#fuck me sideways on a pony

[catiuskaa]

Quick Question: What the Hell?

GIF by quokki

@starlostseungmin and @gimmeurtmi hear me out, you people with good taste:

mafia!seungmin, bc yes, min supremacy.

(warnings just in case) 🌻we know seungminnie wouldn't hurt a fly, this is a fanfic, FANATIC FICTION ME LOVE, everything went out of my mind and pinterest ideas, just that <3 🌻this is made entirely because I could, which I warn you- it may not work. 🌻will contain shitposting, drama, angst, pinterest and tumblr prompts and a whole bag of sarcasm. 🌻as a cherry on top, mature content too, swearing is a must cause well its mafia not my little pony but just a reminder, i warned u already. 🌻i am confident in my english, however, its not my first language so it may contain some mistakes- sorry in advance.

this was laying under some works of mine, so I retouched it a bit... should I keep it going? I mean there are like five more chapters finished, but the story isn't. I'll leave the first one here, pls enjoy it!

"Congratulations, Detective Dumbass. You were so desperately interested in what I was doing, weren't you? Now you know. What are you gonna do about it?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Ok, emo dog, isn't there anyone else in your 'I can show up bleeding' list or was I, the late night shift Subway stranger, your only option?"

"I already went to my other option. They gave me this," he groaned, gesturing to one of the biggest wounds.

Wait. Stop.

Just let me pause real quick for a second. Let's back up, and start somewhere before that.

Remember that meme? "Yup. That's me. You're probably wondering how I ended up in this situation..." That's the only thing that comes up to my mind whenever I try to explain what happened that Monday night or dare I say Tuesday morning, at 1:51 a.m.

What was I doing? Well, absolutely nothing, because no one, absolutely no one shows up at a Subway at that time, not on a bloody Tuesday. My shift finished at 3 am, the last of the day, so you know, I wouldn't try to summon demons into the shop, and I was just there to get paid a minimum wage. Not like I wanted to get Hell involved.

It had rained outside, the wet street and the puddles that the rain had formed were still there. I thought it would last all night, but it stopped suddenly as if someone had turned off the hose. I had music playing, but no headphones in case someone called or entered. I allowed myself to be a bit carefree, but I was still at work.

And then, it happened. For the first time in what seemed like forever, someone showed up and made the automatic doors open. It was a pale, young man. He was wearing an oversized black hoodie and black jeans. He walked towards me, and for a second the thought occurred that I was going to be robbed. He settled one hand on the counter that stood between us, leaving the other by his stomach, making me notice that he was sort of bending down a bit, but before I could say anything, his face lifted, his gaze met mine and I froze.

Those dark brown eyes stared at me deadly. I shivered. It felt like if I started thinking too hard, he would be able to read whatever crossed my mind.

"Is he here?" He asked with a soft and tender tone, yet not a soothing one, rather than what you would expect for someone with such delicate facial features. Still intimidated, I simply shook my head sideways. I knew I was alone inside the building, but, is who here? Would it be possible that he was looking for Jisung? He had given no signs of life since he stopped coming to work, and that was almost a week ago. Every time I tried to contact him, to make sure he was OK at least, the automatic voice message simply replied that the number dialled didn't exist anymore.

After my silent reply, his gaze lowered and I heard him scoff.

"That's great," he whispered, in what I perceived, full of sarcasm. With that reply, my body trembled. Fuck. He now knows that there's no one else in here.

shitshitshitshit.

But before I could think of anything else to say, he slowly walked away and left.

...

What in the fucknuckles had just happened? Well, I'll be damned, because I for sure didn't know.

I looked outside. A not-so-heavy rain had started again, the one with those tiny drops that were barely noticeable. Suddenly, a loud crash made me jump in my place. It had come from behind the store. I snapped out of whatever daydreaming I was in, noticing red marks, more like stripes on the floor. Like ropes. Red ropes. What was that doing there? It was sort of like a path that pointed outside. 

Ah, c'mon man, you gotta be kidding me.

The loud crash was repeated, only weaker this time. I questioned my life-long decisions and wondered if I was being a wimp by having the urge to pretend that I heard nothing. I thought to myself, it couldn't be that bad, right?

I left the register and walked to the backdoor, and slowly peeked outside. A scenario welcomed me, and I had never —not even in my wildest dreams, and trust me, I had a vivid imagination—conceived of seeing... whatever that was, with my own eyes.

Describing it as bloody would be accurate. It was the same guy from minutes ago, except he looked even paler, and his black hoodie was nowhere to be seen. Instead, what looked like a once-white t-shirt covered his torso, but it was full of blood and cuts. His arm was laying on what looked like the worst part of the scene, making me unable to see it, and I didn't know if I should've been thankful for it.

He had sat on the ground by laying on the wall and slowly slipping off. His head was tilted, resting on a dumpster... could that have been the source of the noise?

The need to scream 'NEVERMIND' and get the shit fuck out of whatever that was kept getting bigger and the one to be a hero was getting emptier. But sadly for everyone, it was not empty yet.

And just maybe, I wanted to see those dark brown eyes again...

Screw everything.

I cleaned the "red ropes" that turned out to be the bloodstains of this idiot that shows up bleeding to death on a Subway at 2 am, turned off the lights and closed an hour early. I exited through the backdoor and he was still there, which was good because I could help him, but at the same time bad because I felt he'd be the type to reject aid in any way. If he hadn't run away, he just couldn't. And that was bad. Really bad.

I got down on my knees, put on the plastic gloves I had kindly borrowed from the store, along with a first aid kit that was compulsory to have in there and shook him once. Twice. Thrice. He wouldn't wake up.

For a moment, I froze again. That's what I thought, I knew this guy. He had shown up several times asking for the missing soul that Jisung had turned to, with some blond boy with a deep voice and a strong accent. But never alone, never late at night, and most importantly, never bleeding.

"Hey," I murmured. I repeated myself, each time louder, but still gently. Suddenly I heard him groan, and I couldn't help but smile calmly for a second.

"What...?" His soft tone almost weakened me, but I knew deep down that he could pass out again any minute, and maybe I wouldn't be able to wake him up again.

"It's OK. I'll take care of this, my guy. You are a lucky bastard 'cause I know what I'm doing, but I need to take you elsewhere. I can't patch you up in this place. Can you stand up?"

He weakly moved his arm from above his torso and I saw the worst part of it. Let me tell you, those were some large cuts. Still, I refrained from expressing anything, no disgust nor pity. I knew that Brown Eyes was in a whole lot of pain and trouble, but he most likely knew that too.

"Whaddya think, can I?" He showed a weak yet sarcastic smile.

Son of a bitch. "That's my question here, smiley face. You either do so or you die due to blood loss in an alley behind a Subway." I smiled back.

He frowned and tried to get up, but failed and if I hadn't caught his arm mid-way and passed it over my shoulders for support, he would've fallen to the ground again. I took off the cloth I was wearing as a hairband and made him keep pressure on the biggest wound.

"It's only a couple of blocks away, on the street in front of us. Will you make it?" I asked, trying not to sound too worried. He simply started walking. I just hoped no one would see us.

I helped him walk till we arrived at the number four, with its red old hideous door, and I supported his weight as he slowly lay on the wall as I opened the door. As we walked he kept mumbling, saying nonsense, talking about some 'district nine' but when we entered the building he shut up, and I swear I heard a silent cry when he saw no elevator.

"Second floor. You got this."

The fact that he didn't answer, not even with a rude comment made me worry a bit more. We did the same thing at my apartment's door and I made him wait just a bit more, running inside and taking the oldest towels I could find and I made him lay down on the now covered couch.

Okay, it's just an almost-dead guy cut like sliced cheese on your sofa. You're a med student, and you work night shifts. You've dealt with worse.

As soon as he settled down, I saw a relaxed yet bothered expression on his face, and I felt a bit bad because of it, but I couldn't let him sleep, not yet.

"Stay awake, please. I need you awake, uh..."

"Kim... call me Kim," he said, almost in a whisper.

"This is going to hurt, Kim," I said in almost a sing-song voice. I was surprised to hear him sort of giggling.

"Not more than this already." His eyes were like tunnels, looking sunken, lost, looking as if someone had turned the lights off.

"Sorry beforehand..." I opened the first aid kit and sat on a stool that I took from the kitchen.

Gloves still on my hands, I took my now ruined and bloodstained cloth and nonchalantly ripped open what was left of his shirt, to see all the cuts. I counted five. The bleeding had already stopped, but I had to clean each wound on his torso and forearms so they wouldn't get infected. I took out sterile wipes and cleaned the three wounds that were on his torso. Fortunately for both of us, the cuts weren't deep enough, so no stitches were needed. I noticed every time he flinched, and for some reason, it pained me each time. I shook my head, trying to get whatever emotions out of the situation as I dashed to the kitchen and took a damp cloth and used it due to the lack of antiseptic I could use to clean the blood off his body. I then took clean gauze and wiped the wounds dry, and used a big sterile dressing to cover each.

"Hey, Kim. Kim, lean on me."

He shook his head slightly, looking confused.

"F-For what?"

For some reason, the question annoyed me.

"Support, dipshit. I need you to sit still now, so I can treat your forearms and finish up."

What else would I ask this shit for?

After I finished, the so-called Kim lay down and fell asleep almost instantly. I took a blanket from my room and quietly sat on the armchair in front of where he was.

The guy sleeping on my couch had five cuts and bruised knuckles.

I closed my eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

Next time, I'm packing up my crayons and leaving.

~Kats, who literally found this out of luck right after remembering that she writes a whole lot of shit to forget about it lol

#so? #should i make more? #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin #seungmin skz #mafia #hope you enjoy

[ezlebe]

Day 2 - Hurt/Comfort

Tom paces the small, curtained off infirmary with his hands perched on his hips. He’s dressed down in a knit sweater and worn jeans, compared to Greg, who’s in Ralph Lauren cashmere and pressed slacks. “So tell me again what the fuck you were doing?”

“Talking, mostly?” Greg says, hearing his voice thin around the awkward stretch of the truth

“Talking?” Tom repeats, his voice pitching perky, sharp, and dubious, as he comes to a pause with his arms folding across his chest. “How did this talking end up with you off the back of the platinum class bleachers while the ponies ran around?”

“Mostly, like… I was less prepared than anyone expected when I got pushed?” Greg says, tapping his fingers against one of his thighs, as the other holds his phone close to his lap.  “And I landed sort of bad trying to step back… I guess I should’ve just fell, or something. It was only like five feet up?”

Tom takes a deep breath, then exhales it slowly, as he shakes out his arms. He reaches down and softly rubs at the wrap around Greg’s ankle with the backs of his knuckles.

Greg drags his teeth across his lower lip. The pressure is barely there, since the ankle is wrapped so tight, but he can still feel his face start to color, so he looks away from it.

“Connor said you were fighting with Shiv?” Tom says, as his hand shifts to lightly palm across the back of the splint, then up Greg’s bare calf. He clears his throat, as he pulls away, “I can’t really comprehend that.”

“No, uh…” Greg clears his throat. “I mean, sort of, she started it? But it was mostly everyone.”

“Not to be a big damned narcissist, but I have to ask…” Tom takes a breath, rolling his eyes toward the window, then offers a loud hiss of a sigh as an exhale. “Was it about me?”

“It wasn’t really – ” Greg bites back the lie, grudgingly, then reaches up and scratches at the back of his neck. “It was… in a way just adjacent?”

Tom turns back to Greg with a wide tilt of his head.

“You could say that maybe it was more about me?” Greg says, swallowing shallow, digging the tips of his fingers harder against the knob of his own spine. He looks away from Tom’s furrowed brows, instead focusing down at his knees, bent up awkwardly on the short cot. “And… uh, like how they’re super not great at being my family, in general? So Roman pushed me, because I said y-you were.”

“Ah,” Tom intones, then offers a few clicks of his tongue.

“I don’t think he meant to hurt me, uh…” Greg tips his head, recalling the pitch and break of Roman’s voice, calling him stupid while everyone dropped off the benches. “I’ve never actually heard him sound freaked out like that? So it was sort of nice.”

“Of course,” Tom says, flat, rubbing his palms together down near his waist. He looks over his shoulder at the door, then back to Greg, shaking his head, but doesn’t say anything, as he rounds closer to the head of the cot.

“Anyway, like I won the argument, in a way,” Greg says, looking up with a wide blink and a tight attempt at a smile. “Since they like called you after I broke my ankle.”

Tom rolls his eyes, reaching out across Greg to mock smacking at the foot on the pillow. “Twisted, by all accounts, including the x-ray, you big baby. There’s a reason you’re still at this dinky urgent care for the rich and famous.”

Greg looks down at it with a flattening of his lips. He tries to move his foot, then hisses at the pull down at the inside of his ankle. “It feels broken?”

“Yeah, that’ll be because it’s not broken,” Tom says, as he perches on the side of the cot, sliding his arm across Greg’s shoulders with a tug to tuck him into his side. “So you just get a little Tylenol and a nice splint.”

Greg leans sideways with a sight through his nose, setting his head into Tom’s shoulder with a low mutter. “Lame.”

#tomgreg #tomgregweek

[coolgirl576]

incorrect quotes

kc: What must it be like to live in your head? Are there happy ponies in there? It’s really something how utterly delusional your optimism is. If I didn’t hate you so much, I might even be impressed. pollux: Huzzah! I got a heavily qualified and slightly sarcastic compliment from Person A!

bloodmoon : Who knew getting in trouble would be so impossible? kc: I gotta give you credit, eclipse. You make it look easy. eclipse: Years of practice.

bloodmoon : Do crabs think people walk sideways? kc: …bloodmoon , what the hell.

The squad is asked what they would do with 5 children with only 3 chairs. solar: Get two more chairs! bloodmoon : They can get their own chairs. lunar: Make them fight for it. kc: You only need one chair to beat them all with. castor: I would never be near children. pollux: Kill two.

kc, singing to the tune of I Kissed a Girl: I killed a guy, and I liked it- eclipse, whispering: Should we call the exorcist? solar, also singing: The taste of his cherry chapstick. pollux, appalled: Call the exorcist.

castor: Unfollow me if you think the Earth is flat. lunar: *seriously pretends to be a flat-earther to antagonize the anti-flat-earther. bloodmoon : *neutral but makes polls to start fights, "Is the Earth flat? Let's discuss!"* pollux: not a flat-earther but makes "the Earth may be flat but this ass ain't" jokes for viral tweets. solar: actual flat-earther.

lunar: What doesn't kill me better start running, because now I'm fucking pissed.

