#hes stupid and says double whammy

[slasherscream]

I don't normally like make requests from people if it's obvious I'm sorry for my awkwardness.

Anyway you were saying how you were really into Jordan li recently so am I and I've read every single fanfiction or every rant there is about them and I crave more. I have been in a angst/fluff mood and I haven't seen anyone do this idea either. I was thinking thinking maybe Jordan and reader gets into an argument (not really picky about what) and the argument gets really heated (you know how jordan shifts into their male form to Intimidate or get their point across) Jordan shifts into their male form which scares reader (I'm thinking reader doesn't have a good past with angry men) and reader backs away from them in fear Jordan notices and tries to comfort them but reader flinched when Jordan touches them. Reader then asks them to leave so they do but Jordan spends like a week trying to make the situation better.

(I would also like to put reader isn't scared of Jordan more so the action of the blatant Intimidation tactic they tried to use against reader. Reader is angry that jordan would try to scare them even if it wasn't on purpose it still hurt)

Jordan sorta just spends a week following reader around Like a lost puppy trying to treat reader like a absolute queen even if reader won't really acknowledge them until Jordan has an breakdown while drunk coming to readers dorm begging for forgiveness.

Again if its obvious I don't know how to make requests I'm sorry this has just been on my mind for so long.

A/N: this request is absolutely perfect, and exactly to my tastes. thank you for sending it, doll!

WORD COUNT: 4k+ under cut | hurt/comfort and angst/fluff

It’s hard sometimes, knowing when to push and when to just let Jordan be. Not at all a skill you learned over night. You’d gotten good at the push and pull of bringing them out of their shell back when the two of you had just been friends. Better at it than anyone else, at least. It was a slow process, but every second was worth it.

Now on the good days you don’t have to push at all. A hand on their arm. A coaxing smile or two. Any act of connection, no matter how small, enough to make them tell you what’s on their mind. Even if they scowl the entire time they let it out. It’s the letting it out at all that counts. Progress!

Today you miscalculated. It’s been a bad week. Jordan hadn’t dropped in the rankings, but their points took a small dip. They hadn’t been very active on their socials, busy doing work as Brink’s TA. But the point gap between where Jordan sits at #2 in the rankings, and where Andre sits at #3 is still a wide open chasm. 

It’d take something truly disastrous to knock Jordan from the spot they’ve held for three years now. But the rankings are more important than anything to Jordan. No matter how gently you try to bring logic into the situation, Jordan gets irritated quickly, accusing you of not taking it seriously. You often wonder how that could be, considering you’re in the top eight yourself, but you bite your tongue and don’t bring it up.

The group had tried to go out for lunch. It was okay at first, everyone making an effort to ignore the storm cloud Jordan cast over the table as they picked at their food. Then Andre had made some type of stupid joke. Not even about the rankings, but enough to make Jordan snap at him. The situation escalated so quickly that Cate had threatened to take off her glove and make everyone shut up. You paid your portion of the bill and dragged Jordan out before anyone could start up again. 

And now you’re here, somehow also on the shit list for not being supportive enough. As if being supportive isn't everything you do. Day in and day out.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side. You don’t honestly think it was an innocent comment, do you?” Jordan snaps, standing up from your couch to pace the length of your dorm room. 

“You know how Andre is. He gets sarcastic when he’s hungover, and he was packing a double whammy. He did coke and got drunk last night. He was just a little off. He wasn’t making a real dig at you.” You defend your friend, knowing Jordan will regret what she said at lunch once she’s calmed down. 

“Oh, so we’re all just supposed to tiptoe around his highness? If he was gonna be a dick during the entire thing he should have just skipped coming out with us.” Jordan’s eyes narrow in on your expression, the sudden pursing to your lips and looking away. “What?” She snaps.

You take a deep breath at the tone, “Well, Jordie, if you want me to be honest Andre wasn’t the only one who wasn’t on their best behavior today.” 

A beat of silence.

You look up and there goes Jordan rolling her shoulders back, eyebrows practically in her hairline and you sigh. You definitely should have brought up her attitude later. 

“You really are taking his side!” She scoffs in disbelief. 

“Nope. No, I am not, there are no sides. We’re all friends. Friends fight. I’m just trying to remind you that you actually are friends. You can’t just…” You trail off, uncertain. 

“I can’t just what?” She throws up her hands, volume raising. 

“You can’t act like this every time the rankings do something that isn’t spectacular for you. I know they mean a lot to you but you can’t take the numbers out on the people who care about you.”

“You just don’t get it-”

“But I do get it! We talk about it all the time. Your feelings are completely valid, the way you react to them isn’t. You’ve been giving Andre looks that could kill all week and he didn’t even do anything. If he was a little snappy at lunch, maybe he’s upset that his friend has been treating him like shit over something he barely cares about.” 

“Well if I’m so-” Jordan shifts, pitch of his voice deepening, on the verge of yelling, “-fucking awful why don’t you go run to Andre and cry about it together?” 

He only takes two steps towards the couch before you use your powers. It’s instinct, the way the forcefield bubbles up around you. 

Whatever Jordan was going to say next shrivels up and dies on his tongue. The only sounds in the room are the quiet hum your powers make when you use them, and the scared, panicked gasp you make from inside the forcefield you put up to protect yourself from him.

There’s a second where the two of you just stare at each other. Both in shock. 

“Baby-” Jordan tries taking another step forward, a small, barely there shuffle of his foot. His face falls when the forcefield gets a little louder, glows a little brighter. 

Jordan looks close to tears. It’s that expression that pulls you out of the animal state of fear you’d fallen into. You look away from them. Take a few heaving breaths. Do your best to not mix up faces of the past with your present and future.

Your forcefield flickers out slowly. A concentrated effort. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to- I would never ever-'' Jordan shifts again. She rushes too fast into your space to kneel on the ground in front of you, her hands reaching for yours, desperate and clumsy.

When you flinch away, moving so you’re perched on the armrest of the couch, still trying to calm yourself down, she’s left with her hands grasping at air. “Baby, look at me. Please? Look at me, I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry that I… I’m sorry. I would never hurt you. I fucking swear I wasn’t-”

“I know, Jordan.” You shake your head, trying to stay calm. “Could you please….leave? I… I can’t calm down right now. I’m trying. I know you didn’t mean to… to scare me, but I need you to go.” 

“Baby, wait, fuck. Fuck, wait! I’m sorry. Let’s just talk. I can’t leave you alone like this. I’m sorry.” She’s panicking now, throat feeling like it’s closing up. 

She doesn’t try to reach for you again, but her hands feel like they’re burning from the effort it takes to keep them away from you. It’s instinct to hold you, to make it better, to pull you closer. She’s always been the place you run to when you’re scared, the shield you step behind when you need to feel safe. She doesn’t know what to do when you don’t even want to be near her.

“We’ll talk later. I’ll… I’ll have Cate come over so I’m not alone. Just.. leave.” Your voice breaks on a sob, and you’re begging her to leave, and that’s what makes Jordan head to the door, legs shaking. She’s never made you cry before. 

She’s glued to her phone the rest of the day, waiting for you to call. You don’t. 

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You’ve been best friends since you were freshman. You haven’t gone longer than two days without talking in all that time since. No matter how busy you are. No matter how shitty either of you feels. Jordan doesn’t know what to do with the hours of the day that you usually fill. 

She breaks on the second day when you show up to class and move to sit by Luke on the other side of the room instead of with her. You don’t even look at her as you walk by. 

Class doesn’t start for another five minutes. The teacher isn’t even here yet, and she’s always late. Jordan moves to get up, already feeling like she’s choking on all the words she needs to say to you to fix this, but is stopped by a firm grip around her wrist. She’s about to snap when she realizes it’s Cate, taking up your usual spot in the seat that isn’t up for grabs because it’s Your Seat. 

“Don’t make the situation worse. She just wants to go to class. Don’t hound her, Jordan.”

“Hound her?” Jordan’s voice raises, incredulous. “She’s my girlfriend. I need to talk to her.” 

“You need to apologize.” Cate bites. “Dick.” 

“That’s what I was trying to do before you stopped me.” Jordan speaks through gritted teeth.

“How about you try apologizing after she’s done all her classes? That way, when you inevitably upset her, she doesn’t hole herself up in her room all day crying. And feel bad about missing class on top of it. You know… the way she spent all of yesterday?” 

“She cried all day?” Jordan’s shoulders sag, voice getting smaller. 

Cate softens, patting Jordan’s hand.  “It’s not just about you, and you know that. Triggers like this really fuck with people. And she’s also pissed that she’s triggered in the first place. Let her cool off.”

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He makes it a few hours before he’s trailing after you. 

He can tell by the tension in the line of your spine that you know he’s there. But you don’t outright tell him to get lost, so Jordan can’t stop himself from following you around. Even if you don’t want him there. 

He sits across from you as you study in the library. Makes puppy dog eyes at you the entire time. He can’t be bothered to unpack his bag. It’d be useless to pretend he’ll do anything besides watching you.  

Two hours in, he gets up and leaves, hating the way your shoulders relax as he turns to go. 

He comes back twenty minutes later with your favorite foods and drink from the best local coffee shop. You don’t reach for any of it. He’s always loved how stubborn you are, how you stick to your ideas. Your principles. How steadfastly you make up your mind. Right now he’s just a little terrified of that same stubbornness. Remembers when you’d only been friends, that first year of peeling one another open, feeling each other out. 

(“I’ll never do it, Jordan.” You’d whispered vehemently, drunk and mad and beautiful. 

“Do what?” 

“Be with anyone who tries to fucking cow me into submission. It’s fucked. I won’t do it. I’ve had enough of it.” 

You’d passed the bottle you’d just had pressed to your lips and Jordan had tried not to think too hard about it, even when he tasted the remnants of your sticky, sweet lip gloss beneath the vodka.) 

He doesn’t get up to leave again until you do. 

Jordan walks you to your dorm, but trails a few steps behind you. He tried walking directly beside you at first, but your hands brushed together and the look you gave him was cold enough to freeze blood. 

So-

-behind it is. 

Jordan doesn’t get the chance to say goodnight before you slam the door in his face as loudly as possible.

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Jordan doesn’t push her luck by trying to walk you to your classes the next morning. She does wake up extra early to buy you the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers she could find. She leaves them outside your door and goes to class, hoping you’ll at least acknowledge her, the next time you see her.

During your first shared class of the day you walk in holding the bouquet of flowers. Jordan perks up in her seat, holding her breath. You do finally look at her. You make direct eye contact as you throw the flowers into the trash can at the teacher’s desk.

Jordan does not break her pen in half when Andre whispers “yikes” under his breath.

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Two more days and Jordan feels like he’s going insane. He knows you feel worse. One glance at the carefully nonchalant expression you’ve worn all week tells him that. Putting on a mask is nothing for you. That look is the first thing you learned how to do in the top ten. 

You’d never hidden the way you felt around him before. Not like this. His skin keeps buzzing with the urge to corner you. Jordan needs the two of you to talk about what happened. But he’s already walking the world’s thinnest line. 

And he knows he can’t force you, if you’re not ready. 

Another thing he knows: when you’re this upset you don’t clean. Simultaneously, when your room gets messy your depression gets worse. He skips one of your mutual classes of the day and lets himself into your dorm with the key you gave him during first year. 

Jordan looks around, wincing at the chaos. You never let it get this bad. Not even during your most soul crushing finals. He starts by throwing away the trash. The tissues you wiped your tears with. The takeout containers. Pages of your notebooks you ripped out, carelessly thrown around the room. You take awful notes in class when you’re distracted. He hates that he’s distracting you.

He wipes down every surface with your favorite scented cleaner. Dusts your books. Sweeps and mops. Changes your sheets and grabs the brightest, happiest color comforter you have stashed in your closet to put on the bed. As he adjusts the pillows he thinks about how often you spend the night at each other’s dorms. Jordan wonders if you’ve been struggling to sleep like he has. 

He hesitates, but goes to his room down the hall to grab his cologne. He spritzes it lightly over the bed and hopes you still find the way he smells comforting. 

Next is your laundry. He starts up a few loads, irons and puts away the clothes that were sitting in a wrinkled heap on your couch. You’ve always hated doing your laundry. 

He’s heading back to your room, a full laundry basket of clean clothes under each arm when you run into each other.

