his empty cabinet, dumbfounded that there’s nothing inside it. surely not…

the balladeer wants to scream. just his luck, that it happened today too, when there’s a meeting scheduled that he cannot skip.

“fuck.”

the harbinger walks through the chilling halls of the zapolyarny palace. the cold has never bothered him in any shape or form, yet today proves to be an exception.

there are lower-ranked fatui passing by, hastily running off, not wanting to meet his gaze. an action that he isn’t unfamiliar to.

he hisses and stops when a certain ginger blemishes his view.

“looks like someone’s having a bad day!” he greets.

for a moment there, scaramouche thinks that he’s caught red-handed. not until he realizes that the youngest harbinger couldn’t have possibly seen through his facade.

“you’re deafeningly loud.” he bites back, continuing his steps despite the aching in his lower half.

“ah, still the same as ever. not that im surprised.” he says, chuckling echoing through the halls.

“the meeting’s to start in a few, although the director and the overseer hasn’t arrived yet.” tartaglia informs.

he flushes at the mention of your title, the one behind this problem that he’s facing right now.

“hello?” he calls out.

“can you learn to shut up just at least once?!” he yells.

currently, he sits on the chair provided for him, next to pulcinella and sandrone. as long as he doesn’t get seated next to that blue-haired freak, he considers any situation to be pleasant.

the door opens with a slam and the rest of the harbingers bow their head as greeting. there you stand, that folder you always carry in your arms and a pen between your fingers.

that’s when the memories comes back to him.

flashes of each time you’ve ripped his underwear with those fingers of yours, the scene claws into his brain as he bows down his head in unison with the others.

it was fine the first time. it was only a one-time thing, after all.

oh, how naive he was thinking that.

he then realizes that it wasn’t a one-time thing, seeing as there’s none of them left in his cabinet, forced to attend this meeting with his cock slapping against his thigh each time he walks.

it’s embarrassing. he seethes at your voice, talking about some topic that he couldn’t give a shit about. he adores when your tone is like that, commanding and strict. the more you speak, the more the harbinger wants to cave in.

his cock presses hardly to his shorts, begging for any kind of attention. unfortunately, he’s forced to endure it. to sit there in agony while he stares at you, giving out orders.

oh, how he wishes that you bend him against the table right now.

he can see it visibly twitch from underneath his clothing. if you were to see this, what would you have done? scaramouche’s imagination runs wild, thinking of how you’d make him take your cock. overusing his body and milking him dry. a doll, whose only purpose is to serve you.

“balladeer?” he snaps back to reality, hearing you mention him.

he bites back a needy whine, feeling everyone’s attention now centered on him.

“yeah?” he spit out, his eyes meeting with yours.

“you’ll be sent off to a separate mission, is that all right with you?”

god, you could ask him to do anything and he’d agree.

“sure.”

when the meeting ends, his body was moving on its own, moving towards you to grab you and pinning you to the wall.

“you! you better take care of this!” he shouts.

you were confused at first but it didn’t take you long to see his cock fully outlined through his tight shorts.

“why should i? you’re the one who decided to attend this meeting like that.”

he groans. he does not have the time for any of your teasing right now.

“you kept tearing through—just, ugh!

fuck me already!”

his voice echoes throughout the room. he would have never expected this kind of situation to happen but he needed you so badly. he’s been hot and bothered ever since this morning.

he lets out a relieved groan once he feels his abdomen pressing on the table.

then, next comes the sound of his shorts being ripped apart. he would have complained about your tendency to tear through his clothes but all the complaints in his head goes away once he feels your fingers digging inside of him.

“hnngghh—fuck, finally. only thing you’re fucking good for—oh god!”

“shit, shit, shit!”

his face presses up on his hands, far too drunk as drool goes down his chin. he’s loving each movement inside of him, the satisfaction and pleasure you give are intoxicating him and he wants more.

his body squirms, his feet constantly misplacing themselves on the floor. his dick leaking precum as you stroke it at a pace, leaving him panting and breathing like a dog who had just gone for a run.

“look at you, all loose already…your body’s just made for fucking, isn’t it? always wanting to prove something when you can just show everybody how much of a cumdump you are.”

scara grunts at your insult (praise?), wanting to spit back something to defend himself. but his body is then shifted around, his back laying on the cold table as you took no time in penetrating his hole.

his mouth is left wide open by the stretch. it burns but god, he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pain. the pain that would soon then transition into pleasure by each. single. thrust.

pounding into him mercilessly, his mouth being covered by his own mouth to desperately hide his cries from enjoying it too much, smiling underneath.

eventually, he just decides to let go. his hands reaching up to fondle his own chest, playing with his nipples while you shape him into your own cocksleeve, his leg up as you wanted better access into fucking him as much as you can.

scara’s so damn loud. of course, he doesn’t notice it. nor does he notice a certain redhead blushing needing to do a double take to see if he’s seeing the right thing.

“f-fill me up! fuck, please!”

“haaah—! more, more!”

after a while, those sentences are no longer coherent as he’s turned to just moaning and whimpering, slurring his words that you can barely understand.

the table is a cum-filled mess, his dick spurting out white as his eyes roll back the furthest they can into his head.

and yet, he doesn’t stop.

even better, he’s started to match your rhythm and grind himself onto you.

there’s a bit of a swelling in his belly from your cum and yet that isn’t seen as a blockade.

each thrust, your cum slipping out of him and back into him and the warm feeling of your stickiness is just enough to send him over the edge.

in the end, he’s left with a satisfied smile. laughing and chuckling while struggling to breathe, his walls aching and not sure if he wants more or to just stop moving for as long as he can.

one thing’s for sure though,

he’s completely forgotten that his shorts are torn apart.

#q #plattered writings #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #sub scaramouche #sub!scara #genshin x reader smut #scaramouche x reader #sub scara #dom reader #dom!reader

[theysaidhush]

noncon/dubcon with any legal enha member? 😭

Roommate!Jake being a freak !

Non/dub-con with Jake. I can sooo imagine this man being so infatuated with you that he would take advantage of you while you’re drunk or sleeping.

So imagine Perv!Roommate!Jake who fell in love with you the very first minute you moved in… And he fell hard. Maybe too hard. On the head. Because now he’s crazy for you. Or just crazy.

🕊 DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT 🕊

Jake’s plan A was easy. Fuck any living and breathing person to make you jealous. Old, young, man, woman, you’ve seen it all come and leave the Australian’s bedroom. You’ve heard them at night. You’ve even seen some of them drink coffee dressed in skimpy outfits or Jake’s shirt. But Jake found out that it wasn’t disturbing you. You were the perfect roommate, doing your chores and never complaining. So the first time you saw one of his one night stand sitting at the table, you asked them with a sickingly sweet smile if they wanted some hot chocolate. Sweet naive and caring you not giving a fuck about befriending the person Jake fucked last night. It made him sick and yet amazed at how perfect you were.

And perfect you were. At least for him. He's convinced himself that you were. Perfect but just for him. So it was the reason why he needed you. When he thought he couldn't fall more for you, you proved him wrong. Cooking him dinner, preparing breakfast, doing his laundry when he forgot to do it. You were the perfect wife. At least, that was what his sick brain would let him think. On the other end, you were just being polite and human. You weren't going to cook yourself something and watch him starve when he came home at two in the morning. But again, Jake had trouble differentiate kindness and love. So he was pretty sure that you were onto him.

Seeing how plan A failed miserably, he decided to start plan B. Being the perfect boyfriend material. Everyone loves boyfriend material right ? Getting up early to prepare breakfast, going out with you to shop for groceries, helping you carry the bag, cook dinner. He was basically thriving at the thought that you were both acting and doing what a normal couple would do. Except that you were just roommates. Maybe even friend now.

So when he saw that you were starting to get comfortable with him, he saw an opportunity. Well, many actually. It all started with him stealing your underwear. He felt sick, but only because it was the first time. The second time he came on your pantie, painting the tissue in white before sniffing it as if it was the better parfume in the store, his guilt evaporated. The third time he jerked off in your bra, imagining your breast wrapping his shaft, he was a goner. But you did not notice, so it was fine.

The second thing he did was taking pictures of you without you knowing - obviously. When you're washing the dishes, he would come behind you and take a nice picture of your ass. There's something about your waist pressed on the counter that makes him go wild. Or when you're under the shower - someone accidentally broke the lock. There's just something about your naked silhouette through the curtain that makes him whine harder when pumping his cock. But the best pictures of all are those when you're bending over or sitting on your knees. At first, it was difficult, he was always too late so he never took the picture at the right time. But with practice - yes, with practice, that's how sick he is - he finally managed to get the right pictures. There's just something about the curve of your ass that makes him thrust harder into your pillow.

The third thing he did was fucking you while you were asleep. You were so nice and naive, getting so comfortable with him after six months of him being nice and pliant with you. He did not bring anyone home during those six months, and yet you were still considering him as a friend. Just a friend. It made him sick. And yet here you were, sleeping with only a shirt covering your small frame. Panties showing when tossing around. You literally asked for what was coming, right ? Right..? The Australian couldn't care less, tho, he was about to take what was his.

He only praised himself when rolling your shirt up and showing your breasts. You did not wake up. The pills he gave you were effective.

You did not moved an inch when he sat on your torso and finally put his hard and leaking dick between your tits, thrusting harder at the feeling of your round breast and soft skin against his cock.

You did not flinched when he painted your face in white, shooting ropes after ropes on your sleeping and unaware face, grinning, moaning and panting like a bitch at how good you made him feel.

You did not moved an inch when he groped your breast, sucking on your hardened nipples while grinding his dick against your naked cunt - your pantie in his back pocket.

Or when he hugged you tight and whimpered in your ears while rutting on you, humping on your pussy like a fucking weirdo, small tears escaping his eyes at how good you were making him feel, how smoothly the tip of his dick was grazing at your cunt everytime his hips would thrust forward.