#sun and moon show #lunar and earth show #the sun and moon show #the lunar and earth show #laes lunar #tlaes

[jongho-s-wife]

MOVIE NIGHT

18+!!!!!!

WARNINGS: NSFW, voyeurism, p in v, dom reader, sub Soda, needy Soda, potential spelling mistakes,

Idk what else-

"Any movie is fine you guys. But Pony has the best taste so let him pick" you said.

"She's not wrong" Soda agreed with me.

"You're just saying that because she's your girl. We all know I have the best taste in movies" Two argued.

"No you don't. Stop lying to yourself and sit down" you shot him down. 

He rolled his eyes and slumped into the nearest empty seat. Pony thought of a movie and told Darry who put it on seconds later. It was currently pouring cats and dogs outside, so the drive-in was closed, leaving us stuck inside watching a movie on the TV.

You and Soda took the couch and grabbed a blanket. His back was resting sideways on the back of the couch and his legs rested on top but open for me to sit in between them. You laid the blanket over the two of you and Soda picked up the popcorn from the ground.

The sound of the movie filled the room as everyone stared at it intently. You felt Soda place a kiss at the top of your head. You turned your head sideways and pecked his lips. Soda had been working extra shifts at the DX lately since they were short on rent money this month. You hadn't spent much time your boyfriend and we both seemed to miss each other a lot.

You shimmied more into Soda, indulging yourself in his body warmth. You heard a small grunt from Soda and looked at him in concern. "You alright?"

"Fine" he replied. His mouth pursed and his fists were balled up. You didn't believe him, not one bit, but let it go for now.  You moved a bit more and finally found a comfortable position. Just then, Soda let out a light moan. He'd probably thought you didn't hear it, but God, was he wrong.

Focusing on your lower back, you felt something hard against it. You felt yourself start to get needy for him and shimmied more. "Y/N...please stop" Soda whined. "Stop what? What's wrong?" you ask, your lust masked by false concern. "Your r-" you moved a bit more and his jaw tightened. "Never mind, it's nothing" he said. Your smirk increased into a smile when you turned your head back.

You grinded hard against him. His hands flew to your wait and squeezed. At this point, he knew you were doing it on purpose . He moved his hands under the blanket and moved your legs to the outside of his, leaving you spread open for him. "Your teasing me and playing dumb, thats not very nice baby" he said lustfully. His hand teased you waistband before slipping it into your pants. He rubbed a circle on your clit and you exhaled sharply. "Your so ready for me....so ready to be stuffed with my cock."

Before he could tease you more you turned the table and sat directly in his lap. You grinded down on him and he squeezed your waist once more. You looked back at the group before making your next move. "Lay down a little baby, I'm gonna make you feel good, since your being so needy and all" you ordered sweetly.

"But everyone is here-"

"I guess you’ll have to wait then" you shrugged and began to slide back down. "No, no, please" he begged and slid down more. You smirked and sat on his abdomen. You palmed him through his pants and he groaned. You leaned back and whispered in his ear "Quiet baby, or else we'll get caught and I'll have to stop" you told him. He shook his head strongly "No don't stop, please don't stop."

You kept your back to his chest and unzipped his pants slowly so it wouldn't make any noise. You grabbed him through his boxers and his hips bucked up involuntarily. "Please touch me Y/N." You pulled his out of his pants under the covers and squeezed him while moving your hand up and down. 

"Want you inside me" you told him. "Fuck yess∽" he hissed and bucked his hips up more. "Pull my pants down for me." He slowly slid his hands down your body, bringing your pants and underwear down with them. You were now exposed under the covers. Soda let his fingers glide up and down your wet slit and flick you clit a few time, making you jolt. "Please, please" he begged.

You let go of his length and brought him between your dripping lips, grinding bare on him. "You wanna be inside me? Wanna stuff me with you cock and cum inside me?" you said teasingly. "Fuck yes. Please let me cum inside you, please." 

"As you wish baby."

You'd had enough of your own teasing and slowly slid down on him. You bit you lip to keep from moaning out. Soda squeezed your hips tighter and you were now sure it would bruise later. "God you're tight, so ti-ah ah∽" he moaned when you clench around him. You started moving up and down slowly on him. He kept letting out moans that were getting increasingly louder. You stopped moving and looked at him. Sexual frustration was seen in his eyes. "Why'd you stop, please keep going" he pleaded. "Your being too loud hun, everyone's gonna hear you moaning for me" you told him. "Quiet down" you added before you started moving again.

His hips moved into yours, but you both stopped when a voice interrupted you. "Can I have your popcorn Y/N? I ran out" Two-Bit asked. "Ya, sure Two" you smiled. "Thanks" he said before grabbing your snack and turning his attention back towards the movie. 

You moved again, but a little fast. Your orgasm was approaching and so was Soda's. You felt him twitch inside of you and groan as quietly as possible. "You gonna cum for me Soda? Gonna cum inside me and let it drip out?" you suggested teasingly. "Yes, yes, yes, fuck yess∽" he said with every thrust. "Gonna cum, gonna cum so hard inside of you" he said. His thumb shifted to rub fast circles on your clit. You clench around him repeatedly. After a few more thrusts, his hips didn't stop pressing into yours as he came inside of you. You saw his head fall back onto the couch and he bit his lip. Your orgasm was triggered by his and you softly convulsed on top of him. 

You lifted yourself off of him after a minute and laid back on him. He brought his arms around you middle and held you close. You dipped your hand down to your satisfied heat and collected him cum that dripped out of you on your fingers. You brought it up to your mouth and sucked the juices off of your two fingers. Groaning, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you leaned more against Soda.

"Fuck, that's so hot" he said. "Mmmm∽" you responded. After a while, you both pulled your pants back up. As if it was on cue, the movie ended and the lights were flipped back on.

"Great suggestion Pony" Darry said. "It wasn't so bad..." Two-Bit pouted and stood up to get another beer.

"Oh shush Two, you loved it" you laughed at him. "Whatever..." you heard him mumble. 

#the outsiders #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis #the outsiders sodapop

[day0walkersdrafts]

The party is just so fucking loud.

Frat house bad; real bad. Two stories with a basement and crammed with people that Xavier didn’t necessarily like, or even get along with that well. But it was almost worse than a frat house, because this tidal pool of people went to university, went to college-college. For smart people. Really smart people, with GPA’s that calculated confusingly, that had triple major’s and two minors and got PhD’s after this. Masters. Belonged to societies, not social clubs.

So Xavier felt more out of place than usual, tagging along after Lark. Felt awkward in his jeans, distressed because he wore them thin, not for fashion. Hole in the knee because he’d skidded across the pavement falling off a skateboard. Out of place in his Carhartt that was stained because he worked a dirty job, not because he bought it that way. Because sometimes he had no rags and just rubbed car oil off on his jacket—that’s what it was there for.

Didn’t help that he was so fucking tall. Red haired. Beacon like. Xavier stood in the kitchen with his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to blend in and doing the exact opposite.

“What do you think?” The pretty blond turns to him then. She has saucer sized blue eyes that keep blinking morse code up at him. Xavier’s cup in his hand needs to be refilled with whatever cheap beer is on keg, but its across the room and these two have him absolutely fucking trapped.

“I uh,” he smiles down at her. “I thought The Shining was just a movie about a dude who goes crazy in a hotel.” Not that he’d stomached the entire thing; he’d made Benny fast forward through the blood elevator scene, which had made him sour the entire evening because it was his favorite part. The girl laughs with her head back. She has all that blond hair gathered up into a high pony tail. Her slim wrist has a gold bracelet on it; the kind that doesn’t unclasp. Permanent.

“Wow, you are so cute,” her companion says, a man only a few inches shorter than him. He has brushed back black hair and the strand that falls forward, onto his forehead seems purposeful. He looks at Xavier with hooded dark eyes that feel invasive. “Like, where did you come from?”

“Boston,” Xavier says, finishing the tepid beer in his red cup.

“Do Boston public schools not have media classes?”

Both of them laugh then, which makes Xavier feel like he’s somehow the shortest one there, despite being tall enough he could reach a hand up and touch the ceiling if he really wanted to. He doesn’t, hunches his shoulders instead, sinks into himself a bit as he scans for Lark’s blond head out in the crowd. When he catches sight, he angles himself sideways and shoves his way between the duo to the sound of their shocks gasps and rude and what’s his problem?

Xavier says, “Get me the fuck out of here.”

At the exact same time Lark says, “I just saw Benji.”

“You saw Benji?” he perks up then, shoulders dropping, tension draining like something was poked and let loose. Xavier has to tilt to look down at Lark, but he doesn’t feel small in front of the runner. Especially not with the way Lark sometimes keeps his chin tilted as if everyone’s meeting his gaze evenly. He’s grinning too, hands in his big track jacket, eyes rolling a little and indicating to the side with his head.

“Didn’t think he’d show—don’t think parties are his thing, but—”

Xavier turns, excited (big toothy grin, ready to find that curly hair, ready to get away from all these pretentious fucks, ready to get into a conversation that won’t make his head hurt, ready—) and his long arms crash into the person behind him. He yelps—and so does she, especially when the cup in her hand upends completely onto her front. Xavier watches in mute horror as beer spills all over a pale pink cardigan and a white dress.

“Oh fuck, I am so fucking sorry,” he pants immediately, blindly reaching into the kitchen for napkins until his eyes raise up from that beer soaked chest to the owner of the white dress and pink cardigan.

“Hi, Xavier,” she says softly and he panics.

“Daisy,” he says, thrusting the napkins onto her chest. “Uh, Daisy,” he repeats and then laughs, continues trying to soak up the spilled beer. When did she start drinking beer? Was a light weight when we dated. Or was she pretending to be a light weight? He swallows and tries to smile at her. She’s so small he has to almost fully arch over to look at her—makes his neck hurt.

“Oh—stop—” she laughs, swatting at his hands. Her cheeks go a dark red color, bloom a blush across her nose, all the way to her ears. She tucks strands of her loose dark hair away. “It—it was an accident, you’re fine.” Her hand smooths down over his and he almost jumps back from it. Afraid she might lace their fingers together like she used to do. He remembers the way she’d wildly swing their interlocked hands, her big, beautiful smile up at him. The little gleam in her eyes, the idolization of him apparent. He swallows hard and his hand lingers on her collarbone.

“Long time no see,” he says awkwardly. She blinks her big hazel eyes and then tilts her head and smiles more.

Xavier wishes he could turn, find that curly head of hair, but, he gets trapped there. Her fingers lace through his and hold him.

—

They catch up for an hour, maybe longer. Daisy talks about the non profit she’s started working at, her new apartment downtown. It’s a loft, with more square footage than Xavier’s childhood home that held four children and two parents. She says he can visit, if he wants, whenever. She hasn’t put together her book shelves because she’s not exactly strong enough; she laughs when she says it, that you know me, laugh. She talks about school, the pressures of it, maintaining her grades, what she’ll do after. And when she finally asks about him, her big eyes up and both her hands holding his one, he doesn’t know what to say.

Haven’t moved from this spot, where we parted. Haven’t really done anything else, Daisy. Would love to tell you that and disappoint you.

“Still smoke,” he says instead, grinning. “Actually, was gonna dip out for one.” Her hand tightens a bit on his, until she seems to collect herself. She makes a small sound of surprise—as if she’s not in charge of her own actions—hands fluttering up to her mouth innocently. Xavier has to look away then, awkwardly to the side door, where he knows freedom is just a step away. Fresh air. Even if it’s nicotine laced.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, eyes averted down. “I’ve like, totally kept you here for so long just blabbering about myself.” It makes his chest squeeze, makes his ribs cage into his heart and he swallows. Contemplates staying there, letting her continue before he slips a hand up to cup the back of his neck. He squeezes there, blinking around the party. She fits in here, because she’s wearing that cute dress he’s ruined. She fits in because she’s pale and pretty and has ambitions and—money.

“You’re fine—hey, we’ll uh, we’ll have lunch soon. Right?”

“Next week,” she says, with a gentle nod, a little soft laugh that’s girlish and sweet. He’d loved that laugh, loved making her laugh, loved telling her dumb jokes to make her laugh. It had made him feel special, sometimes.

They’d promised to stay friends when they broke up. Xavier felt committed to that promise, but had never actually acted on it—was busy. She was busy too, it seemed. But as he backs toward the door, her large eyes capture him again, make him pause. Make him feel like the bad guy as he fumbles for the sliding glass door.

—

It’s when the cold air rushes to meet him that Xavier realizes he might be a little drunk. His cheeks are warm against the biting wind and his hands feel fat and awkward as they shove into his jacket. He stumbles a bit outside, his long legs awkward and his converses sliding across wet grass.

“Stupid,” he seethes to himself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” And he’s angrier still, because he doesn’t have his cigarettes on him. Had left them in Lark’s car like an idiot. Xavier continues sliding across the grass. The house is on a knoll, big mound that lets it sit higher than the road across it where all the cars are parked. Wouldn’t matter even if he did get to Lark’s car, because he doesn’t have the keys. “Stupid.” Xavier hisses once more as he turns and slides a bit more.

There’s a single street light on, and it’s yellow hazy glow illuminates the figure sitting down in the wet grass, just right outside the ring of light. He leans with his legs thrown out in front of him, palms braced behind, chin tucked to his chest. Benji sits there, looking so out of place and alluring that Xavier’s whole stomach drops and he doesn’t recover. He slips again, has to catch himself a bit, hands sliding over the dewy grass as he stares.

Xavier’s eyes sweep over him again. They linger too much on those thrown out legs. One the curve of his body as he sits there. In the wet grass, without giving a fuck about anything. Xavier stares. He lingers.

Lately, it’s been—hard.

“Pff.” He is drunk, because its a difficult thought, but it makes him snort anyway as he starts walking toward the figure. Even if he’s grinning, maybe laughing a little—it has been hard. Lately, it’s been really fucking hard to look at Benji and not feel confused. Because; that’s his friend. That’s his friend. That’s someone he calls a friend, who he refers to as his friend. My friend, Benji.