“Are those my clothes?” You ask, forgetting that you aren’t exactly speaking to him in your moment of confusion. 

“Yeah… I’m… I was cleaning my room. Doing some stuff. Figured I’d do a few of your loads too, while I’m already at it.” He shoots for casualness, knows he fails miserably.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say, words stiff and uncomfortable. 

“I know I just…” Jordan shrugs, relieved to be standing within a few feet of you after days of silence, and feeling pathetic over how happy something so small makes him. “Why don’t you go get something to eat with Cate while I finish up here?” 

“Finish up what?” You ask.

“I still gotta put these away.” 

You sigh, wanting the conversation to end, “You don’t have to put my clothes away, Jordan. Or wash them. I’m quite capable of doing it myself.”

Jordan takes a step back when you make a reach for one of the baskets under his arms. “I know that! Just let me do it. Doing your laundry always pisses you off. I’ve got it.” 

A battle of wills ignited. You, staring him down. Jordan, trying not to squirm. He wants to try apologizing again but doesn’t know if he’ll only make it worse.

“Please, baby? Go somewhere nice with Cate. My treat.” He puts down a laundry basket (behind him, so you can’t take it) to grab his phone from his pocket, and does something you can’t see. 

When you hear the particular chime your banking app makes when you get a Zelle deposit you roll your eyes. You don’t bother checking your phone and seeing how much he sent. You know it’s too much. But if you say anything he’ll just say you and Cate have expensive tastes (which…true.)

“Maybe you can catch a movie too? I still gotta finish up with your bathroom.” 

“Jordan.” 

“Just,” Jordan shifts, putting down the other laundry basket and slowly reaching out to grab your hand with hers. She could almost cry when you let her touch you. “I know you’re fucking pissed at me. And I know you’re still too upset to talk about it. But…. fuck, please just let me take care of you. Please. I have to do something. I can’t just sit around, after I made you feel like this. It’s driving me nuts. I’m supposed to-” 

You stop her, putting a hand on her cheek and sighing, “Okay, Jordan. I’ll go hang out with Cate while you finish.” 

“Don’t ‘hang out’, go get dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.” She says, sullen and staring up at you, playing with your fingers while you’re still letting her touch you, the first time in days. 

“I’ll head to Cate’s.” 

“Nah, head to Luke’s. They’re studying together right now.” Jordan takes a risk, stepping into your space slowly, giving you the time to move away. She leans in and kisses your cheek, gentle. When you don’t move away she can’t help herself, kisses the edge of your lips too. 

You don’t kiss her back, but you give her hand a squeeze as you pull away. You stop halfway down the hall before you turn back to look at Jordan. “Call Cate and tell her she better not be fucking Luke by the time I get to his dorm.” 

Jordan laughs. Your face is a little more relaxed as you turn away this time.

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On Friday the group goes out to the club. They chose one of your favorite haunts, hoping it would entice you enough to join. You still declined the invitation. Everyone knew you would. They still wanted to try. 

You claimed you had a lot of work to catch up on. 

“She hates me. She fucking hates me.” Jordan groans into his hands, already three drinks and two shots in. 

“Well, let’s not panic.” Luke says. 

“Or be dramatic.” Andre snorts, taking a shot of his own. “You two are obsessed with each other. Relax.” 

“Relax?!” Jordan tenses, “My girl won’t fucking talk to me. How am I supposed to relax?” 

“She talked to you yesterday.” Andre drawls. 

“That wasn’t anything. We usually-”

“-Spend every free second of the day together? We know.” Luke teases. When Jordan doesn’t even smile he winces and slides him another shot. 

“She’s not even that mad. She’s more upset than anything.” Cate says, cuddling into Luke’s side. 

Jordan’s eyes follow the movement and he swallows at the distinct lack of your own weight leaning into him. You always get touchy when you’re tipsy. Climbing on top of him, clinging to him like glue. It’s his favorite part of nights out together. That and the playful booing you guys get from the group. 

Andre cuts back in, “I’m serious, dude. Relax! You guys have been together for how long now-”

“Three years.”

“-yeah, exactly. Since the fucking building of the pyramids. You two will be fine. She knows you didn’t mean anything by it. One fight won’t kill you.” 

“This wasn’t a fight, though. I fucked up! You didn’t see the look on her face. When she used her powers… I mean, fuck! You know? She was scared of me.”

“You know that’s not true, Jordan.” Luke protests. 

Jordan runs his hands through his hair, ruining the carefully slicked back style.

“Let’s just get you another drink. Come on, dude.” Andre wraps an arm around Jordan, hauling him to his feet and pulling him towards the bar. 

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You get woken up by the sound of knocking on your door. Loud knocking. You keep your eyes closed, hoping whoever it is will go away. You don’t even want to be awake. Let alone socializing. 

The knocking gets louder. Exhausted, you drag yourself out of bed. You glance at your phone on the bedside table as you get up. It’s three in the morning. Now you’re exhausted and pissed. 

You stomp over to the door, wrenching it open, prepared to cuss someone out. You deflate when you see who it is. “Oh, hey.”

Jordan is leaning heavily on the door frame, staring at you with watery, red eyes. She looks like the walking dead. “Baby. Fuck, did I wake you up? I thought you’d still be awake. You said you were pulling an all-nighter.”

“I was tired. Just wanted to sleep.” You shrug. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Still at the club, took an uber back. Too fucked up for anything else.” She mutters.

“That’s good, Jordan.” You say. 

“You haven’t called me Jordan since freshman year. What happened to Jordie?” She sighs. 

Your face softens. “Baby…”

“No, wait, just let me…” Jordan leans her forehead against the door-frame, closing her eyes tight. “I’m sorry. I fucked up big time. I’m sorry that when I get pissed I take it out on everyone around me. I’m sorry that I don’t fucking listen when you’re just trying to make me feel better. I’m sorry I yelled… I’m sorry I shift-”

“Whoa, hey.” You cut her off, shocked. “You shifting isn’t the problem, Jordan. Fuck, come inside, honey.” You say, taking her hand and pulling her inside. 

You sit the two of you on the couch, clicking on the light so you can see each other. You move so you’re facing each other, pulling her hands into your lap. “First off let’s set one thing straight. You shifting is never the problem, okay?” 

“You got so fucking scared.” Jordan looks away, hair falling into her face.

“Not of you.. Just the fucking… optics of it! I don’t ever want you to be something you’re not. And you’ve got the incredible gift of being able to be whatever you feel like being any time you want to.” You reach out and touch her cheek, guiding her to look at you, “I don’t want you to not do that. I wouldn’t ever want you not to do that, okay?”

“Okay.” She says. There’s a moment of silence, then Jordan shifts. He looks for any sign of fear or hesitation, holding his breath. When he doesn’t see any he relaxes. “But I scared you so bad you used your powers.” 

“Yeah, that did happen.” You nod, caressing his cheek with your thumb, “Maybe it’s just a little scary when someone bigger and stronger than me starts yelling like that. Also, invulnerable. Let’s not forget that. Food for thought.” 

He closes his eyes, “I’m an idiot.” 

“For yelling at me? Yeah, just a little. Don’t yell at me like that no matter what form you’re in. That's always scary. Couples talk. They don’t yell. Most of the time. We can’t be the couple that does that.”

“I’ll never yell like that again. Either form. I promise.” Jordan says, “Can I hold you? It’s been a fucking week. I’m losing my mind.” 

You laugh, climbing into his lap and Jordan sighs, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can. He tucks your head into his neck. “I missed you like fucking crazy.” 

“Missed you too.” You sigh, “Stay the night?” 

“You’re not leaving my sight for the next two months.” He laughs, pulling you closer.

“Only two months? That’s fucked up, I thought you missed me.” You tease. 

“Shut up.” He scoffs, kissing the side of your head. 

You snuggle closer, letting the tension of the week drift away.

“You yell at me like that again and your only hope is being invulnerable, actually. I’ll put you through a wall.” You kiss his shoulder cheerfully. 

“I’d do it before you got the chance.”

You burst into laughter and he pulls your head away from his shoulder so he can see you the way you’re supposed to look around him. Happy. Content. He can’t stop himself from kissing you. You can’t stop yourself from kissing back. 

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #jordan li #gen v x reader #black!reader #first full jordan li fic! super fun to right nonny i am kissing you on the mouth this was INSPIRING #if you see any grammar or spelling errors no you don't lmao

[equallyshaw]

star crossed loves au | connor bedard x kailey hughes au ↳ slowly, but surely. ↳ au masterlist!

warnings: angst, anxiety attack, swearing etc. also this takes place in feburary after his jaw fracture! word count: 2.2k. - longer than i expected lol

"do you wanna come to my game?" was a simple question, and one of innocence. kailey would give it that, but the deep feeling of dread was felt rather too quickly for her liking. she looked away from connor as the two were finishing up breakfast, hoping he wouldn't notice the uneasiness that plagued her features. he did. the two had been inseparable since new years, and had became official only a few days afterwards. ofcourse, he'd see the tension that sprang up in her features, the inability to look at him - especially in the eye - and the way that he body seemed to be folding in on itself. she stood up abruptly, bringing the plate back into the kitchen, and connor watched with a million questions buzzing around. she came back in and sat down, swirling her lukewarm coffee. "i um, i cant go." she said staring down the place mat. his eyebrows furrowed, "can't or won't go?" he questioned, hoping for some clarification. she made direct eye contact with him and gave him a small frown, "i wish i could go, i really do. but i can't bring myself to." she said bringing the last of the once hot liquid to her mouth. he shook his head, "you have to tell me what that means kails." he said setting down his fork now.

she sighed, setting the mug down. "i vowed to myself long ago that i'd never go to another hockey game in my life, let alone step into a rink once more." she paused sniffling, "that game ruined my childhood and my relationships with the rest of my family." she said and it felt like a dagger piercing his heart. "then why, why did you agree to be my girlfriend if you can't stand what i do?" he questioned without a second thought, and he could see how much it hurt the blonde. she made a tsk noise, "i can respect and support what you do from afar connor. but y'know now that you say that, why did i say yes? why did i say yes when i knew that i wouldn't be able to listen to the sound of skates hitting the ice when it really mattered? even if it was the stanley cup final, i wouldn't be able to do it because of how much it would make me sick." she finished, standing up and heading towards his condo door. "wait kail-" she cut him off with the front door opening. she stood between the threshold, looking back at connor. "you're right connor, how can i support you when i cant even support my own brothers?" she asked rhetorically before stepping full into the hallway and towards the elevator. as soon as she hit the elevator, she quickly began to cry while hunching over with her eyes shut. connor stood with his mouth agape, unsure if he should go after her or let her go. how could he let her go, when besides hockey- she was the thing he was most sure about in his life?

