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#honestly most of my paras
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I hope everyone with a para that deserves a little forehead kiss has a great day
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marshmellowtea · 10 months
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Proshippers literally pretend that POCD means you are a pedophile and want it what the fuck are you on about? Proshippers try to force pwOCD to engage in checking compulsions because they pretend it's pro-recovery.
normally this is the kind of ask that i would just quietly delete but i'm actually going to answer it rn because this is so absurd i have to laugh. no, bestie, the people pretending that people with pocd are pedophiles are YOU GUYS. that's all you! antis are the one who i have seen treating intrusive thoughts as secret desires. antis are the ones i've seen with "people with pocd dni" in their bios. and fucking antis are the ones who have made pocd so commonplace on this website in the first fucking place because of the way you try to look for proof people are predators in the most innocuous shit.
believe it or not, part of ocd recovery is accepting the thoughts you have and learning to deal with them in some way. y'all want people to feel ashamed of their intrusive thoughts forever to "prove" they're a good person and that's the exact opposite of healing. that's just making ocd worse. and, in speaking of learning to deal with them, one of the ways to DO that is to write fiction about said thoughts and make them less scary to you! that's part of the reason why i create and enjoy fucked up fictional content! it's a way of dealing with my intrusive thoughts that puts the power back in MY hands, and treating these fictional depictions meant as coping mechanisms as "proof" someone's a predator is not just stupid, it's also cruel, because you are actively trying to make someone's disorder worse.
i guess you missed this part of my original post, so i'll say it again here: when i was an anti, you fucking people had me so convinced i was doomed to sa a child because of 1) the fact i like dark fiction exploring topics such as csa, and 2) my intrusive thoughts themselves, that i thought i was going to have to commit suicide. my life was in danger because of you people. and i was a fucking teenager when this all was happening! i should not have had to deal with that, but because you made this environment so toxic and preyed on my already existing ocd, i did! i was miserable and i hated myself and i thought i was a predator in the making! that's a horrible way to live!
tldr; go fuck yourself anon lmao, you have no idea what you're talking about and the extensive damage people like you have done to people with ocd. fuck off <3
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Who is Vegetta?
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Had to wait until my hands stopped shaking for this one, I love Vegetta so much. He was recently — miraculously — announced for the QSMP, so here's a rundown for English fans of both who he is and his lore. 
Vegetta777 is a Spanish Youtuber who is one of, if not THE biggest pillar of the Spanish community. He's been doing content for over 15 years now.
He's the creator of the Karmaland series, which he started when he was around Quackity's age.
I cannot emphasize enough: Vegetta doesn't do series or events or tournaments EVER, so him accepting the invitation is a huge deal. This was his exact commentary on it:
Vegetta: Quackity me invitó hace tiempo y le dije que no suelo entrar a series que yo puedo controlar, pero le he dado ese voto de confianza, además le pregunté como sería la serie porque no quería nada competitivo y quackity me dijo que no me preocupara por nada. [...] Si yo confíe en quackity y él confío en mi para Karmaland pues yo le doy ese voto de confianza para esta serie que está haciendo y además se le veía emocionado al chaval, si te soy sincero, Quackity el hijo de Rubius de cierto modo Translation: Quackity invited me a while ago and I told him that I don't usually enter series that I can't control, but I have given him that vote of confidence, I also asked him how the series would be because I didn't want anything competitive, and Quackity told me not to worry about anything (does this confirm QSMP is an RP server? 🤔) [...] If I trust Quackity and he trusts me for Karmaland, well, I give him that vote of confidence for this series he's doing. And also the boy looked excited, if I'm honest, Quackity's the son of Rubius in a certain way. (🥺💕)
Vegetta is very fond of Quackity after interacting with him in Karmaland 5, and he's spoken multiple times about how much Quackity's impressed him. He also said Quackity will be bigger than him someday :') He's very supportive of the new generation, and he spoke highly of Spreen today too.
Vegetta is one of the most talented Minecraft builders out there, and he's fast
While most of the other Karmaland boys were still living in basic houses, Vegetta built a CASTLE within a super short time
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Vegetta loves cats. In Karmaland he had an entire cat rescue with 50+ cats (and yes, he’s named every single one of them). IRL, he shares lots of adorable cat photos and videos. 
His skin, like his name, is based on the Dragon Ball character Vegeta. Vegetta777 is basically the yassified version of Vegeta (just like Phil is the yassified version of Uruhara).
In Karmaland 5, Vegetta was a bit of a wizard, and he had a flock of crows / ravens (remind you of anyone?) 
Vegetta is sometimes called "the father of Minecraft", so many people (myself included) are ESPECIALLY excited to see him and Phil interact because they have a lot of similarities.
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Vegetta is one of the heroes of Karmaland and the unofficial leader of their group. In terms of lore, he's essentially a demigod / minor god, though it's not as direct as Sapo  Peta's contact with them.
Vegetta is typically a staunch rule-follower, however, since he's not in control of the series, he said: "I feel like Rubius: 'Let's see what I can do to destroy everything, let's look for all the legal loopholes,' get ready Quackity, I'm the new Rubius!" (LMAO)
Vegetta’s the king of “stay in your own lane” he never gets into drama or gets involved in controversies, he just watches the dumpster fires from the sidelines like the rest of us
He almost never wears a shirt in the series (and honestly? Good for him)
His character is also, canonically, absolutely shredded
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It's impossible to talk about Vegetta's lore without also talking about Rubius, so buckle in because this one's a doozy. I can't cover everything without this post becoming longer than it already is, but I'll do my best to summarize what I can:
Starting with Karmaland 4 and continuing into Karmaland 5 and beyond, Rubius and Vegetta have created the world's most torturous slow-burn telenovela-esque love story.
Rubegetta (Rubius x Vegetta) is the most popular Karmaland ship that, to some extent, has become an inside joke between the boys and the community. I'll elaborate on this more in Rubius' post.
To simplify years and years of lore and drama, Rubius and Vegetta love each other, but they are incapable of being in an actual relationship. I've talked about it in depth before, but Vegetta said it best in this metaphor-filled exchange with Sapo Peta and Willy: Sapo Peta: I wanted to ask you about your relationship with that Rubius guy. Vegetta: Oh, yes well Rubius likes to be with me a lot, but at the same time he likes to snack everywhere, and he never finishes eating the morcilla (blood sausage). Sapo Peta: So he rejects you? Vegetta: It's not that he rejects me, it's that it doesn't finish clearing up, you know? We could say that our relationship is like a hamburger. WiIIy: You prepare it and he doesn't eat it. Vegetta: Exactly, he doesn't finish you know?
Or, as another person phrased it:
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The fault doesn't just lie with Rubius however; Vegetta himself can be pretty oblivious.
In Karmaland 4, despite the fact Rubius and Vegetta had a kid together and got married, it still didn't resolve anything. As soon as the vows were said and they were married, Rubius revealed it was all just a ploy to get Vegetta's diamonds and immediately asked for a divorce.
You can watch a translated animation of the entire wedding here.
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In Karmaland 5, after deciding he'd had enough of Rubius' BS, Vegetta decided to marry someone else (Lolito), but Rubius burst in at the last moment to stop the wedding. We all thought he'd finally confess his love and stop being so emotionally constipated, but instead he proposed to Lolito solely so Vegetta would remain single. (They're a mess, what can I say)
To quote a meme shared by another Spanish fan, Vegetta's reaction to that was basically: “You don’t want me to be with you, and you don’t want me to be with someone else. How miserable do I have to be for you to be happy?”
I do want to emphasize that even though Rubius and Vegetta sometimes have relationship issues / communication issues, it doesn’t diminish their friendship in the slightest. Even after both wedding disasters, they were back to speaking to each other the next week, being flirty and laughing together. Yes, they have issues, but their love for each other remains – despite everything.