And nor did you moved when he finally cum, putting just the tip inside your pussy so he could watch his cum leak from the small entrance. As if he really fucked you. Could you blame him, your pussy just looks so pretty with white sperm dripping down your thighs, leaking onto your asshole, pussy glistening with the evidence of his love. He can't help himself but take a picture.

Next time he fucks you you're gonna be awake.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #kpop hard hours #enhypen x reader #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jake x reader #jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #dead dove do not eat #literally don't know how to tag Jake #like should I put Sim Jaeyun or Sim Jake or Jake Sim #anyway #tw noncon

[inkpot909]

First Love Headcanons: Pannacotta Fugo x Reader

↳ Gender neutral reader.

A/n: This was so much fun to write! Fugo is such an interesting character to write for that I couldn’t help but fuss over this one for a good while. I hope y’all enjoy it as well. <3

Warning(s): None.

It started out innocently enough, as Fugo is not the type to fall in love overnight.

Curiosity itself is a perfectly normal reaction to have regarding a new member of Bucciarati’s team. Fugo is no exception to this, as he no doubt harbored questions about you when you initially joined.

That said, his approach is different compared to the others on the team. If you join after Mista, Narancia, and Abbacchio, they do just fine on their own intimating you at the very start.

Past the initial meeting, where some lighthearted hazing is likely to occur from everyone, Fugo sees no reason to contribute to any form of poking and prodding outside of missions. You already have to get used to so many strong personalities at once, after all.

He’s been with Bucciarati since the formation of his team, so he’s quite accustomed to getting used to someone new being around. Hell, if he wasn’t so closed off, he would’ve thought to feel bad for you.

Due to the walls he’s long put up, he prefers to remain observant from afar for a good while. Regardless of when you enter the picture, he’s going to keep his distance.

He’s not as good at reading people as someone like Giorno, but he trusts what he can decipher.

This will likely result in Fugo making some assumptions about you prior to the two of you finding equal footing. Whether or not his judgements turn out correct is unknown to you, as he doesn’t care share them with you to begin with.

This does lead to some aspects of your personality to be surprising to him. Nothing bad, just little details about you that he wasn’t expecting.

Your hobbies may be what’s shocking, or perhaps the type of media you prefer to consume. Little aspects of life and personality that unfold because of how much time the team spends together. The discovery of such things is what likely makes him feel more inclined to get to know you better.

Little by little, Fugo will eventually start including you in conversations and vise versa. Especially when Narancia and Mista are involved, he begins to turn to you it in an attempt to keep himself sane:

Mista and Narancia’s relentless chatter is still intimating.

How can you even approach a guy like Mista? He’s more than proven himself to be the type that says anything and everything that pops into his brain. Although he is certainly the relaxed type, his words can be quite vicious if he’s in the mood to tease and you just so happen to be in his line of sight. Sit him next to a full-time enabler like Narancia, and the two can go off on pretty much any topic imaginable.

Their conversations at the dinner table are wild, spontaneous, and still- even after more than a month of knowing them -manage to catch you off guard. Sometimes it’s thought-provoking and other times… not so much.

Which leads to their current conversation, one you sincerely wish wouldn’t take place while you’re trying to eat.

“I’m just saying-“ Mista argues, waving his fork in the air, “If it promotes a soothing and relaxing environment within the human body, I don’t see why it’s so unbelievable that it could also theoretically resonate with your bowels as well.”

“Yeah, maybe-“ Narancia rolls his eyes, “But that doesn’t mean it’s gonna make you crap your freaking pants! That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous; it’s psychology.” Mista retorts, raising a brow. His smug expression does nothing to convince you, or a bewildered Fugo sitting next to you, his knowledge on the subject. But it is enough to grind Narancia’s gears, which ultimately, is probably the key to his actual intent.

Still… you think, staring at your food with a pinched nose. It’s the brown noise. They’re actually trying to prove or disprove the psychological effects of the brown noise. Why on earth… no, how on earth can either of them discuss such a thing with a straight face?

“What kind of messed up psychoglogy-“

“Psychology,” Fugo cuts in with a sigh.

“-Yeah, whatever,” Narancia dismisses with a wave of his hand, “What kind of messed up psycho-logically are you reading up on?”

Grunting in frustration, Fugo drops his forehead onto the table with an exaggerated thud. Mista and Narancia continue to argue amongst the two of them, but you instead direct your attention to the grumbling blonde.

“Umm… Fugo?” you ask, hesitant to even address him.

He raises his head from the table, looking at you with desperation in his dark violet eyes. “Please don’t tell me you think this is worth discussing.”

You raise both your hands in the air. “Are you kidding? I just wanted to eat, but apparently that’s unheard of here.”

Sighing once more, he runs his hand through his hair. His hand stops at his neck and rubs the back of it. “Trust me, I don’t get them either,” he shakes his head, hand finally returning to his lap, “I’m glad you don’t encourage this nonsense, though.”

You let out a chuckle, a little surprised. Sure, you’ve spoken with Fugo before, but hardly ever this casually. The notion brings a tiny smile to your face. “I can’t believe you’d ever think I would,” you reply lightheartedly.

“Well, hanging around these two must be making me lose critical thinking skills… my apologies,” he replies. Despite his words, a smile crawls it’s way onto his face too.

Casual conversations held between the two of you opens the door to the beginning of a genuine friendship.

Unlike Abbacchio, Fugo knows better than to be contrarian to everything you say and do just because you’re new. Considering his intellect, he has always done his best to be objective. And there eventually comes a point where, upon reflection, he figures that you’re alright.

By then, off missions, he started asking you- quite bluntly -questions about yourself.

Although forward, he won’t overwhelm you all at once. From time to time, you might catch him staring at you thoughtfully out the corner of your eye (Do not bring this up to him; he will deny it to his grave). A round of questions often followed his stares.

And it’s when he feels he really knows you on a personal level that he’s able to truly relax around you.

He started greeting you with the same kindness and courtesy he offers the others. He gave you encouragement throughout both your private and work life… a lot of it. Turning to you during conversations comes to be as natural as it is for anyone else on the team.

Fugo’s caring side may be blocked off behind walls he keeps up for the sake of self preservation and the result of an unhappy childhood, but once you’re allowed to peek beyond them, his sweetness really knows no limit.

And it’s through his behavior that developing feelings start to shine through.

Fugo’s not going to at all realize his feelings toward you until the truth is smacking him across the face. But his actions show a certain kind of fondness before he himself recognizes anything.

His expressed love languages are most commonly words of affirmation and acts of service. This is very much so the case in the early stages of him developing feelings.

The words of affirmation were never explicitly affectionate, but always careful and supportive.

Fugo beats himself up over his temper often, so when he can think straight, he’s using his mind to its full extent. In other words, because he’s easily blinded by rage, he chooses his words very carefully whenever he can.

So after a particularly rough mission, he may get upset at one point or another. During the quiet moments after the fact, when adrenaline isn’t flowing any longer, he always gives credit where credit is due. He’ll gently comment on your work throughout the job, expressing he thought you did good with examples to boot.

Or it can be something as simple as offering you a job well done after making yourself a dinner.

From always holding his tongue unless he disagreed with your actions or input, to showering you with praise constantly. It comes to him so naturally he doesn’t even think twice.

And soon, even others in the group start to take notice:

“I don’t wanna do this right now… Fugo’s not even here yet, can’t I just wait?” Narancia whines.

His head is resting on top of an open notebook, his right cheek squished against crumpled paper. Pencil lead is smushed on his cheek, but pointing out he’s likely ruining his work would be a waste of time.

Resting your elbows on the table, you give Narancia a playful smile. “He’s supposed to get here with Abbacchio in thirty minutes. You know you should’ve gotten more done by now…”

Narancia let out an obnoxious groan, rolling his head onto his opposite cheek so he no longer has to look you in the eye.

“Narancia…” you sigh, smile falling. “I’m sorry if it seems harsh, but Fugo asked me to make sure you practiced on his recent lesson. He and Abbacchio are out doing the heavy lifting for the team right now, so it’s the least I can do.”

Narancia replies, but mutters it out so quietly you don’t pick up on his words.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he says at a volume you can hear, half bitter and half teasing.

“Narancia-“

“I said,” he lifts his head from the table, “You think like that ‘cause he’s always so nice to you.”

“What?” you blurt, heart skipping a beat.

“He compliments you all the time,” he chuckles. The smugness in his tone only grows, and as he continues, heat rushes to your cheeks. “‘Oh, Y/n, you did such a good job today, Y/n.’ And, ‘Oh, Y/n, you’re so very smart why don’t you help out Narancia?’ And who could forget, ‘Oh, Y/n, you look very beautiful today. Why don’t you kiss me on my big fat mouth?’”

“H-He doesn’t say that!” you exclaim, absentmindedly pulling at your fingertips underneath the safety of the tablecloth.

“You gotta know what I mean, though!” he insists. Pausing in order to read your expression, another laugh escapes him. “What? You haven’t noticed?”

“Umm, well.” Your lips pucker out, unsure if you should feel intrigued or embarrassed. After a short pause, you continue, “Fugo compliments everyone; including you… you know? He believes you can do this. He wouldn’t put care into teaching you if he didn’t. And I’ve seen what you’ve accomplished myself too. I certainly know you can get this.”

“You’re changing the subject,” he points out.

“And that not what you’re trying to do?” you ask, gesturing towards his notebook.

Narancia blinks dumbly, bewildered by your response. For a moment, you become pleased with yourself. Seemingly, you’d backed him into a corner and couldn’t help but be a little proud of yourself for it.

“You really don’t know…” he utters, eyes suddenly brightening.

Wait, what? you think, confidence quickly dwindling.

A fit of laughter erupts from him, kicking his feet in the limited space underneath the table. The movement halts your hands. His chair creaks and squeaks in distress, quickly quieting down when he once again slams both feet back on the floor.