His friend that he thinks about, in spare moments. Standing in line waiting to order food. Thinks about, when he’s under a car, doing a routine maintenance he could do in his sleep. His friend that he thinks about sometimes before bed, trying to get himself to think about anything else. Trying so hard to think of anything else but his friend.

My friend, Benji.

As Xavier gets closer, he expects him to turn and look at him—he doesn’t, which flares some weird anxiety in him. A did I do something wrong feeling? A little ice cube melting underneath his sternum. Daisy, in the back of his mind, his hand on her collarbone, his hand in hers, her eyes up at him, his guilt. Xavier swallows hard around a rough feeling in his throat, his head dizzy and warm. He slips some more as he finally gets right beside him and smiles down.

“Who’s the most popular guy at the nudist colony?” he asks Benji, standing beside him and looking down. Benji finally lets his head fall back, his brown eyes lifting to look at him. Xavier feels punched by that look, his chest caved in, because God fuck—fuck—just—fucking—fuck does Benji have beautiful eyes. Framed in dark lashes that flutter a bit, thick brows pulled down in his usual scowling grimace. Those big brown eyes are looking at him from behind those thick rimmed dark glasses that make them bigger and they reflect moonlight. My friend, Benji.

“Feels like this one’s gonna be a bad one, Xavier.”

“The guy who can carry a cup of coffee in each hand and a dozen donuts.” Benji blinks those liquid brown eyes slowly, his brows pulling upward. The scowl disappears, replaced with this humored look that fills Xavier’s stomach with butterflies. Really fat ones that ping around everywhere. Xavier lifts a hand and gestures obscenely with a tongue pinched between his teeth. “Get it?”

“So fuckin’ awful, mate.”

He lowers himself to the ground beside Benji then, bending his knees. The sloped hill makes it easier to sit and he watches the street light flicker, as if deciding whether or not it’ll stay on for such a picturesque moment. For a moment, they get to just be quiet—and that’s so fucking nice, it almost makes Xavier want to say it out loud, but that’ll ruin this moment, so instead he tucks his teeth into his lower lip. He looks out to the empty street, the music from the house inside soft behind them.

Xavier likes being quiet with Benji; likes the recuperation of it all. Sometimes, when they’re together, they don’t actually say anything at all. Sometimes, all they do is talk—for hours, about nothing, easy ping pong conversation back and forth, endless. But this is so nice after being inside that stuffy house, inside those waves of people, inside all those conversations and the music. Xavier tucks his knee closer and lays his cheek against it, tilts his face Benji’s way—is shocked to find him already looking at him.

“Do you have a cigarette?” Xavier asks, finds it weird how hoarse his voice is and has to clear it.

Benji fishes around in his pocket. That lightweight button up looks flimsy against the piercing night cold, so as he does, Xavier slowly shrugs off his Carhartt. He drapes it unceremoniously around Benji’s shoulders right as the man turns to offer the pack. They’re close then—probably too close. Xavier should probably scoot back, or at the very least lean away, because his friend, Benji is too close. Instead he stares, with big, blinking, drunk eyes and then grins.

“S’my last one,” Benji says and that grin drops.

“Oh, dude, I won’t take your last fucking cigarette—”

“Naw, we’re gonna share it.”

Before he can argue—because Xavier understands the importance of the last cigarette a man has—it’s being put in his mouth for him. That stuns him so hard the wet grass feels like its sliding up to meet him. Actually is a little because he’s turned on his side to face Benji and his shoulder connects with the ground. He laughs a bit, has to catch the cigarette and right it between his lips as he watches Benji fish out the lighter.

The jacket slips a little, so Xavier reaches up and fixes it more so it wont fall again. It makes Benji pause and glance over. His glasses slide a little down his prominent, strong nose. I love your nose, he doesn’t say, keeps tucked like his teeth in his lips. You have such a handsome nose.

Out comes the lighter then, Benji smiling crookedly. It’s one of those real smiles, no meanness to it. He’s never really mean. Xavier scrubs a hand back through his hair, unable to stop himself from grinning back. He’s not mean, at all. People get that wrong about him. He leans forward as Benji strikes the lighter; and he has to reach a hand up with it. Keep it cupped around that flame so that it won’t flicker out. But his hand wavers—so Xavier reaches up too and loops his fingers around Benji’s wrist to keep everything neat and straight.

He watches the flame at first, touching the tip of the cigarette. But on the inhale, his eyes slide until he’s looking at his pale thumb against Benji’s wrist. He watches, unable to stop himself as that thumb brushes smoothly across his vein, a pulse. Xavier’s eyelids droop, his lungs filling with nicotine as he inhales. Soft. Skates across his mind as his eyes slide back and find those brown ones staring at him through big glasses. Xavier’s hand doesn’t drop.

And when Benji’s hand moves, his fingers somehow trail over Xavier’s cheekbone, sending electric shocks through him. Straight over his spine, down curling lower, underneath his belly button. He has to blink a few times, has to stare forward at those beautiful brown eyes as the hand retreats away. The memory of finger pands on his cheek.

Xavier pulls away only slightly, cigarette smoke pushed from his nose and into the air. It’s then that he finally removes his hand and goes for it, laughing a little on the exhale.

“Fuck, I love smoking” He passes it over then. Their fingers brush. Nothing new. They touch all the time. Last week Benji had fallen asleep on the couch with his legs thrown over Xavier’s. They touch all the time. It’s nothing new. It’s fingers brushing sharing a cigarette. My friend, Benji.

“Tryin’ to quit.” He takes a drag, the cigarette fitted between his index and middle finger. Xavier watches his thumb flick it to send ash off into the grass. “Last one of the day. Half of one anyway.” Benji leans over and holds it out. Xavier takes it, oddly careful before putting it to his mouth. Xavier lays then, lets himself settle into the moist grass, kicking his long legs out. Benji does too, their shoulders brushing—lucky the Carhartt is mostly in the way. Lucky why?

“My neighbor has been mad at his wife for sunbathing naked,” Xavier says, rolling his head to look at Benji. Already looking at him too. He holds out the cigarette and Benji takes it back, tucks it between his lips. They curve, softly, into his smile, his fucking smile—that smile. That smile. The street light flickers again. “I, personally, am on the fence.”

Benji laughs, throwing out a leg to kick Xavier, to tell him, right fuckin’ awful! So fuckin’ bad every time.

And they dissolve into laughter over that, kicking at each other, squirming on the wet grass. That dissolves into talking, into discussing the TV show they’d been binging together; Xavier lamenting how Benji never gets the three-two-one count down correct and he’s always a few minutes ahead when they’re watching in their own apartments. They talk about Benji’s sister coming to visit soon (“Man, I hope she likes me.” “Oh, mate, she’s got opinions.”) and they discuss Xavier’s latest tattoo on his knee, a barbwire fence because he thought it looked cool.

The streetlight flickers off, but they stay there. Talk about something else, for a while.

—

When they get home, Lark is guiding Xavier into their apartment by the hips laughing.

“You always do this.”

“You love taking care of me.” He’s got his long pale arms over Lark’s shoulders, grinning as he stumbles back. One of his hands toy with Lark’s stark blond hair, tugging it a little and making the shorter man growl and glare. “You’re such a mom friend.”

“You’re such a shit head. You’re drunk,” Lark accuses confidently—and yeah. Definitely is. Had a few more beers than he was supposed to have, especially after Lark found him and Benji sitting together, but he feels dizzier than usual. Keyed up in a weird way, wound together tightly and energetic and also exhausted. Syrupy in the head in the same way it feels like that molasses is mixed with fucking pop rocks. He feels over the garden wall.

Lark turns him toward his bedroom then, still guiding him.

“Sleep it off, big guy.” Xavier swirls instead, back to facing him and scoops Lark up into a hug. He has to bend to get to him, has to arch down and hold him close. He feels Lark’s hand patting softly at his side and his soft laughter in his ear. “Man, love you too. Go to bed.”

When he does get into his room, Xavier—despite feeling like he could fall into it and sleep immediately—dedicates his time to getting his shoes unlaced. Puts them by the door, where they always go. He shrugs off his crewneck sweater—realizes then that Benji still has his jacket. The sweater and his jeans go into the hamper, which he stares down at, contemplating that jacket.

It’s his favorite. It’s expensive and worthwhile. He walks backward till the back of his knees hit the bed and he falls down onto it—long arms splayed everywhere and one leg hanging off the edge. His necklace, the little crucifix charm, slides until its all bunched into the hollow of his throat; he brings a finger there and hooks it around the chain and tugs slightly as he closes his eyes. He groans, all that wild energy suddenly leaving him in a rush because, Xavier realizes, he’s—

He’s in love with his friend Benji.

#xavier #xavier x benji #uni au

[dollsonmain]

Oh.......

oh no.

I’ve discovered an error.

dammit.

So, when there are multiple items in an order it’s listed a little funny on the receipt and I just realized that I’m not factoring the shipping fees, which I have to eat, into those items’ earnings meaning my paperwork isn’t going to match the tax form when it comes.

I think I have to go back, and instead of trying to do each item individually on each bulk order, which was done to hopefully get CORRECT information per sale, I’m going to have to instead just divide the whole order by however many ponies even though they’re technically individual sales.

Fuck me sideways why is this so hard?

#HECKINNUMMBERS

[berd-ze-bird]

Force and Consequences

Chapter 1, Assault

“Hey, apple-butt! You gonna be around tomorrow?” I call when I’m done beating Silver Strike at darts. The other mare seemingly just casting me a sideways glance. I didn’t seem to care though.

“Might be,” Apple Spector answers from his spot at the bar. “Why?”

“I’m thinking about going for a run. Wanna come?” I haven’t seen him in a few days. He’s been busy doing whatever farm ponies do, and I’ve been helping fight off an Everfree storm that just didn’t want to go away, but I’m decent, so the situation is under control now.

“I might. Come by ‘round lunchtime, and I’ll see where I’m at.”

“Sounds good.” I grin. That’s code for ‘if AS doesn’t have his chores done, then I can take a nap until he’s finished.’ I give him a hoof bump and walk toward the door. It was fun to hang out for a bit and relax, but I hear a cloud calling my name.

I’m not the first one to leave tonight. Moonstone left a while ago. It’s still kind of early though, so I’m kinda thrown off when I get outside and see Flame Whipper leaning against a wall across the empty street. He usually posts up at the bar with a pitcher and stays there until closing time on the rare occasions he decides to come out, but I don’t remember seeing him inside at all. Plus, he doesn’t look like he’s leaving. He looks like he’s waiting for somepony.

Personally, I don’t think of him as bad. He’s cool, but he does give off some weird vibes to someponies. I may or may not be one of them though. 

“Evenin’ Dash,” he says. He sounds just like he always does, but something feels weird. Maybe that’s the feeling everypony feels?

“Hey, Flame. You good?” I ask carefully. Letting Flame realize that I’m weirded out over nothing would be the definition of not cool.

“Yyyep. I’m just fine. Can I walk you home?”

Has he seriously been out here waiting to ask me if he can walk me to my cloudhouse?

“Uh, thanks for the offer, but I was just gonna fly,” I answered, spreading my wings and doing a little feather wave at the same time. He gives my wings a look that makes me instantly pin them back to my sides. “Catch you later,” I say awkwardly and turn away. I just want to go around the corner and take off where he can’t see me.

I hear him push off the wall and start to follow me, his heavy hooves thudding in the dirt and quickly closing the distance between us. I turn to glare at him again and ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, but the words get stuck in my throat.

His eyes are weird. That expression from before when he was looking at my wings is still kind of there, but it’s worse now. It makes me feel… Dirty, and not in a good way. I mean, my wings are awesome, and lots of ponies like to look at them. I don’t usually have a problem with that, but this is different. Flame never looked at me like that. Flame’s never looked at anypony like that.

“Are you sure you can make it back all that way?” He asks as he steps up beside me, closing the distance between us way too fast.

I can feel the pressure of his side resting on my back because of how tall he is. He’s ridiculously hot like he’s on fire. The places where his coat touches mine instantly feel gritty and gross. He smells like sweat, dirt, and booze. I’m going to have to take a shower when I get home; a cloudbath is not going to be enough to get the stink and grime off me.

“You had a lot to drink,” he continues.

That is total bullshit. I had four, maybe five rounds of cider in the last few hours. Plus, I’m pretty sure I could drink him under the table any day of the week. Leaders aren’t exactly known for being careful with their party habits, and I keep up just fine. With that being said, I’ve done it more than once with them.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I say and take a huge step away from him. “Thanks though.”

Even after my huge step to the side, he's still standing way too close. I can't take off with him basically standing right on top of me- not without hurting him anyway. So, I start walking again, trying to get enough space to really spread my wings without hitting him. I don’t care if he looks anymore. I just want to get away from him and go home.

The featherbrain decides to stick with me! Right next to me. He’s not really leaning on me, just walking close enough that we’re touching and there’s that pressure of him on my back again. It’s weird. He’s never been in my space like this before. Nopony has.

“You wanna go out sometime?” He asks.

It takes me a few seconds to decide that he’s being serious, but there’s no joking or sarcasm in his yellow eyes. He’s the same serious Flame that he always has been. I can’t tell if he’s drunk or not. He smells like a bar, but he’s walking just fine. Either way, he must be out of his mind.

“Umm… Thanks for the offer Flame,” I say, stepping away from him again, making sure to do it at an angle, so I keep moving down the street. “But that’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“No offense, but you’re not exactly my type.” I think about telling him that I’d rather go out with his sister than him, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea right now.

“Cuz I’m not a pegasus?”

I stop walking to roll my eyes at him. He’s being an idiot. The fact that I’ve pretty much only ever dated pegasi is a total coincidence, and it doesn’t matter right now anyway. Plus, it’s none of his damn business. “Seriously?,” I snapped at him and started walking away again.

“Then what’s the problem?” he asks.

I wonder if he hit his head at work today or something. Joy practically gave me a parade the day she found out that I’m a bisexual. Everypony knows it. I know that Flame knows it. It’s Ponyville, so I’ve never felt like I had to try and hide it, but Flame is acting like a stallion asking out one of the gayest mares in Equestria just makes sense. However, I do lack interest in stallions, and I’ve mainly dated mares. So I know that he is definitely trying and it’s not working.