_

becca kaileys roommate and longtime best friend, could tell something off that morning when kailey came back to the apartment in a fit of rage. "what'd they do now?" kailey questioned, thinking her brothers said something stupid. "not them, him." she responded beginning to pace. "but its my fault, im the one who said yes without telling him i cant watch hockey. im the one who has wasted his time because why the hell would he date somebody who cant walk into an arena without throwing up?" she blurted as becca stood up, concern lacing her gaze. "hey kails? wanna sit down?" she questioned softly, wrapping her arms gently over her the blonde's. kailey immediately began to break down again, completely folding into becca's figure.

hockey was something that was seldom spoken about in the apartment. it was not off limits per se, but it was to be treaded lightly. unfortunately, kailey held a great amount of disdain for the sport and if it was mixed in with her brothers, it was a double whammy and usually ended in an anxiety attack. sure, she'd been to therapy for her childhood, jack and the topic of of hockey had come up many times. it was the reason why she was plucked away from her budding life in toronto, because they wanted the family to be with jack and usa hockey. it was why everything and everyone that she adored, was taken away from her. so she set up boundaries, and that meant no hockey. besides quinn's debut, no debut for luke or jack. no playoff games, nada nothing. her parents had respected her choice, and with the backing from her therapist - so did the rest of the family. this was something she didn't tell connor when they were talking during break before new years, because she knew that it would scare him away. just like it had now.

kaileys thoughts were interrupted, by a loud knock on their apartment door. "ill be right back." becca announced, standing up and walking towards the door. "ill be in my room." kailey responded, barely audible but becca picked it up. as soon as kailey was out of view, she opened the door to connor. who looked distraught, angry and sad all at the same time. "um hello?" becca said and connor opened the door, pushing his way inside. "where is she?" he asked flustered, and becca sighed. he met becca's gaze and snapped in her face, "becca, where is she?" he repeated and becca stood their in a shocked state. before becca could respond, they both heard a sob or more like a wrenching cry from kailey's bedroom. connor wasted no minute shoving off his shoes and throwing his jacket on becca, before heading down the hallway. becca could only chuckle in response, before sending him a salute as a joke and one that he didn't see. "go get em." she mumbled, before putting his stuff down.

connor knocked on the door before opening it, and as he opened it he found kailey on her bed. her head was in her hands and hunched over. his heart absolutely broke as he walked over, and sat beside kailey pulling her into his body. "its ok kails, I've got you." he whispered, repeating it every few seconds. "im not mad or upset, i promise." he whispered after a few minutes. her sobbing began to quiet down, but her breathing was still too heavy for his liking. "but you were right." she said after about ten minutes. he looked down and shook his head, "i was not right." he stated boldly. she pulled away from his chest, looking at him properly now. "you were right, why should i be your girlfriend if i cant support you on a nightly basis? its not fair to you con, its not." she said running a hand through her hair. "so what?" he questioned, and she looked at him. "so what? you matter more than hockey. yeah we may have only known each other for a month now, but I've never been more sure about somebody or something in my life besides hockey. you and our relationship im so sure about, ask any of the guys. they probably would tell you that im so disgustingly annoying." he mused causing her to giggle softly. "i promise that just because you choose not to watch hockey, doesn't mean that im gonna break up with you." he argued and she chuckled. "you don't like me enough to say and do that." she said rolling her eyes, and he shook his head. "no, i love you that's why." he confessed and she slowly looked back towards him. "wait...what?" she asked, barely breathing. he grinned before smiling, "i love you kailey clara and what are you gonna do about that?" he mused causing her to blush. she breathed in heavily why playfully rolling her eyes, "i can either kick you out or tell you that i love you back." she hummed, leaning closer towards him. "thankfully for you, its the latter." she hummed staring down his lips before pulling him in for a passionate and deep kiss.

the two pulled away after about ten seconds, pressing their foreheads against one another's. "as long as you say you're my number one fan we'll be good. this cements everything." he joked causing her to giggle. "you cheeky boy! but yes, good thing ill be your number one fan as long as you have me." she grinned before they kissed once more.

later on in the afternoon as the two cuddled with one another after connor's nose found solace in kaileys neck, the blonde spoke up. "i promise connor, to open myself up to hockey. i promise im going to try, ok?" she questioned turning around to face him. he had a small hopeful smile grace his features, "slowly but surely kails." he hummed before pulling her into his chest and placing a kiss on her head.

_

it was two weeks later, and after a black graphic t-shirt of connor came in- her and becca were off to a game against the florida panthers. the two walked arm and arm towards the 300's section wanting to experience it in the 'trenches' kailey had always called them, and experience it with some die hard fans. and, far enough away that nobody on the team or their partners would recognize her. she wanted to surprise connor.

"i feel like i could vomit." she confessed, sitting next to becca who only gave her an encouraging smile. "the game's underway, maybe that'll distract?" she questioned and kailey could only laugh in response. the two's attention focused on the game, and some point during it she had sent a text to not only tessa, alex vlasics girlfriend but her mom as well, sealing it with a picture of her view. her mom and dad gushed and sent words of encouragement and tessa begged for her to meet them after the game in the wags and family box. to which kailey responded, was a tba. the blackhawks ended up wining 3-1 with connor getting a goal and two assists. and with being on somewhat of a high, she told tessa that they would meet her in the 200's section. tessa stood their waiting for them and as soon as she saw them, she began to jump up and down with excitement. "im so happy you're here!!!" tessa gushed, pulling kailey in for a huge hug. she then moved towards becca and the two of them hyped the youngest hughes up. "oh my god, stopppp." she said blushing. "can you not, were in public you two." as the two girls highfived each other. "what?! this is a big deal girlfriend. you made it through the entire game." becca said shaking the girl just a bit. tessa's phone dinged with a text from alex, him and connor were walking towards the box now.

"get your ass in there, now." tessa demand pointing back towards the box door and becca quicky pulled her inside. becca smiled and waved to some of the girl's she had met at new years with kailey, and they were all happy to see kailey. finally. "im nervous beccs." kailey said in a whisper and becca smiled, "he'll be happy to see you chica." she smiled down at her best friend who only nodded.

kailey heard his voice before she saw him, and once becca looked behind her she turned around. connor hadn't taken notice yet but once tessa made a nonchalant comment, he quickly looked around the now - desolate- room and then his eyes landed on her. she smiled softly, once their eyes connected. he smiled, and then made his way over ot the girl. he pulled her in for a big hug without a word, his nose finding the crook of her neck. "hi pretty girl." he whispered, and she found herself blushing like a fool. "hey superstar." she grinned, before he pulled back a bit to look at her. then he noticed the t-shirt and he smiled, taking a step back to inspect it. "oh, i brought it just for this occasion." she grinned making him chuckle just a bit. "its my face." he said a bit stunned, "it is your face." becca said monotoned which made kailey snicker. "its alright, he's got a pretty face." she teased, "a pretty face, huh?" they heard Phillip kurashev tease and that made connor roll his eyes. "pretty pretty connor!" kevin joined in causing more chuckles to arise, "lets go pretty boy!" mackenzie entwistle teased, and kailey smiled softly.

"come on pretty boy." she teased, beginning to walk out with everybody else. "i should put that as your new name in my phone." becca mused, typing away on her phone. "i swear to god becca if you do!" connor threatened playfully, "you'll what?" she grinned back. "ill tell your little secret..." connor began only for becca to hear and that made becca grow quiet. "you wouldn't dare,🖕🏻" she texted and connor only giggled in response as they walked towards connor car.

so what secret, connor baby? lmao

please like and reblog if you liked!

#connor bedard #connor bedard x k hughes au #start crossed lovers au #connor bedard au #connor bedard blurb #connor bedard imagine #jack hughes #quinn hughes #chicago blackhawks #new jersey devils #luke hughes #vancouver canucks #equallyshaw masterlist #nhl #hockey #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #hockey blurb #hockey imagine

[nevarroes]

pretend ur duo becomes twitch streamers playing fps games competitively how toxic would they be. i just imagine them doxxing and throwing slurs tbh but i cant differentiate their toxicness in that context LMAO

Cas i can GENUINELY see as a streamer but u know but Gortash.... hear me out. He's obviously far from tech illiterate old man considering what he does in modern AU but do u know what I think he is... grumpy old bitch that looks down on most of these online things😭😭 if anything he has to take part in those charity streams

okay but let me actually answer ur question🙏 Cas is the person that would have a meltdown and start reciting a whole essay if insults and slurs on stream like.... do u remember when I made this. like that. Definitely and I mean 100% shits on everyone on a girly character with the double whammy misogynist behavior and if anyone DARES to type or talk back to him he will villain chuckle and go "do you even know who I am?" and then int👼 He doesn't really have to dox anyone either his fans r gonna go out of their way to make that person's life hell nd probably delete their account without Cas even having to move a finger

Gortash doesn't stream to me but he's actually better at games than Cas is. heart emoji💜 He's toxic in the way where ingame he will just talk down on people like... he'd literally smurf in low elo then say how everyone there has a low iq and how it shouldn't humanly be allowed to be stupid enough to be stuck in low elo. starts typing out a sephiroth speech in ingame chat about how he got to challenger 5 times and they are nothing but useless specks of dust in the universe that are so bad at life they even suck at video games. He rages too but more like clenches fist and screams so loud that Cas falls out of bed😩 he definitely doxxes people that try to insult him but it's kinda hard to get back at him tbh

#blakemail #local fitness influencer mews and flexes during every loading screen #starts the match by typing “get carried losers” #45 year old man makes teenagers quit the game and cry

[moriphile]

Intro Post

Permission Given to Send Me Literally Anything in an Ask I Love Reading Your Random Thoughts and Comments

I'm going by Mori or M here for anonymity's sake, just like the little weirdo I love.

18+

He/they/it pronouns, no preference

AFAB & GNC transmasc

Call me a theyfab and I will eat you

Aegosexual, omnisexual, demiromantic

This is a blog dedicated to my struggles with paraphilias and PDs, as well as information surrounding them. I have multiple of both. As for PDs, this includes ASPD, NPD, BPD, and AVPD. My BPD is... especially severe. Routinely fucks up my life. As for paraphilias, I have more than I can count, but one is part of the Big 3; I am a staunchly anti-contact and non-offending 🗺️. I speak pretty openly about it because I'm tired of being vilified for it. Though other paraphilias will also be spoken about.

I am a survivor of CSA and grooming from multiple people (both contact and non contact), as well as an extremely mentally and verbally abusive household. I may speak on my trauma here but you have no right to ask me about it. Do not.

Feel free to ask me anything (except the previously stated). I'm an open book and love spreading information and sharing my experiences. There's no such thing as a stupid question as long as it's asked in earnest. Worst case scenario, I don't answer or point you to someone who can.

P.S. Before you say it, I am already in therapy. And am also in school to become a therapist. Double whammy.

Masterposts

MAP Resources

Common Tags

#m.beingpissyagain ; My more serious thoughts. Mostly unfiltered. It will also include important information from others.

Nested tags:

#m.pers info ; Information on personality disorders as a whole. #m.aspd info ; Information on ASPD. #m.npd info ; Information on NPD. #m.bpd info ; Information on BPD. #m.avpd info ; Information on AVPD.

#m.para info ; Information on paraphilias as a whole. #m.big 3 info ; Information on the big 3 as a whole. #m.pdf info ; Information on pedophilia.

#m.cptsd info ; Information on c-ptsd.

#m.kink info ; Information on kink as a whole.

#m.asks ; Asks. That's it lol. They usually don't fit anywhere else.

#m.positivity ; Positivity posts! About a variety of things.

#m.thedemonswon ; My paraphilic thoughts. Almost entirely unfiltered. All posts will be marked as mature, but I don't generally provide specific CWs. Mute this tag if you don't want the graphic shit.

#m.venting ; Me venting when it's not also something important. I will not mark these posts as mature or provide specific CWs, as I find it disrespectful to request people censor themselves when venting. Mute this tag if this bothers you.

#m.fuckassery ; My random weird thoughts. Have fun trying to make sense of them.

#m.rb ; My random reblogs. Usually memes or things I find funny.

#m.discourse ; Because I can't stay away.

Content Warnings

I will talk about a wide variety of disturbing and uncomfortable topics here, usually untagged. I don't like to censor myself. These content warnings include but are not limited to:

Paraphilias (duh). If you don't want to see anything related to 🗺️s, mute #🍸.

Mental disorders, heavily focused on PDs.

Intrusive fantasies & thoughts.

Abuse and trauma of... all kinds really. Child abuse or otherwise.

Idolization and romanticization of horrible things and people (yes, I'm aware of it. No, I can't help it. Piss off).

Honestly, if you can think of it, it could probably be on this list. Just be aware and cautious I guess.

Stances and DNI

I do not have many boundaries, but they are very harsh and I do not appreciate them being disrespected. I will block you.

Stances

Pro recovery (specific views in link), psych critical.

Very pro kink.

Cluster b abuse does not exist, you were emotionally abused.

Transandrophobia is just as real and harmful as transmisogyny.

Contradictory labels are great. Go be hot and sexy.

MOGAI, LIOM, and xenogenders are great. Go be hot and sexy.

Otherkins, therians, etc. are great. Go be hot and sexy.

Singlet and thus divorced from syscource. If you're chill, we're chill.

Anti-contact (for paras that would infringe upon consent) and absolutely unwilling to engage in discourse on this viewpoint.

Proship, darkship, comship, etc.

Pro para.

Anti-radqueer and transID.

RPF of minors is, by law, CSEM.

Don't approach me with discourse. If I want to engage, I will.

DNI

Minors. I swear to god do not interact with me.

Thinspo. It's a genuine trigger.

I don't particularly care who interacts with my blog (besides minors and thinspo). I also don't particularly care if I'm on your DNI or not (unless you're anti-MAP, in which case I will block you for my own safety), I'm gonna interact anyway. Feel free to block me if that bothers you.