He eagerly hunches over his notebook, eyes wide. Snatching up his pencil, he finally begins scribbling on the paper once more.

You’re left staring at him in awe. “What…? So now… you’re good then? You’re just… you’re just going to continue your work?”

Narancia lets out another laugh. “Ha! Well, the sooner I finish, the sooner I can tell Mista about this. I can’t believe you’re so clueless!”

Narancia is calling you clueless… yikes.

The confusion you may have felt that afternoon is nothing compared to Fugo’s reeling mind when the others started pointing things out and teasing him over his supposed affection.

Fugo doesn’t remember when it started, but they didn’t wait long after noticing his feelings to begin teasing him over them.

He would cross his arms, turning away with an annoyed expression while a pool of denials flood from his mouth. With a reaction like that, Narancia and Mista especially enjoyed pushing his buttons on the subject.

Abbacchio would partake in teasing as well in his own little way. Namely, he began making straight-faced comments and turning smug the moment Fugo’s voice raises. Bucciarati mostly keeps quiet on the matter, but no one could miss the fond grin he wears when the others get on his case.

Once, Giorno called you Fugo’s boyfriend/girlfriend. A bashed remote and a broken plate later, Fugo is shocked to learn Giorno wasn’t picking on him and genuinely thought the two of you were together.

The guy must be either super egotistical or is just not at all used to being wrong about this kind of thing, Fugo distinctly thought.

But of course he’s wrong about this! Everyone’s comments made no sense to him at all! There’s no way he felt that much towards you. That kind of thing… is not for him. He may take note when someone’s attractive, but he’s never really thought too seriously about romantic relationships. Just because you’re attractive, doesn’t mean-

Nope… nope, nope, nope, nope. He’s not touching that one with a ten foot pole. No way.

But by the next time he’s helping you with dishes the concept pops into his brain. When he’s dotting on you after a mission it’s plaguing his mind. And he can’t help but notice how meticulous he is when retrieving your additions to the group’s grocery list.

Shit.

Fugo doesn’t know what to think. He really… does go out of his way for you at times. Well, okay, all the time. Looking back, he finds some of his actions to be a little embarrassing. And the more the notion is stuck in his brain, the more he starts understanding that he really does care about you more than just as a friend.

Which is a whole other problem. Fugo’s going to get completely stuck in his own head.

This is the very first time he’s felt this way about someone, and he’s a mess over his lack of knowledge on the subject.

Because what the hell is he supposed to do? Tell you…? Don’t be ridiculous. That notion is met with a mocking tone, as if the mere idea of doing so is itself far too absurd.

But still… there’s this overwhelming urge telling him he has to do something. According to the others he’s already doing something, apparently. But you’re not saying anything about it. Wouldn’t you say something about it if you noticed? What if you never notice on your own? You won’t know unless he makes some sort of move…. but surely that would cause the sky to fall and mark the beginning of end times.

It’s a real echo chamber of insecurity in his head.

Yet… he feels a weird compulsion to be closer to you despite himself. He gets a weirdly beautiful feeling when he’s around you and it flutters his heart so much he doesn’t want to just let it go. It’s brand new to him, and as much as he stresses, he holds onto his affection tight.

Even though it’s more annoying than not, the others are consistent enough with their jabs that it gives Fugo hope that just maybe…

One of the only times Bucciarati explicitly commented on it himself, he mentioned that he believes Fugo’s frustration with his feelings will eventually pass.

The tone he carried indicated that he must know something that Fugo doesn’t, which only made his mind run wild further. Because if you’re going to tell anyone on the team about your feelings, it would probably be him.

Regardless of how much Fugo begs, Bucciarati doesn’t confirm nor deny that hunch. He’s rather adamant that Fugo should just “Ask Y/n and find out on your own.”

And after months of pushing, the others begin echoing that sentiment.

The likelihood of him making the first move is still slim, he figures, but he does hold onto hope that he’ll get a chance one day. Daydreams and “what if” scenarios are a common occurrence for him.

He procrastinates waits for the perfect opportunity, but it never seems to come. Mista mocks him for it, laughing that “There’s no such thing as a perfect opportunity.” Fugo only grows more defensive in response.

I’m already so nervous about expressing myself to Y/n, Fugo fusses, I don’t know what I’d do if I mess this up. If I can’t sweep them off their feet, how can I even-

“Pannacotta?” you ask, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He blinks a couple of times, focusing his attention back on you.

When Giorno is absent, Fugo’s the best source of first aid on the team. All you had to do was walk up to him, apologetic and sheepish. Without a word, he eagerly jumped at the opportunity to help patch you up after a particularly rough mission. It’s the closest he ever physically gets to you.

He calmly led you into a bathroom, gesturing for you to sit atop the sink. His fingers were light and gentle as he worked with what he has on hand. You gave him reassurance that Giorno will likely return soon, so he has no need to stress.

A smile played on his lips, thankful that you know him well enough to guess his own worry.

But slowing movements and focused eyes told you his mind began wandering elsewhere. The cutely taken aback expression on his face after you spoke up is also more than enough evidence to confirm your suspicion.

“You with me?” you ask, playfully trying to get him to respond.

You’re not used to him being this quiet after you’ve gotten hurt. He either talks you through the pain or feels the need to give a lecture. Even when Giorno’s healing you, he’s right by your side whenever he can. Just the thought of his usual behavior can bring warmth to your heart.

“My apologies, you’re just distracting,” he says, hands immediately snapping from your person. Oh god, oh god, it’s not like him to speak without thinking. He stutters trying to cover up his words and only digs a bigger hole for himself in the process. “I-I mean you’re distracted- I’m distracted.”

You laugh, but it dies out fast as you clutch your side at the sting of pain rippling though your body. Fugo’s hands instinctively fly to your side as well, his fingertips brushing up against your own.

Slowly, he lifts his head only to meet your gaze closer to him than it was mere moments ago. You seem just as surprised as he is, and there’s a brief pause while both of you wait for the other to pull away.

Neither of you do.

He’s so close he can feel your breath fanning his face. Normally his face would burn red and he’d retreat to his bedroom as soon as he could, where he’d proceed to reply the moment in his head for the rest of the night. But your eyes… your breathtaking gaze is locked on his own so intently he can’t bring himself to pull away.

And they give him courage he never knew he has.

With a nervous gulp, he leans forward and plants a single kiss to your lips. His own lips are unimaginably soft and hesitant, yet linger against your own longingly. Even when he pulls away far too soon, his nose nuzzles against yours as he plays with the idea of brushing his lips against yours again.

Just to have felt you… to have the briefest taste of what it’s like being closer to you than anyone else he’s ever known before…

“I-“ he pulls himself away, joy dissolving into self-consciousness. You open your mouth to speak, but in his haste, he cuts you off by accident, “I’m sorry… I-I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You… didn’t want to?”

Your reply is spoken in a whisper, voice so faint not even someone standing in the doorway could pick up on it. Fugo’s heart thuds against his ribcage at the crestfallen look on your face. Are you… really disappointed? He’s understanding this correctly… right?

There’s no time to think, and once again he lets his mouth move faster than his mind. “Well, I… you deserve better, you know?” he reasons, “I should’ve explained myself first and then asked… not just go for it… you know. This- I-… I’m not doing this right, aren’t I?”

You adjust yourself on the sink top, glancing away from him for only a second. “If you were to have explained yourself… what would you have said?” you gently plead.

“I-…” he shakes his head.

“Please, Pannacotta, I want to know…”

“I-…” he starts again, taking in a deep breath, “I think I would’ve said… that I think you’re very remarkable. That I’ve never met someone like you before… someone who makes me feel this way… someone who makes me-… umm…”

A hopeful smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you finish for him, “Makes you… want to kiss me?”

He nods, clearing his throat for a couple moments too long. “Not just that, though… you know? It makes me want to take care of you and look after you if I may. I-I-“ he hesitates, “I’m sorry… I’ve thought about this for so long. What I’d say to you if… if I got the impression that you wanted to hear it.”

“I do want to hear it,” you tell him, still grinning from ear to ear, “Pannacotta… I’ve been wanting to say something too for a while now. But you’ve taken the words right out of my mouth.”

He would think he’s dreaming if it weren’t for your hand reaching out and holding his with a gentle squeeze.

“I like you a lot…” you softly confess, “And I need you to know that. It’s always really cute to see you so shy… but for a moment I got to see you push yourself a little. And I think that was beautiful.”

His head falls, staring down at your interlocked hands. Your words stir something within him, taking a tiny step forward in trying to grasp that burst of confidence he felt when he kissed you. “You’re beautiful…” he mumbles, squeezing your hand.

Just a quick glance your way, a brief view of the bright smile on your face, is the best reassurance he could’ve hoped for. He took the plunge, and not only is chaos not ascending to the world’s surface, but his eyes finally open to the affection you feel for him in return.

He ultimately had a love-hate relationship with the way he feels about you before anything concrete happened between the two of you, but that didn’t stop him for falling for you more and more.

And with hindsight, he’s a little timid over not having told you how he feels sooner. But it doesn’t consume him as it may once have before.

With you now at his side, you his and him yours, his heart can only flutter with joy at the prospect of finding his first love.

#jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #golden wind #manga #anime #pannacotta fugo #fugo x reader #guido mista #narancia ghirga #giorno giovanna #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #writing #fluff #headcanons #sfw #drabbles #fanfiction #self insert #gender neutral y/n #johnny’s work

[insightfulllama]

Dp X dc prompt!

In this prompt, liminals/ghosts need to consume fresh ectoplasm to stay healthy and not starve. In addition, the headcanons “only those exposed to ectoplasm can see ghosts as they really are”, and “how people see ghosts is based a lot on their personal perceptions of reality.” have been mushed together. Like, someone un-exposed to ectoplasm knows that SOMETHING is there and it’s scary, but they haven’t been exposed to enough ectoplasm to actually comprehend what it is, so their mind just fills in the empty space with whatever their scared of + what makes sense to them for the context.