(I should also note here that, even while engaged to Lolito, Vegetta was still flirty with Rubius).
Vegetta is very close friends with Luzu, who supported him during the fallout from both failed marriages.
In Karmaland 4, Rubius and Vegetta had a son named Brayan Dobluque (a mix of both their names).
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There's too much Rubegetta lore for me to cover everything, but Glay has a massive thread of translated Rubegetta clips I highly recommend watching if you'd like more context.
One clip I recommend is the Meteor date, which is one of the few instances where Rubius is honest vis-à-vis his emotions with Vegetta.
As a whole, their friendship / relationship is a romcom novela for sure, but sometimes they'll catch you off-guard with some romantic BS that'll make your heart ache. They really do love each other; they just don't know how to commit.
Vegetta is bi! (Both real life Vegetta and character Vegetta). Pretty much every single character in Karmaland is on the ‘ol rainbow spectrum somewhere.
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Lore aside, I feel like Vegetta, and pretty much all the Karmaland boys in general, have the least machismo (toxic masculinity) I've ever seen. They're all genuinely sweet guys who aren't afraid to be flirty and play gay characters in their queer little telenovela Minecraft series. (With the exception of Willy, who we like to joke is the "token straight friend"). Vegetta's a cool guy, and he's a great addition to the QSMP. I'm excited for you all to meet him!
Other info posts:
Who is Sapo Peta? | Who is Luzu? | Who is Spreen?
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omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!
i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33
thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!
Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)
This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.
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Tangerine, Tangerine
Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?
Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!
Word Count: 4494
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It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 
You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 
Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”
“Green Two check.”
“Green Three check.” 
 It was just a kiss. 
“Green Four check.” 
 It was just a-
“Green Five check.” 
Just a-
“Green Six check.” 
Just-
“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.” 
It wasn’t just a kiss. 
You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron. 
This mission was straightforward - on a holopad. 
Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons. 
The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne. 
Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure. 
Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.
You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide. 
The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them. 
Simple. 
In theory. 
Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy. 
But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going? 
No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice. 
You swallow. 
You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart. 
I hadn’t just been a kiss. 
You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline. 
He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that. 
Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead. 
It made a lot more sense. 
Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own. 
They had always been close. Always. Best friends. 
Sickness bubbled in your throat. 
You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it. 
“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander. 
“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?” 
Hank chortled. 
Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist. 
Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you. 
“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?” 
Yeah. Now you had. 
The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains. 
Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet. 
You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…
But you had thought it was…
It didn’t matter. 
You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch. 
That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss. 
Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence. 
It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons. 
A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands. 
You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next. 
Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?
“That one here, you see it?” 
“Yeah?” 
“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”
You’d laughed. 
“That’s me and you Moonbeam.” 
Moonbeam. That stupid nickname. 
You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you. 
“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.” 
That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’ 
You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on. 
It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal. 
Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay. 
Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures. 
“Fuck.” 
The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled. 
“Blue in place now!”
“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”
“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!” 
“How far away is the Delta?” 
“Calling in attack pattern!” 
You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game. 
That didn’t bode well. 
You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction. 
Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.
“Targeting not working!”
“It’s out!”
“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”
“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on. 
“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!” 
You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process. 
“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.
You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?” 
“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down. 
It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard. 
The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns. 
Good. 
But there’s so, so many of them. 
Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems. 
More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together. 
The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing. 
“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear. 
You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through. 
The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on. 
“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter. 
There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home. 
Frizz.
“No…” 
“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”
You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.
“Green Two check!” Cril.
“Green Three check!” Petal. 
Nothing. 
“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz. 
The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes. 
You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist. 
There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity. 
All you need is…
Another alarm. 
“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!” 
A chorus of yells answer you. 
A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely. 
And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard. 
The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot. 
“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist. 
Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected. 
You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons. 
You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull. 
It’s not enough.
You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough. 
It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.
There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it. 
Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.
“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.
They must have scrambled after first contact. 
The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell. 
The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire. 
You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational. 
Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on. 
Two chances left. 
One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits. 
Poe shouts for you over the intercom. 
You don’t answer.
One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will. 
Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call. 
You don’t answer.
You fire. Hit. 
Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it. 
The canon doesn’t go down. 
You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him. 
You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.
“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do. 
Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 
“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 
You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down. 
Shouts over the radio, you barely make out- 
“-cannon’s down-”
“-Jump!-”
A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.
The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-
.
The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream. 
Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain. 
You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob. 
There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit. 
The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it. 
You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide. 
Make it look like you had a weapon. 
Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning. 
Can’t let them take you alive. 
There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down. 
For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull  yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot. 
You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue. 
You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…
.
When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear. 
I'm dead.
You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds. 
But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.
And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.
“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use. 
Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back. 
“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good. 
“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?” 
“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper. 
“What?”
“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-” 
“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.” 
You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe. 
Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.” 
You snort. 
He smiles. 
“Who did we lose?” 
Hank sighs, “three…”
You nod, closing your eyes for a moment. 
“There-”
There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.
You swallow, sickness building in your throat.
He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red. 
He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages. 
“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes. 
“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.
Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.” 
Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away. 
“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”
“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”
He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?” 
“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.” 
The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?” 
You nod. 
“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart. 
“You pushed her away?” 
“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…” 
“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”
“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.” 
He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes. 
“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”
“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”
“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head. 
He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp. 
“I’m sorry.” You whisper.
Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating. 
You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly. 
“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.
“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”
He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.” 
You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight. 
“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins. 
You scoff. 
“You are.” He kisses you again. 
You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home. 
“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.” 
You nod. “She’s a good person.”
He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.” 
You touch his cheek lightly. 
“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?” 
You shake your head in surprise and he nods.
“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.” 
You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper. 
Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance. 
Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted. 
“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart. 
____________________________________
Thank you for reading!
@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho
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cieloclercs · 10 months
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𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 | joão félix
genre: social media requested: yes pairings: joão félix x fem!reader warnings: twitter environment, online hate
can be read as a part 2 to surprise, or as a standalone!
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tagged: joaofelix79
y/n_y/l/n surprise 🤍
view all comments…
joaofelix79 amo-vos para sempre, meus anjos / i love you forever, my angels 🤍🤍
y/n_y/l/n e nós amamo-vos / and we love you
username LMAO WHAT
username bro…you’ve got go be joking
antogriezmann congratulations you two!
y/n_y/l/n muchas gracias anto!
*joaofelix79 liked this comment
username aren’t they a bit young to be having a baby…
username and how is that any of your business?
username 🤢🤢🤢
enzojfernandez felicidades y/n! y joão también supongo / congratulations y/n! and joão too i guess 😒
y/n_y/l/n gracias enzo 😂
joaofelix79 @/enzojfernandez ¿no seguirás enfadado? / you’re not still mad are you?
enzojfernandez vuelve al chelsea y no estare. / come back to chelsea and i won’t be.
username BAHAHAH ENZO
username he says that like poch didn’t reject joão 😭
username having a baby at the height of joão’s career when he doesn’t even know what club he’s going to next…yeah probably not the best timing 😳
username congratulations y/n! you just signed your life away to be a footballer’s housewife for the rest of your life 👏🥳
username LMAO imagine…she’s only 23 as well 😭
username i honestly feel bad for her. she’s gonna end up taking care of it all by herself, because let’s be honest…it’s not like joão will be that involved 🤣
username true! especially at the height of his career, he’ll probably be too busy!
username poor y/n…
username housewife at 23? where’s the ambition in that 😭
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tagged: y/n_y/l/n
joaofelix79 i don’t normally engage with people who make hateful comments about me, but when it involves my girlfriend and our baby, i feel like i have to say something. y/n and i are beyond happy to be future parents. we’ve given our situation a lot of thought, and we’re looking forwards to our future together with our little one
please, whether you are a fan of mine or not, don’t make comments about my girlfriend or our situation. y/n is the most wonderful person i know, and she doesn’t deserve this kind of criticism - especially not over something which is as much my decision as hers. please respect our privacy, and keep your opinions to yourselves. we are happy. that’s all that matters
ao meu amor / to my love - thank you for giving me this gift. i will forever be grateful to you, and i can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together ❤️
ao meu anjinho / to my little angel - the day i found out about you was the best day of my life 🤍 mamãe e papai love you so much x
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xjulixred45x · 12 days
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I need to ask from morbid curiosity mostly. I have heard of diabolic lovers mostly from top 10 unfortunately not good ones. What are your unadulterated thoughts on the brothers?