However, if you're touting harmful ideology to yourself or others (AAMs seeking MAPs, MAPs seeking AAMs, pro-cs, etc), I am more than willing to report you.

Reblogging random art sideblog: @bsdposting

Writing sideblog: @degens-paradise

#actually borderline #actually antisocial #actually avpd #actually npd #actually aspd #actually bpd #pro recovery #anti contact #low empathy #pro paraphile #pro para #para safe #paraphile safe #big 3 safe #big three safe #aspd safe #bpd safe #npd safe #avpd safe #cluster b safe

[thornybubbles]

Yandere JoJo Headcanons: What Makes Them Dangerous (Johnny Joestar)

Johnny’s dark determination coupled with his need to maintain his delusions are his most dangerous traits. These two factors cause Johnny to be a yandere no one wants to trifle with. His Stand, Tusk, is one of the strongest Stands there is and his ability to use Spin adds a double whammy of danger to the mix. Once Johnny has decided that you and him are a couple, that’s it. You just ARE a couple. He doesn’t care if you agree with him or not. Rejection? Don’t be stupid. No really, Reader, don’t be stupid. Rejecting him will stir up the seeds of resentment in him and believe me when I say you don’t want that. Having Johnny obsess over you is one thing, but being on his bad side is a recipe for disaster. 

Keep Johnny happy, Reader. That’s your best bet for survival. Why did I say “survival”? Why do you think? Johnny doesn’t have very many people left in his life and he’ll cling to anyone that is still sticking around. He has some extreme abandonment issues and they only get worse if something happens to Gyro. If it ends up with just you and Johnny left to deal with Valentine, Johnny’s fragile hold on reality will snap. 

The time to escape him is long, long passed by this point. Now you’re stuck with a Johnny who views you as the love of his life and believes you to feel the same. Even if you don’t, you’d better keep that to yourself. Johnny doesn’t want to hear it. Does Johnny actually love you? Well, he certainly thinks he does. Even if it isn't what a stable minded person would call love, Johnny still has an extreme attachment to you. Whatever the case, his main goal now is to keep you safe from his enemies and if that means locking you away somewhere that no one will find you, then so be it. You will live out the rest of your days with Johnny as he forces you to pretend to be his little lover. And you’d better play along, Reader. Stand up to him or ruin his fantasy in any way and he’ll make you regret ever having been born. If by some EXTREMELY slim chance you manage to escape him, prepare to live the rest of your life on the run. You will go mad from the paranoia of never knowing just when he’ll catch up to you (and he WILL catch up to you). Once he finds you again, he’ll make sure that running away never crosses your mind ever again. I’d wish you luck, Reader, but if you managed to get Johnny as a yandere, then your luck has run out. 

#yandere johnny #yandere johnny joestar #yandere johnny x reader #yandere johnny joestar x reader #johnny joestar #johnny joestar x reader #johnny x reader #steel ball run #yandere steel ball run #yandere jjba #yandere jojo #yandere jojo x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba part 7 #jjba part seven #please johnny i don't want to play house #jjba x reader #yandere headcanons #jojos bizzare adventure x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo x reader #yandere jjba x reader #jojo x you

[javasquats]

Annabeth in PJO episode 3

Ok because a few people requested, here are the thoughts I had on Annabeth's characterization in episode three. I wrote it out and it's literally a whole essay so I'm putting it under a cut lolol also spoiler warning for discussion of themes in Mark of Athena, but I'll put another warning before that part.

I was watching and thinking about how in a way Annabeth is the main character of this episode. In the beginning when they stop to get snacks, we see her on her own in the gas station store (which I'd say is somewhat notable considering that Percy is the sole narrator of the books, meaning we only ever get to see what he sees). We hear Grover talk about monsters hunting demigods while we simultaneously see Annabeth pursued by the fury. This establishes an image of what her life was like before camp. We imagine the type of monsters that have sabotaged her attempts at normalcy. She's just a kid buying snacks!! And she is so like Percy in the way her normal life has been disrupted over and over.

Later in the woods, when Percy suggests calling her mom, the way she says "excuse me?" isn't just annoyed at his stupidity. You can hear the actual emotional injury in her delivery. Like the equivalent of a typical kid with a typical absent parent receiving a jab about it. Percy assumes that they're close because Athena gifted Annabeth the Yankees cap. But the fact that they're not makes this look a lot more like a deadbeat parent throwing gifts at their child thinking that makes up for their absence. Just enough to maintain Annabeth's hope for her mother's love and approval.

"You're loyal to your mother?" "Yes!" "You love her?" "Yes! Of course I do!" She is still captivated by the idea of having that motherly love. That perfect family.

And then Medusa is telling her story, and the writers give us explicit permission to understand this as describing Annabeth's story. Annabeth, like Medusa, is trying so hard to receive love and to feel like she is enough, fighting for Athena's approval. And then the son of Poseidon, like Medusa describes Poseidon himself (purely going off of what medusa says in this story, rather than the myth itself, for narrative purposes), comes along and promises her that love, shows her that affection. And she starts to think maybe she is enough! She is lovable! Annabeth starts to heal from the wounds caused by her abandonment.

(Mark of Athena spoilers btw)

And then Athena, who she spent so long fighting for the approval of and who was the one who caused those wounds that Percy helped her recover from, comes back and says Annabeth is a disgrace and a failure, just like she did with Medusa.

Poseidon also abandons Medusa in her story. His promises of love her empty, and Medusa is left alone, with nothing. Double abandonment whammy. So like we can imagine if we apply this to Annabeth, the amount of apprehension and fear about letting Percy in and believing that she is lovable, because what if it's a lie?

Slight Medusa aside: she only begins to act "monstrously" when she tries to manipulate Percy in the kitchen, once again drawing a parallel between herself and another woman. But this time it's Sally Jackson who she doesn't even know. She tries to turn Percy against Annabeth because she thinks Annabeth will turn against her. She sees herself in Annabeth and at the same time is redirecting her own pain at her.

"We are not our parents until we choose to be, and you two have chosen." As if humans are static. As if we aren't a continual work in progress. Always growing and changing. As if we don't learn our lessons in our own time.

(Tagging the people who requested this! Hope you enjoyed my whole ass ted talk!!)

@irregular-child @perpetuallyexhaustedmess @mortalmab

#pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo episode 3 #pjo #annabeth chase #medusa #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #javasquatting

[just-some-friendly-fun]

More Random Personal HCs I Made of Miguel O'Hara While Writing Smthn

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3

Huge insomniac. He either can't sleep due to his workaholic tendencies or because of this "charming" thing called-- trauma. Nightmares and guilt have a tendency of keeping him up late at night so he usually buries himself in his work during those times too when he can't sleep (double whammy for the workaholic tendencies).

He's a "sleep late, wake up early" person. He's got a Spider Society to run so he tries to at least get to work as early as possible just in case anyone needs him or so he can get started on arranging anomaly-dealing missions and so on and on... (Probably wakes up at some stupid time like 4:30 AM just so he can tell people "You're late" because he seems like a cocky douche to do that)

I kinda see ITSV Miguel (as in the version of him in the post-credit scene) being more of a similar version to how he is in his comics. Whereas the ATSV version is probably more of a changed and more "grown" and developed person hence why he seems so serious and less "silly", shall we put it.

Miguel has this thing where (if he's alone with someone) he'll drop the wildest piece of information with someone in an argument or a really good comeback, and then go about acting like he said nothing-- like a menace. Which ensues in the "WHAT?" "what." situation and he silently eats it up. He'll do this when bantering with someone too, just to get the last word in and be all smug about it after. He has to have that last word.

He does say 'fuck' but he also says 'shock' too as a substitute, it just depends on the conditions. He'll say 'shock' when he's around any kids or teenagers (like with Gwen in ATSV when he said something about cleaning up the 'shocking mess' and the one part where I'd like to think he had to stop cursing since he started taking care of Gabriella) or even in a work environment (gotta keep that professionalism up, y'know?), but outside? Can say 'fuck' with no problem, or 'shit'. Doesn't say it all the time like a sailor but he drops one every now and then, and I can definitely see him slip up once or twice enough for people around him to be like "YOU CAN SWEAR?"

#atsv miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #headcanons #atsv #Across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #Feel free to send me any other headcanons or at least tell me of his other quirks 'n stuff. Might add it to the list

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 3

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: descriptions of a panic attack

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

A cacophony of voices fight to be heard over the other, everyone shit talking around the game of Mario Kart that’s currently set up in our living room. The boys and I watch as the four players duke it out on the big screen, witnesses to a friendship-breaking competition.

Loud stomping abruptly interrupts the taunts, “Y/N! What the hell? Is that my fucking shirt that you’re wearing?” My brother violently hollers from his spot, standing halfway down the stairs to peer down at the rest of us.

“The one you’ve been looking for all morning? Yup.” I lazily drawl from my spot on the couch, obnoxiously popping the “p” in my reply. My head slightly shifts as Tweek attempts to neatly braid my hair, Butters gently coaching him from the side.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? Made me waste a bunch of time looking for nothing.” Stan continues as he finishes his journey down the stairs.

“You act like you have better things to do, loser. No girlfriend, no job—nada. So I don’t see what the big deal is. Are you on your period or something?” An accidental sharp tug makes me wince, Tweek muttering apologies as he quickly kisses the top of my head in repentance for his mistake.

“Shut up! Quit stealing my shit!” He's standing off to the side of the couch now, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed.

I glare at Stan and say around a mouthful of orange chicken at the top of my lungs. “Quit stealing my weed then!”

”God, you’re such a fucking pothead!” He shouts, fists clenching in anger.

”Says the alcoholic who starts his day with a shot!” It’s a low blow but all I can see is red.

“Bro, quit being a whiny bitch. You’re not dirt poor like Kinny. Just buy a new one.” Said blonde flashes Cartman his middle finger so he rolls his eyes and attempts to correct himself. “What? Fine, at least you weren’t born ginger and a Jew like Kahl. Talk about a double whammy, I’d honestly kill myself.”

”You don’t need a reason to kill yourself, Cartman. Make all of us happy for once and just do it. If you really need a reason, just think about how fat you are and how much wasted space you take up.”

”Aye!”

The match concludes with Jimmy coming out on top and the boys deciding to abandon the game entirely. They resume eating the Chinese takeout that’s laid out on the coffee table in front of them and half-heartedly listen to the sibling’s routine bickering.

“Take it off.” He scoffs at me, face heated with anger. Tolkien rolls his eyes so hard that I’m surprised a headache doesn’t occur.

“Huh?”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’re stupid, not deaf. Want me to ask mom to get you hearing aids? I said: take. It. Off.” Comes out of my brother’s gritted teeth, each word growing more impatient and strained.

“Big deal, Stan! There’s so many other fucking shirts in this house. Feel free to get one from my closet if you need one so bad.” I retort in exasperation, clenching the denim on Tweeks legs that lay on either side of my body in frustration.

“Ack!” The frenzied blond yelps from behind me and I let go, fiddling with the creases on his jeans instead.

“No! Didn’t you hear me, r-tard? It’s mine, I bought it. Now, take it off!” Kyle closes his eyes at the elder Marsh’s words, tired beyond his years.

“Able to throw some money away for a dumb shirt but you can’t even pay me back my hundred dollars.” The local space enthusiast mumbles to himself, a chorus of ‘shut up, Craig!’ resounds from the boys in Team Stan.

“Fine!” I smirk and get off from my perch on the couch, a sly yet very bold idea pops up into my head. The perfect little thing to piss my dear older brother off. If you want petty, I’ll give you petty.

I grab my shirt from the hem and start to slowly lift it off of my frame, quirking a smug eyebrow and taunting my brother with a smile when more skin starts to show.

“Woohoo!” Kenny hollers excitedly at me, his hands in the air.

“F-f-fuck! No! Quit it, will you?! Don’t fucking do that!” Stan pushes those in his way aside and the boys make it hard for him on purpose by sticking out their legs to trip him. My brother scrambles over to me, forcing my hands down.

“Aw. What’s wrong, Stanley? You’re starting to sound a lot like Jimmy, how cute. I thought you wanted your stupid shirt?” I jeer at him. It’s like what Bebe always says: boys never know what they want and that’s the problem with them. Amen, sister.