So Gotham has a lot of ambient ectoplasm and that's enough to keep Jason from starving completely, but nowhere near enough to be healthy. The inherent ectoplasm he has is basically rotten cause Lazarus pit be like that, so although he is alive and well in human terms, from a ghostly perspective he is extremely emaciated and sickly. Jason has felt varying degrees of empty and BAD since he came back, but there’s not exactly a handbook for this sort of thing, so Jason just accepts feeling terrible and being quick to anger as his new reality.

Cue the bat family calling him up and asking him to check out some weird reports they've been getting. Apparently people have been seeing stuff- a shadowy floating baby, a rotting animal corpse walking around, a ball of energy floating through a wall, etc. Which would be strange enough, but since the sightings started popping up at the same time, Bat's is theorizing that all the sightings are being caused by one entity. And a lot of the reports are in Jason's stomping grounds, so they want him to take a look.

He obliges (not because he wants to help his family, it's JUST because it sounds interesting, ok?) and quickly finds the whatever it is. And he kind of wants to laugh because THIS is what everyone was freaking out about? The thing looks like a gumbrop. Granted it was the size of a cat and glowing a suspiciously Lazarus green, but STILL, what on earth was everyone so scared of?

Regardless, it was in his territory and needed to go. It moved surprisingly fast once it spotted him, and it was taking a lot for Jason not to lose sight of it. Oracle offers to send someone to help and even Jason is surprised at how angrily he says no. But maybe he shouldn't be- he'd seen it first, it was HIS to catch. He discarded his helmet after her next question- she was distracting and the little thing was now periodically turning around to chirp mischievously at him and he was going to GET it, darn it.

He tells himself that the frantic urge to catch the creature was just mission excitement. The wild, clawing NEED to have it was just enthusiasm. The aching pull in his stomach wasn't anything out of the ordinary, his mouth was watering because it had been dry, NO other reason.

He was fine. This was fine, nothing was wrong, he just REALLY needed this thing.

He loses sight of it for a second, but it's fine because he knows the direction it's going.

He turns the corner and pulls up sharply. The gumdrop thing has been caught, but not by him. There's a figure holding its limp form, staring at him with wide eyes, obviously in the middle of eating it.

Jason distantly thinks he should be confused or horrified, but all he can feel is devastation. It was supposed to be HIS- this was HIS territory, HIS place, he should be the one to get it. But he hadn't been fast enough and now he wasn't going to get ANYTHING-

Danny, meanwhile, feels like the biggest jerk in the world. He'd caught the fat blob ghost more out of habit than hunger, since it had practically run into him zipping around the corner. But this other liminal had been in the middle of hunting it and was now looking at him with abject betrayal.

Danny's feelings of guilt got worse as he crept a bit closer and realized that the other liminal was sick. They're ectoplasm felt tainted, contaminated in a way that spoke of long term illness. Danny's brain was going a mile a minute, connecting the pieces. This liminal felt fairly strong so he probably had his own territory, and since he was sick he probably couldn't go far to hunt. Which meant that in essence, Danny had waltzed into the house of a starving, bedridden liminal and eaten directly off his plate.

Yeah, Danny was officially the worst.

But he hasn't actually eaten it yet, so there's still time to fix it! Danny quickly offers to share, rambling to the not-quite-starving liminal that it's like the fattest blob ghost he's ever seen and he really doesn't mind sharing and he can have most of it if he wants, Danny's not that hungry and pretty please don't be upset?

Jason can hardly understand anything he's so ravenous at this point, but he does understand that he's being offered the food he thought he'd lost, so he chows down without any fuss, much to Danny's relief. He tries not to judge how messily the guy is eating cause who knows how long its been since he'd caught any fresh ectoplasm and its honestly no worse than Danny was the first time he ate a blobbie.

Except- the guys tainted ectoplasm seemed to be fading? Huh, maybe the illness wasn't as terminal as it seemed on the surface, if all that was needed to fix it was a decent meal.

Danny decides to leave, the liminal is obviously going to be fine and once they're head clears they're probably going to be embarrassed that Danny saw them in such a state and he doesn't want to deal with that kind of awkwardness. He carefully leaves, relieved that something that could have ended very badly had worked itself out.

Meanwhile, Barbara is trying to get Jason to respond to her without success. The last contact was almost half an hour ago when he'd snarled at her for asking if he needed someone to come help. She was pretty sure he'd ditched his comm after that, but his trackers were still active and she could see he'd come to a stop. He'd been very clear that he didn't want help, but they knew nothing about this entity and Barbara is hardly going to chance that he might be slowly bleeding out somewhere. She sends someone (or multiple someones) to go check on him.

They find Jason splattered head to toe in faintly iridescent gore, hunched over with glowing eyes and softly growling as he eats something unidentifiable.

#in case it was unclear the bat family thinks he ate someone lol #and he's not lucid enough to correct them at the moment #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp #fanfic prompt #fanfiction prompt #danny fenton #jason todd #cw implied cannibalism #jason isn't ACTUALLY a cannibal but his fam doesn't know that lol #please tell me what you think #this could go funny or it could go angsty either works

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Wind felt miserable.

Not that he hadn't felt worse, of course. Because he totally had. Getting almost killed by Ganondorf? Way worse.

But still. He felt pretty bad.

His head was pounding. His nose was all stuffed up. His throat was scratchy, and his stomach churned uncomfortably. It wasn't the end of the world, really. It just... sucked.

Wind shifted uncomfortably in the bed. He could see dull light shining through the window, an indication that the others would likely be getting up. He wasn't keen on being the last one up (not that it was possibly - Sky would likely sleep another hour at least, if allowed); the last thing he wanted was for the rest of the group to think he couldn't handle a simple cold.

Sniffling, Wind slowly sat up, wincing as he swallowed against his worsening sore throat. He remembered when he got sick on his first journey. He remembered how isolating it was, all of a sudden, not having anyone to take care of him. He remembered learning that he had to rely on himself.

He knew he didn't necessarily have that same issue here. But everyone else had been babying him enough. He didn't need to give them an excuse.

But he felt miserable.

"Sailor?"

Wind jumped, startled, looking up to see Hyrule hovering over him. His friend had a strangely wary look to him, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah?" Wind winced at how bad his voice sounded.

Hyrule's eyebrows drew downward and together, concentration written on his face as he leaned forward to put a hand to the teenager's forehead. Wind immediately reeled back, swatting him away.

"I'll be fine," Wind insisted. He felt bad for rebuffing the traveler, but stubbornness and pride overruled. He was a Hero of Hyrule just like the rest of them, he didn't need special treatment for a cold.

"It's dangerous to assume so when you can sleep somewhere safe," Hyrule noted, letting his hand fall to his side. "Get some more rest."

"I'm okay!"

"It's way too freaking early for people to be yelling," Legend snapped as he stormed over. Wind shriveled back a hair, knowing how irritable the veteran hero could be this early in the morning, but then he puffed out his chest in defiance.

"Yeah, well, Traveler's babying me when I don't need it," Wind argued.

"You sound like a goose blowing through a bugle," Legend immediately fired back, crossing his arms. "We're not leaving yet anyway."

Wind was outnumbered and he knew it. It didn't help that his own mind and heart were at war, desperate for some comfort when he felt so poorly but also trying to save face.

The door opened as Wild reentered the room, having likely woken up ages ago. He paused when he saw the trio, tilting his head to the side. "What's up?"

"Our sailor is sick," Hyrule reported.

"Oh. Want some tea?"

Wind wilted into the bed. Tea sounded great, actually. But what sounded even better was his grandmother's soup, his pillow fluffed, the sound of the ocean lulling him back to sleep, and his family's warm presence. The fight was quickly draining out of him. He just wanted to stop feeling awful.

He tried one last time, though the sound of defeat was already in his tone. "I'll be okay, guys."

Legend hummed. "Wonder what the captain of the old man would think of that."

Wind stiffened. "Don't you dare!"

The veteran laughed. "Then lay back down, you congested goose."

Huffing, Wind irritably tucked his feet back under the blanket and glared at the trio as he laid down once more. Legend smirked in smug satisfaction, while Wild gave a gentler smile, leaving to presumably make tea. Hyrule watched him the longest, expression gentle, before nodding to himself and plopping on his own bed, fiddling with his bag.

Wind wasn't sure when he had fallen back asleep. All he knew was when he woke it was to someone brushing hair out of his face, it was to the smell of peppermint, the gentle murmurs of several voices, the pitter patter of rain on the roof, the soft glow of candlelight. He peeled one eye open blearily and saw Time sitting beside his bed, gaze elsewhere while his fingers mindlessly twirled a lock of Wind's hair. Someone was talking to him, it seemed. A cup of tea was on the nightstand, nice and warm as steam curled lazily from its contents.

One last, tiny, stubborn voice protested the scenario, eager to prove himself. He ignored it. He felt miserable, and he wanted comfort. Wind let Time continue to card through his hair for a little while longer. Then he'd sit up and drink the tea Wild had made.

Then he'd let his newfound family take care of him, just like he always did back home.

#writing #lu wind #linkeduniverse #linked universe #this didn't come from a sicktember prompt but it's still a sickfic in september so #sicktember #Hyrule's protective instincts kick in when someone is sick #he's a survivalist #being ill is dangerous in his world if they're not somewhere safe #so he's insistent on staying somewhere safe #at least that would be my interpretation of his reaction #the whole chain will care for the baby of the group in their own ways

[munson-mjstan]

Here's a request for you, my dear! Reader writes for the school paper and is assigned an article highlighting different school clubs. She tries to interview Eddie about Hellfire, but he just assumes she's going to mock/tease him about being a "freak who likes to play fantasy games" and is really short with her. It hurts her feelings, and when someone (Dustin? Lucas? Mike?) points out what an asshole he was, he tries to make it right.