I stop walking to look him in the face and give my best ‘are you really drunk off your hooves or are you just being stupid?’ look. He doesn’t notice. He just keeps looking at me with that weird look in his eyes, like I’m supposed to give him some big explanation about why I won’t go out with him; like it’s not enough that I just told him no. I have to give him a reason.

For the first time in a long time, I realized how big Flame is. He’s huge. He’s leaning toward me like a boulder about to go tumbling down a mountain or something. I can hear every breath he’s taking and almost feel every time he breathes out. Plus, his smell is stinging my nose and making me feel even more crowded. That same prickling feeling goes up my spine again. The feeling that I need to get away from him is quickly changing from something fueled by weirdness to something with a little flame of panic underneath it.

We’re in the middle of the deserted marketplace, which is almost the exact opposite direction from my house. I really wasn't paying attention to where I was going before, but it’s no big deal, right? Because I’m fucking Dash, and it will take me like 7 seconds to get across town. I just need this damn thickhead to give me enough space to take off.

“I’m not into stallions, Flame,” I tell him bluntly. I give him a shove, mostly because I just want to get some space. “You’re a cool enough dude and everything, but stallions just aren’t my thing. Sorry.”

“How do you know?” he says, just as serious as ever, and instantly closes the little gap my shove made between us, pressing against me harder this time.

Now I wish I hadn’t touched him at all. The weird just keeps getting weirder, like starting to get scary weird. It’s not like Flame talks that much, but I’ve known him long enough to know that he definitely sounds different. Trying to figure out tone has never been a thing I really cared about. So, even though he sounds different, I really have no clue exactly why or what to say to him about it. It’s like I don’t know this guy at all. I just know that he’s still standing way too close, and talking way too weird, and it’s starting to freak me out.

“What?” I ask, trying not to sound distracted as I start looking around for other ponies or any way to get away from him, but the stalls are all empty. The lights are all out, except for maybe one across the street by Spark’s, but I can’t really tell.

“How do you know you don't like a stallion? Ever give one a shot?”

I went on a really awkward date with a colt back in flight school. That was enough. “Not really,” I answer, “but I know. Ok?”

Before I’m done saying the words, everything changes. He really starts leaning on me and kind of pushing me down a little side street. The shift is so sudden that my mind doesn’t know what to do with it, but every weird feeling I’ve had since I left the bar is suddenly a blaring alarm in my brain telling me to get away. My heart starts racing and I can taste something weird in my mouth. Not adrenaline- I know what that tastes like. This is fear. I’ve been afraid before, but I’ve never been so scared I could taste it.

This doesn’t make any sense. Even as my body freaks out and every physical part of me is working to get away, my mind is trying to figure out what the hell is going on and how to make it stop. This is Flame! He’s just not the kind of guy that goes around doing this kind of stupid stuff. Maybe it’s just a prank or something. My brain wants to believe that, but every other part of me knows it isn’t true.

I can't see his face through the darkness, but I’m sure that strange look is still there. I also can’t really see where I am. Every time I try to move away so I can get my bearings, he closes the distance between us. I try to push him back, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. I feel like I’m caught in a massive current or something, just trying to stay on my hooves until it stops. I try to move faster and get space that way, but there isn’t enough time. Plus, he’s practically knocking me off my hooves with every step he takes, so I can barely stay standing let alone try to get my hooves under me enough to run.

He pushes me until, with a loud thud, I’m crushed up against the rough wood plank wall of one of the empty stands.

“Flame! What gives?” I demand, turning to face him head-on.

“I’m hopin’ you do,” he answers with a dangerous little smile. He rears, hooking one foreleg under my chin, and slams me with all his earth pony might back against the wall.

I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for him to be so damn fast. I’m one of the fastest, most agile ponies in Equestria, but somehow I let him get me pinned. It took less than a second and now I can barely breathe. The only way I’m getting out of this is if he backs off or the wall behind me breaks into pieces. I can hear the wood creaking and straining, trying to splinter under the sudden impact and weight. I hope it breaks because I’m pretty damn sure now that Flame isn’t going to stop.

“Stop it, Flame!” I try to yell but he’s still choking me with his foreleg, so, all that comes out is a pathetic, raspy little gasp.

He shuts me up by shoving his tongue down my throat, so I bite him hard. I feel my teeth break the skin and taste his salty blood in my mouth, which instantly makes me want to spit and I let go. He yelps but he doesn’t go anywhere. His breath is like smoke on my face. It’s too hot and it reeks.

His massive body is everywhere. One of his forehooves is planted to the side of my head bracing him against the wall. The other foreleg is still pressed across my neck so I can barely breathe. I can barely move my head at all. It makes it hard to keep my mouth away from his because he apparently didn’t get the message from my bite. He’s still trying to kiss me again.

I feel something creeping against my stomach. It’s his cock. It’s staring up at me and growing bigger by the second. He’s freaking huge. As panicked as I am, and as much as I want to get away, I can’t stop myself from taking half a second to just be grossed out. Dicks are disgusting. I’ve always hated it in the summer when things are just hot, and the stallions are all hanging out. It’s not their fault. It’s not like there’s anything they can do about it. It’s just fucking gross.

I’ve helped out at Sweet Apple Acres enough times that this definitely isn’t the first time I’ve seen Flame’s penis, but it’s the first time I’ve seen him hard. It makes me want to vomit. It also makes me realize exactly how much more panicked I should be. I know this because Flame is a relative of AS that comes by his place sometimes to work. This isn’t just Flame being drunk and weird. This is way worse. That soft but firm creeping sensation moving up the underside of me triggers a whole new kind of fight response. I have got to get out of this.

“This isn’t funny, Flame,” I manage to say and put as much hate into the words as I can manage. I really don’t want him to know that I’m scared, but my voice shakes and kind of cracks anyway. “Let me go.”

Then he nips me. He nips me on my damn neck like we’re some cute couple on a date. The instinct to take off is screaming in my brain. If I can just get in the air, I’ll be ok. But the nanosecond my wings unfurl he pins them against the wall. I hear a terrible crunch and pain shoots from my wingtips to my spine and back. Dark bubbles dance around the edges of my eyes until it’s almost completely black. There's no way he didn't just break something. My back arches and I try to twist away in response to the pain. My body is trying to pull my wings out from under his huge, heavy hooves but all that happens is a whole bunch of feathers gets ripped and torn from my wings.

Then he laughs. It’s more of a stupid, country boy giggle. “I heard that you pegasi like having your wings kissed,” he says. Then he does it. He puts his disgusting mouth on my wing! He nibbles his way along my leading edge and licks it. The slick, slurping sound of his tongue on my feathers triggers my gag reflex, but with his leg across my throat I can’t even throw up.

I want to rear up and kick him right in that massive shaft of his, but I can't move. I want to headbutt him, but he has my wings pinned too tight. If I try something like that it’ll probably kill me, and I'm not in the mood to die. Plus, he’s still managing to choke me somehow.

“Did you like that?” He asks softly into my ear. I think he's trying to use some husky, sexy voice crap on me. He nibbles on the sensitive edge of my ear.

“No. Now let me go.” I try to say through the chokehold. I try to push him off with my forehooves, but he’s massive. There’s just no way. I’m strong for a pegasus, but he’s a huge earth pony and it makes all the training I’ve done feel like a sick joke. He just leans into me harder. What little space I had to move is gone. Now all there is is his gross, disgusting, hard dick stuck between us and his hot, panting breath in my ear.

“Oh come on,” he hums sweetly. His breath sends a fresh bunch of prickles of fear and anger across every inch of me. “Stop actin’ like you don’t like it. You don’t even know. You might really like it if you tried it. I know you like a challenge. Let’s see if you can take it all.”

“Shut the fuck up, Flame. Let me go,” I squeak past the awkward pressure against my throat.

He pulls his barrel back. For just a second I feel a rush of relief and I think I’ve got a chance. I brace to move. Then he slams his barrel forward again. There’s a massive crunching sound that comes from my chest as much as from the cracking wall behind me. I feel things snap inside me, and I gasp desperately for a breath that I can’t catch.

“Ain’t no call for ugly talk like that,” he whispers gently in my ear again.

Then, he shifts his back hooves, widening his stance, so his muzzle lowers to the place where my shoulder meets my neck. His penis slides down and away. Again, for a second my brain races. I let myself hope that it’s all over. He’s going to let me go and this will all just be a weird thing we take a few weeks to get over, then we never talk about again.

Just before his dick flops free, it slides between my lower lips, and the worst feeling of the night washes over me. Nothing he’s done makes me want to vomit as much as realizing suddenly that I’m wet down there.

Instantly, I feel even less able to handle this. What the hell? It must be from trying to fight him off or something because I am definitely not turned on. I like it rough sometimes, but that isn’t what this is. This is just wrong, but my body's betraying me anyway. I never trained for how to respond to this.

I hope that he won’t notice.

He notices. As he slides himself past my slick slit, he hums happily to himself. Then, he starts to push forward again, slipping against me and rubbing my clit. I try not to respond, but it’s impossible. Having him touch me there feels like I’ve been stabbed with a flaming hot branding iron, and I flinch to get away.

“I told you you’d like it,” he says in a louder, way more confident voice. “Now, I promise I’m going to be real gentle-like. I’m going to show you that a stallion can be just as nice as a filly.”

I’m going to throw up. I wish I could make myself throw up. Maybe he’d get grossed out and leave me alone. Shame is racing through me. My mind is churning like a hurricane with thoughts blowing across it, but not in a way I can control. The more I think, the more I realize how fucked I am.

What is wrong with me? Why is my body making it seem like I want this? Why am I such a fucking idiot? Why didn’t I get away? Why is he doing this? What the fuck is happening to me? How am I going to get myself out of this?

I know that I have to get away. I have to keep fighting. I can’t just let this happen. I try to hit and kick and bite, but there’s nothing I can do. My forehooves feel like tiny, weak, little marshmallows as I pound them and push them against his sides and chest. My teeth are useless because I can’t move my head. Plus, I’m trying to suck in what little air my aching chest can handle.

His shoulders tense. Something really bad is about to happen.

“Flame,” I tried to yell at him. “N-” That’s all I managed to get out.

No more talking.

He flips me around like a steer at a rodeo, slams his hooves around my flanks and forces me onto himself. I scream out in breathless pain. Then again in shame at how easy it was for him to plunge his huge cock deep inside me.

I feel like my entire body is full of him, like there isn’t even room for me anymore, like my stomach and guts are going to come forcing their way out of my mouth, because there’s nowhere else for them to go. It’s like he shoved a cannon up my tail end that scraped or broke every part of my insides on the way.

I want him out. I don’t care if it means I have to explode, or disappear, or die to make it happen. I want him out of me. I want him off of me.

I try to twist away, but he shoves his hips forward driving even deeper. My head and chest crash into the splintering wood wall. The planks groan but still don’t give. The force of his thrust presses all of the air out of me. Everything feels way too tight. My lungs are sucked in on themselves. My head is smashed into the wall. The worst part is having him inside me, stretching me so far that I feel like I’m going to rip apart, but I can’t do it. I’d gladly rip myself into a million pieces just to not have him inside me anymore.

I try to scream again, not that there's anypony in this part of town to hear it, but I can’t catch a breath. Still, he wraps one foreleg around my throat and chokes me. The other he snakes around my barrel. My wings are half folded, but he's got them pinched somehow. If he puts even a little more pressure on them, I think they'll just snap off.

He thrusts his hips again, slamming me into the wall and a shower of splinters falls on my face. I felt a fresh, wet pain. Something jagged scrapes across my forehead. Then he does it again. Over and over again. My head catches on the sharp thing on some thrusts, but not on others.

I’m still trying to fight, but it’s pointless. I’m being rut. Hard. Like a dirty whore. A slut. And there is nothing I can do about it.

Everything hurts. My soul hurts like it’s being ripped from my body. I let myself start to cry and I try to scream. I have to find some way to fight back, but there’s nothing. He’s too big. He’s too strong. He’s too close. I can’t make it stop.

I keep thinking and hoping I’ll pass out from either the pain or the chokehold, but every time I start to see stars he eases up just enough to bring me back.

“It ain’t no fun if you’re sleepin’, sugar,” he says. “You just keep fightin’ me. It’s more fun that way.”

If I ever manage to look AS in the eye again, I’m going to have to tell him to never, ever call me sugar. Part of my brain can’t believe that I’m even thinking about AS right now. Or anypony of the matter. I should be trying to fight back, I should be trying to get away, and I am. I’m trying to kick, and scream, and bite, and wrench but it doesn’t matter. It isn’t helping. Maybe that’s why my brain is trying to go somewhere else, to think about anything except for what’s happening that I can’t stop. It doesn’t work. Having Apple Spector’s face flash through my mind just makes everything so much worse.

It takes forever. Eventually, he decides to clamp down the leg he has wrapped around my barrel and lift me off the ground so that he can stand to his full height. Now there’s even more pressure on my neck and chest making it even harder for me to breathe. Plus, whatever stuff cracked inside me earlier starts screaming even louder at suddenly being used as a pressure point to slide me up and down on his shaft.

“Why won’t you just cum?” His angry voice rips through my silent screams. He slams me down even harder. I feel myself rip wide open. The pain is almost enough to knock me out. Almost. “Ain’t I been nice?” he asks, doing it again.

I start praying to whatever Gods are listening that he’ll just kill me. That he’ll get so frustrated that he doesn’t ease up on my neck fast enough, or that any of the injuries he’s given me will make me bleed enough to just let me die.

“Didn’t I hold you close and kiss you like you wanted?” His grip on my neck gets tighter, and things start to go black again. Every time he asks a question, I get slammed up into the wall again. I’m literally getting pounded at both ends. “Ain’t I waited? Ain’t I been a good stallion and done everythin’ right? Didn’t I get you all excited and give you exactly what you wanted?”

I close my eyes and try to imagine what it will feel like to die. I imagine blue skies and warm breezes. I imagine never feeling stuck or restrained again. I’ve never wanted to die before. Living was way too awesome, but not anymore. Not after this. Death would be freedom. Death would mean I could just forget all of this.

“Well, I don’t want to wait anymore!” He huffs into my shoulder.

He releases the chokehold and I drop to the ground. I catch my breath and let out a weak and raspy scream for help. All thoughts of dying disappear. I have to fight. I know it.