“Ewww, Marsh. No one wants to see your underdeveloped body.” Craig socks Cartman on the arm, hard and the larger teen squeals like a dying pig.

“Don’t listen to them, sexy! Keep on going!” Clyde joins in laughing, sliding off his jacket and twirling it over his head in support of the apparent stripping going on.

“You’re voluptuous! Curvaceous! I’m already down on my knees at the sight of you, sweet thang!” Clyde continues to exaggeratedly hype me up, comically imitating the sound of a barking dog afterwards.

“I don’t know how you guys can take her seriously when her hair’s only halfway done. Looks like a damn hippie.” Cartman mumbles, more focused on inhaling his food and rubbing his now sore arm.

“Pffft, b-buh-baby Marsh gone w-wild!” Kung pao chicken accompanies Jimmy’s words of encouragement and he grabs one of his arm crutches, twirling it above his head too. My hands are still at the hem of my shirt, lifted up slightly and exposing a sliver of skin, even when my brother lets go.

I turn my head and catch Craig’s eyes trailing down as he smirks at me, his eyebrows lifted up playfully. A glint in his deep blues as he nonchalantly says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

While I’d normally giggle in amusement at the normally stoic teen and the contribution towards further riling my brother up, my face immediately flushes red after my talk with the girls at the party. I’d say that butterflies are invading my stomach, struggling to break free but it honestly feels like a whole damn zoo down there.

Feeling the adrenaline rush from my brother’s anger, the boys egging me on, and Craig’s attention, my heart beats at record breaking speed and I can feel my cheeks shyly heat up. This development doesn’t go by unnoticed as Kenny stops his playful cheering and laughing, watching the interaction between us two with furrowed brows.

“Fuck off, Tucker. Actually, fuck both of you all the way to hell.” My brother grumbles, angrily throwing himself onto an unoccupied space on the couch with his arms crossed. “It’s the fucking principle of things.”

“Big word, Stanley. Is that your word of the day? Did you learn it from this week’s episode of Sesame Street?” I mock him with a pout in fake sympathy.

“Shut the fuck up before I kick your fucking teeth in!” My brother’s stupid face goes red with anger.

He pouts when Kyle holds him back and rolls his eyes, ever the voice of reason. “They were just joking, Stan.”

“Yeah, Stanley. I was just joking.” My eyes continue to follow Craig as he lifts a bite of food towards his handsome face, wooden chopsticks pressed against his still smirking plush lips.

“Craig.” My brother says sharply this time, straightening up his back to glare at the teen over Cartman’s bigass head. I’m slightly confused as to what’s happening but still loving the attention Craig is giving me.

“Relax, Marsh.” Craig chuckles with a challenging look in his eyes. Tension begins to grow in the room and I’m lost because the other guys would normally laugh at suave shit like that and instigate a fight.

I roll my eyes and figure that it’s just them being overly protective, going back to my spot in between the cute coffee addict’s legs so that he can finish his attempt at doing my hair. Butters has a small braid done in between tufts of silky blonde from when I demonstrated the process to Tweek. He rubs his knuckles together, nervous energy exuding from his body as I return next to him.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The girls excitedly informed me of tryouts and the process, which involves practice with the already established team and the new potential recruits. A week and a half is given to learn a few cheers before the day they hold the official tryouts, which was today. It’s here where I finally meet Nichole Daniels, Tolkien’s girlfriend. It would’ve been nice if he brought her over from time to time but I can understand his vehement refusal of bringing her anywhere near a number of dumb boys. Trouble seems to follow the guys wherever they go.

As promised to the parentals, I attended and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be with the friends I’ve already made being here. I’ve never had problems with dancing as it comes easy to me so it’s nice to just hang out and bask in the feminine energy.

My parent’s request has continued to go under the radar as the boys have been busy with the football season starting. Their practice allows me to not have to think of an excuse for staying out late since they’re already busy, extracurricular activities taking up their time after school as they prepare for the season.

I shove the heavy front doors of the school open, the sun almost fully set as a gradient of red, yellow, and orange bathe me in their hues. The girls always remember to offer me a ride home from their parents but I always politely reject, my guilt not allowing any of them to go out of their way and use their gas on me.

My hands are shoved into my pockets, trying to accumulate as much heat as possible while I begin the journey home. Wisps of fleeting, misty clouds escape from my mouth after each puff of breath I let out and I watch them disappear. I bask in the rare moment of solitude and the quiet that comes with it.

I’m colder than I normally would be tonight because a freshman accidentally spilled her gatorade onto the duffel bag that I’ve been using for cheer. Not only were the sweats that I usually throw on over my shorts drenched in sticky sweetness, but the clothes I wore to school earlier were also an unlucky casualty to the liquid electrolytes.

I wonder if I’ll make the cheer team, I ponder to myself.

The rhythmic sound of my steps on the concrete sidewalk accompany me on my walk and I hum to myself until I hear sharp, rambunctious laughter. I’m startled as my head shoots up and see that across from me in the distance are a group of boisterous, older teens. Fear resounds within me when I faintly remember them terrorizing my brother and friends when they were in the fourth grade, them having been in the sixth at the time.

I pray in my head that they don’t notice me but my prayers go unanswered as they cross the street, now joining me on the same sidewalk. I know I can’t outrun them so I panic and impulsively decide to take a detour, turning right into an alleyway until I dreadfully notice that I can still hear them from behind. What was once just the sound of obnoxious laughter is now the noise of thundering footsteps following closely, beginning to get louder and louder.

My feet hastily pick up their pace and I can feel the tremors reverberate through my now sweating hands, anxiety filling me to the very core. My trembling makes the process of pulling out my phone agonizingly slow and I silently curse at my misfortune.

The white puffs of air that once brought me entertainment on my walk now serve as a reminder of the danger I’m in. Unlike before, they come out of my mouth in quick intervals and I clench my teeth to bid them away.

Out of nowhere, someone roughly yanks on my ponytail and they’re quick to cut off my yelp as a rough hand forces itself onto my mouth. The assailant painfully holds onto my other arm, both grips enforcing excruciating pain.

“Hey, I recognize you. You go to our school, always around those dumb boys.” One of the perpetrators in front of me sneers as he brings his face up to mine, his rancid breath invading my senses and making me feel even sicker than before.  

“Lucky, aren’t we? We got baby Marsh!” Their eyes lighten up in both delight and recognition. I can feel upcoming bile trying to force its way up my throat from hearing the term of endearment the boys call me used like this, the connotation eerie in this situation.

Trying to make a sound is futile as all my cries for help are muffled, my captor getting annoyed at my squirming and relocating his hold on my arm to my neck instead. He squeezes and I whimper in fear, my breathing becomes more desperate when my kicking and elbows do nothing to deter him.

“Why’re you crying? You’re just asking for it when you walk around in fucking shorts. We live in South Park. No one would dress that way outside in the snow if they weren’t a total slut.” They all degradingly mock me, laughter resounding throughout the cold air as foreign fingers begin to play along the edge of my shorts.

“Pffft, dumb bitch.” One of them slaps me just because they have the power to do so in my vulnerable state before squeezing both of my cheeks together with one hand, hard.

“Who wants to go first?” They all fight over the answer to the question and I clench my eyes shut in dread, the color draining from my face.

Before they can do anything, yelling can be heard and I’m dropped by my captor. I stumble to the dirty ground of the alleyway at the loss of my previous support. On the floor, I painfully dig my nails onto my thighs. My breath hitches and my chest tightens, my panicking intensifying despite finally being free.

Short breaths rake through my trembling body and my nails dig deeper. Crescent moons appear on soft skin, invoking blood. My head starts to feel a little light and I try my hardest to calm myself down but it’s to no avail, my attempts prove to be futile. My unoccupied hand trembles as they reach up to touch wet, stinging cheeks. I didn’t even notice that I‘ve begun to sob as every gasp for air racks my body.

“Holy shit.” Varying voices can be heard from around me but my mind barely registers their words as my head continues to feel even lighter than before.

Even though I’m unable to determine whether or not I’m safe, I don’t flinch when someone crouches next to me and hastily crushes me against their hard chest. I’m numb to my surroundings and everything feels distorted. It’s as if I’m underwater, drowning.

“Ack! She’s hyperventilating! Gyah!”

“No fucking shit captain obvious!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The chest I’m against rumbles and my brain finally registers it as the sound of Kenny’s voice. I muster up what little strength I have to look up and see my boys around me. My brother is directly crouched in front of me and from my peripherals, I can just barely see that it’s Kyle in the same position next to him, eyes wide in panic.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“Fuck! What should we do?!” It’s Tolkien this time but I can’t look away from my brother. My eyes are begging him to do something, anything to make it stop. Oh how I wish twin telepathy were real.

“Breathe, baby. You need to breathe for me.” The world tilts around me as a soothing voice near my ear urges. A resounding gasp of air struggles to be inhaled but it’s too shaky and tears of frustration continue to fall. My breathing isn’t slowing and I just want this to be over.

“Someone needs to do something before her heart gives out!” Someone loudly kicks what sounds to be a trash can in anger, messily spilling its contents all over the floor and I flinch at the blow.

“Y/N, breathe.” Stan coaches me, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. His large hand encompasses my smaller one, exerting slight pressure until I can feel his heartbeat.

“Just focus on the sound of my voice and follow me. In, and out. In, and out. I’m here. You see me, right? You’re here with me at this very moment and you’re safe. You’re always safe with me. Big brothers always got you, yeah?”

I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t.

I’ve been trying and nothing is happening.

It won’t stop and I can’t fucking breathe.

I don’t want to disappoint everyone but I’m tired.

“Shh, shh. You can, love, you can. I know you can.” Kenny patiently encourages me as he gently brushes strands of my hair away from my sticky, tear-stained cheeks. Heavily disoriented, I didn’t seem to realize that I was verbalizing all of my thoughts.

“You know why? Because my girl is the absolute best—the best girl ever and everyone who's anybody knows that. She’s resilient and just so, so strong. As long as she tries her best, I’ll always be proud of her no matter what and nothing she can do will ever disappoint me. Literally, nothing. She could put a bullet through my head and I’d just pass away in euphoria because my last living memory is of a goddess with ethereal beauty.” Kenny continues and ever so slightly, a corner of my lip lifts up.

This is familiar. This is comforting. I know this. The playful flirting and cheesy, over the top exaggeration. His soothing voice helps guide me back down to Earth as I focus on the rising chest of my brother under my fingertips. This is familiar, too. It’s a sound I’ve always known, even before I was born. Whenever I’m feeling sad or scared, my big brother will always hug me to his chest, my ear pressed against the faint beating of his heart. The rhythmic sound let’s me know that I’m safe, I always am when he’s here. This sound is the other half of me.

“Good girl, you’re doing great. Really great. You always do great and I knew you would.” It’s the voice near my ear again and this time, I’m finally able to look away from my brother to see that the voice belongs to Craig. It appears he had a hand on my shoulder throughout the whole ordeal, his thumb rubbing comforting circles over my jacket.

I now notice that Butters has my other hand firmly in his, tears streaking down both his and Clyde’s faces. They all must have found me after practice and I’m thankful that I wasn’t too far from the school before everything went down.

When they ask me what I was doing out so late, in athletic shorts no less, I mumble an excuse about the girls inviting me to workout in the weight room back at school. They don’t know that it’s not just today that I’ve been trekking home alone at night and I don't want to correct their assumption when they sternly lecture me on how dangerous it is.

After taking me home and getting myself cleaned up, they decide on an impromptu movie night filled with blankets, pillows, and snacks. Last minute texts are sent to their parents, notifying them of an emergency sleepover. They place me in the middle, a cocoon of softness, warmth, and comfort. They let me choose all the movies for the rest of the night and the food we order for delivery.

Our faces are colored a pale green from the clay mask I put on everyone, those with longer hair having mini palm trees at the top of their head from being tied up away from their faces.

Self care, they told me.

This isn’t edible so don’t try to lick it off your face, I told Cartman.

I slowly look around and take in the bright light of the television reflecting off of their individual faces. Some people, like Tolkien and Kyle, are starting to nod off, fighting the last dredges of sleep for my sake. On the other end of the spectrum, Butters and Clyde jump at every loud sound that accompanies the suspenseful music, paranoia painting their faces white. Tweek catches my eye and gently feeds me a kernel of popcorn.