I have talked individually of Subaru and Reiji, and there is a post where i Say which Diaboy i HATE the most, but i Guess is therapeutic talk shit about them all :)
in order from oldest to youngest, not in order from worst to """best"""
Carla to me is practically a P3d0, and it's worse if we consider that canonically she likes Yui to call her "Onichan"🤮 and he's such a son of a bitch, he tortured her SO MUCH (along with Shin) that it made her think about COMMITTING SUICIDE. a scourge
Shin is the definition of Carla's lapdog, and since he has the power he feels comfortable mistreating everyone (but if they were stronger? He comes out with his tail between his legs) GOD THE SCENE WHERE HE MAKES YUI LICK HIS OWN BOOTS. just as bad as his brother. Only he's not a fetishist.
Shu just seems boring and bland to me, I'm sorry I can't say much about a character who literally does NOTHING. Her background is fine, but I think she was very wasted on a character in a bad story.
Reiji IS A SON OF A BITCH, he not only decided to kill his brother's friend BUT THE ENTIRE VILLAGE, OUT OF JEALOUSY, and on top of that kill his mother who wasn't even abusive (compared to the other two, she was quite loving). honestly an idiot.
Ayato is unbearable, I just can't stand him, he acts like a little child. apart from the fact that he is the one who objectifies Yui the most and who insults her the most along with Kou. without forgetting that he is considered the "hero" of the franchise😑
Kanato is all of the above combined in an amorphous and delusional mass in believing that he is the victim and that he is right in everything, being also a necrophiliac and cannibal, there is no need for me to say more.
Laito is, sadly, one of the best written in the entire franchise but at the same time he is a FIRST DAMN, he was the first to cause Yui's suicidal ideas, apart from the fact that HE IS a sex offender who should stay away from people .
Subaru is a hothead who gives me certain Incel vibes, he believes that all women are equal and that gives him the right to treat everyone like shit and be physically violent. Even if he has the most "justified" trauma next to Laito, it doesn't make him any less of a horrible person.
Ruki is simply a control freak who, since he is now a vampire, believes he is above everyone else and is honestly a second Reiji but with a cheap background. but he has my eternal hatred for the cat.
Yuma just doesn't catch my attention beyond his design and being just as aggressive as Subaru, he has literally beaten Yui to death in almost all of her endings. I don't like.
Kou is INSUFFERABLE and eager, not only for being so materialistic but for the way he messes with Yui's self-esteem makes my heart bleed.
Azusa is a MANIPULATOR, no matter who it hurts, he literally Guilt Trips Yui to make her hurt him! and then he cuts her! He might be the "Best" but he is still trash.
Kino is similar to Kanato in that he is spoiled and a horrible being at the same time, he has no consideration for those other than him and that makes him DESPICABLE ON HIS ROUTE, he literally killed a child in front of Yui so that he would not try to escape . it's bullshit.
Overall, I think that would be it. They're all trash, but different trash.
____
en orden de mayor a menor, no en orden de peor a """mejor"""
Carla para mi es prácticamente un P3d0, y es peor si consideramos que canónicamente le gusta que Yui le llame "Onichan"🤮 y es tan hijo de puta, la torturo TANTO(junto a Shin) que le hizo pensar en SUICIDARSE. una lacra.
Shin es la definición de perro faldero de Carla, y como tiene el poder se siente comodo con maltratar a todos(pero si fueran mas fuertes? el sale con la cola entre las patas)DIOS LA ESCENA EN LA QUE HACE QUE YUI LE LAMA LAS BOTAS. igual de malo que su hermano. solo que no es un fetichista.
Shu simplemente se me hace aburrido y soso, lo siento no puedo decir mucho de un personaje que literal no hace NADA. su trasfondo esta bien, pero creo que fue muy desaprovechada en un personaje en una mala historia.
Reiji ES UN HIJO DE PERRA, no solo decidio matar al amigo de su hermano SINO A TODA LA VILLA, Por CELOS, y encima de eso matar a su madre que nisiquiera era abusiva(en comparación a las otras dos, era bastante amorosa). sinceramente un imbécil.
Ayato es insoportable, simplemente no me lo puedo aguantar, actua como un niño pequeño. aparte de que es quien mas cosifica a Yui y de los que mas la insulta junto a Kou. sin olvidar que es considerado el "héroe" de la franquisia😑
Kanato es todos los anteriores combinados en una masa amorfa y delirante en creer que es la víctima y que tiene la razon en todo, siendo también un necrofilico y canibal, no hace falta que diga mas.
Laito es, tristemente, uno de los mejor escritos de toda la franquicia pero que al musmo tiempo es un MALDITO DE PRIMERA, fue el primero en causar las ideas suicidas de Yui, aparte de que ES un delincuente sexual que deberia manterse lejos de las personas.
Subaru es un hiracundo que me da ciertas vibras de Incel, cree que todas las mujeres son iguales y que eso le da el derecho a tratar como la mierda a todos y ser físicamente violento. aun si tiene el trauma mas "justificado" junto a Laito, no le hace menos de una persona horrible.
Ruki simplemente es un maniático del control que como ahora es un vampiro cree estar por arriba de los demas y sinceramente es un segundo Reiji pero con trasfondo barato. pero tiene mi odio eterno por lo del gato.
Yuma simplemente no me llama la atención mas alla de su diseño y ser igual de agresivo que Subaru, literalmente ha matado a Yui en casi todos sus finales a golpes. no me gusta.
Kou es INSUFRIBLE y con ganas, no solo por ser tan materialista sino por la forma ej la que se mete con el autoestima de Yui hace que me sangre el corazón.
Azusa es un MANIPULADOR, le duela a quien le duela, el literalmente le hace Guilt Triping a Yui para que lo lastime! y encima después la corta el!
Kino es similar a Kanato con lo de ser un mimado y un horrible ser al mismo tiempo, no tiene consideración por quienes no sean el y eso lo hace alguien DESPRECIABLE EN SU RUTA, literalmente mato a un niño enfrente de Yui para que no intentara escapar. es una mierda.
en general, creo que eso sería todo. Todos son basura, pero diferente basura.
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erial-c · 24 days
Text
redacted headcanons if they were filipino 🇵🇭
please bear w me and my scattered thoughts😭 also credits to @pandoraroid for the vincent hc it's so real
- when the shaw pack gets together they do the family gathering thing of making the kids have a dance competition for money
- angel doesn't know how to commute (public transportation) and david would have to come along with them on a jeep to help them learn
"davey ikaw pumara para sakin please nahihiya ako" "kaya mo yan, dali lalagpas na tayo oh"
("davey can you make the jeep stop please i'm too shy" "you can do it, cmon we're gonna miss our stop")
- at a jollibee birthday party david would always help the shaw kids win the "bring me game" . that shit is SERIOUS for him i would bet
- milo would overdress all the time  . kahit anong ganap he will be layering IN SPITE of the heat. he'd also be called "estetik" and he HATES IT  .