He grabs me again and uses his huge hoof to force my shoulders forward, My front legs buckle and my knees crash into the dirt. The dirt makes it more difficult to breathe than it already was. The leg around my barrel slides back and lifts my hips, so I’m muzzle down and rump up, just the way he wants me.

He slams forward again. Somehow it’s a whole new kind of pain. It feels like he shoved a knife deep inside me and is cutting me open. He just keeps shoving himself deeper and harder than before. I scream while he stabs me again, and again, and again.

I’m sobbing as I try weakly to fight back. It’s useless. I have nothing left to give, but I keep trying. I keep twisting. I keep screaming for him to stop. My wings keep twitching. None of it matters. None of it helps.

“Shut the fuck up and get rut, Dash,” he hisses at me. “Just take it like a good mare is supposed to.” Then he takes a mouthful of my mane and pulls hard, making me scream again. “Almost there,” he says proudly around the mouthful of my mane.

I want to vomit. I want to throw up and then I want to die.

#force and consequences #my ocs #rape #dark #tragic #mlp AU #dash #flame whipper #apple spector #non con #writing #writer #writers on tumblr #new story #original story #story

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Brave Face | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! I’ve had a headache for over a week!

If you like what you read, please reblog so that others may find it 🥰

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @cwbucky @lipstickandbarbedwxre @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate 💜

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With a solid thud, your work bag fell to the floor. You were certain that your work computer had probably cracked as it hit the ground, but you didn’t have it in you to give a shit. Every cell in your body ached. If the world ended at this very moment, it wouldn’t have been a second too soon. Your body begged for rest as you let your forehead rest against the cool, smooth surface of your front door. The relentless throbbing in your skull pounded with a vengeance, almost as though it were mocking you.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Bucky jogged toward you, ready to sweep you into a massive hug. A wave of dizziness knocked you sideways as you spun around to greet him, forcing you to slump against the nearest wall. Bucky’s sharp reflexes caught you before you could slide to the floor, and his strong arms supported you while you found your footing. “Not feeling any better, huh?” he supported your weight and walked you to the living room, setting you down gently on the couch.

“No…but I think I broke a record- six days is pretty impressive,” your exhausted form sunk into the couch, looking almost pathetic. Bucky quirked an eyebrow at you. You watched the gears turn in his head, and it became glaringly obvious that you’d just fucked up your own lie.

“Six days?” Bucky sat down next to you, cradling your face in his large, warm hand. “Why did you tell me it just came on yesterday?” But he already knew your answer. Bucky spoke with you, the two of you answering his question in unison.

“I didn’t wanna worry you!”

A huff left your chest as Bucky imitated you- he knew you way too well.

When Bucky moved in, you made it your personal mission to create the calmest, most serene environment possible for him. His life was full to the brim with stress and anxiety, and you promised yourself you wouldn’t add to it. No matter how many times he begged you to be honest with him, you couldn’t.

“What am I gonna do with you, baby?” he let his thumb trace lightly over your cheek bone, using the gentlest touch he could manage. A tiny laugh left your lips as he stared down at you with a faux-angry expression- but you regretted it instantly.

An intense pressure pushed against the walls of your skull, threatening to make you brain explode. Bucky watched you try and fail- miserably- to hide the sharp wince that broke his heart. “Baby, what do I always tell you when this happens?” His expectant eyes refused to leave your face and he cocked his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

You paired a dramatic “UGHHHHH” with an eye roll that turned Bucky’s lips into a smile he couldn’t fight. Yes, you were stubborn, but damn, you were adorable. “Don’t UGHHHHH me, doll”, he teased, “come on, what do I always tell you?” He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at you, refusing to speak until you conceded.

“…that you’d rather me tell you the truth than hide it, cause now you’re just gonna worry more”, you mumbled almost inaudibly. His lips pressed gently against your forehead, careful not to add to your already crushing pain. “That’s my good girl”, he helped you from the couch and left a slap on your ass as he told you to go change into comfortable clothes. His eyes followed you as you padded down the hallway with slumped shoulders.

Bucky hated seeing you like this- he hated when you were in pain. If he could take every ounce of discomfort you felt and shoot it into his veins, he’d do so without a second thought-just to give you some relief.

The moment he heard you making your way toward the kitchen, he began filling the largest glass he could find with water. “Stupid question, but have you taken anything?” he handed you the water and made you finish the whole glass before answering. Bucky knew how focused you could get at work, how you often forgot to hydrate when working on a big project.

“Tylenol, Ibuprofen, and two different pain meds from my neurologist”, you told him , out of breath from chugging, “nothing worked”. Bucky slumped against the counter. He hated how fast and loose you played it with pain medication, and wished you worried about the side effects as much as he did. "Are you supposed to combine those? Doesn’t sound safe…”

You shrugged, and Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. Sometimes your apathy about your own well-being made him nervous. You worried yourself ragged over every injury he received while out on his missions but couldn’t seem to have that level of concern for yourself.

“What? Don’t gimme that look, Barnes-I googled it and the internet said it’s probably fine”. A pang of anxiety raged through Bucky’s chest at your use of the word ‘probably’. He took the glass from you and filled it again with the hopes that the water would offset the kidney damage.

“And you know what’s absolute bullshit?” you said, pressing the heel of your hand against your forehead, “they tell you that the endorphins from exercise act as natural pain relievers, but that is definitely not true in my case”.

Bucky covered his face with his hands- sometimes, he couldn’t believe you. It was almost as if you did the exact opposite of what was good for you. “You. went. to. the. gym?” he let his hands slide down his face and land on his hips in total exasperation.

“Yeah… you left for your briefing this morning and I was desperate! I couldn’t get any relief from the meds, and I read the thing about endorphins, so-”

“Yeah, but I don’t think hip thrusting two hundred and something pounds while blasting Lady Gaga is what they meant, sweets”.

You scoffed at him, “I think that’s exactly what they meant”. He pulled you into his embrace and wrapped you in his warmth, shaking his head all the while. Your sense of humor was one of the things he loved most about you, but part of him wished you’d take your health seriously for once.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Are you hungry?” Your silence made his heart sink.

“Let me guess…” he said with a sigh, “you didn’t eat today?” You shook your head against his chest, prompting him to pull your face up to meet his. He frowned down at you, concern evident on his face. The worry lines he wore for you decorated his features, and all levity dissipated from the room.

“Baby, you have to eat. Not eating is only gonna make your migraine worse-”

“This isn’t technically a migraine”, you chirped, “It’s only like a seven and a half out of ten for me- it’s just persistent!”

Bucky refused to accept your excuses and qualifiers. It was ingrained in you to lessen your struggles, to put on a brave face and make the things you experienced seem less awful than they were. And he hated that you put on the charade of being fine for four days before admitting to him that you were in pain.

“I could either eat during my lunch break or try to nap in my office, so I chose the latter”, you shrugged. It was a perfectly fine explanation to you, but it made Bucky groan.

He didn’t want to ask, but knew he had to, “doll, have you not been sleeping?”

With a sad smile, you shook your head. The motion made you dizzy and had you reaching for Bucky, balancing yourself against his broad chest.

“I know I should be getting extra sleep, but this fucking headache keeps me awake…” Bucky watched your lighthearted façade crack and crumble before him.

“And I know what you’re gonna say, Buck, but I can’t wake you-” the despair in your voice strangled your words, forcing you to push your way through, “you just started sleeping through the night- I can’t do that to you. And if there’s nothing you can do for me, there’s no point in me waking you”.

He watched you trace lazy pattern on his chest with your finger as you avoided his gaze. His gentle touch lifted your chin and made his eyes meet yours, “so, what, have you just been sitting up all night while your head throbs?”

One nod from you and Bucky’s heart shattered completely.

The image of you laying in the dark, dealing with your apocalyptic pain all by yourself made Bucky’s chest ache. He never wanted you to deal with things like this alone.

“I don’t care if there’s nothing I can do- I want you to wake me, sweets. God knows how many times I’ve woken you up”. He stared down at you unflinchingly until you gave him a reluctant nod.

His lips met yours in a soft kiss that almost distracted you from the pain pushing against your skull. “What can I make you to eat? You gotta eat something” he was determined to make whatever it was that you wanted- but you didn’t want anything. Nothing sounded appealing. The pain had your stomach churning with nausea, and even thinking about food had you on the brink of throwing up.

But Bucky wouldn’t take no for an answer. He used his old reliable ‘Please? For me’ to get you to agree. It was a tactic that he often used to get you to take care of yourself, and found it to be infallible. Even if nothing sounded good, you knew you needed to put some kind of food in your body before you collapsed at Bucky’s feet. He sent you to the couch as he prepared the meal you requested: plain toast.

Bucky watched you eat with a smile on his face, happy that you’d allowed him to take care of you for once. He took your plate when you finished, returning from the kitchen with another glass of water. When your glass was empty, he gently pulled you close to his body and let your head rest on his chest. “See? Letting me take care of you isn’t so bad, hmm?” his large, warm hand stroked up and down the length of your spine in the way he knew you liked while his cold hand rested against your forehead. The cool sensation made you sigh with relief as it made the throbbing subside ever so slightly.

He loved knowing that the thing he hated most about himself could bring you some comfort on your bad days. He couldn’t make the pain go away, but he was going to make sure you were as comfortable as possible.

“Thank you, Buck…you’re the best” you murmured as your eyes fluttered shut. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and continued rubbing your back as he felt your muscles fall slack in his arms.

It was only six o’clock, but you were passed out completely in the warmth and safety of his embrace. Bucky smiled to himself, listening to the quiet sound of your peaceful, rhythmic breathing. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but he’d sit there all night if it meant you finally got the rest you needed.

The sun set and the apartment darkened around him, wrapping the two of you in the quiet safety of the shadows. Your warmth in his arms pulled him into deep sleep, and neither of you woke until morning.

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barns x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #fatws bucky

[laufeysodinson]

Two sets of baby blues

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader Rating: G Warning/s: childbirth Summary: giving birth to your first daughter with henry Word count: ~2.1k A/n: it’s 2 am ...... did so much research i could probably be an ob/gyn now. i just really hope it doesn’t sound too methodological/technical and that you guys like it! Officially devoid of emotions bc i RAN OUT after this hahahaha! likes and comments are always appreciated, because right now Tumblr is my only source of validation lol. Sending all my love to you guys <3 Taglist: @harrysthiccthighss​ @littlesidewriter​ @kandomeresbitch @harlotforhenry​ @cristinagronk16​ @henrythickcavill​ @thereisa8ella​ @lareinedususpense​ photos below found on (you guessed it!) Pinterest.

Feeling a mild popping sensation along with a brief trickle of liquid down your legs, you woke up startled, your hands clutching your 39-week belly instinctively as you sat up. You felt your eyes widen as you looked down at your comforter-covered legs, and hastily pulled it back.

“Did I just pee myself again?” You muttered to yourself. Kal, who was sleeping in the space between yours and Henry’s legs, looked up at you with his head tilted to the side. You twisted so you could turn on the lamp on the side table to see clearer. You breathed a sigh of relief when it didn’t look or even smell like pee. I didn’t pee myself! Yay!

Wait a minute... if this isn’t pee... then...

You gasped loudly, startling Kal. The bear was now more alert, his ears moving at every sound you make. “It’s okay, bear. Just your baby sister announcing her arrival.” You tried to console him, knowing that he was worried about you.

With one hand on your belly and the other reaching out to touch Henry’s bicep, you shook his body and hoped to God that that was enough to wake him up. Nope. No response. Just a single “hmm?” and he went back off to dreamland.

Checking your phone, you huffed when it said that it was only 11:43 in the evening. Which meant that you were only asleep for about thirty minutes when your baby woke you up because she suddenly decided that she wanted to come out.

You breathed deeply and looked at Henry, seeing his perfect face sleeping with a little smile on his face—which was the reason why you were in this position anyway—and gripped his bicep tightly in surprise when the first wave of a painful contraction hit you. You could feel your fingernails slightly digging into his skin when his eyes suddenly opened and he grabbed your hand. He sat up, winced, and said to you, “What is it? Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

You closed your eyes and just breathed. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. This mantra (which you already learned from a yoga class waaay back even before you were pregnant) was repeatedly going through your head as you opened your eyes and calmly stated, “My water broke.”

There was a pause wherein you could kind of see the cogs turning in his head as he processed what you just said to him. It was a really comical moment when his eyes widened slowly and his jaw dropped, blinking away the sleepiness and realizing what this meant. He ran a hand through his hair, obviously starting to get stressed out. “Uhh,” he dumbly croaked as he looked at your face, then your belly, then back to your face again.

You started laughing at the look on his face despite the discomfort but that turned into a groan once the pain intensified. “Ohhhh god. The fuck did I get myself into?” You whimpered as you doubled over, clutching your belly with two hands.

You looked over at Henry, who was still staring at you with a dumbfounded look on his face and panted, “Babe... get the hospital bag ready and maybe call the doctor?”

You felt his body jerk a little bit and immediately, the man sprung into action and stood up, Kal following his lead. “Right. Right, the hospital bag.” He briskly walked to the left, then to the right, then back at you. “It’s in the closet.” You mumbled, answering his unspoken question. “Closet, yep.” He grunted and quickly walked over to the closet.

If you weren’t too busy concentrating on your breathing, you would’ve found it funny that he didn’t know where the hospital bag was especially because he was the one who packed it and put it in the closet for you a few weeks ago. You just laid out the things on the bed, and when you came out from the bathroom after your 200th pee that day, he was sitting there folding the tiny baby clothes and was packing them into the bag gently.

Let’s just say that you were an emotional, blubbery mess who cried at everything, especially when you thought that you were so blessed to have this man as your baby daddy. And okaaaay fine, seeing his enormous frame carefully and meticulously smoothing over the teeny newborn clothes was a bit overwhelming for you. If you weren’t pregnant, you DEFINITELY would’ve been after seeing that.

He came out, the bag slung on his shoulder while he was trying to put on a plain white shirt at the same time. Which was (obviously) an impossible feat to achieve, so he settled for letting the shirt hang around his neck temporarily while he put down the bag on the bed and handed you a pair of panties, a pad, and a t-shirt dress to change into.