I can't wait to read it!

xoxoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

Thank you bug! @munson-blurbs

Warnings ⚠️: Angst, language, and fluff by the end

Minors D.N.I 18+

Wc: 2.9k

°♡°

"Gotta go, I'm hungry, see you later!" Dustin departs but not before hugging you which you returned.

Trekking in the bustling hallway of your school, your peers making their way to their next classes. Upon entering the paper editing room you're met with Nancy, who had just turned to face whomever walked in, "Good morning!" she greeted you sporting a familiar grin.

"Another article set up for me? Geez, have you ever taken a break?" you joked with her, you had worked with Nancy for some time, and known her even longer, you used to help babysit her brother and his friends when they were younger. Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Will who had moved to California liked you and thought you were kind and warm.

Walking toward Nancy she answers, "A writer's job is never done, and yes, I have one in mind."

"What club is this? Between you and I, we've already interviewed all of them," you were confused, was there a new club you weren't familiar with?

"Hellfire," she shrugs, "I know I haven't interviewed the head honcho, Eddie Munson. Have you?"

"No, I haven't.." you shook your head and your voice got quiet, you'd forgotten about Hellfire. You don't know how you did, Eddie is infamous in Hawkins High. His wild antics in class, the cafeteria, and even the library were well known. You weren't going to lie to yourself, his personality had intimidated you.

He wasn't unkind to you, you both had exchanged polite smiles several times passing each other in the hallway on another monotonous day of school, "W-what time do I head over?" you ask Nancy, your voice apprehensive.

Giving you a sympathetic smile she responds, "Relax, it'll be fine, you got this!" Nancy encourages you, the energy radiating off her physique, "Find Mike, Dustin, or Lucas, and they'll tell you. According to rumors, take this with a grain of salt, they're a Satanic Cult." she rolled her eyes, "The shit people come up with is ridiculous, Mike is in Hellfire, it's just a Dungeons and Dragons club."

You agreed wholeheartedly, "Leave it to a bored small town to come up with something like that when it's just a game," familiar with D&D during your time babysitting Mike the game fascinated you, "so do you have some sort of plan? What do you want me to ask?" Attempting to divert your rising anxiety you focus your brain on the task at hand.

"Ask how he formed Hellfire, what gave him the idea, what makes it different from the other clubs. Come on, you've done this before, what's got you so anxious?"

Sighing in defeat, your gaze falls to the floor beneath your feet, "That obvious, huh?"

"It's not like you hide it well," she remarks with a smirk, your shoulders slump.

"I'm hopeless," you lament with a hint of playfulness.

"You're fine the way you are," she reassures you kindly.

Gathering your notebook and pencil you give Nancy a reluctant grin, "I got this,"

Nancy lights up at your words, "Great!" she pats your forearm, "Everyone's headed to lunch, you might catch Mike or someone from Hellfire on the way. Good luck!"

"Thanks, Nance," just like that she takes off, Fred Benson following suit.

Soon after you're out the door. Scanning carefully among the crowds of students you spot a familiar figure wearing a "Thinking cap" ball cap on his head. Zig-zagging your way through the crowd, your hand makes contact with the figure's shoulder, "Dustin!" you beam.

"Hey!" he turns to face you and gives you a big hug, "How have you been?"

"Oh, you know, getting through school," you shrug, "writing for the Hawkins paper," both of you move out of the way of the other students.

"How's that going?" Dustin asks, his grin not leaving his face.

"I need to interview Eddie for Hellfire, frankly I'm a little nervous,"

"That's great! We're gonna be famous!" he exclaims joyfully.

"I wouldn't go that far." you can't help but laugh at his vitality, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly, "What time do you start Hellfire?"

"After school. We usually try to wrap things up by 8:30 depending on what we're doing,"

"I-is Eddie nice?" your insecurities are rising and it's evident in your voice.

"Eddie is the best!" Dustin's grin gets wider, "He took Mike and me in when we were trying to find our place in Hawkins High! He's a great storyteller and world-builder! He even creates voices for the characters!" Dustin's admiration for Eddie seems to increase with every word that leaves his mouth, his eyes shining with respect, "The interview will go great!" Dustin's voice is the epitome of confidence.

Leaning against the wall a breath you didn't know you were holding in deflates out of your lungs like a balloon, taking your anxiety and insecurities out with it, "Thanks, Dusty, I needed that," you say with a smile, gratitude sparkling in your eyes.

"Anything for my favorite babysitter!" he playfully boops your nose.

You giggle, "You think it would be best if I wait until after Hellfire is over before I talk to him?"

"He'll be in a good mood. Post-campaign euphoria, y'know?"

Thinking back to the times the boys had finished a campaign, the victorious cries were heard from Nancys' basement, their energy infectious and journeying throughout the home, "I remember," you grin.

°♡°

The drama class door swung open, and congratulatory cheers can be heard from the confines. Mike is the first to emerge, sporting a grin that seemed to split his countenance. His dark eyes meet yours, "We won!" he addresses you with exuberance walking over to you.

"Congratulations!" The post-campaign euphoria affects you similarly; goosebumps erupt up your arms.

"I heard from Dustin, you gonna interview Eddie? Also how long were you waiting out here?" he asks, concern etched in his voice.

"Yes, and about ten minutes, not long at all, gave me time to calm my nerves,"

Mike seemed to relax slightly at your admission, "You're nervous?"

"Just a little, I'll deal," you shrug.

Dustin, Jeff, Gareth, Erica, and Gary exit the drama room. Dustin strolls over to Mike and you, "Did Mike tell you we gained a victory?"

"Eddies ready for you, head on in,"

"He informed me of your success, congratulations!" both of you high-fived, and you gave Mike one as well, not wanting to leave him out.

Dustin said.

Inhaling and exhaling a breath you say, "I'm ready,"

"We'll wait for you out here, right Mike?" Dustin faces his friend.

"Thanks, kids, you're awesome!" giving them a wink you head inside the drama classroom where the leader of Hellfire awaited you.

"Huh? Oh! Right, sure," Mike agrees.

°⁠♡°

Peering inside you see the infamous Eddie Munson, seated on his throne with an intense glare set on you.

Clearing your throat and wiping your hands on your high-waisted pencil skirt, "H-hello, how do you do," you introduce yourself in a voice that resembles a mouse.

"Eddie Munson." he snaps, his voice low and guarded.

"I'm here to interview you for the Hawkins High paper," informing him of your intentions you try your best to make your voice even and professional. Sitting down in the chair closest to him, you open your notepad and remove your pencil from your ear. Getting right down to business you ask him your first question, "What made you start Hellfire?"

"Wanted more people to play D&D with. Next question."

His short and malicious tone hit you right in the heart, the pain feeling like ice. Your breathing becomes unsteady as you write down Eddie's answer, "I-I see."

Feeling a lump form in your throat, you ask your next question, "How has," swallowing the lump in your throat, "Forming this club improved your academic performance?"

He let out a laugh that resembled a feral beast, "School sucks, it always has. Next question." More icy pain shoots up your body, stabbing your heart, and now your voice trembles writing down his answer once again,

"R-right?" letting out a weak chuckle, you agree with him.

You have one question left! You can do this!

Mentally cheering yourself on, you press forward.

"Among–"

"Cut the bullshit already." Once more he interrupts you, he seems to be in a rush to get to the bottom of the matter, the only issue is you have no idea what his problem is.

"W-what?" you stutter, blinking back tears forming, his harsh tone is like a viper biting into your flesh; the sting unrelenting.

"You're only here to make fun of the 'freak' the 'satan worshiper' AND the 'cult leader'!" he stood abruptly slamming his hand on the table, you flinch.

"I would never–"

You could only stand there frozen, stunned as his verbal assault resumed, "Well it's not going to work this time!

"I don't believe you! You're just like everyone else; judging without bothering to get to know them!" The snake's venom is seeping into your bloodstream along with the icy chill of his words. Frankly, you were taken aback, you'd no idea he thought this way about you, and you had no idea why this was hurting you so vastly.

His next words were the nail in the proverbial coffin, "You're nothing." he seethed, speaking through clenched teeth.

The venom swallowed you whole as the ice caught in your throat. Tears cascade down past your waterline like a faucet. Dropping your notepad and pencil absentmindedly you cast one last gaze into his face. His eyes were cold with malice and contempt. Making a quick turn you sprint toward the door, each step on the linoleum floor causes more ice to stab your heart.

He had called you "nothing", and you felt like it. Bringing your knees to your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself you bury your head in between your knees but it brings no solace to the void that was starting to consume you.

The door opened with a bang startling Dustin and Mike, "That was fa– Hey what happened?" Dustin noticed your tear-stained face but couldn't say anything further, you were already running down the hall with sobs escaping unbidden from your lips. With your vision fuzzy from the tears you can barely make out the sign for the girl's bathroom. Bursting inside you lean against the door sinking to the floor you weep.

°♡°

Eddie remained in the drama room, cleaning up the rest of the D&D pieces, a proud grin formed on his face, "Showed her," he murmurs.

"Eddie, what the hell happened?" Dustin makes an appearance, followed closely by Mike.

Eddie scoffs, facing the boys, "I protected us is what I did."

"How?" Mike asks, incredulously, not being able to comprehend what their Dungeon Master was saying.

"She is going to use that article to spread the rumors that Hellfire is a Satan-worshiping cult!" he asserts, picking up your notepad from the floor and tossing it onto the table, "Henderson, dispose of that."

Dustin picks up your notepad and peers at your notes or lack thereof he sees your teardrops on the paper, "No," he says firmly.

Eddie looks at Dustin, surprised that he refused his request, "And why not?"