(estetik: from aesthetic, used to make fun of people who dress up)
*(kahit anong ganap: whatever event there is)
- also, milo and sweetheart ukay-ukay dates perhaps. . . . but i think they'd both get carried away because they'd be blessed by the ukay gods and forget they were ever on a date
(ukay-ukay: secondhand shops in the ph!! mainly clothes)
vincent and lovely  . aircon humor x kanal humor CMAWWNN. the vampire houses alone r so extra and fancy vincent would for sure have the conyo/filipino rich ppl accent too like. 
(vin telling lovely abt his first summit): vin: "ok so inisip ko like, paano ako gaganti kay william during the summit, right? so i decided i was going to show up looking like as the, pinaka-antithesis of what he wants me to look like."
lovely, absorbing nothing of what he just said: "HUY antithesis???????"
(vin: "ok so i thought, how am i gonna get back at william during the summit, right?; ...looking like the (most)antithesis of what he wants me to look like.")
(aircon humor: humor associated with wealthy people, priv school kids, "out of touch" humor
kanal humor: "public school humor" , vulgar and relatable
conyo: someone who speaks filo+english in a pretentious way, mostly due to being raised wealthy . idk they always have that rich ppl accent)
- i can't imagine guy being filipino no matter what i do. however, i think honey is for sure filo (projecting) and they wld have a complete filo friend group  . honey wld still have that gruff exterior but their walls r down, and their friends would joke that honey and guy r the "nonchalant x oa" pairing and guy wld have NO clue what they're all talkin abt.
(oa: over acting, usually used negatively to call someone dramatic, but with the "nonchalant x oa" it's kinda similar to the introvert x extrovert trope)
- when honey brings guy along to hang out w/ their filo friends, he just looks at them mesmerized 90% of the time they're all talking . afterwards, when they ask abt it, guy says that honey is way more expressive when they speak in filipino and he thinks its rlly cute (IDK. I FEEL THIS ONE IN MY BONES .)
- i also have a hc that honey likes to draw so . stem strand/course to art course pipeline baby (many filipinos can relate🔥🔥🔥)
general idea / kinda just a joke but honestly it'd be so hard to allude to being a vamp in the philippines . 
"pag natamaan yung balat ko ng araw, nasusunog ako" "beh nasa pinas ka, lahat tayo nasusunog"
("when the sunlight hits my skin, i start to burn" "beh you're in the philippines, we're all burning")
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oddballwriter · 9 months
Text
Unexpected Addition: And then There were Four
꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦
Part One
Summary: After getting used to Steven and seeing Jake again it turns out your surprise team mission becomes a true mission that is assigned to both of you by your Gods. A hooray for you, Steven, and Jake! A boohoo for Marc. 
Warnings: Marc is still not too fond of reader. Steven's still a simp. Mentions of theft and grave robbing. There's a reference to violence with reader joking that they and Jake can "make someone talk". Reference to Layla and things that happened in show cannon.
Author’s Snip: Wow! A part 2? My first ever part 2? Look at him! He's a ✨writer✨ now! Honestly I can't wait to see where exactly this will go.
Notes: I have no idea what I'm doing I've never made a series before lol. I am both the writer and the audience. 
I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.
꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦
Steven was already so lovely to meet and be around, but nothing beat Jake, your actual boyfriend. Since you and Steven had just met, you weren't on a physical contact level yet. But Jake and you were for sure beyond that as a three years strong couple.
As soon as you opened the door of your place it was clear from the paper boy hat on his head, smirk-like smile, and affectionate gaze that it was Jake at your door. Your face twisted into a smile immediately and embraced him in a hug in the same immediacy, getting a good smell of his muskier cologne as you breathed. Jake didn't waste a second to embrace you in a hug as well.
"Hola, beba." Jake greets as he puts his face in your hair and gives you little kisses on your head. He pulls away when you do and you notice the bouquet of your favorite flowers that he's been holding the whole time. "Para ti." Jake says as he hands them to you. "To make up for surprising you with Marc and Steven instead." he jokes as you take them into your hold.
You walk back into your apartment to find a place to put your new gift, letting Jake in. You move about for a bit, getting a vase and filling it with water, placing it down on the coffee table, arranging the flowers so that they look nice in their new home. It's while you're rearranging them that Jake comes up behind you and snakes his arms around your torso and holds you again.
"I missed you." Jake mutters into your shoulder. "I missed you too, Jake." you respond as you turn your head to kiss whatever part of his head you manage to reach.
Jake raises his head from its spot, showing his usually stoic face displaying more softer emotions and feelings. "I'm sorry about Marc. I know you told Steven that it was okay and that you were expecting it. But I know he scared you a bit." Jake explained. "Maybe he did, a little." you admit. "But he's allowed to feel that way. He's still got things he needs to figure out and get used to. I'm just another thing that got thrown in." you consider to Jake.
"You're not that shocking. He's just got his panties on a twist because you and I became a thing while he and Layla were still technically married. Even though he's the one who sent the divorce papers-" Jake rants before you gently put a hand up to stop him.
"Well, he did that on his own will. Marc's been the one who calls the shots for most of his independent life. He kept tabs on Steven and fought while Steven was put out. Marc's been the one in charge of everything." you mention. "Maybe he's upset because you're someone who he can't really keep under control and does their own thing." you theorize.
"So he's a control freak?" Jake laughs. "I didn't say that" you comment, "I'm trying to say that I'm foreign to him because he didn't get to have a choice and he's used to being the one making the choice." you correct.
"Well, he's going to have to get over that because you're-" Jake says as he suddenly holds onto you tighter and picks you up, "-sticking with around as long as I'm around." he settles himself and you on the couch, continuing to hold you.
"He's outvoted anyways. Steven likes you." Jake remarks.
And Steven liked you, indeed.
Although Steven would deny it because he didn't know how to go about it considering you belonged to Jake. And the last time he went about courting a member of the system's woman, he got punched in the face.
But Steven understood why Jake was in love with you. You were a good fighter and weren't afraid to get your hands dirty with both grime and blood either. You did good at your tasks as an avatar, like Jake, and technically the rest of the system. You were also fun, and charming, and kind, and pretty, and smart, and you smelled nice. So yeah, Steven had feelings or at least an attraction towards you as well.
Marc felt slightly pissed about this since he seemed to be the only one not running head on and blindly into you. He knew you weren't a threat, you were a fellow avatar and there didn't seem to be any issues with both of your bosses. If anything Khonshu and Sekhmet didn't really seem to care as long as you did the jobs they set you out on. And maybe Marc was a little mad at Khonshu for not saying anything about you and Jake when he literally threatened to make Layla his new avatar as a means to get him in line.
But it felt like maybe the damn bird was still messing with him with what he's just demanded.
_____________
"I do not understand how you could be confused, Marc. This is another pursuit of punishing those who are meddling with power beyond themselves." Khonshu remarked.
"No. I get that. But why does she's have to come along?" Marc asked, referring to you.
"You and Sekhmet's avatar came across the first piece of this together. I see no reason in not including the other half of this." the god explains.
"I understand you are not exactly fond of her avatar. But I have seen her work on some occasions and she is skillful in both calculating plans and combat. It will aid you in your mission." Khonshu explains, "It will also help you get out of your head. The three of you in that body can't always rely on each other." is also added.
Marc sighed in defeat.
Marc knew that Khonshu couldn't care less for what Marc wanted as long as he and the system did the job and didn't make an even bigger mess, and Marc was also sure that it was the same for Sekhmet and you. So he didn't have much of a choice other than bite his tongue and go along with it like he always does. And of course the other two are all on board with spending time with you.
So he let Jake and Steven handle all the tracking and research with you. But it turns out that not even that can be spared from being an unofficial date.
"Okay." you say as you throw the manila folder onto the table, and gently setting down a cup of coffee, for you, and tea, for Steven. "I pulled an all nighter last night in order to understand what's going on and what our plan is." you say, "So forgive me if I'm not made up." you joke as you sit down and open up the folder. "Oh, don't say that. You always look nice." Steven gently laughs earning a little smile from you.