Walking down the stairs with Kal following behind once the both of you were ready, Henry was panting loudly in your ear, trying to mimic the way you were breathing. He was trying to apply the relaxation techniques you both learned at Lamaze classes and you couldn’t help but be amused by his apparent nervousness.

“Hen, honey, you need to calm down.” You quietly advised and sat down on the couch, Kal immediately jumping up beside you and laying his head on your lap, trying to provide you some comfort.

“Okay, don’t panic! Stay. Calm.” He fretted, running around like a headless chicken with his phone to his ear. You stared at him with your eyebrows furrowed and an incredulous look on your face, briefly forgetting that you were the one in pain and the one pushing out a human from your body.

“Ohhhhhh my fucking...” You whined when the same wave of pain washed over you, squeezing your eyes shut and stroking Kal’s fur, hoping that that would aid in releasing endorphins that could help you deal with this hell. Henry looked at you, removing his phone for a second from his ear, glancing at the screen to check the time. “I think that was around fifteen minutes apart?” Henry said back into the phone, his other hand placed on his hip.

He nodded as he ended the call, taking a deep breath. And with that he said, “alright, love. So we don’t need to go to the hospital yet. We’ll wait for a little bit and leave when your contractions are five minutes apart.”

You nodded as he walked towards the couch, sitting beside you and snapped his fingers at Kal, pointing to the floor. “Kal, down.” The bear wasn’t happy with it, but complied anyway after a huff and settled on the ground, his head resting on his paws.

You shifted and changed your position on the couch, now with your back to Henry’s front and his legs on both sides of your body. His hands went to the lower part of your belly, stroking softly. The two of you breathing in sync with your hands over his as he pressed his lips to your temple.

Thankfully, the Lamaze relaxation techniques also worked on him as he was calmer now and less tense. Honestly, right now he probably needed it more than you did.

“Hi, my little princess.” Henry cooed, feeling the baby become quite active when she heard his voice.  Rolling your eyes lovingly with a smile, you could already tell that she would definitely be a daddy’s girl. “We can’t wait to finally meet you,” he continued, looking over your shoulder and down at your belly. “If you get here faster, I’ll buy you a pony.” He whispered conspiratorially as you looked back at him with your mouth wide open, scoffing, “no you’re not!”

All he did was smirk back at you and laugh when he felt the baby move even more. See? The two of them were already ganging up on you. They would be able to rule the world if they wanted to.

Many many hours later (you stopped counting when the pain felt like period cramps mixed with diarrhea but worse), you both managed to take Kal for a short and slow walk, replace the sheets, eat a light breakfast and watch two movies on Netflix. Both of you just talking quietly in between and occasionally answering messages from family and friends who repeatedly texted asking “is she here yet?”

But now you found yourself not being able to do anything at all. From here on, it was all just... pain. P A I N.

“Ohhhhh fuck me sideways!” You groaned as you leaned over the kitchen counter with your head resting on your forearms. Henry was beside you, rubbing your lower back soothingly as he jokingly said, “That’s what got us here in the first place!”

You sharply looked at him and glared, the goofy smile on his face slowly becoming more solemn when he checked the watch on his wrist. “It’s time, my love.”

Walking outside and making sure that Kal was secure inside the house, Henry opened the door in the back and placed the hospital bag on the seat. Afterwards, he jumped inside the driver’s side and turned on the car, proceeding to drive out of the parking spot in front of your house. Two minutes of silence in the car later, he glanced at the passenger side and pressed on the breaks. Wait. 

Where the fuck were you?

Realizing that he forgot his wife, he quickly made a U-turn and drove back to your house. As soon as he came back, you were standing in front with your hands on your hips and the most deadpan expression you could muster. He held in his laugh, knowing that you would only get more annoyed if he let it out.

When he got out of the car, he hurried over to you and smiled saying, “love you.” You raised an eyebrow at him and pursed your lips saying, “really?” He just kissed your forehead in response and started guiding you to the car, his left hand on your lower back, the other holding your hand.

Around two hours later, you were laying down on the hospital bed, your legs wide open and about to deliver this baby. “Someone get this god damn baby OUT OF ME!” You growled and threw your head back, groaning because it felt like your uterus wanted to yeet out of your body.

You were clutching Henry’s hand for dear life, most definitely cutting off his circulation but he didn’t mind. You were making his dream of becoming a father come true. You had to deal with the horrors of childbirth, so this bone-crushing grip of yours? He could most definitely handle.

And FINALLY, after what felt like forever... but actually fifty three minutes later, a healthy 7.3-pound baby girl was placed in your arms after the doctors checked her, and you felt like nothing else in the world existed. “Oh my god,” you cried, tears of exhaustion, happiness and contentment were flowing down your face and an overwhelming abundance of love deep within your chest.

“I’m so proud of you,” you heard Henry choke out and you looked at him, seeing a few tears escape from his eyes too. Giggling quietly at how sappy you both were being, you pressed your lips to his for a soft kiss murmuring, “Love you so much.”

“Wanna hold him, daddy?” You whispered and he nodded slowly, staring at your daughter with pure adoration in his eyes and looking like he was in lost a trance.

You gently passed the baby to him, your heart melting when you saw the baby open her eyes, squinting because of the light. “Oh, my love. Hi there. You’re so beautiful, just like your mummy.” He grinned, tenderly swaying from side to side. From one set of blue eyes with a splash of brown in one to another set of just blue, the two most important people in your life bonded skin to skin for the very first time.

henrycavill A little princess decided to grace us with her presence a few days ago... so now I hear you wonder, “but who is this little princess you’re talking about?” Well... everybody say hello to our daughter with whom we are utterly enthralled with, Amélie Matilda. Even the bear, who at first was pondering whether or not she was a snack or a friend, is now very much captivated.

And to my wife, everyday throughout your pregnancy I was and still am in awe of you and your incredible strength. Today was proof that you are a legend even to absolute legends and a true superhero. Thank you, my love. I am the luckiest.

This is only the beginning 😁 So many adventures to come!!!

#henry cavill #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you

[shimmershae]

So.  Thanks to my new anonymous friend, this is going to become a thing.

Shae’s thinky thoughts about the latest episode--Acheron:  Part 2--beneath a cut. 

Because spoilers, however vague they might be.  

Let’s be real here.  This is more a stream of consciousness than anything else so if that’s not your thing, you are most welcome to nope right on out of this post.  Trust me.  I’ll completely understand, lol.  Sometimes?  I wish I could nope right on out of my own brain and the way it operates.  

That said?  Without further ado--

Episode 2′s opening, though.  Maggie trapped with hungry Walkers converging?  It totally gives me Glenn under the dumpster vibes.  I don’t know if that was intentional or just happy coincidence but way to link Maggie to her dearly departed better half, show.  

Is it just me or has Father G had more OOMPH to him these last few seasons?  Again, I have to ask--Rosita’s influence or no?  Regardless, I bet Seth Gilliam is loving the job these days.  

Side note:  am I gonna have to go to bed early every Saturday night from now until the end just so I that I might be able to SEE?  Something?  Anything?  My curtains are flimsy-ass.  I admit it.  But this is more frustrating than TXF.  Angela, WTF?  

No, seriously.  It’s like complete guess work who’s in these subway scenes.  Some of that has to do with them being overly populated by redshirts and the rest of it has to do with me having to squint and turn sideways to make out their facial features. 

Look at Daryl busting through concrete walls!  Should I call him the Kool-Aid Man considering NR has once again allowed himself to be led right into a biased, shipper trap?  Hmm.  I might.  

Imagine seeking refuge in those dark, filthy subways.  Any second now I expect to hear the skittering of rats.  Will Dog lose his effing mind a la Divergence?  He’s been shown to go off half-cocked that way, lol.  Oh well.  Guess it’ll be in character if he does.  

Impressive graffiti storyboards.  Does it mean something that it immediately cuts to the Commonwealth storm troopers afterward?  Maybe.  Who really knows at this point?  They been trying to gaslight us forever.  

LOL at Princess yet again.  Yumiko is just like da fuq is this person?  

No, really.  LMAO.  “That was her.  From last night.  Did you see how she was looking at us?”  

Then you have Eugene, hahaha.  “Oh God.  Why did he tell off the big guy?”  Like the man is totally me in this type of situation.  Not even gonna lie.  

“That’s right.  We want to talk to the manager.”  

I literally cannot wait ‘til Carol and Daryl meet Princess.  Can.  Not.  Wait.  

How sad is that note on that $100 bill?  Small moment but it totally gives me Season 4 vibes when they were on their way to Terminus seeking sanctuary.  

Hmm.  Remember how that place wasn’t what they thought it was?  I’m sure neither is the Commonwealth.  But I feel like what’s left of Team Family is totally going to do Rick proud, lol, and prove they’re messing with the wrong people if they try something.  

Daryl, Man.  You gonna have to get a better handle on your headstrong Fur Son.  I wonder if Dog would listen better to his mama?  Things to ponder.  

Sounds like Miko has this group’s number.  Or does she?  

Princess and Eugene totally look like they’re waiting their turn for the Principal’s office, LOL.  

“Stop moving!  You’re taking my nerves over the edge to a proverbial 11 on a scale of 10.”  I feel you, Eugene.  I do.  Also you, Princess.  Two of the most relatable TWD characters right there, I’m telling you.  

Princess is me when I really, really, really have to pee.  TMI?  Sorry, lovelies.  LOL.  I just...she’s so relatable.  

LMAO.  “If that fine ass dude in the orange suit...”  Princess and Mercer incoming in 3-2-----

Princess’s excitement over the toilet paper=PRICELESS.  

Eugene, Man.  You desperately need to develop a poker face.  

There’s Daryl getting another cool camera shot.  Angela?  You playing favorites again?  

Carol’s claustrophobia could have never.  I bet that’s in the back of Pookie’s mind.  You can’t tell me it’s not because Carol lives in there rent-free.  

Ohhh.  Back to the subway car.  Looks like we got the Maggie redshirts leading the way.  First sacrificial “lambs”?  

Maggie pistol-whipping Negan was kinda deserved, but he wasn’t all wrong so.  

Damn.  I’m no Gage fan.  He can fuck all the way off for what he did to my baby Lydia.  But Maggie over there with ice in her veins.  

Yep.  I think the dude just got one of the most gruesome deaths in a while.  Yuck.  

I think Alden’s faith in Maggie definitely took several hits.  I feel like he kind of had her on some sort of pedestal dating back to Hilltop times.  Father G, though?  The man is continuing to show himself a SAVAGE MFer.  

Josh gives Eugene such believable tics and mannerisms.  He IS Eugene.  

Thank you, Maggie, for lighting that flare.  I could not see a damn thing.  

What are these bad memories Negan alludes to?  Hmm?  Him being a shit husband to Lucille back when he was still taking her for granted?  

Father G on Gage’s Walker--”All that is, is a shell of a man, who died a coward.”  Kind of ironic considering Father G’s own origins, huh?  Has he any warmth in there for anybody but Rosita and Coco?  Does he equate it with weakness?  

“There are worse ways.”  And Maggie proceeds to paint us a horror story with mere words.  

Dark Maggie really surpasses anything certain fans have ever accused Carol of being.  Is she too far gone?  Who the hell knows?  I think it’s clear that she and Carol are both on a sliding scale of sorts when it comes to being able to compartmentalize shit to survive.  Personally?  I feel like Maggie might have leap-frogged Carol in this episode but it matters none because of the double standards so deeply entrenched in this fandom.  Both women have endured and had to do some horrific things.  It’s not a contest.  But it’s probably going to be turned into a season-long one.  

It’s almost like Kang was like, “Ya’ll bitches think Carol’s dark?  I’ll show you DARK.  Check and mate.”  

Whatever the reasoning, Maggie just got exponentially more interesting to me if not likable.  And before anybody out there comes at me, it’s entirely possible to be on a character’s side in some things and not be all up their ass in love with them, lol.  Like I’m attached to her because she’s family and Glenn loved her.  There’s a loyalty there and she absolutely is justified in her hatred of Negan.  But I’m not going to pretend her shit don’t stink like everybody else’s.  

Speaking of my baby Glenn.  What would he think of this version of Maggie?  I think he would be gutted and heart stricken that events led to her being like this but he’d understand because he’s pure like that.  Don’t mean he’d be A-OK with it all.  

Dog must be protected at all costs.  

Confession.  I know not the fuck who Pony Boy is, but I know him because all my fandom friends have pointed him out to me, lol.  RIP, Man.  I think you’re number’s up or close to it.  

Okay, though.  I admit it.  I am kinda LOVING Badass Father G.  

That scene in the subway car with all of them working to take all the Walkers out was already badass.  Then Daryl arrived and made it, in @freefromthecocoon’s words, HAWT.  LOL.  

Eugene staring at that little black book like it contains torture tools, hehehe.  

“Processed?  As in administratively?  Processed as in bologna or other meat stuffs?  This inquiring (enquiring?) mind needs to know.”  OMG, Eugene.  I admit it.  Even if it makes me look like a lunatic, LOL.  I straight up LMAO at that one.  I mean, ten years later and Terminus still fresh on the man’s mind.  

“You like feeling nervous?”  Well, no.  None of us that do, Mercer?  Do.  

Then he proceeds to make me howl with his “You can’t lie for shit” to Eugene.  

Josh McDermitt?  I love you, Man.  40 year old virgin, LOL.  

All this talk over the seasons of Daryl’s virginity and we have Eugene, hahaha.  But was he telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?  

Finally.  Some daylight.  Where I can see.  

Eugene’s relief at seeing his friends safe and sound was such a beautiful thing to see.  I loved those hugs.  

Mercer’s face when he snarled “beat cop” in disdain to Ezekiel.  I think I’m gonna love this dude.  

“I went to West Point.  Asshole.”  Yeah.  I am.  

I know they probably catfishing Eugene right here because spoilers tell us that ain’t Stephanie.  But my heart still did a little d’aww.  Angela.  Don’t play with his poor heart like that.  

What’s got Daryl so pensive, huh?  Is it that the note reminds him of kids being lost or taken from their family? Or separated from their family?  Is he thinking of those Grimes babies and wondering if Michonne will ever make it back and why and how she was able to leave them behind?  Tell me it ain’t that Find Me nonsense.  