"Because she's NOT like that!" Mike pipes up, the first to defend your honor.

Dustin nods at his best friend, "Mike's right, she'd never do something like that."

"What are you two, her knights in shining armor?" Eddie spat, he couldn't believe both of his friends weren't backing him up on this. He was one hundred percent certain you'd come to bully him, he wasn't going to take any chances, it was his job to protect his flock.

"Eddie," Dustin pinched the bridge of his nose, "what did you say to her?"

Eddie shrugged, "I told her she was nothing,"

"You mother–"

"Mike!" Dustin stopped Mike from saying something he'll most likely regret, "Eddie," he let out an exasperated sigh "She's one of the kindest people we've ever met. She babysat us when we were younger," Dustin explains, his tone serious. He's determined to let Eddie know he screwed up, "She genuinely cares about us and Dungeons and Dragons,"

Eddie slumped down on his throne, "So what you're saying is," he paused, there had to have been some merit to what they were saying if both Mike and Dustin were coming to your aid, "I screwed up?" he finishes, the realization sinking into him like a large stone into a lake.

"YES!" Dustin and Mike say in unison, the former slamming your notepad in front of Eddie's side of the table.

Your tearful expression flashed unbidden in Eddie's mind's eye; the sinking realization had finally hit him in full force. Placing his face in his hands he says, "Dammit!" his voice muffled, how could he have gotten something so wrong? Guilty bubbled in his gut, along with the fear that you won't forgive him, "I have to apologize! Right now!" he stands up in a panic grabbing your notepad, and frantically paces the room, "Where is she?" he demands the boys.

Eddie sprinted out the door in a desperate search for you.

"We don't know!" Will speaks up, "I can only guess she ran to the girl's bathroom."

°⁠♡°

Sitting on the cold, semi-dirty floor your wailing had subsided to short sobs and hiccups. How could he think so lowly of someone he had barely spoken to? You'd never imagined he'd be so cruel, callous, and so certain that you'd have malicious intent with your interview. You had a genuine interest in Dungeons & Dragons, and while you most likely wouldn't be good at it the game itself fascinated you.

Standing up on wobbly feet you stroll to one of the sinks and peer at your face. Your eyes are puffy and swollen with tear tracks down your cheeks, "Dammit," muttering to yourself, you half-heartedly wash your face the best you can. Sighing as droplets of water fall from your complexion, "What am I going to tell Nancy?"

Drying your face on the sandpaper-like paper towels you're startled by the bathroom door opening, instinctually your eyes fly to the door, surprised by the mop of frenzied curls that enter your field of vision. His remorseful, ashamed, and guilt-ridden face froze you on the spot.

"What are you–?"

"I'm so sorry!" he says between pants, as though he ran a marathon to find you, "I was wrong!"

Your face morphed into one of confusion, "Wrong about what?"

"I was wrong for assuming you'd bully me. I was wrong for not giving you a fair chance. I was wrong for being so cold to you. I was wrong about everything," he took several steps toward you until he was in front of you, "I'm sorry for making you cry…that is what I'm most ashamed of," his voice breaks, that's how you know his apology is sincere.

His words are like a panacea on your body; the frozen venom disperses. Peering into his eyes you say words he hoped to hear, "I accept your apology, Eddie Munson."

"Thank. You. Christ!" his shoulders slump in relaxation, "Oh!" he hands you your notepad, "Here, I'm sorry again,"

Gazing at the item in Eddie's hands you smile, "Thank you! And I'll accept that second apology on one condition."

"Name it and it's done."

"Can we leave? This is the girl's bathroom."

"Oh, shit!" he'd forgotten where he was, peering around he comments, "So much cleaner than the boys,"

"Okay, out!" you laugh, pushing him gently toward the door. Once you both were outside you say playfully, "You're forgiven, again,"

Eddie chuckles, "Thanks,"

"So," you hesitate, "are we friends now?" unsure of where you stand, you ask for clarification.

"Hell yeah, we're friends!" he says with conviction and no uncertainty.

"Good! That's good!" you grin.

"I want you to interview me properly this time. But before that, what was your last question?"

"My last question?"

"The one you were going to ask me before I blew up at you."

Your eyes widened in realization, "Oh that one!"

You clear your throat, "Among the people in Hellfire, who do you admire and why?"

Eddie looked taken aback; his mind drew a blank. Did he admire someone in Hellfire? He was admired, yes but did he ever feel that way for someone else? "Uh," he pauses, not knowing what to say.

"It's okay, we can answer the previous questions. The next paper doesn't come out until next week, I just like getting my work done early," Sensing his difficulty answering your question, you decide to ease his mind and give him time to think it over.

"Thank you, I'll answer your other questions at Benny's, I owe you a milkshake, my treat. I hope you don't mind a small detour I need to drive Henderson and Wheeler home," he starts to head back in the direction of the drama club, a spring in his step and humming a tune you didn't recognize.

"They are pretty cool." he agrees.

"Of course, I don't mind. Those kiddos are the best!" walking next to him, you praise the boys.

°⁠♡°

Once again you stroll the busy school hallways the next day, and you hear your name called.

"Hey!" Eddie approached with his hands behind his back.

"Hi, morning!" you greet him with a grin.

"I have the answer to your question."

"Oh? That's great! Do I need my notepad for this?" you ask, slinging your backpack off your shoulder.

"No, no this will be quick. It's you," he declares with a smile, his eyes shining with sincerity.

Your jaw drops, and your mind reels. You hadn't expected this, "What? Me?" you point to yourself.

"Yes, you, my new friend," he gazes at you fondly.

"I'm not a part of Hellfire,"

"Welcome to Hellfire."

"Not yet you're not," his arms move from behind his back, and he unveils the infamous shirt he and the rest of the club sport.

°⁠♡°

Reblogs and comments are appreciated! 💗

#requests #Munson-blurbs #Chrissy writes #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddiemunson

[animentality]

I saw this tweet in the wild today, and I'm rolling my eyes.

a few things.

1) If your Durge is a lesbian, then don't ship her with Gortash.

easy as that. nowhere in the goddamn game does it force you to make out with him. it's entirely up to you what you imagine your Durge doing. in fact durgetash is so obscure, you can miss it entirely.

2) You canNOT tell me that durgetash fans are hounding you and telling you your lesbian Durge is legally obligated to marry Enver Gortash.

no one on the planet cares about your oc more than theirs. they're out here shipping their GAY Durges with Gortash. world doesn't revolve around your character, I'm so sorry to tell you. other people made their own characters to fuck Gortash with.

please try not to faint or vomit as you remember that other people play baldurs gate 3 other than you.

3) Stop pretending/implying that people who like Gortash are morally bad people. You just don't like the ship or Gortash. and that's fine.

literally 99% of the fandom agrees with you.

the straight male audience which makes up most of the BG3 fandom totally agrees with you. go be friends with them.

Gortash love is such a niche fucking freak thing, like, really? there are literally dozens of us. most everyone hates him for being evil or ugly or both. you jabbing at us while pretending to be the victim when you are, in fact, the majority is laughable.

I just don't get these tweets because I know for a fucking fact that durgetash is an obscure fucking crack ship.

I know for a fact that Gortash lovers are just a small but passionate group of freaks, that are in no way the majority.

I also just don't believe for five seconds that anyone is out there telling you that you have to ship durgetash.

just say you don't like the ship or move on.

keep shipping your Durge with Astarion or Shadowheart.

God knows they've never done anything wrong in their lives.

and finally 4) No one who is a fan of Enver Gortash thinks he's not a piece of shit.

I hate Twitter. fucking clout chasers.

why don't you grow a spine and have an opinion you actually stand by instead of aiming at easy targets so you can feel like people like you

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #dark urge #durgetash #twitter

[suckondescoconuts]

Cna I request aged up Inosuke x very submissive whiny bratty afab reader pls?? (Like they’re really needy and clingy) nsfw obv ^^ ty <33

Yes, yes, YES

Man would be wild and piss at your attitude lol.

✨Thank you for the request✨ 

ⵊɴᴏsᴜᴋᴇ Hᴀsʜɪʙɪʀᴀ X Bʀᴀᴛ⚠︎︎

𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝

𐦐𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖𐦐

You were being a whole brat today, pissed off by any means necessary to justify how you felt unseen by your boyfriend and he of course didn't get it.

You were having dinner with Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and of course your lover, but you didn't wanted to this, you wanted to be alone with Inosuke and with that you started to act like a brat through this whole dinner, sulking where you sat while everyone chatted with eachother except for you.

You sat there quietly eating your food until you thought of a plan that will making this dinner go much quicker. You brought your hand onto Inosuke lap since he's sitting right beside you and started to massage his thigh. He didn't respond or reacted to that type of behavior until you dragged your palm onto his crotch, rubbing him there. He flinched for a little, jolting up in surprise, causing Tanjiro and Zenitsu to notice.

"Inosuke, are you alright?"

"Yeah, why did you freak out of nowhere?" Tanjiro and Zenitsu asked concerned of their friend well being.

"I'm fine, nothing really, just a shiver, that's all."

You smirked and giggled a little at his quick answer, you kept eating with your other hand that wasn't occupied while the other one kept rubbing his hard on. It was cute seeing him all flustered and all.

He stayed stiff until finally he made a move and gripped your wrist with little to no force, but to stop you from doing anything that will cause a ruckus, but of course you didn't listen to his actions and kept going at it.

Tanjiro knew was going on of course, he can see right through y'all and so when he and Zenitsu was finished he stood up, saying that they somewhere to attend to.

"We d-?!"

"Yes, now come on."

You and Inosuke said your goodbyes and waved at them when they left the house.

"Bye, bye you two, have fun." Tanjiro said turning his head towards y'all direction while still walking.

While those two last words went over your guys heads, you turned away from your lover and started to head to the bathroom.

"Hey, where do you think your going, you stated this, how are you going to fix this?"