"Anyways," you say as you pull out some papers. The first couple are what look like clippings from news articles talking about some desecrated places and stolen objects. "So these places have had some run ins with people stealing their stuff. Right?" you explain before looking up at Steven. He just nods and follows your hands as they move around. "These seem like random places maybe having some disrespectful tourists until," you build up in your voice before pointing at specific parts of the clippings, the dates, "These all happened within a few months! And they all have the same MO!" you exclaim. Steven, again just nods. " "So what?" You might be thinking," you say as you glance at Steven before looking back to the papers.
"That's what I want to know." Marc sarcastically says to himself.
You take out a map with different points highlighted and some crawled words next to them.
You send time explaining the cases for each of the highlighted countries. A piece of the Stonehenges was broken off in the night and no one can find it. Some of the skulls in the French Catacombs are missing. Ivan the Terrible's grave was dug up and his coffin and body were stolen and so is Vlad the Impaler's. Mapping out that a group of weirdos have been going in a clockwise direction in a stealing spree of weird occult and dark history. "For what reason, I don't know." is the words you said when Steven asked why with a sheepish hand raise, like he was a student in a class.
Either way, it was something about them having a path but now they've stopped after you and the boys stopped them mid heist. And that they're most likely trying to figure out a course of action.
"So now what?" Steven asks as he digests everything you've told him. "We wait." you say plainly, "We wait until they either hit their next target or there's a place that gets stolen from and see if it has the same MO." you explain. "Shouldn't be hard. Not many people want spooky paranormal objects." you add.
"And what about the stuff they already stole?" Steven questions. "Well, we can follow them around, snag one of them, and have them spill the beans. We can make them talk." you answer, most likely talking about you and Jake being the one's to handle that.
"But that's for when they start moving again." you clarify. "For now it's just the four of us." You smile as you lean in and boop Steven on the nose.
Steven blushes and looks stunned at the action, making you worry that you've crossed a line and violated his personal space.
"I am so sorry. That was from habit. I do that to Jake sometimes." you apologize before Steven smiles back and laughs showing that he didn't mind one bit.
Great... you're spending more time with them than just having to run a quick errand for your god bosses.
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madlittlecriminal · 4 months
Note
Jaime Reyes with an s/o who’s Mexican?
I’m Mexican and Jaime’s one of my faves since he’s also Mexican 🤭
About Time ➜ Jaime Reyes × Mexican!GN!Reader [headcanons]
i felt this honestly. honestly, call me biased, but any character who’s Hispanic/Latino(a) are my favorites 🤷🏽‍♀️ also, im sorry this is so late anon :(
Warnings: mentions of Mexican men stereotypes, hints of smut but no actual smut, mention of praying to our lady Guadalupe (this is a warning just in case people are either against religion, have other beliefs or simply don’t believe in anything)
this is a little bit self-indulgent because i never owned the infamous tiger blanket or snuggled in it but i heard it was more comfortable than a regular blanket
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He broke every stereotype known to man.
Mexican men don’t cook?
He be in the kitchen cooking anything from creative dishes to Mexican traditional dishes
Mexican men don’t clean?
Music is on and you both are cleaning.
He didn’t care about those stereotypes because he knew he wasn’t like that
He’d even be the softest boy with you by cuddling, but he’d always want to be the little spoon.
It was funnier when he pulled out the tiger blanket.
He said it was the only stereotype he’ll accept with pride.
You had to laugh.
You honestly couldn’t remember if you ever had a tiger blanket.
But it was true
Being wrapped in that blanket could solve all the world’s problems.
His uncle once bought you a sombrero and said you two could match at parties, but Jaime was against it.
He said while you looked good in one, he didn’t want you matching with his uncle.
Obviously he got offended and told Jaime that he ruined the fun.
You kept the sombrero though and would often times let Jaime wear it.
It was a mistake.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“¿Y si montó un vaquero para salvar un caballo?”
Jaime would blush heavy and nod.
And yes. You rode a cowboy even if he wasn’t literally one.
Then he got the scarab.
You were there when it happened.
The Mexican spew of foul language that escaped your lips that day…It surprised everyone.
You weren’t one to curse around his family…maybe his uncle yes, but not as much as you did that day.
It was to the point where everyone, including Jaime, went from panicked screams to confused screams.
Then when he returned, he laughed and mocked you in the most affectionate way possible.
But you told him it was about time Latinos and Mexicans as a whole finally got representation in a real hero.
He felt a new wave a pride wash over him that his significant other was fine with him being a hero.
He knew you’d still worry, but he considered you to be his number one fan.
He would smile when he’d watch you pray to Guadalupe every day to make sure he was safe.
Then when he’d come home, tacos de birria were a must
It was celebratory for the both of you…and for abuela who loved making them for her grandson and, in her eyes, her new grandchild.
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dib-thing-wannabe · 1 month
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Okay, so I have a smaaaall idea for a possible fanfic/fan comic/au, so I'm just gonna say it in the lamest of terms that I can, feel free to take this idea and make it yourself as long as you give some credit and also tag me in the posts. Pre Enter the Florpus btw.
Zim realizes just how big the impact that Professor Membrane has on planet earth, and he tries to use it to his advantage. He kidnaps him one night without anyone knowing (somehow) and quickly makes a clone of him, programming it to be almost completely identical to Professor Membrane himself, except the clone is now loyal to the Irken race, making it to where if Zim told him to go do something in the name of the Tallest or whatever, he'd do exactly that. Though Zim made one tiiiiny mistake. You see, Zim isn't aware of what Dib's or Gaz's home life with Professor Membrane is like, and since Professor Membrane himself was still unconscious as he made and was programming the clone, he couldn't have asked him about it. So what did Zim do as to try and not get Dib suspicious about his new plan? He tried to make his father's clone as close as possible to the original... Except Zim ended up making him loving. More compassionate. More emotionally supportive and available, like how most of the other parents on earth act towards their children. So imagine the surprise that Dib experienced when he was just rambling on about ghosts and para-science to his dad, thinking that he'd not care at all about it like always and maybe even lecture him about believing in it once again, only to hear the first words out of his mouth be, "Wow son, that's amazing! Say, where did you learn that from? I honestly wouldn't be surprised if you taught yourself that though, as my boy has always been a smart one!" Immediately, Dib and Gaz noticed these differences from him, though Gaz was the only one who had gotten suspicious about it, as Dib was just so happy that finally his dad was actually being there for them!
The rest of it is basically Gaz doing a Dib and practically going insane as she tries to figure out what happened to their dad, meanwhile Dib doesn't believe that anything happened at all, despite the already clear evidence that something did infact happen, all the while Zim is trying yet failing to get "Professor Membrane" to do his bidding, as the clone is now mostly on Dib's side when it comes to their beef. I'm calling this the Professor Memfake Au, do with it whatever you like (besides gross pro shipping shit, never do that with my creations).
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ashethecoolperson · 2 days
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🫶 requuuueeeesssssttttt : jealous dom x reader (honestly in any scenario) but picturing him jealous is so 😭🤭 (ur writing is soo good ik whatever u cook up will be 🤌)
Jealous
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A/N: i love jealous dom hndhsjhsskb
Dom, hurry up! We’ll be late!” You yelled from the living room, still waiting for him to get ready after an hour. You guys had to go to a business party and you weren’t trying to be late. But you thought that Dom was purposely trying to be late.
As you groaned and went upstairs, you opened the door and saw Dom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still wet from what seemed like a shower. You were lost for words as you swallowed nervously and kept looking at him.
God he looked hot.
“You almost ready?” You finally asked after what seemed like hours, and he nodded. “Almost, mi amor. Just lost my suit.”