“This place sure has gone to shit since the last time I was here.”  LMAO, JDM.  I mean Negan.  Sorry.  Sorry.  I still hate Negan, but JDM has me entertained at least since they gave the asshole some shades of gray.  And speaking of shades of gray.  I’m loving the gray beard.  JDM’s looking GOOD (hear that NR?  Embrace the gray).  Negan can still kick rocks, lol.  

Anyway.  That scene was CREEPY AF.  Not even gonna lie.  

The Reapers strutting right on up to our group like it’s The Purge:  ZA.  

My bad, Pony Boy. Now RIP.  

Dark, dark episode with loads of tension broken up by some welcome humor by Princess.  The girl is fast becoming a fave of mine.  

My baby’s back next week!!!

I’m just going to plug my ears and pretend they’re trying to capture/recapture the horses because they’re pets.  Not because they’re starving so bad they feel the need to eat them.  La la la la la.  I can’t hear you.  

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

[lo-55]

Playing With Fire

While playing a perfectly innocent video game you get thrown into a dangerous world on the brink of incineration! At least you’re surrounded by a bunch of hot people. If nothing else you can shower them with copious, well earned affection. 

You come awake with a start. 

Everything is just a little off kilter. Like your eyes aren’t focused or you're wearing someone else's glasses. It takes you a few long minutes to realize that you’re staring down at a piece of paper. 

It’s listed one through eight, with a check box next to each number. 

At the top you see ‘Company Preference List’, and beneath that is your name scrawled in your own handwriting. But, when did you write it? And what was the list? You look up to find yourself in a library, surrounded by a bunch of other people all dressed in orange uniforms. You look down and find yourself in the same one. You recognize it as the Fire Force boiler suits. 

You touch your cheek slowly. Then poke the corner of your eyes. You’re not wearing your VR visor. And you’re not holding handles either. Are you hallucinating? You were playing the game, in the middle of some side quest. Did the game reset? This looked like a scene from the start of the game. It followed the beginning of the series, but through the eyes of a random side character researching Haijima on their own. There was some kind of revenge plot and a lot of stuff about their big sister, but you hadn’t gotten to the full reveal of the tragic back story yet. They interacted with the main characters plenty, but mostly they spent their time in their own squad, the fourth. 

You were halfway through the game, and now you were back at the start?

You look around for something to tell you what’s going on. You try to poke the menu button, but you’re not holding controllers. So all you really end up doing is poking the air between your hands with your thumbs. You’re starting to panic, when something shiny catches your attention. 

When did you get that ring? 

Plain silver on your forefinger. You poke it and gasp when the world shifts minutely. 

A flicker of fire, a figure dark against the light. It warps in and out of your vision in a split second. 

Right. Tragic back story. 

The ring was from their (your?) older sister. Now disappeared a-la-infernal fire. You were like the reverse Shinra. 

Wait. 

Shinra. 

Your head snapped around quickly from one person to the other. Most of them were boring background characters. No, no, no. Boring. Lame. Basically grey blobs. 

Were you going crazy and you couldn’t even enjoy it?! 

“Uh, hey? Are you okay?” 

Your head snaps sideways to find bright red eyes peering at you in concern. 

Red eyes. Black hair. 

You stare hard at him until the corners of his mouth start to twitch and curl upwards. 

“H-hey. Why are you staring at me?” 

Abruptly you reach over and cup his cheeks. His face is hot beneath your hands. You can touch him. You can feel the heat of his skin. He’s blushing something fierce. 

“You are… adorable,” you declare. 

He turns bright red and squeaks at you until you finally let him go. 

“What?!” 

“Did I stutter?” you prop your chin in your hand and look him over. Yep. Definitely cute. You just wanna squeeze him. But, you should probably do other things first. Like figure out what exactly is going on. 

Not that you can come outta the gate with ‘hey I was playing a video game and now I’m stuck in it, also I thought you weren’t real? What gives yo?’ 

Even you aren’t that impulsive. 

Actually, in real live you’re not very impulsive at all. That was what made games so fun, especially open world ones where you could do basically whatever you wanted. IRL you were more withdrawn than anything, even when you wanted to be social. 

Now… You could be whoever you wanted, right? 

Did you even have to follow the plot? Could you put a preference for another company and go there? Or would you still end up in the forth? And what about your abilities? In the game you’d had a choice at the beginning between a second gen ability and two third gen powers. You’d ended up picking at random, since they all seemed cool and you hadn’t been very far into the anime yet at the time. 

How would you even use those powers here, assuming that you could? 

“Sorry, I was spacing out,” you finally said, “What were you saying?” 

“Oh uh,” Shinra looked away, his grin still pulling at his face. “I was just asking if you were okay. You were looking at the form for so long, but whenever you talked about joining a company before you always said you would go to the fourth. Not that we talk a lot, so I wouldn’t know if you wanted to go to the fifth or the sixth or the seventh or-” 

“Babe, you’re rambling,” you cut in, starting to smile yourself. Even though you’re beyond confused something about Shinra puts you at ease. Everything about him seems so… warm. And yeah, the smile could be off putting. If it wasn’t so damn adorable. 

“O-oh!” aaaand he was blushing again. 

You look down at the paper, your brows furrowing. What are you even supposed to say to this? 

“I dunno,” you said at last, “I guess I was reconsidering. There’s a lot of companies, and a lot of options out there. I might end up going a totally different path if it’s not too late… What about you?” 

“Me? Well I didn’t really have a particular preference, but I heard that they’re trying to send more people to the eighth this year. Since its such a new company, and so small.” 

“Mmmm. That’s true. Maybe I’ll go there,” you muse. It would put you smack in the middle of all the action, and you could see the sweet Iris, and the too-hot-to-be-fair Maki. You could stay with adorable Shinra and the well meaning dumbass that was Arthur. Not to mention the two guys in charge. If you could get Obi to bench press you- 

Nope! Bad! Focus on the task at hand. No thirsting over captains right now! 

“I was thinking the same thing,” Shinra admitted, looking down at his own paper. 

“Yeah? I guess such a small company would make it easy for you to stand out and come a hero, right?” 

Shinra looked startled. You offered him a sweet smile and turned back to your paper and picked up your pen. 

You marked your preferences. 

Eighth, seventh, fourth, second, fifth, sixth, third, first. 

“The eighth and the seventh?” Shinra asked, peaking over at your sheet. 

You shot him a grin. “They both sound like fun to me. Hey, Shinra?” 

“Yeah?” 

Your grin grows wider. “Let’s both do our best, and save lots of people okay?” 

Shinra’s smile is small, but true. 

“Okay.” 

You bump your fist to his to seal the deal. 

~ 

It had taken you a couple of tries to find your dorm room. 

Your body seemed like it knew what it was doing, even if your mind didn’t. You had to explain away your frazzled state to the woman in charge of your wing, a nun who’s name you couldn’t recall to save your life, as nerves. She had looked dubious, but hadn’t questioned you when she pointed you to your room. 

Probably thinks I’m hung over, you thought as you stepped inside. If I didn’t know better I’d think I was drunk enough to hallucinate. But it’s all way too real. Just what happened? One second I was playing the game, and then my phone went off, and then it was all dark. After that I was in the library. 

 It was making your head hurt thinking about it. 

You poked around the room. If you remembered right you’d had a roommate, but she’d already been assigned her company a week early. Her dad was some top brass in the military, so off to the second company she went, 

You made sure the door was locked before you started riffling through your things. 

Books, papers, clothes. Personal items. 

You had a collection of antique keys for some reason, and a blanket shaped like a tortilla that was warmer than most space heaters. There was an old lighter with a hawk engraved on it in one drawer. When you touched it you got the sudden smell of pipe tobacco and a man laughing far in the back of your mind before it was gone. Just like when you touched the ring earlier. 

Memories that weren’t yours. You had stepped into someone else's life. 

When you looked in the mirror you found the face that your had designed for your character staring back at you. There was a thin ring of white in your eyes, cutting through their color and marking you as a pyrokinetic. 

Shit. Each of those abilities had a different eye. Which one was the circle? There was a circle, a pointy cross, and teardrop because the designer was some edgelord. Which power does this mean I have? Wings? Magnet sand? Or the spear torch thingy? 

You wished this could have been more like Fate/Grand Order. Then you would just have to keep track of your teams abilities, strengths, and weaknesses. Not your own. 

Fuck. 

You spend a long time in your room, packing up all of your belongings. None of them really belong to you. They belong to your character, and they’re only familiar in the sense that you’ve thrown them over your shoulder when you were looking for something specific before. Only now if you throw them they won’t puff back to where they were before eventually. You’ll actually have to put this stuff away. 

Damn it, you’ve never liked packing. 

Still, you carefully rolled your new found clothes into baggage burritos. They were pretty plain, all in all. Oh well. You could make adjustments later if you really wanted to. Was it a game mechanic you haven't unlocked? Full customization? You could pick gender and hair, and the eyes depended on your pyrokinesis. Maybe at some point you got to change clothes too. 

You’d figure it out. 

You hoped. 

Your head was still reeling the with the idea of what was going on, but for now, with nothing else you really could do, you decided to go with it. 

Once you had everything all packed up you left your room to do some exploring. You tried to keep track of where you were going in the big fire station/training academy, but before long you were hopelessly lost. 

You stumbled upon a training room, where a familiar boy with a dorky pony tail was slashing a glowing blue sword through a training dummy. The poor dummy fell to the floor in pieces. 

You watched him for a few minutes before he noticed you. 

“Oh,” he said, “It’s you.” 

Which was… pretty lame, if you’re being honest. 

What, did you one pop his delusional bubble? 

“Yep,” you popped your ‘p’, “It’s a-me.” Mario. “What did that guy ever do to you? Try to challenge the great Knight King Arthur on a troll bridge?” you meant it to be a joke, but Arthur actually lit up. 

“Hardly! This was merely training. A Knight King must always be ready to defend his people!” 

“Of course,” you nodded along, playing with him. “And soon you’ll be embarking on a great quest to your new company, right? Do you know which one?” 

“I didn’t bother with those silly preference sheets. Let whichever company requires a knight most vie for my presence.” 

You were honestly impressed Arthur even knew the word ‘vie’. Wasn’t he kind of a loon? 

“Mhmm, mhmm, I see,” you nodded seriously. “Then in case, I might see you in my own company.” 

You wanted to ask him to spar, if only to see Excalibur in action more, but you still weren’t sure what your power was or how to use it. So you ended up bowing out. 

It took you another hour to find your way  back to your room. 

Whoops. 

You don’t really sleep. You lay down and try to wake up, and hope that come morning you’ll be back in your living room with a vr stapped to your head and this whole thing will have been a (not so terrible) dream. 

Keep Dreaming. 

~    ~

#fire force x reader #shinra kusakabe #shinra kusakabe x reader #reader insert #isekai

[dallaswinstonsleatherjacket]

Ok y’all, here’s the Dallypop

this is for @chaotically-cas and @naturallesbain cause we love them

*

Soda didn't know where else to go.

He didn't want to go back home, he didn't want to have to see Pony and Darry’s faces, as they tried to make him feel better. He couldn't go to Steve's house, him showing up would make it worse with him and his dad. Two-bit was either drunk somewhere or at home, asleep.

So Soda walked to Bucks, each step heavy, his eyes red and hands jammed in his pockets. He really should have been looking out for Socs, but he wasn't thinking, he never was thinking.

He wasn't thinking, and so that's why he was halfway there, before he realized that Dally could be drunk, or passed out, or even have a girl in his room. What was he doing anyway? He should just go back home...maybe he could stay with Johnny in the lot or something.

But he trudged on, and sighed deeply as he approached Bucks, knocking on the door loudly before stepping back and closing his eyes for a minute.

Buck opened the door, looking startled at the sight of the middle Curtis.

“Hey, Sodapop, you alright? You ain't supposed to be here, you know that.”

“I know, Buck, I’m sorry...please, i'm just here to see Dally..”

“I don't know, kid…”

“Please.”

Buck looked around before sighing. “Fine kid. But no drinking, ya hear, or Darry’s gonna beat the tar outta me himself.”

Soda nodded, slipping inside and keeping his head down, walking straight past the drunks and the strippers and the creeps, and upstairs to the bedrooms. 

Making his way to the one Dally occupied, he slowed down. Was this a bad idea? Was he gonna wake Dally up?

He shook his head. He was here already.

Knocking on the door, he waited. 

“Comin!” he heard someone yell, and his heart jumped, although he didn't quite know why.

The door opened a second later, and there stood Dally, half asleep and rubbing his eyes. He was only wearing sweatpants, which hung low on his hips, and while Soda tried not to stare, he felt it was tremendously hard to do so, because Dallas Winston could be chiseled out of stone.

“Johnny?” he mumbled sleepily, “That you?”

“No, Dal, it's me. Sorry to bother you…”

“Sodapop?”

“Y-yeah..”

“What the hell are you doin’ here this late? It's nearly one in the morning!”

“I couldn't...I couldn't go home.”

Dally looked like he wanted to punch a wall, but instead he said sharply;

“Get inside, Soda. Man, you Curtis kids never think, do ya?”

Dally tugged Soda into the room. Sitting on the bed, he took a deep breath.

“You tell Darry where you were, kid?”

Soda shook his head.

“Oh for fucks sake-hold on one second-”

Dally walked out of the room, leaving the door wide open, and Sodapop hovered awkwardly in the doorway, not quite knowing what to do.

There was a phone at the end of the hall, and Dally stood in front of it, dialing the number quickly and holding the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Darry? It's me.”

There were frantic noises on the other end of the line, and Soda felt his heart sink. He hadn't even told Darry what happened, he must be worried out of his mind…

“No, Darry, I got him, he's here with me right now. Yes, I'm sure, I’m lookin’ at him right now. No, no, he's fine. Dar, I promise.”

Dally listened for a minute, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. “I’m not letting him head home after dark, Dar. He can stay with me for the night, we’ll be fine. No, he's fine, I told you.”

Dally listened again, before muttering a quick “G’night, Darry” and hanging up the phone.

Turning back to Soda, he ushered him back into the room, shutting the door once again behind him. Crossing the room quickly, he pulled a pair of sweatpants and a shirt out of the old wooden dresser and tossed them to Soda.

“You can change in the bathroom, and then you’re gonna tell me exactly what's going on, ya hear?”