Surrounded by my boys, I smile knowing I’m safe whenever I’m with them.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

I’m sitting in front of my vanity, carefully applying some makeup to cover the faint bruising on my cheek, the process therapeutic. The occasional clicking of buttons could be heard, Craig lounging on my bed with a handheld gaming console in his hands. I softly mouth along to the words of the low music playing from my phone while faint laughter can be heard from downstairs.

I chance a glance up and catch Craig’s reflection from the corner of my eyes, but I don’t turn my head around as we make eye contact through the mirror. My lips unconsciously quirk up, fondness of the boy behind me fills my entire being from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. “Hmm? What’s up, Tucker?”

He doesn’t say anything, only a thoughtful look adorning his attractive features. Ever since the night the boys found me, I’ve been catching their lingering gazes on me from time to time. Eyes distant, as if they’re looking past me.

I settle both of my elbows onto the tabletop, my hands carefully framing both of my cheeks lest I smudge my hard work. My smile doesn’t falter, never when I’m with him, and I lightheartedly tease him, “What? Never seen a good looking Marsh before? I know you’re around my brother all the time but he's not that ugly.”

I’m successful in getting a reaction from him because I’m soon rewarded with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, his expression softening, “Come here.”

His deep voice is firm, filling my room with its gentle demand and I blindly obey. With Craig, I’d do just about anything for him. He’s now seated upright and has positioned himself at the edge of my bed, legs open and his thumb tapping a beat onto his thigh.

When I’m close enough, the boy grabs both of my hands, interlocking our fingers together. He gives the intertwined digits a swift, reassuring squeeze before guiding me to him to close the short distance between us. I stand in between his legs and he elicits sudden goosebumps along my arms as he carefully drags his long fingers down the length of it, slowly before finding purchase at my hips.

I instinctively loop my arms around his neck, bringing us closer together and he gently squeezes in response. He murmurs so quietly, “Are you okay?”

I softly reply, my thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his neck, catching strands of smooth black hair. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Our voices are hushed. There’s no need to be quiet but it feels like we’re in a bubble and at any disruption, no matter how slight, might pop it.

“Yeah… You know I’m always here for you, right?” I softly nod in response, a slight shift in this space of intimacy we’ve created.

“You know you have me, right?” Again, I nod as I hang onto his words.

“Because I’d do anything for you, Y/N. It doesn’t matter what it is—big or small. At the asscrack of dawn or in the middle of the night. I'd drop whatever I was doing if it meant getting to you when you need me.” His long fingers reach up to lightly smooth his thumb at the area where soft skin meets makeup.

“If you ever have any doubts or feel upset about anything, just talk to me, okay? And I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to erase those doubts and remind you of how much you mean to me. I don’t ever want you to feel alone or less of anything, not when you mean everything to me.” The ravenette continues as he moves his hand, this time tucking silky strands of hair away from my face and behind my ear.

I shyly giggle in bliss at his soft touch and even lighter voice. “Where is this coming from, Craig?”

He ignores my question, persistent to convey his message to me. “You do know that, right, Y/N?”

“Of course, I’ve never doubted it or thought otherwise.”

“Good.” The teen says, satiated before bringing us down onto the bed.

My hands lay themselves against his chest to keep myself upright and he caresses my head with both hands, angling my head down to give my forehead a soft kiss. His lips lingers before pulling away.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It wasn’t hard for the girls to see the slight traces of lingering purple under my attempted camouflage. I tried to reassure them that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine, yet they persisted in trying to make up for it due to the guilt they all felt.

I had just finished applying my daily cover up and was adding the final touches to my hair, making sure that every single strand was in place. Satisfied, I turn the brightness of my computer screen back up until the reflection of myself on the glass disappears. I had time before I was due to head out so I loosely curled every lock cascading down my shoulders, braids adorning either side of my head. The girls wanted to take me out later in the day as an otherwise unnecessary apology and I hummed to myself in excitement.

“Wow, doll. Is this all for me?” I look up from the boss battle I was currently engaged in, pausing to identify the intruder that let out a low whistle.

Kenny leans off from his laidback position on my door frame and lazily walks up behind me, the end of his lips quirked up. He gives me an appreciative hum as he takes his time scanning my appearance, indulging his eyes on my figure. I patiently smile at his appreciation.

“Ah, scratch that. That was a stupid question, you’re beautiful every single day to anyone who lays their eyes on you. You don’t even need to try so I meant to say that this is a welcomed treat.” I turn around in my seat to face him, giggling at his words of praise. I greedily drink them in as I loop my arms around his waist.

“Beautiful?” I seek more of his validation, a deepening blush rising on my cheeks as I parrot back his compliment.

He takes a small section of my hair and gently guides his hand to his face, kissing the soft locks in his possession. He hums to me, “Beautiful, bewitching, alluring… You’re every synonym and every iteration of the word, babe. You define beautiful, you’re the very embodiment of it. That word was created because of you—if I were to look under the definition of it, your name would be there.”

My smile grows wider and my cheeks start to hurt from the action, resulted by the constant influx of euphoria that the blonde never fails to provide me. Whether from being drunk on the male’s compliments or shyness, the color red has made its permanent residence onto my cheeks.

He lets go of my hair and gently cups his large hands on either side of my face, angling it up towards his taller figure.

“Pretty.” He quietly utters to my skin, kissing my forehead.

“Gorgeous.” A kiss to my nose this time.

“Irresistible.” A kiss to my left cheek.

“Ravishing.” A firmer kiss to my right cheek with a playful growl, melodic laughter gets pulled out of me.

“Lovely.” He says much softer this time, watching me with gentle eyes. He keeps his devoted gaze onto my visage, his thumb lightly goes over my lips once. “Everything a guy could ever ask for in a person. Everything that I could ever want in life. If I could have one wish, it’d be you.”

My eyes flicker between bright azure orbs, the air between us charged. Before I can say anything, the sound of muffled yelling from my brother’s room startles us. I hastily look away embarrassed, the moment between us broken.

“Can I make you pretty, too?” I flash him a toothy grin and he playfully rolls his eyes, seeking refuge onto my bed. That’s all the answer I need before I push at his shoulders to guide his back down before I settle myself onto his lower stomach, giggling with an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a makeup brush in the other.

Washing flecks of glittery white over his eyelids, I bring my face closer to his and take the time to study the teen under me while his eyes are closed. His slender hands find purchase at my hips and I find myself mesmerized at the mini constellations that adorn his handsome face. Albeit not many, every freckle looks like a tiny star, accentuating the blonde’s mesmerizing features.

I lean in closer to get a better look as I carefully paint a streak of black, a steady hand making a line. I inspect my latest stroke when his hand gently grabs the wrist of the hand I have hovering over his face, the same one holding my eyeliner brush. His eyes slowly open as to not disturb my art, our faces close to one another. Kenny showcases his boyish smile, flashing me with deep dimples at the lack of space between us and my eyes inadvertently lower, seeking plush lips.

“Haven’t you noticed that yeah, the boys are overprotective over you. But when it comes to Kenny and Craig, it’s different?”

Fuck.

#south park #south park x reader #craig tucker x reader #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #south park fanfiction #kenny mccormick x reader #lalawrites

[danglovely]

Sidekicks

Kim Possible's in universe dialogue includes a lot diverging opinions on sidekicks.

First and most obvious: Every villain condescendingly calls Ron "the sidekick."

Conversely, heroes mostly maintain a very sidekick positive attitude. Kim deploys Ron, Wade, her mother, and Monique in the position at varying points and they all understand the deal: Kim is the main attraction. When she enlists someone's help, they aren't going into it to advance their own interests or in search of the glory associated with being a "hero." They're there to support Kim, thus the badge of "sidekick" is an honor unto itself.

Ron, at minimum, has a sense of pride about it.

Kim's reliable stable of wingmen only brings attention to the more interesting point: Shego is the only evil side kick on the show.

Sure, there are some instances where it seems like someone else fulfills the criteria (Lucre was a "protegee"), but the words "evil sidekick" themselves appear to be exclusively reserved for Shego.

Why is Shego the only evil sidekick on the show? Beats me, but a few reasons come to mind.

First, Drakken appears to be the only villain who even wants one and he claims that he has a sidekick three occasions:

#1. Shego: Who we'll come back to.

#2. Warmonga: Called a sidekick by both Drakken and Shego, but who was brought into his employ under false pretenses and who clearly did not understand what the term actually meant.

#3. Remy: A parrot, who was called "sidekick" by Drakken when he was a possessed pirate and was surprisingly disloyal for a bird..

No other villain claims that they have a sidekick Even when Electronique reverse-polarizes Team Go, she refers to them as . . .

On the flip side, it seems like most of the villains view being a sidekick as an insult. There are plenty of examples where "sidekick" is a used as a term of derision:

Thus we have the double whammy as to why villain-circles aren't environments where evil sidekicks thrive: no one wants one and no one wants to be one.

So, back to Shego. Why is she a sidekick?

Throughout the series, she is loathe to call herself the S-Word. She only says that she used to be an underestimated one in Sitch in Time and she implies that she was Drakken's sidekick pre-prison in Mad Dogs and Aliens (but isn't anymore). When Drakken asks for "sidekick enthusiasm' in Dimension Twist, she gives possibly the most sarcastic response since the invention of the art.

She actually only definitively calls herself Drakken's sidekick one time: in the middle of his rant, when she thinks she's being replaced, after she had already said that she isn't his sidekick anymore earlier in the episode. Interestingly enough, this is the last time either of them call her a sidekick for the remainder of the series.

But why was she ever a sidekick? Honestly, I think it just might be a Drakken and Shego thing. They have a strange relationship where she is universally acknowledged as the more competent of the two, but Drakken is the one who is in charge. Would Drakken ever let himself take orders from Shego sans obedience collar? No. Would Shego ever let Drakken treat her like a henchman? Double no. So "evil sidekick" is where they landed. Sure, Drakken assigns the label to Warmonga, but just you try and tell me that he wasn't doing so to fill a Shego-sized hole in his heart.

Maybe for them, Shego started as a sidekick because that's the only word they could think of for their stupid-ass relationship. It keeps them together, so that's what they roll with . . . even if Drakken does not understand how his interactions with sidekicks may -ahem- come across.

#kim possible #ron stoppable #drakken #shego

[thestupidhelmet]

Hello! I saw a comment you made where you said one can be a critic of Hyde’s character when deserved but also a big fan at the same time. I would love to read that meta! Something that tends to frustrate me about Hyde discourse is that ppl write off his worst moments as being ‘OOC’. But truthfully he could be petty, vindictive, wasn’t always a great friend, and so on. Like all of the characters ofc.

I do think his worst moments after season 1 are OOC, a character manipulation to serve plot and punchline. But despite the fact I don't believe an in-character Hyde would make certain choices, I've analyzed them nevertheless as choices he's made.

I'll link metas I've already written about Hyde's less than stellar behavior after this one. 😂

First, I'm writing this based on Hyde's new core characterization developed in "Prom Night" (1x19). Once his main role as Eric's antagonistic non-competition competition for Donna's romantic feelings, he needed to be overhauled and was transformed into a nearly different character, outside of facts about his upbringing and more superficial traits.

Second, I'll be discussing negative aspects of his character. I've written plenty about both those and his positive aspects, but I haven't often focused exclusively on the negative.

Hyde is depicted in the show as having internalized his mother's aggressiveness but externalizes it in a much milder form -- until season 5 when the writers ramp up that trait to serve the story arc they came up with and the season 5 cliffhanger.

Before season 5, however, Hyde derives pleasure from screwing over Eric with Red but not in any way that's dangerous to Eric's physical or emotional well-being. More impish, mischievous, and obnoxious.

Hyde can be arrogant. He closes himself to other points of view unless someone touches an emotional truth or an aspect of himself he's unsure about.

Hyde can be lazy. He doesn't enjoy working harder than he believes is necessary. This fact applies to emotional work as well as schoolwork and work to earn money.

Hyde has trouble owning his mistakes (but isn't incapable of it).

Hyde has addictive tendencies. Before season 7, Bud is canonically Hyde's biological father. Bud and Edna are both alcoholics. Hyde clearly inherited the alcoholism gene and shouldn't touch alcohol at all. He narcotizes himself against emotional pain with beer and pot.