"Hmm," you replied while turning your head towards him "I don't know, it sounds like a you problem."

Now he was stunned, pissed of maybe, but the only thoughts in his mind was to punish you for your rude behavior. He hurt in anger, causing clouds of air come out of his nostrils, he marched towards you, grabbed you around the waist, and lifted you up over his shoulder.

"Inosuke, put me down!"

He didn't respond and brought you to your shared bedroom, sliding the door open and laying you down on the futon.

"Since you want to act like brat, I'll treat you like a brat." He huffed again, stripping your clothes off your body swiftly. Then he took his hand on brought it upon your hole and pushed his finger inside, making a slick sound from the action.

"Ahh, Inosuke~"

"Yeah, you like this?"

He thrusted in and out of you, making your slick run onto his knuckles, making him smirk pridefully.

"Your already wet and juiced up for me, did you want me to take action like this huh."

"Fuck, oh my god, please don't stop fuck~"

He smirked even more, but more creepy, his signature smile (you know lol).

"Inosuke please, I need."

"You need what, tell me."

"I need you, god fuck~"

He started too his finger out of you, bringing them to his lips, slurping your juice while looking into your eyes, and with that he brought his none occupied hand to his pants and started to strip them off of himself.

"Hope your ready for the god of mountains."

Then his dick sprung up into the air, standing tall and mighty, throbbing for attention like you wanted from the beginning. He grasped his cock and brought it to your hole, pushing into it. He then grabbed your thigh and pushed them close to your shoulders while he started to thrust into your body slowly to a wild dog.

"Oh my YES!" You screamed out in pleasure while he kept ramming into you.

"Shit, yeah, fuckkk~"

Press here for the Twitter link ——> 𐦐𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𐦐

"Yeah, you gonna keep acting like bitch, or do I have to keep putting you in your place?"

"I promise, I-I won't, I'll be a good girl, I promISE~"

"You better, FUCK!"

You then felt strips of warmth flood inside of you, causing you to cum behind him. You laid there breathing in and out from exhaustion while Inosuke let go of your legs, bringing them down onto the futon and pulled out of you, making you hiss from being overstimulated.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, just need a breather."

He laid beside and brought you close to him, feeling or hearing closely to his heartbeat made you fall asleep quickly making him follow suit with you into dreamworld.

𝓘 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂'𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓪 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓾𝔂𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓰 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓑𝓨𝓔

P.S. follow me on Wattpad, my name is @Ava873703, I post there more new stories then here

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kyn #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer smut #kimetsu inosuke #inosuke x y/n #inosuke hashibira smut #inosuke x reader #demon slayer inosuke #inosuke smut #inosuke hashibira #suckondescoconuts #twt links #twitter links

[tashacee]

It’s implied that Time and Aspect!Wild talked to each other about their moon related trauma, what was Time’s reaction to Wild describing the horrors of the blood moon? What was Wild’s reaction to Time talking about his adventure in Termina? How many of The Chain know about Termina?

I’m so curious and desperate to know how that conversation went. Could it maybe even be a short story please?

Look I know this is VERY overdue but i REALLY liked this idea and wanted to do it justice so

Aspects of the Moon

“So.” Time said, shuffling his feet. “The moon, huh?”

“Oh hell no, spooky-boy, you’re talking first, you were accusing me of being a moon-demon ten minutes ago. I deserve to know why.” Wild chuffed as he signed and flicked his tail to show that he wasn’t actually mad. But still. Sure, he’d spill his own moon trauma, but he absolutely deserved to hear Time’s first.

The old man sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

“Uh…” he said. “I… guess that’s fair.” he sighed and shook his head. “It… it’s really weird. You probably won’t believe me.”

“I came back from the dead. Multiple times.” Wild deadpanned.

Time chuckled. “I mean when you put it like that.” he laughed. “Fine. You win. So… when I was a kid. A real kid. Well. Sort of. I was ten, but it was after my first adventure, which took around two years all things considered, so I was also kind of twelve? But yeah, I was ten.”

“Time, what the fuck?” Wild held up his hands, blinking. “Were you ten or twelve, this isn’t that hard?”

Time snorted. “I’m the Hero of Time, Wild. It really is that hard. Now stop interrupting, this is my trauma I’m talking about here.”

Wild rolled his eyes jokingly, but waved for him to continue.

“Okay so. I fell into a tree and woke up in another world, called Termina. And everyone in Termina was freaking out ‘cause the moon was about to crash into the ground and kill them all. Actually that’s not true. A lot of them weren’t freaking out, they had other issues, which seemed a little short-sighted of them, but who am I to judge? Anyway, the moon kept getting closer - it had a face, by the way. The moon did. Big angry face. Very freaky -and after three days it crashed into the earth and killed everyone. So I rewound time to see if I could stop it. Um. It took a lot of times. Couple of years worth of three day cycles, but like, I kept resetting myself too so I was still ten. And then eventually I fought the moon and escaped. But yeah. That’s. That’s my issue with the moon.”

Wild stared at him.

“Time, what the fuck?”

“I did tell you the biggest thing I ever fought was the moon.”

“Yeah but I thought you were joking!”

“Clearly.”

“Fuck!”

“Yep.”

Wild nodded slowly, staring into the darkness of the woods around him. That was… wow. That was a lot. No wonder Time has issues. If even half of that was true - and Wild had no reason to doubt his brother’s word - then it was frankly astounding that he was functional at all.

“Okay. so.” Time leaned back against a tree. “What’s your story? Why do you hate the moon.”

Oh yeah. That had been the deal, hadn’t it. Time had told his sstory, so now Wild would tell his.

Ugh.

He shrugged.

“Not as dramatic as yours.” he admitted. “In my journeys - both of them, actually - every full moon rose red and Ganon’s power waxed in the air. His evil became visible rising from the ground and at the stroke of midnight, every monster that had been slain returned to life at once. You could hear them howl through the night all at once. It sucked serious ass.”

Time stared at him.

“All of the monsters?”

“Yep.”

“Even - even the big ones?”

“Sure did. Full moons… I don’t trust em.”

“No shit! No wonder you hate them!”

“Word.”

“Fuck.”

They sat in silence for a moment, both thinking about each others’ respective moon traumas. Then Wild pulled out his slate, flicked through a few sections, and pulled out his strongest bottle of whiskey, offering it to Time.

“Fuck the moon, amirite?”

Time grinned, accepting it. “Yeah. Fuck the moon!”

#it me #replies #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect #my writing

[elleloquently]

can you write hcs of ellie being obnoxiously protective over reader on patrol? lol

| a/n : i love protective!ellie so much... i need her your honor. thank you for requesting darling and i hope you have a lovely day! | c/w : slight mention of violence (against infected), swearing

ellie being (obnoxiously) protective on patrol :

-ellie quite literally values herself based on how capable she is to protect and look after the ones she loves. who is she, if not a protector? it makes sense, given her history and of course she's protective over you, she loves you and if anything ever happened to you? that would be the day.

-so maybe she's a little bit of a control freak when you go on patrol... and maybe you've had your fair amount of squabbles because you feel completely helpless when she gets like that... but honestly? you've fought to survive for a long time and ellie's your prize.

-if there's ever a close call on patrol, ellie is definitely the type to cop an attitude (BUT IT'S OUT OF LOVE!!! I SWEAR!!!!!!!)

"jesus, what the fuck were you thinking?! we can't afford to make stupid mistakes, we- fuck, are you hurt?"

-she's short tempered but it's definitely not aimed at you, she just gets frustrated with herself because any close call is a reminder that she could lose you and that cannot happen. she really just blames herself and if something happens, she really internally takes that in ):

-she will definitely (lovingly) lecture you and press a kiss to your forehead or cheek every few words. despite the situation sometimes you can't help but just stare at her because that's your girl and she's just looking at you with this wild, exhausted look on her face because are you even listening to a word she's saying? but she adores you and thinks you're the prettiest person in the world so fuck it whatever.

-she's definitely doting on you for the rest of the day (which is no different from any other day because she's completely and utterly in love with you).

-if you're riding on seperate horses, she'll typically like to take the lead but is literally looking over her shoulder every five seconds to make sure you're doing okay. if you're quiet for more than like two minutes she probably whips her head around so fast like she's expecting you to be gone and you're just (: 'the weather is so nice today ellie'

-if you're on the same horse, she definitely prefers sitting in the front and she absolutely thrives off of the feeling of your hands resting at her waist, just another reminder that you trust her and feel safe around her.

-always offers a hand to help you down from your horse, it's so sweet and charming that it's almost silly but it's just first instinct to her, literally anything to be involved and look out for you.

-sometimes she's attached to your hip and it's just a little stressful, especially if you're on patrol with others because you really want to seem strong and efficient... ellie always reassures you that you are (but she's just!!! scared!!! okay!!!!!???)

-she really doesn't mean to step on your toes but you could be two seconds away from killing an infected and then ellie swoops in like phew close one huh?

-dina and jesse definitely clown the both of you for it and ellie gets huffy but honestly everyone just thinks it's cute.

-ellie can get pretty touchy sometimes but it's small stuff? nothing that would distract from patrol just like squeezing your hand, running her hand across your back or shoulder, tugging you at the waist just to remind herself that you're there and everything is fine.

-signing up or getting assigned to a patrol shift and oh boy, ellie's your partner, who would've guessed????? very unpredictable!!!

-honestly anyone else would be scared to go with you without ellie being there too because everyone just KNOWS.