You smiled slightly as he continued putting on clothes. “You know, we need to leave soon.” You said softly, watching him get dressed, trying not to stare too much at him. But Dom noticed anyway.
He stopped, turned, and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. You tried not to blush at his stare. “Whatcha looking at?” He asked teasingly as you rolled your eyes. “Nothing. Now hurry up, we’ll be late.” You said plainly and he scoffed.
“Stop rushing me.” He whined and did that little pout he always did, as you just laughed and left.
—-
After you two finally left and got to the business party, you immediately noticed how crowded it actually was. You weren’t complaining, of course, because you loved parties, but Dom kept glaring at every man that even came close to you. It wasn’t exactly surprising, though, considering how easily jealous Dom got. But it was funny for some reason. Not to mention how cute he looked, blushing and being angry at people who wanted nothing more than to talk to you.
But once Dom went off to get drinks, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around. Almost immediately you felt like groaning since it was the man you hated most, Logan Paul.
He was so snobby and a shit person, and yet he wanted to be friends with you.
You wondered why he wanted to be friends with you, probably because he wanted to get to Dom too.
“Hey, babe!” Logan exclaimed as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you stiffened.
Why did he always have to call you babe?
“Hi Logan.” You said plainly and tried not to get his drink all over you since he was practically swinging it around. He didn’t seem to notice though as he continued talking about whatever the fuck had happened to him recently. It was honestly annoying, but you weren’t going to say anything. He was the golden star of the company, and if you did what you actually wanted to, you’d probably either get fired or be in prison.
“Soooo, how’s Dom been doing?” Logan asked as he looked down at you, not like the good way that Dom did, but in a way that was uncomfortable.
“He’s been good..just doing normal stuff.” You mumbled and he grinned. Of course he wouldn’t believe you. He was a creep.
Just then Dom came back and you breathed a sigh of relief, shrugging Logan’s hand off of your shoulders and smiling at how Dom wrapped an arm around your waist.
Dom scowled as Logan scrambled for a reply. “Eso no es my fault!” He exclaimed, and Dom just stared.
Even you didn’t know why Logan did spanglish.
“Spanglish? Eso es bajo, incluso para ti.” Dom said as he rolled his eyes and glared at Logan. “Shoo.” He added before turning to you and walking away, dragging you with him.
As you two were outside, he looked down at you. “Mi amor, why didn’t you say anything? You know I hate him.” He asked as his hands were on your hips, gently pulling you closer. As you rested your head on his chest, you sighed contently.
“I wanted to beat his ass.” You said with a shrug as he started to laugh, rolling his eyes. “Can we go home?” You asked and he sighed. “Yeah. This party’s boring as hell anyways.”
Goddamn, you loved when he was jealous.
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DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol.5 Sakamaki Laito Animate Tokuten CD
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Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol. 5 逆巻ライト アニメイト 各巻購入特典ドラ
Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 5 Animate Tokuten CD
Audio: Here
Seiyuu: Hirakawa Daisuke 
Translator’s note: Bowling master Laito kind of threw me for a loop, but it also makes sense? Like he strikes me as the type of guy who would be unexpected skilled at a bunch of random things. In general, I’ve been really enjoying these ‘date scenario’ CDs. They actually did a good job making every one of them unique and choosing fun locations for each boy. I know the chances of us getting another DL anime are really slim, but if they do decide to make one, I really hope it’s not a season 3 based on DF or LE but a bunch of OVAs instead based on the drama CDs.
“...What’s this? There’s quite a lot of people here despite it being so late at night. I guess bowling is pretty popular. I thought I’d be able to do all sorts of fun things with my Bitch-chan, such a shame! ーー Ah! Our lane is over here. Ah! Check out the monitor over there! It actually displays our names as ‘Laito’ and ‘Bitch’! I love your name. It really stands out amongst the others! I would have loved to be able to input ‘Bitch-chan’ instead, honestly. I felt pretty bummed when they told me that I could only input up to five characters. Right, Bitch-chan?”
You frown. 
“...? You’ve been quiet this whole time. What’s wrong? Did you want me to add the ‘-chan’ as well?”
You shake your head.
“Then what’s the matter?”
You complain about him wanting to come here. 
“Eeh~? Is it really that strange? Even I feel like playing a game of bowling every now and then. There’s no ulterior motive behind it!”
You squint your eyes. 
“Oh dear. You’re still suspicious of me? ...Fine. I’ll fess up the truth. ーー We actually gave here today because I wanted to do you a favor.”
You tilt your head to the side.
“Mmh. We’re usually active at night, so most places where high schoolers like to hang out are closed by that hour, no? So we’re limited in the things we can do, right? Well, you might be fine with that, but you’re still a blossoming high school girl, so I figured that you might fantasize about the kind of cute dates depicted in shoujo manga and such. ーー I thought it wouldn’t hurt to go on a typical high schoolers’ date for once, so I started looking around for places which are open 24/7, which brings us here today. How’s that? Do you understand now?”
You nod.
“Nfu~ I’m glad. With that misunderstanding lifted...Now that we’re here anyway, why don’t we get started? I’m up first, aren’t I? Let me think...Which ball should I pick? ーー Ah. This one will do.”
*Thud* 
“It has the same color as your hair. I’ll throw it as hard as I can, imagining its your head instead~”
You protest.
“Nfu~ Oh come on, you may say that, but I know you’re happy deep down! You love to get pushed around by me, don’t you? ...Ah! When it’s your turn, why don’t you pick a ball in the same color as my hair? I don’t dislike the idea of being at your mercy either~”
You refuse. 
“Geez...You’d be able to get so much more of of life if you just enjoy it as one of many fetishes. You’re so easily embarrassed. Fine. ...I’ll throw the ball, okay?”
Laito faces towards the lane.
“Let me think...I’m supposed to throw it leaning down...or from up top? 
You seem surprised he has never bowled before. 
“Eh!? Bitch-chan...Do you really think I’ve come to this sorta place before? Today’s obviously my first bowling experience!”
*Rustle*
“But don’t worry! Experience isn’t what matters...It’s all about chemistry...!”
Laito throws his ball.
*Clatter clatter*
“Huh? I knocked all of them over. Is this what you’d call a ‘strike’?”
You seem very impressed.
“...Nfu~ I got praised~ Anyway, is this really so amazing?”
You nod.
“Heeh...I wonder if I am a natural at bowling? Control is key, so it might be the perfect game some someone who is very technique-minded such as myself. In that case, I’m quite curious what you are capable of, Bitch-chan~”
You frown.
“Now, now, no need to be so modest. Show me what you’re made of. Go give it a shot! ...Nfu~ I’m very much looking forward to this.”
You walk towards the lane.
“Break a leg, Bitch-chan~! Throw it with everything you’ve got!” 
You throw the ball. 
*Thud thud* 
“Nfu~ Ah-ahー I guess the excitement ended up being her downfall. What a shame. ...They call this a ‘gutter’, don’t they? I can’t believe you didn’t even manage to knock over one of them. ...Ah, come on. One more try, no?”
*Thud* 
You try once more.
*THUD*
“Ahー You really suck at this, don’t you?”
You seem disappointed.
“No need to be so sad. My strike might have been just a fluke. I’ll go next, so watch me, okay?”
Laito walks up to the lane again. 
“...Hah!”
*CLATTER*
“Aah~ I guess it wasn’t just beginner’s luck! I might have a knack for bowling after all! ...In that case, Bitch-chan, why don’t you come over here with your ball?”
You pick up your ball and approach him.
“Okay! Let’s practice how to hold the ball!”
*Rustle*
“Geez, no need to be so surprised. We came here to treat you to a good time today, so I’ll teach you very gently~ Come on, hold the ball.”
*Rustle*
“Hmー That won’t do.”
*Rustle rustle*
“You need to stretch your arm a little more.”