Hyde can be thoughtless about and dismissive of other people's feelings, a trait his parents passed on through their thoughtless treatment of him. He's also uncomfortable being present to his own feelings and has trouble processing them. This creates a double whammy, and his thoughtlessness and discomfort is often expressed through sarcasm and humor.

At least once, Hyde uses Fez's naivete and lack of U.S. teen cultural knowledge to manipulate him when Hyde believes it will benefit himself. (Fortunately, it leads to Hyde's comeuppance and actually benefits Fez.)

Hyde has low self-esteem and big trust issues. These are simply facts, not judgments. But they explain most of his bad behavior. He's a survivor of childhood abuse and neglect, the child of two alcoholics, and is ultimately abandoned both parents before he's eighteen.

With the support of Red, Kitty, Eric, Donna, Leo, and (eventually) Jackie, he's able to overcome much of the hurtful, destructive ways his emotional wounds manifest in his behavior. While people grow and change in layers, they generally don't do a personality 180 after major growth. When Hyde acts against his nature and character development -- without a foundation for it being substantively built over many episodes, as it is for Donna in season 4 -- it is what's called in writing character drift or, as many of us say, OOC.

Now, links to other metas. ☺️

Links to many, many metas I've written about Hyde.

#that 70s show #that '70s show #steven hyde #jackie x hyde #eric forman #ask #anon #my meta #my essay #meta #essay

[mourntheantagonist]

Oh I'm having sad thoughts about Little Billy losing his favourite stuffed toy, and feeling so guilty because it's one that Steve gave him, and being upset at the thought of his toy all lost and alone.

(and hey, if there's a happy ending where someone kind finds it and brings it back then I wouldn't complain!)

let me just say this wounded me severely so thank you. I needed that.

but god I can see billy being absolutely destroyed from the loss of his favorite stuffie. steve had taken him up to Indianapolis for a day and when they came home, billy was frantically looking for his stuffie—a stuffed puppy with blue eyes that steve got for him; lilly.

lilly was nowhere to be found, and steve had the sinking feeling in his gut when he remembered strapping a sleeping billy into the car that morning, lilly tucked right beneath his arms.

oh no.

it was bad. billy wasn’t just sad at the loss of his favorite stuffed toy, he was devastated. that stuffed toy was basically the only thing that helped him sleep at night, and she made him feel safe from monsters, and when steve had tried to put billy to bed that night without lilly, billy started bawling, begging for lilly.

and billy wasn’t just worried for how he would cope without lilly, but he was worried about lilly. he didn’t know where she was or if she was safe. he hated being left alone and he hated that he’d done that to lilly. he kept asking steve if he was a horrible person for losing her.

and steve tried to convince him that he wasn’t, and that he would find her (even if he wasn’t so convinced that he would) nothing seemed to settle him down.

billy was up half the night crying into his pillow with steve in his bed with him doing all that he could to calm him down, but he only fell asleep once the exhaustion had taken over; eyes falling shut still full of tears.

and things just seemed to get worse without lilly. for starters, billy hadn’t had a daytime accident in months and suddenly he was having them again. and it was a double whammy because the only thing that ever calmed him down after an accident…was lilly. billy would also refuse to play, instead he just moped around like he couldn’t possibly fathom trying to have fun without her there. he was shrinking before steve’s very eyes and he knew he had to do something to fix it.

he found an identical stuffie. and he tried to pass it off to billy as lilly, and it worked for about twenty minutes until he noticed that her ear was still perfectly in tact. lilly’s had a tear. steve’s lying had only made things worse.

so he tried something else. he took billy to the store and told him to pick out whatever he wanted, and he would get it, but billy just stood there with his head down. “I just want lilly.” he would say. “she’s not safe. my fault.”

and steve tried so hard to take the blame off of him. “no sweetie it’s stevie’s fault! I was supposed to be watching her.”

but it didn’t solve anything. billy still felt guilty. he still couldn’t sleep without steve laying beside him. he had to start wearing pull-ups during the day again. the most he’d do during play time was push his cars back and forth and it was breaking steve’s heart, and he was just hoping and praying that it would eventually pass, but in the meantime, every chance he got he would give billy all the snuggles he was missing from lilly.

and, about three weeks after the trip to indianapolis that turned their worlds upside down, nancy stopped by with a very familiar stuffed puppy in her hands. “guess who I found hiding in our couch!”

billy had immediately pulled lilly from her arms, giving the stuffed toy a tight squeeze before repeating the gesture to nancy.

and steve just stood there speechless, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and fuck he could just cry.

“must’ve forgot her when you stopped by to pick up robbie.”

steve felt kind of stupid for not thinking of it sooner. but he couldn’t dwell too much on it, because just looking at billy and the joy radiating off of him was amazing.

“thank you so much nancy.” steve said, his eyes red and brimmed with tears. his nose filled with snot. “I seriously don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t found her.”

nancy just gave him a reassuring nod and pat on the shoulder before excusing herself to leave, and steve for the first time in weeks felt like he could breathe.

and things got better after that. billy went back to being happy go lucky billy, and even better, billy grew. his time without lilly taught him that they both could survive without the other. he still needed her sometimes. she would always be a comfort to him. but slowly billy was able to become less reliant. he could fall asleep without her tucked within his arms, and he could even leave her at home so long as she was surrounded by other stuffed toys (he didn’t want her to get lonely).

but, even so, steve made sure that lilly never left his sight again.

#🥹🥹🥹 #am soft #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #little!billy #caregiver!steve #mandi writes tresh

[tousakamis]

i think one of my main issues w #that st ship (in a romantic context anyway) is just how much it reminds me of my own experiences with romance.

im an aroace person and i, too, dated people who i was close with, who Everyone said "oh, you must like them romantically bc you're close, right?". a lot of people bring up heteronormative pressure but i don't think enough people consider the amatonormative pressure as well.

like... the way i personally see mike, i think he mixed up platonic attraction with romantic attraction, because Everybody was telling him it had to be that way. so at first he maybe really did think he liked her romantically - then, as things shifted and he began to face more internal issues, it became more of a desperation to force himself. like "oh, we're in a romantic relationship. she likes me romantically. i HAVE to like her romantically too." and when you consider his undeniable queer coding.... romantic and hetero norms are so deeply intertwined, you're expected to like people romantically. it's the way a boy and a girl will be friends and the instant assumption is romantic chemistry - it's that undeniable overlap that makes a lot of queer youth feel almost obligated to date (esp someone of the opposite gender), often before they discover themselves.

like! i really think they would be so much better as best friends. you can Love somebody, you can wholeheartedly adore them... that doesn't mean romantic love. i don't deny that they really love each other - but sometimes, when you love somebody, you almost feel forced to be in love with them, especially if they're of the opposite gender. it gets to the point that expressing that love, because of the romantic nature, can feel really unnerving; mike is fine being affectionate with her when it's not romantic, such as sharing the bike, but when they're doing it in a romantic context, he looks... baffled, almost disgusted. like i get you, boy!! no matter how much you love/care about someone, knowing the affection comes from a romantic nature when you Don't feel that way is so uncomfortable (especially as he may be not attracted to girls at all - double whammy of societal norms!).

i hate how some people act like these character's only have worth if they're romantically bound to another.

like, yes, i do have my own ships w these characters. ultimately my main want for these two is for people to recognise they exist beyond their current romantic relationship.

for mike? he becomes more of his own person in wills company, their platonic bond is so unbelievably strong and it's one of my absolute favourite dynamics ive ever seen. in fact, it made me really sad watching mike sideline his bond with will, though i know that's somewhat due to his internalised homophobia. but mike and will bring out the best in each other - they're best friends who just so happen to be in love with each other. they're already each others happy endings, regardless of whether it's platonic or romantic. in fact im Rooting for their romantic happy ending bc to me, that would be the biggest "fuck you" to amatonormativity and heteronormativity in one fell swoop!

as for el? she's already moving towards individuality, she's already trying to define her worth beyond her romantic affairs. this is why her bond with max is so so beautiful - max actively tells her "there's more to life than stupid boys" in S3, reminding her that she's more than a romantic relationship, and max encourages her to find herself. id say max is one of the best things to happen to el and they truly love eachother, which is further proven by her desperation to save max in S4. imo, el has begun to prioritize platonic and familial relationships As well as herself. idk why ppl think her romantic relationship falling apart is gonna ruin and destroy her. she's more than mikes gf 💔

but yeah. TL;DR #that ship in a romantic context feels Very amatonormative to me and some fan responses further this. i love the dynamic in a platonic sense more than ANYTHING (like. genuinely please feel free to talk to me about it) so please don't think i don't recognize their love for each other. but, as per the dictionary definition - loving somebody ≠ romantic love!!

(i do apologize if none of this makes sense btw 😭 but i hope at least some people get what i mean, please feel free to add things or correct me on some things)

#alina post #byler #elmax #(in a romantic context anyway) #idk if any of this makes sense LOL #forgive me if this is just word vomit that only makes sense to me #long post

[heyjudemunson]

Freaks to Lovers - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 - MEMORIES

or read here!

ch1 - The Hellfire Club ch2 - Pool Party ch4 - Insomnia ch5 - Princess Leia

Eddie Munson x female!reader

fluffy/angsty

2.5k

tw: smoking but I will tag per chapter as tw appear!

pic from tudum.com

You're sitting on Eddie's full-sized bed, back against the wall with your feet dangling over the edge. Blankets and pillows askew, but he never was one to make his bed. Or clean his room, for that matter. You snuff out the remnants of your joint in the ashtray on the end table closest to you. This is a bit stronger than usual.

"Hey, Eddie. Can I ask you something?"

"What's up?" Eddie has his own joint hanging out of the corner of his mouth, absentmindedly plucking the strings of his guitar while leaning against his dresser. The ashtray next to him is full from all the nights you spent doing this exact same thing.

It's another Friday night, and all Friday nights were reserved for movie marathons and smoking. That is, if Corroded Coffin didn't have practice or a gig at The Hideout. So, it's a ritual at this point- spending the weekend in Eddie's room, hotboxing until delirium sets in. The heavy smoking often led to some great memories. Like the time he admitted his first kiss wasn't until his junior year. Or the time you snapped one of his strings on his prized guitar when you took it from his hand to put away. The both of you sat in stunned silence before Eddie cracked up first, laughing and making sure the string didn't catch you on the hand.

But tonight- tonight the high doesn't feel quite so fun this round. You feel heavy. You've felt this heaviness for a little while but didn't know how to say it in words that made sense to anyone outside of your head. You've wanted to ask Eddie this for such a long time, but your nerves always won. You also didn't want to sound stupid, making a big deal out of nothing. Although the longer you waited to ask him, the heavier and bigger it seemed to be on your shoulders. Tonight though, the weed gave you the courage you needed to finally say something. It gave you the courage to say something out loud this time. Maybe it was a different strain than what Eddie deals and that's why it feels different. He always said he usually keeps the better stuff for himself and his 'favorite clientele.' Though truth be told, you never paid him. Not once. Though, not for lack of trying; he turned you down when he first started offering you a couple of joints those years ago, so you stopped offering and just accepted. He called it his 'sweetheart discount.'

Oh, stop stalling and just say it already!

"Do you think I'm pretty?" You pick at your fingers so you have something to focus on while you avoid him snapping his head to you.

"What?" His fingers stop plucking the strings and narrow his eyes, cocking his head to the side.

"Do- do you think I'm pretty?" You still don't look up. You're afraid of seeing his features give himself away before his words find their voice. Eddie always wore his true feelings on his face, no matter what. Even during a campaign, if he thought the current situation was a bad move for the players, his features scrunched slightly in a wince but his tongue slipped lies telling you to follow your plan for the play at hand. So, you didn't want to see the rejection and then hear it. Eddie hurting your feelings once was enough for you, you didn't need the double whammy.

Eddie rests the base of his blessed guitar on the floor, the neck still in his hand refusing to let go. "What is this about? Why are you me askin' that?" He snuffs out his blunt in the ashtray with his free hand.

"Can you just- can you just answer the question? Please?" The desperation in your voice is making you sick. You want to run. You want to let your feet carry you very far away from here, so far that you don't feel the embarrassment of your words anymore. You want to escape the corner you've backed yourself into.