Soda nodded, swallowing before making his way to the bathroom. He didn't want to tell Dally anything, really, but it was better than telling Darry or Pony. He just wanted to go to bed, really, but he knew if Dally wanted him to talk, he would get him to talk.

He walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, and watched as a very agitated Dallas leaned up against his headboard, grabbing a cigarette off the nightstand and holding it to his lips. Lighting it and taking a deep breath, he looked over to where Soda was standing.

“Come’ere, kid, sit down. I don't bite.”

Soda smiled a little at that, and sat on the bed next to Dally, leaning the same way as him and looking down at his hands in his lap.

It was silent for a bit before Dally finally spoke.

“What happened, Sodakid?”

Soda shook his head, looking up and straight ahead. “Nothin’ Dal. I’m sorry I came here and woke you up.” 

Dally sighed, letting out a small puff of smoke. “I ain’t dumb, Curtis.”

Soda looked over at Dally sideways. 

“Sandy...she cheated on me. Got pregnant with some kid, it ain't mine. She's packin’ her bags and headin’ to Florida tomorrow, as far as I know.”

He felt the knot in his stomach as he spoke, and he blinked away tears, fast. He didn't want to cry any more, especially in front of Dally.

Dally was silent for a minute, only taking short drags on his cigarette and making no comment. When he finally spoke, he sounded tired, a little sad, even.

“I’m really sorry, man. Sucks, doesn't it?” He laughed dryly, putting his cigarette out.

Soda swallowed again, trying to hold back the choked tears threatening to fall. He didn't answer, he didn't know if he could say anything without sobbing.

“I always liked you, you know that, Curtis?”

Soda looked up, a little surprised.

“What?”

“I always thought you were good lookin. Movie-star like, the type you see in films, ya know?” Dally lit another cigarette.

Soda blushed a little, smiling. He heard it often, mostly from flirty girls at the DX, but it was different coming from Dally, somehow.

“And I thought it was crazy, at first, you know? Cause I’m a guy, right? But then I remembered these guys back in New York who liked blokes. Gay, they said. I didn't mind them like some people did, and I guess I know why now.” He laughed again.

Soda didn't really know how to respond, he didn't know why Dally was telling him any of this.

“Anyway, think that's why things never worked out between me and Sylvia. I don’t like girls, and I liked someone else.”

Soda still didn't know what to say, and he hated it, he should say something. But he didn't know what. I like you too? I’ve liked you for years? I'm so happy you felt you could tell me?

But the words got stuck in his throat. 

Dally looked over at Soda, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry for dumping that all on you, man. Know you got plenty of girls you could have.”

Soda shook his head, words still lodged in his throat. “No-no, I've been…” He swallowed, trying to think. “I've been thinking about that...before she even told me all that today…” 

Dally raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment.

“I’m-I like both, you know? I don't know what that's called or nothing...but I wouldn't be against dating a guy.” Especially not if it's you.

Dally grinned, shaking his head. “Good to know, Soda, good to know.”

The knock on the door startled them both, and Dally got up, stretching before making his way to the door. Soda stayed where he was, he had no interest talking to Darry if he had stormed over here in a panic.

Dally opened the door, and stood there for a second, silent. Then he spoke softly, dangerously.

“You. Get out of here.”

Soda heard the voice that responded, and he sank down in the bed, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in his arms, trying desperately not to cry.

“I told you to leave!”

“Please, just let me talk to him!”

“No. You've hurt him enough, leave him alone.”

“I just want to explain!”

“What is there to explain? Huh? You cheated on him.”

It was silent on the other side of the door, and Dally spoke again.

“Leave, now.”

He shut the door, crossing the room and sitting back next to where Soda was.

Don't cry, don't cry, please don't cry, Soda was begging himself, but it was too late, and tears were running down his face, and he was trying not to breathe, not to sob.

“Sodapop…” He heard Dally say, and it was the softest Soda had ever heard his voice.

“I’m sorry-” he gasped finally, “I'm so sorry, Dally.”

“Hey, hey, man, you don't have to apologise.”

Soda shook his head, and before he could even comprehend what was happening, Dally was leaning back against the wall, and wrapping a cautious arm around Soda, and Soda felt himself leaning into Dally, crying into his shoulder as Dally held him.

After a bit, he managed to sit up and wipe the tears from his eyes, smiling sadly at Dally.

“I'm sorry, Dally, I'm being a wuss.”

“You ain’t a wuss, Soda. It's fine. Let's head to bed, okay? It's late enough.”

Soda nodded, so they lay down, and Dally pulled the covers around them both.

“You alright?”

“Yeah” Soda said, but he shivered a little. 

“C’mere, man.” Dally opened his arms a little bit, and Soda stared. Dally, cuddling.

Dally looked at him and grinned, knowing what he was thinking.

“I’m feeling nice tonight, Pepsi-cola. You wanna cuddle or not?”

Soda nodded, blushing again and slipping into Dally’s arms. Head nestled in Dally’s chest, Dally's face was in his hair, and it was all a tangle of arms and legs under the blankets.

Dally was like a heater, and Soda felt himself getting sleepy, yawning and snuggling more into Dally.

“G’night, Soda.”

“Night, Dally. Thank you.”

Soda thought he heard Dally whisper “I love you”, but at that point he was too far asleep to tell.

#fanfic #The Outsiders #dallypop #dallas winston #sodapop curtis #bad writing #starsfics

[showtimesins]

[Reunion Meme Accepting]

Caller @pxppinmolly inquired:  "Long time, no see..." - pxppinmolly for velvet!!

How long had it been since she had left the public eye? Things had gotten all sorts of fucked sideways and it seemed anymore like the world was spinning on a wobbly top pin. Reintroduction should have been a slow process, but anyone who knew Valentino knew that he was anything but slow. Showing the darling doll of Triple V back on her feet in a grand gesture that made her feel more like a show pony than anything else. Damn if she didn’t like a good party though.

Loud thumping club music, she had stood in front of a packed crowd with shoulders high and proud as with the mic she made the crowd roar. “Who’s ready for a fuckin’ comeback? Did you bitches miss me?”

Of course they did, and the fanfare was everything she wanted and more. 

___

Yet the familiar voice seemed even better than all of that when it cut through the loud voices and music to catch her attention. “I’d know that face anywhere.” She would reply, cigarette put out in the moth’s drink before she stood and gave the girl a warm sharp toothed grin. “Long time, no joke,” She had just disappeared hadn’t she? The awkward realization quickly making her clear her throat. “Lemme buy you a drink, we got a lot to catch up on.”

#❝��ᵃᵗ ˢᵖᶦᵗ❞ [Velvet IC]. #❝ᴸᶦᵛᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᴬᶦʳ❞ [Asks]

[drshebloggo]

how to make WW84 a stronger movie

As sort of requested, here’s a beefed-up version of the list of notes I made watching WW84 because I was getting cranky with the execution of this movie and couldn’t help but jot down ideas. I WANTED to love this thing but the script was not selling its ideas to best effect.

For me, I think there were a few challenges inherent in the movie they wanted to make. BUT with a few different choices here and there in the way the story was told, it would’ve improved its impact without sacrificing what they were going for with tone and characters. 

CHALLENGE #1: this movie is set SO far in the future from the events of the first film. 65 years have passed, and Diana is still just gliding somberly through her life and that makes me SAD. All her friends are dead! She’s on her own and cursed with immortality!! She lives in an ‘80s decor sadness chamber surrounded by photos and memories of people she’ll never see again!!!

And yet the film gave us no real textual information about that. They did the laziest thing possible, which was pan the camera around a million photos on mantles and told us NOTHING. Literally WHAT has Diana done for the past, say, THIRTY YEARS since her Earth Friends all died without her??? Has she literally made NO OTHER friends? She’s still sad about Steve 65 years later and nothing else has progressed?

This lack of specificity leaves Diana fading in the lead role of her own movie despite the fact that there’s TONS of material there that they just... ignored. For me, she read flat, which bummed me out majorly. Her best stuff was with Steve because that actually MEANS something. But it’s all she’s got in this film. They didn’t bother filling in any other information about her life. 

FIX IT: literally just make Barbara already friends with Diana at the beginning. Not only does it make Diana more interesting, it reduces the sheer amount of exposition that the film piles on in the first 45 minutes. This also means you can bring Steve back sooner than the 45 minute mark, which would help grease the wheels in the first third of the movie. And it also means that Diana losing Barbara to inhumanity would actually have a greater impact on Diana beyond “oh my kooky new friend turned into an evil cat; this is vexing.”

CHALLENGE #2: the tone is WILDLY different than the tone of the first. They went from WWI trench warfare to shopping malls and fanny packs. It’s a HUGE tone shift, and it takes some getting used to. But there are good things to it; namely it provides great comedy for Steve, who is a definite bright spot in the movie. 

Overall I’m on board with doing a superhero movie that pivots away from grit and darkness and toward camp and comedy, and it’s cool to do something new rather than reiterate the same tone from the first film. But I think they could’ve done more to sell the tone shift. 

There are HIJINKS inherent in the premise that I’m guessing were fairly unilaterally unexpected. There’s a vaguely historical magic WISHING STONE and three buffoons each made a wish and turned shit upside down. I myself wish that Maxwell and Barbara and Diana were rendered in triplicate, as equal collaborators in this batshittery. I don’t think you’re watering down Diana’s role as lead (no more than giving her no other emotions to play than sadness) by doing so, and it even works nicely to own the idea that Max and Barbara are on equal narrative ground as Diana.

As far as the villainy goes, Max is more recognizably a Bad Guy, but Barbara is NOT, and it’s fascinating to show at least Diana and Barbara working together but slowly falling apart as shit goes SIDEWAYS. Hijinks can be zany and also meaningful! What if a villain is just a friend who wants something different than you and you have to come to terms with that and stop them from doing dumb shit? There’s an element of screwball to this premise and I wanted them to lean in more. This would also give Diana more to do than cry and fight.

FIX IT: show Barbara getting her powers using the same tropes of other superheroes getting their powers and figuring them out. Play it like she’s Peter Parker finding out she’s Spider-man. Hell, do a montage with all three of them using/abusing their powers: Barbara beating the shit out of things, Maxwell manipulating people, Steve and Diana making the fuck out and enjoying the shit out of it. These are the joys of wish fulfillment! 

AND, if they had set up the rules of the artifact beforehand (see Challenge #3), then the audience would know they were watching very happy people who are going to have their LIVES RUINED SOON. And that is good storytelling. (Maybe this is oversimplified, but honestly half of good storytelling is just making the audience feel two opposite emotions at the same time. The other half is dramatic irony, which would also apply to this trio montage.)

CHALLENGE #3: What the hell are the rules of this magic wishing artifact anyways??? The audience should know them before the characters do. The way this movie doled out information was bananas. They waited right before they were going to the tell the audience something to show us what they were about to tell us. Just show us earlier and tell the characters later!!! That way WE’LL already know because we’ve seen it, and THEY’RE not saddled with expositional dialogue to make sure the audience follows the idea.

FIX IT: For the love of humanity, nix the opening sequence with the horse race and make it about the damn stone!! Rip off Lord of the Rings and tell the history of the innocent but dangerous thing. Rip off Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and animate something about how it gives wishes at a cost. Hell, let Connie Nielsen and Robin Wright(’s unbelievably ripped arms) tell young Diana the story so they can still hang out and be a part of the film! Throw in some lore about the gods, just to remind us where Diana comes from and her belief system, and we’re good to go.

While you’re at it, toss in the whole point of the film into the moral that Diana’s moms impart to her at a young age. It’s not a spoiler. We don’t wonder if 1984 Diana will do the right thing. She does not need to LEARN this moral. She already knows the moral, but she still has to make the hard choice to let Steve go and of course it doesn’t come easy.

In summary: that horse race had little to do with the rest of the movie and it’s wasted story space, especially for setting up the entire magical premise that the movie hinges on, let alone the actual message of the film.

CHALLENGE #4: Do we care about Maxwell and his kiddo enough to rest the entire movie’s resolution on it? Ehhhh. The glimpses into young Max’s abuse is another example of showing information RIGHTBEFORE it’s important, rather than setting it up earlier to pay off later. It’s a far weaker choice.

FIX IT: Age up Alistair. If he’s a teen or preeteen, then the stakes feel higher because it seems more monumental to undo the trauma of neglect at that age. Much like in his business pursuits, the clock is ticking and Max is running out of opportunities for success in all realms of his life.

Maybe show Maxwell trying to reason with Alistair earlier in the movie, saying that he’s a good dad because he’s not as bad a dad as his own father. It shows us how he justifies his behavior, gives us the information that he had an abusive dad, and gives an actual interaction between father and son other than “daddy you’re not here” and “shhh son here’s a pony.”

Possible other fix-it which connects to other fixes: what if Barbara actually renounces her wish before Max does? It should be more painful to the audience to lose Barbara to her wish because we’ve technically LIKED her at one point. She means something to Diana, and so she means something to us. Honestly, the audience has rooted for her independent of Diana! The scene where she realizes she’s not powerless against her harasser but then completely loses herself in violence against him? One of the movie’s best. It’s pretty dissatisfying that she just goes completely off the deep end and then nothing with her is resolved after the wishes are broken.

But, with the way the movie is set up, the big emotional climax is the scene of Diana getting through to Max/the entire planet, so it’s hard to undo that and give it to Barbara instead, considering that it won’t wrap up the plot. But geez, do SOMETHING with Barbara that’s based in actual emotions. Don’t hinge your entire movie’s emotional resolve on a father-son relationship that’s two-dimensional and doesn’t have anything to do with the main character! You had emotional investment in Barbara; use it!!

At the very least, have Diana get through to Barbara in some way, either before Maxwell renounces or after, and maybe even intercut it with Max and his kid. 

CHALLENGE #5: I experience great existential malaise at watching a mylar balloon drift off into the ether. Was there no better visual for the final moments of the film? Asking for myself, and also the planet. (This one is mostly a joke... but seriously, you guys, the PLANET.)

#ask box #spoilers #uhhhh I should probably keep this out of the tags #I wanted to like this movie a lot #but it came up short for me and it hampered my enjoyment a little bit #so I tried to take note of how it could've been improved with a stronger script #instead of complaining vaguely and dunking on it #WW84 #Wonder Woman