You try to scoot away from him, asking why he is touching you.
“What are you saying? I’m fixing your posture! I think I proved earlier that my bowling skills far exceed yours, so don’t you think it’s in your best interest to take my advice?” 
You frown.
“I mean, it’d be kind of difficult to tell you what to do without clinging to you like this, is it? I’m positive that it’d be so much easier to teach you good posture through direct touch!”
*Rustle*
“Come on, lean back against me and stand straight.”
*Rustle*
“Don’t move! You want to be able to throw the ball properly don’t you?”
You tell him to move away. 
“How mean, telling me to back off! I’m only trying to show my good heart by teaching you! I mean, if you lose this duel against me, you’ll get punished, remember?”
You seem surprised by that. 
“I mean, duh? Didn’t I tell you? All games have some kind of punishment game attached to it, don’t they? You have to expect those kind of things! By the way, now that you’ve already thrown once, you’re part of the game, so there’s no backing out~”
You ask him if he would punish you right here in public.
“Fufu~ Why would you ask that? ーー I get it. You’re curious about what this punishment would entail, aren’t you~? Were you perhaps hoping that I’d suck your blood~?”
You deny it.
“Nfu~ No point in trying to deny it~ I bet you imagined my fangs sinking deeply into your fair nape, didn’t you? Aah~ I suppose I have no other choice. That wasn’t the plan, but I’ll live up to your expectations and make the punishment something deliciously painful~ Please look forward to this punishment...which will turn both your body and soul to putty~”
You try to make a run for it.
*Rustle rustle* 
“Ahaha~ Oh come on, hold up! I told you that there’s no way out, didn’t you? You better behave...or I’ll do it right here, right now.”
You immediately stop resisting. 
“Nfu~ Good girl. Besides, there’s only a 50% chance that you’ll get punished, so just remember that you could always win and try to make the best out of it!”
You sigh in defeat.
“Well then, let’s continue your lesson. Now, where’s your spine?”
*Rustle*
“Nfu~ Found it~ Mm~
*Rustle rustle* 
“What are you saying? I’m helping you straighten your back! By tracing my fingers across your spine like this...See? You pushed out your chest which improved your stance! Try to hold this proper posture, okay?”
You ask him if he knows what hte proper posture for bowling is.
“Eh? No idea! How am I supposed to know what is the ‘right posture’ for bowling when I’m still a newbie at the game myself.”
You ask him what he has been teaching you then. 
“You’re just so terrible at this, I’ve just been giving you random points and then it was up to you whether or not you’d take my words for granted. ...Anyway, ahaha~ They’re really hard to miss when you’re standing looking straight ahead like that.”
You tilt your head to side.
“Over here. These bite marks on・your・neck~”
You squeak.
“They’re the proof of the love we share with each other every night~ It’s too bad you can’t really see them unless you move this close. I promise I’ll make them stand out even more by biting you nice and hard when we get back home, so rest assured~”
You complain. 
“You’re adorable when you pretend to dislike something. However, no losing on purpose because you want to get bitten ,okay?”
You insist that you would never do that. 
“I wonder~? You’re a naughty girl who seduces other by feigning discomfort. You want me to completely overpower you, run away with the victory and inflict pain upon you as a result, don’t you? And then you’d try to play innocent by saying ‘Oh I don’t actually want this, but it can’t be helped because I lost the game~', won’t you? ...Sure. Two can play that game. I like that sort of thing as well after all. I’ll make sure to slowly drive you into a corner...and then tease the living hell out・of・you~”
Your cheeks grow hot.
“Oh? What’s wrong? ...Nfu~ You’re flustered, aren’t you? Oh come, you are so shy~ ...Anyway, let’s get this game going! Try throwing the ball following my tips from earlier.”
You nod and throw the ball. 
*CLATTER CLATTER*
“Wow~ You actually knocked them all over! I’m shocked!” 
You rejoice.
“Nfu~ Congratulations, Bitch-chan. Judging from your sheer excitement, could it be that this is the first time you’ve ever hit a strike?”
You nod.
“Mmh, mmh~ I’m happy for you! In that case, why don’t we end on a positive note and wrap up the match right here? It’s obvious you’ll lose after all.”
You protest.
“I mean, even if continue to bowl one strike after the other now, you already threw a gutter once, so you have no chance at getting ahead of me.There’s no way I’d give away the win now.”
You shake your head. 
“Ah~ We can keep going until I have a slip-up if you want, but in return, your punishment will get more and more severe, the longer the game lasts. I believe you’d be much better off admitting defeat right now and simply heading home with me. 
I’m fine with either scenario. We’re here on a date today for you after all. You can choose whether you want to call it a day right now and quickly get your punishment, or if you’d rather have me tend to you thoroughly after I’ve messed with you a little longer.”
You call him out on being unreasonable. 
“Nfu~ Exactly. I might be messed up. But you love this crazy guy, don’t you? In which case, you have no other choice but to play along with me and slowly become insane as well.”
You sigh.
“Fufu~ Since you sighed in defeat, does that mean you’ve made your choice?”
You choose to go home. 
“Nfu~ Sure. As you wish. Well then...Shall we head home, Bitch-chan~? I’ll treat you to plenty of the good stuff which you love oh-so much~”
ーー THE END ーー
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yesimwriting · 2 years
Text
Final Girl (part 4)
(the scenes in this is what inspired the series so ig technically could be read as a stand alone and still make sense but the previous chapters obviously add context lol) Part 4 to - Final Girl Series Masterlist (currently updated parts 1 - 9 and extras)
A/n fun fact there are two alternate versions of part 4 in my drafts, if anyone wants a bonus scene of Billy and Stu having a full conversation with Gloria, and/or a short scene of Y/n and Gloria getting ready together (which shows. a little bit more of their dynamic) it’s basically done and would only need a little bit of editing lol
also!! thinking about doing a lil billy & stu blurb night or sleepover thing,, any thoughts on that lol (prob saturday afternoon, when i’ll be tipsy 😭,, tipsy writing is fun) 
my favorite thing about this chapter is how they’re all cute for 3 minutes and then get violently toxic 😭 duality ig?? 
Warning: i broke and put the first touch of smut into this 😭 everything before the switch in POV is pretty PG (very toxic vibes tho!!), so if you don’t want to read anything sexual just skip over the part at the end that’s in narrator’s POV!! (pls be nice, writing smut scares me, i’ve had very few sexual experiences and have enjoyed none of them lmao)
Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at the Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 
Chapter Summary: Due to a family emergency, Y/n is left home alone for the first time since what happened to Casey. Luckily, her good friends Billy and Stu show up to surprise her just as she’s starting to feel paranoid. 
---- 
You’d think that someone that grew up with one parent would be used to being alone, but I have very few memories of total solitude. The few times my mom hasn’t been around, there’s always been someone.
Tonight, though, it’s just me. And I’m not alone in my childhood home--I’m alone in Wells’ house. My mom says that I don’t need to think too much about the fact that we moved into his family’s home, but sometimes I still feel like a stranger here. A guest.
Ugh, I shake the thought off with a roll of my shoulders. I’m freaking myself out for no reason, and I promised my mom I’d be fine.
She didn’t want to leave me, and I can’t blame her for her hesitance, but a family emergency is a family emergency.
I would have gone with her in a heartbeat, but I had the SAT this morning. My mom offered to have Wells stay behind, but honestly, the thought of being alone with her boyfriend for days made me more uncomfortable than the thought of being alone. At least it did at the time. But now that it’s dark out, I’m starting to think it might have been a bad idea to send away the trained police officer. 
I could always call Sidney or Tatum. My mom said I could have people over, or maybe even sleepover at someone’s house. She actually wanted me to stay with a friend, but after my last sleepover, the thought of spending the night at someone’s house turns my stomach. 