-she's always looking out for you and checking on you, you do the same for her of course (when given the opportunity) and honestly it's just comforting, she always has your back and it feels good to feel safe, and to ellie it feels good to be trusted.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou x reader #ellie williams headcanons

[heyclickadee]

Saw another “why would Tech even be interested in Phee” take out in the wild, so here’s a partial list of Phee’s many attractive qualities, because the double standard of every other character vs Phee is exhausting:

(Quick disclaimer—this isn’t me saying anyone has to like the ship. You don’t. It’s fine. Don’t ship things you don’t want to ship. Dislike the way it’s been written in the show if you want. Ship these two with other people or with no one if you want. I don’t care. This is just me being tired of people being weird about Phee):

1. She’s smart. She can improv her way through dealing with death traps and she’s got an area (areas) of expertise that Tech knows relatively little about. That makes her interesting. Also hot.

2. She’s gorgeous. Look at her. She’s ridiculously pretty.

3. She’s a great storyteller. Yeah, she changes her stories every time, but that’s at least part of why Tech is paying attention, because he notices that.

4. She’s a stone cold badass. And she’s a FUN stone cold badass. Disarmingly charming stone cold badass.

5. She’s a remarkably good person. She steals artifacts so that refugees can hang on to a bit of their culture in diaspora. This seems to be what pushes Tech from, “Oh, she’s interesting,” to, “OH. SHE’S BRILLIANT AND I MIGHT BE IN LOVE.”

6. She’s not nice, but she is kind, and that’s honestly a quality that she and Tech share. Phee isn’t soft, she’s not going to talk in therapy speak, she’ll push a little hard sometimes, but gosh darnit if she isn’t the person who would always stop to help someone with a flat tire (or respond to finding out some friends are broke, jobless, and on the run by immediately taking them back to her secret refuge so they can rest and recoup).

7. She’s incredibly direct and unafraid to speak her mind and…okay. This is going to get long. And I know some people will disagree with this, and that’s fine because everyone is different, and wants different things. But. Speaking personally from my point of view. The fact that Phee gives as good as she gets would be a really reassuring quality to have in a partner. I see a lot of myself reflected in Tech, but one of the many, many ways in which we’re very different is that I’m a consummate people pleaser, and Tech is very much not. At all. I don’t think he has a people-pleasing bone in his body.

But, here’s the thing—about half of my people pleasing comes from being terrified that I’ll say or do something that inadvertently hurts someone, and that person won’t just tell me or give me the chance to explain or make things right. And for how that relates to dating, I had people—friends and family—keep trying to set me up with incredibly shy men through most of my early twenties, no matter how many times I objected, because they had this perception that I was soft, wishy-washy, and needed to be treated with kid gloves. And…no. I’m opinionated as hell. I’m relatively confident about certain things. I just shut down my ability to project any of that because I was terrified of running roughshod over people without meaning to. But when I’m around someone who I know is willing to disagree with me, who I know will explain why, and who I know will push back if I take something too far? About 90% percent of my people pleasing and social anxiety evaporates. I know I don’t have to walk on eggshells around them—and that they aren’t going to walk on eggshells around me, either. They’re going to be direct about their issues and treat me like a freaking adult.

And, honestly, the fact that Phee doesn’t walk on eggshells around Tech (who also gives as good as he gets—Tech isn’t soft, nice, or shy and retiring; he’s confident as hell and he should be, because hot damn)—is. I don’t know. I like that she’s direct, and that she will recognize and pull back if she’s gone too far. This is projecting a bit, but, speaking personally, I would rather be with someone who treats me like an adult and tells me what’s up even if it’s uncomfortable than someone who never, ever tells me when they’re upset because they’re afraid of hurting my feelings and just lets me stew in social confusion all the time.

8. She can more than hold her own in a fight and she carries a sword around. That’s hot, I’m sorry.

9. Phee’s fantastic with Omega. She talks to her like she’s a person, she doesn’t ever shut Omega down, she’ll tell her stories, she’ll joke around with her, and she’s generally very respectful while also not holding her to the same standard she would if Omega were an adult. She’s even a little protective of Omega, even though Omega isn’t at all her responsibility. I think the moment that took Phee from ‘cool’ to ‘fantastic’ for me was towards the end of ‘Entombed’ while the Deadly Giraffe of Death was collapsing; Phee’s right there trying to shield Omega alongside Hunter. And. Like. Omega is Tech’s baby sister, he’s probably going to notice that how Phee treats her. Massive points in her favor for this.

#techphee #I’m tired okay

[etincelleart]

The more I'm on internet and the more I see harassment and call out posts every single day on various fandoms/artists spaces for all possible reasons and honestly I don't even know what to say outside of the fact that this is so freaking dangerous and wild to put labels and accusations on people you don't even know, or to not even try to understand and seek knownledge about the situation outside of what you want to see and understand. There are real predators doing illegal stuff who need to be stopped and yet people having fun and imagining things for ocs, various characters and ships are being accused of the worst things ever and it follows them everywhere. Tiny things are took as obvious signs of predatory behavior or racism or whatever and this is supposed to be fine.

I don't even mean to bring back the topic of my own story but experiencing dog piling and rumors and serious accusations for months because of a follow is just completely wild when I think about it. With some distance, I think I could have handled everything better when I spoke about it publicly. But I never should have wrote this post in the first place.

Block button exist and report button exist as well for serious problematic elements. My take is that no one deserves harassment and cruelty. But when you say "I'm against harassment and I don't want this person to be harassed", people take it as you defending "problematic" elements and completely distort it anyway. It's honestly exhausting and stupid.

Everyone has something that make them uncomfortable or that triggers them and I have my own standards as well. There are things I consider seriously weird but we don't know people and we don't know any of the intention behind the art. The way you explore something, how you do it, for what reason is what should matter. There are so much things you don't know. Nothing is black and white. I honestly think that as an artist, your art is connected to you, but the themes you work on are NOT reality. Again it's about the intention and how you go about something. I just think media literacy should really be teached at school because wow.

I just thought about expressing myself on this because it's just too serious and harming a lot of people who did nothing. I got attacked over a FOLLOW for someone who did nothing but imagine a future AU for characters and I think that's insane. Everything should be analyzed case by case. There are a real dangers who need to be exposed but this is never a reason or a justification to become cruel or to wish harm to anyone and assume the worst on people you never met. Just take a breath, go outside and learn how to block people, because that's insane the amount of people I had to block because they were being shitty but didn't block me or were still even following me.

I'm trying to not let my emotions get the better of me but that's honestly insane many others and myself got caught into this. The only thing I always did is drawing Nuts and Dolts because that's the only ship I could ever care about in RWBY. Being against harassment is not about defending "bad" people. It's so easy to judge people and make your little assumptions harming REAL people like that.

#fandom #ship #proship #anti #discourse #just rambling

[jkrockin]

Wait what guy who hadn't read Atlas Shrugged?

I was pretty sure I'd told this story here, but a cursory search suggests that I have not. Okay let's gooooo

Many moons ago, I worked in an emergency services call centre. I worked nights- I could get regular shifts, it paid well, and I am a huge freak, just like everyone else who works nights in a call centre. It is a lifestyle that attracts freaks. Some of my coworkers weren't full-time creatures of the night, but students or whoever who picked up occasional nights for the extra money, and one of them was Libertarian Shithead, who we'll call LS for short.

LS was a twentysomething white dude who wore a lot of name brand surfwear and designer sunglasses. I assume his parents were rich. LS loved nothing better than recreational arguing. Unfortunately, he wasn't very good at it; he had some of the most dogshit opinions I've ever encountered in the wild, and was terrible at defending them. He'd say some crap about how Gattaca-type eugenics is Fine, Actually, because if you let people make designer babies, the ~*Free Market will decide what traits are desirable! Racism and colourism and ableism and sexism and intersexism won't affect those choices at all! And I'd get mad, because I have principles to speak of, and we'd get into it, and WITHOUT FAIL, we'd get maybe halfway into an actual discussion about whatever horseshit garbage he was on tonight, and the second he thought he was losing, he'd say "oh, well. I'm an ~*Objectivist, so you can't really understand my perspective unless you've read Ayn Rand." Then he'd sigh, and change the subject.

At the time I had not read any Ayn Rand. Being fundamentally powered by spite, I withstood maybe three weeks of this shit before I pirated an epub of Atlas Shrugged, put it on my e-reader, and proceeded to slam through it at supersonic speed so I could finally get to finish an argument with this terrible boy.

Anon, I fucking hated Atlas Shrugged. The book is bad. It's way too long, every single character is an unbelievable douche, the prose sucks. Ayn Rand wants to fuck a train so so so badly, but the prose is so turgid I couldn't even get invested in how much she wants to fuck a train. And the core of the matter, the politics I was there to understand, are, y'know. Objectivist. Eye-bleedingly selfish and capitalistic, expressed in amazingly childish and blinkered terms. Even the bits where it seems like the shithead capitalist dudes want to fuck each other are too mired in the scunge of Rand's terrible views to be enjoyable.

But I read the fucking thing! I powered through it with only quite minimal complaining! I finished the book on the train to work, and when I saw that LS was on that night, I plonked myself in a seat by him, and metaphorically cracked my knuckles, ready to fuckin' party. In a perfect world, I would have been cool enough to have waited for the perfect mid-argument moment to drop, but I didn't. I think I lasted exactly until we were both off a call at the same time, and then leaned in as close as the desk dividers would let me, and said "So I finished Atlas Shrugged. I have some thoughts."

I cannot overstate how quickly it became obvious that LS had not read the book. For a hot second I thought maybe it had just been a while and the fine details had escaped him, but no; he didn't know who half the characters were, or key points of the plot, or even know any of the stuff in the John Galt speech, i.e. the big juggernaut of Here's How Objectivism Works near the end of the book about Objectivism that this fucking guy hypothetically based his Objectivist views on. It took me maybe five minutes, in between calls, to realise this, and another five for him to admit he hadn't actually read any Ayn Rand. He'd read her Wikipedia page.

ANYWAY I didn't speak to him for like a month after that, and I don't think either of us lost out there!

#at the time I was very angry #but in hindsight I think it was very funny #storytime #ask me ask me ask me #anonymice