"No, 'cause I wanna know why you're askin'. Did someone tell you that you weren't?" Eddie ignores the fact that the question is directed specifically at him. He pushes himself off his dresser to hang his guitar back in its special mount on the wall by his bed. He takes a step back to the dresser, never taking his eyes off you but keeping his distance. He barely bends his knees, trying to meet your eyes. You ignore him as well and pull your knees to your chest to block him out further.

"No. No one said anything. It's just... I dunno. Just askin'." You begin playing with your shoelaces, the confidence fading just as quickly as it came. Letting the question hang in the air unanswered was sobering you. Maybe you should have smoked one more before saying anything.

"Sweetheart, what are you talkin' about? Of course, people think you're pretty." Still ignoring the question. He crosses his arms in front of his chest. His feet are fully planted on the floor prepared to chase you if you decide to bolt. So, he can sense I want to run, too? But he can't answer me? Maybe this was a bad idea. I shouldn't have opened my mouth.

You let out a groan and sit up a little straighter against the wall. "Name one guy that has ever looked at me the way those jocks look at the cheerleaders."

He shakes his head. "That's not exactly a fair comparison."

"So you don't think I'm cheerleader pretty?" You finally look up at him for a second, hurt flashing across your face in a heat wave. Yep. This was absolutely a bad idea.

"That's not what I said." He holds one palm up, trying to block the blow that he had already swung against you.

"Then what?" You snap, breaking eye contact again, focusing on twirling your shoelaces between your fingers.

"The way those jocks look at the cheerleaders," he points to an invisible crowd on the side of his bedroom, "is only so they can get in their pants. Er, well, their skirts. You don't want someone like that lookin' at you."

"Then what?" you ask softer this time.

"I just mean, it's probably because you hang out with me- The Freak." He tries to crack a smile by throwing devil horns on his head but your features remain stiff.

"Ed, I'm serious."

He lets his hands fall back to his sides. "So am I, sweetheart. It probably really is because of me. You hang with The Freak, you get labeled a freak. No one will give you a second chance once the label is set. But why are you suddenly so concerned about your looks? You don't need any of those dumbasses at school anyways. They're not good enough for you, no way in hell."

I'm not worried about them, you idiot.

Eddie crosses the room and sits down on the bed next to you.

Go away.

He places his finger under your chin, making you finally look him directly in the eye up close. He swipes a small tear that slides down your cheek with his thumb. "Hey! What's wrong? What's goin' on?" He pulls your wrists to him, causing you to unfurl from your cooped-up position. You turn your face away from him, not wanting him to watch you cry over this stupid topic.

"You never answered my question," your voice now barely above a whisper.

"What?" His brows furrow under his bangs.

"Yes or no," you say sternly. Your voice begs to give away, but keeping your eyes on anywhere but Eddie helps keep your strength just a moment longer. I really would like another smoke right now. He studies you for a second, searching you for an answer before it clicks.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me? You are so pretty." He leaps off the bed, yanking you by the wrists along with him. He drags you away from your safe space hiding between your knees and the wall, planting you in front of his dresser mirror. He brushes the loose strands of hair that fell on your face tucking them behind your ear. He stands behind you with his hands clasped on your shoulders, shaking you slightly with every word. "Look at you. Look at how pretty you look. No, actually, look at how beautiful you are." He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and his tongue swipes at his bottom lip before continuing, "Honestly, I think you are the most beautiful goddamn girl in Hawkins. Hell, in the whole world!"

You meet Eddie's eyes in the mirror. He's never spoken to you in this way. He's never spoken about you in this way. Yeah, the two of you were best friends, but not in a mushy, touchy-feely kind of way. Not like this.

However, you've started to wonder about all the what-ifs between you two. What if Eddie finds you attractive? What if he wanted to be more than best friends? What if the reason he hasn't been on a date in a long time is because of you? What if he wanted to ask you out? What if he wanted to hold your hand? What if he wanted to kiss-?

He breaks you from your thoughts by leaning down a little until he can rest his chin on top of your shoulder. He watches you in the reflection of the mirror, trying to find the answers to his own questions written in the mirror. You will yourself to stop crying, but it doesn't work. Small tears still find their escape. "And anyone that doesn't think so, is deff a certified idiot."

You shake loose from his grip, pulling away so he isn't touching you. Spinning on your heel to face him, you ask, "Then why do I feel so.... pathetic? I feel so stupid for even bringing this up! I shouldn't have said anything. I've just been thinkin' lately. It's been on my mind for such a long time and I never knew how to say it. Always thinking about- Well, it doesn't matter what I was thinkin' about. Either way, I just feel..... pathetic. Truly and completely pathetic right now." A shaky breath escapes your lips.

"Hey!" Your eyes flick up to his at his abruptness. He takes in a deep breath calming himself before continuing, "I don't think you're pathetic. Like I said, everyone at that school is a dumbass who only wants to sleep around. If they can't see how fuckin' amazing you are, then that's their loss." He's still kind of missing your original question. You couldn't care less about everyone at school. You only wanted an answer from one person.

"I just..." You run your hands over your hair, smoothing it over. The tears started long ago and you've tried to avoid them, but the floodgates opened and there was no stopping them now. "I'm sorry. This is stupid. Maybe the weed earlier got me in my feelings or somethin'." You wipe your face with the back of your hand. "Just- just forget that I said anything." You go back to the bed, back against the wall like earlier. You lean your head back with your eyes closed, landing with a soft thud against the wall. Right now, you wish you could actually run away, to be anywhere but here in Eddie's room wondering if he thinks you're pretty. I mean, it's actually pathetic, right?

"You deserve so much better than any guy at Hawkins, you know that right?"

You open your eyes to Eddie staring at you with a softness in his eyes that rarely makes an appearance. He's still stuck in the spot you left him in front of the mirror. Watching him from two different angles was strange- in the real world and in the reflection world. Seeing his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm but still in sync with his reflected self, is starting to trip you out. You shake your head lightly to keep yourself from spiraling further. Maybe I am higher than I thought.

"Ya know, I gotta keep the boys in Hellfire in line sometimes." He jabs his finger into his chest, a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth.

"What?" The boys? In Hellfire? Now there's a laugh. There's absolutely no way any of them ever gave you a second thought or glance after you joined. Once the initial shock of a girl joining their boy's club wore off, you became another one of the guys. You could outdrink a couple of them and definitely beat all of them in arm wrestling. Well, right now you're not too sure if it was an actual win or a pity win. Nonetheless, they didn't treat you differently just because you were a girl.

"Oh yeah, you know how often I gotta tell Jeff that there's no way in hell that he'd ever get with you?" He cocks an eyebrow at you, disappearing under his bangs.

You let out a slight scoff. "Jeff. Really?"

He plops down beside you again, making you bounce slightly. "Really." You match Eddie with an eyebrow raised in disbelief. "What? Am I wrong? You wanna date Jeff? I'll call him up right now if ya want!"

He softens more when you finally let out a small chuckle. "No, no. I don't think Jeff and I would work out. He argues too much during campaigns. I don't want to hear that constant whining 24/7."

"True. He does complain a lot." Eddie smiles into his hand, lightly rubbing his chin. "But I'm serious. About what I said. You deserve a lot better than anyone at that fuckin' school."

"What kinda guy do I deserve, oh Wise One?" the sarcasm so thick, you could almost see it dripping.

"Someone who will take the time to listen to your batshit weird taste in music."

You jab an accusing finger into his forearm. "I keep tellin' you, Earth, Wind, and Fire are not weird!"

"Disco! It's disco!" Eddie's laugh fills the room. It lifts your spirits a little higher. His laughter always felt like a safe haven for you, even though he's the one making you upset right now.

"Disco is fun!" You let out an exaggerated huff. He always teased you over the fact that you had such a strange and wide range in music. From metal to disco to rock to show tunes. You listened to it all. Though, you knew damn well that he loved some of those songs you relentlessly played on repeat. He'd die if his Corroded Coffin bandmates ever found out that he actually knows every single lyric to your favorite Bee Gees album.

"I dunno if I would call it fun. Interesting, maybe. But that's bein' nice," Eddie teases back, nudging you slightly with his elbow.

You nudge him back. "What else?"

"You deserve the entire world, sweetheart. You need a guy who's gonna give it to you.... and someone who's gonna give it to ya." The bed shakes as he swings his fist in a thrusting motion.

"You're an idiot. You know that right?" You can't help but laugh at him. Eddie always had a way of perfectly mixing seriousness with a bit of boyish immaturity.

"Your idiot, though," he leans closer and throws an arm over your shoulder with that shit-eating grin you've grown to love over the years.

#freaks to lovers #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson

[bellincurl]

Expanding on something I’ve said before about Jerma. Like I have stupid bad Adhd and developmental issues and I’ve never seen someone online share so many of my in person mannerisms as him. Which yknow double whammy when he also has Adhd. But then seeing the trends of jokes towards him about being some Fake human, animal guy, shapeshifter who can’t think coherently and seems to stumble any basic movement is mental cause that’s all the exact shit people bullied me with and still say to me as an adult. I don’t think anyone irl thinks they’re being mean saying I’m stupid or like an animal or infant constantly but they Do think the way I exist is funny, they do think the way I move is funny, stammering and struggling to open packets is funny, processing issues and slowness is funny. Maybe I’m being overly personal, I also find the jokes and jerma’s stuff entertaining but there’s some kinda bitter irony in seeing a dude who I act so much like in terms of mannerisms getting the same jokes made at him that I do.

#Like idk I could be reaching but neurodivergency is more than just hyperfixes and special interests #and you do have to be nice to people who operate in weird ways in terms of movement and identity and speech even if they're not nd or #anything else bc it's far more than just autism and adhd right. #It's not a crime to just emote weird and speak a little jumbled. leave people be

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

Hi :)

I discovered your blog about a week ago and I’ve been obsessed with your writing ever since 😍 It’s so good and addicting 💙

I had a question, I was just rereading Gevivys and I don’t get the end of Chapter 6 . I really hope you don’t mind me asking but to what does Daemon says no at the end ?

Sorry if it’s a stupid question but i reread itso many times and i still don’t get it 😅

- 🌙

Hey! Don't worry; I think some people were confused as I've incorporated two different medieval marriage practices (one fake, one real) here in this fic.

In the ASOIAF universe, a bedding ceremony is what occurs when the crowd essentially carries the married pair off to the wedding chambers - noblemen carry the bride and ladies carry/escort the groom. Both parties undress the bride and groom along the way, so that by the time they end up in their marriage bed, they’re pretty much naked. They then leave them there alone to... ya know.

Meanwhile, consummation refers to the act of sexual intercourse, seen as 'fulfilling the terms of the (marriage) contract’. Under most legal definitions (even today I believe, though don’t quote me!), a marriage isn’t fully iron-clad until sexual congress has occurred, as this is largely still considered the purpose and/or by-product of marriage. In real-life times, medieval royalty were sometimes required to consummate the marriage (re: have sex) in front of selected witnesses, who would verify that the union took place and the marriage was 'valid'.

In ASOIAF, the bedding ceremony is common; meanwhile, the public consummation is not a thing in this world, but I introduced it for drama. In my story gevivys (beauty), Daemon and Reader are double-whammied with the threat of both. At the end of Chapter 6, Daemon refuses to allow the bedding ceremony (1st one) to happen, given that he and Reader have no choice but to do the public consummation (2nd one). He strong-arms Viserys into only going through with the second one (as that was the whole point of the meeting with the Small Council in the first place).

I hope this helps?

#fanfiction asks

[tammyfeabakker]

After I gave life the double whammy 🖕🖕. I didn't get the guy but I got an ounce for 75 dollars and the job I wanted!!! I think maybe his ex met a guy not sure but I'm hoping 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏. At least that will open the doors... she can't say anything now... I'm pretty sure after I was down at his shop. I told him some people you havtah cut off because they don't get it... he heard from someone else they were trying to work it out...and he told her they will never get back together... I wish they could be friends but they can't. I'm pretty sure he told her bout her mail. Yesterday I seen she pulled up and some guy pulled up. Idk why he was there because she lives with people.. but I'm pretty sure he was there to meet up with her... plus she's been pulling the I'm not at home maybe it will get him jealous. Well I'm wondering if her dating will? I will punch his lights out. Stupid stupid.... at least ill have closure.. 🙂