Now I’m alone, and it’s almost 9:00, and I’m really upset that most of my comfort movies are horror. The last thing I need is to make myself more para--
The sound of the home phone ringing snaps me out of my thoughts. It could be my mom, but we had just talked. She called me right before I got into the shower to give me an update. I guess it wouldn’t be that weird for her to call me again. She’s nervous about leaving me alone. 
“Hi?” 
There are no words, just soft breathing. “Hey, squirt.” 
Nerves and embarrassing excitement roll in my stomach. I’m so shocked I almost forget that I’m on the phone and I need to reply. “H-hi, dad.” I sit up a little straighter. “It’s you, you’re calling.” 
“Yep,” he breathes, popping the ‘p’ and breezing past my awkwardness, “Just checking in. I just heard what happened. Your mom called, but I’m in Europe on business, and because of the timezone difference it went to voicemail. My secretary somehow missed it. I am so sorry I didn’t call sooner, are you okay?” 
My lips part, a strange amount of emotions twisting in my stomach, “I uh--I’m doing better. I wasn’t the one that was really hurt.” The thought of Casey strikes me in the chest. I cross my legs beneath me. “I-um--I missed some school because I had a concussion. A friend of mine had to convince me to go to the doctor, actually.” 
He laughs lightly, “That sounds like you.” After a second, he continues, “You still want to do the whole Princeton thing?” 
“Yeah, I-I’d like to. I’m trying to. Even took the SAT for the first time today.” 
I can hear him shuffling. “Wow, squirt, the S-A-T,” he hums each letter, “You and Charlotte are really growing up.” 
When I was at that age where kids are obsessed with princesses, I used to imagine that Charlotte was my evil step sister. She was the perfect girl in front of our parents, but there was something about the way she treated me that I couldn’t support. Her and her mother, Alice, always made it clear that my mother and I weren’t the real members of the family. 
My mom was more open about my step sister than I was, and I can imagine how hard that was. She waited around for my dad for years, and he didn’t get his life together until grandfather told him to. She stood by him through addiction and through scandal, but once grandfather said dad had to grow up, he listened. He went to Princeton for undergrad and Yale for his masters and he married the woman Grandfather set him up with.
My dad’s only defense is that my mom sent him away. What he never seems to mention is that my mom’s breaking point was him leaving me alone at some dealer’s house when I was a baby. 
“Charlotte,” I repeat, trying to hide the way the name stings, “How is she?”  
“Oh, she’s good, she just heard back from Princeton because of their rolling admission policy, she’s in.” 
Oh. Charlotte is one year older than me, so I knew that it was possible that I’d have to hear about her getting into dream schools soon. What I didn’t expect was to hear that she got into Princeton, and I didn’t expect it now. “That’s really great, dad.” 
“Yeah, she’ll get the lay of the land, and once you’re in, she’ll be able to show you around.” 
“Yeah,” I mumble, “That’d be nice.” 
Another voice steals my dad’s attention. Likely his secretary. “Hey, squirt, I gotta go. Meeting.” 
“Oh, y-yeah, dad. Talk to you later.” 
“Yes, I’ll make sure to call soon.” He pauses before tacking on, “Oh, I sent you a get well soon present this morning. It might take a few days, but I hope you like it.” 
My nails dig into the palm of my hand, “Oh, thanks, dad. Bye.” 
With that the line goes flat. I place the phone back on my bedside table before grabbing a pillow that’s by my side. Settling the pillow onto my lap, I drop my face into it. “Ugh.” The groan is strangled and dramatic, but I don’t care. 
I cannot wait to call my mom and tell her about how little miss perfect Charlotte is going to Princeton. Princeton is mine, it’s been mine my entire life. There’s a freaking poster of it in my room.
“You’re in a good mood.” 
The words make me jump out of my skin. In a second, i’m on my feet, my hands reaching for the first thing I can find. It happens to be my bedside lamp. I blink, eyes wide as my head snaps towards my window. There’s a large figure sitting on the window sill. 
“Billy! Stu!” Adrenaline is still running through me. “I could--I could have hurt you guys!” 
Billy leans against my window’s frame comfortably, lips turning upwards. “With your fuzzy lamp?” 
“Do not make fun of me.” 
“He’s not,” Stu says, “You’re super threatening. I’m shaking so much I might fall off this ledge.”
I roll my eyes, shifting awkwardly. It’s not like Stu and I haven’t talked since my little blow up in the hallway, but things haven’t been the same. I don’t know if he’s waiting for something from me or if most of it is in my head because I feel a little bad. I never thought I’d miss Stu regularly jokingly hitting on me, but I think I’m starting to.
“Haha,” I mumble after a second too long of silence. Because I need an excuse to not look at them, I turn to set my lamp back down. “What are you guys doing here anyway?” 
Billy shrugs, twisting to place his feet on the floor of my room. “Stu talked me into renting The Craft.” He stands, giving Stu the space he needs to also come into my room. “It made us think of you.” 
“You two watched The Craft?” 
“We got halfway through,” Stu admits, reaching into the black backpack he came in with, “Not my best pick.” He walks into my room casually, like climbing in through my second floor window is a regular Saturday night occurrence. “Seems like the kind of thing you’d like, though. Brought it in case you wanted something to do later.” 
He tosses the tape casually onto my bed. I stare at it for a long second, hating the fact that he knows me so well. I remember seeing trailers for The Craft and wanting to watch it. Some joke about how he’s implying that he thinks I have bad taste tries to come out, but I can’t seem to form the words. 
I don’t know if it’s the casual gesture or the fact that they showed up when I didn’t want to be alone, but an emotion I don’t really get threatens to overwhelm me. Maybe this reaction is the result of the phone call with my dad.
Stu must notice my stillness because he asks, “You okay?” 
I take large steps, moving around my bed in order to reach him. My hug must surprise him, but Stu doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around me. “I’m sorry.” 
“Sorry?” 
“Tuesday,” I mumble, “I was moody and defensive and things have felt kinda weird since then and I just want things to be normal again.” This might be a total mistake, it feels like revealing an open wound. “You’re like one of my best friends.” 
He squeezes me tighter, “One of?” 
Tilting my head up to look at him, I reply, “Don’t get greedy.” 
“Fine,” Stu mumbles after a second of pretend contemplation. 
I should pull away now, but there’s something comforting about the position we’re in. Stu’s hugs are underrated, but his ego is big enough without me telling him that. “Do you have anything you want to say to me?” 
“Mm...” He hums for a long second. “Nope, not really.” Well, getting along with him was nice while it lasted. I pull away sharply, shoving his chest when he reaches out to me. “I’m kidding,” Stu laughs, “Kidding.” I glare, trying to escape his hold. “I’m sorry, angel. I should have known that you were moody because of your head.” 
The nickname takes me by surprise. I remember it from my hazy night at the hospital. I didn’t think twice of it then. Should I think about it now? It’s not particularly weirder than any other of the other nicknames Stu’s always calling me, and they’re all the same level of flirty except maybe bug, which is only really used when he wants his way.
“My head’s hurting a lot less.” I straighten slightly, arms dropping casually as I take a step back. Stu lets me. “I even took the SAT this morning. Totally not ideal with a concussion by the way, if my scores come back and they’re bad I’m so blaming the killer.” 
“I remember your reaction at the doctor’s office.”
I turn towards Billy, who’s casually sitting on my bed like he lives here. “Yeah, not my best moment.” I scratch the back of my arm. “Thank you for making me go to the doctor, by the way. The first thing my mom said when I got home was that you must be some kind of saint to have put up with me like that. She’s always telling me that I’m a total monster when I’m sick in any capacity.”
Billy almost smiles, “So your mom likes me now?” 
“You’re making progress.” Basically a lie. My mom won’t like any boys I’m friends with until I’m a college graduate. It’s shocking enough that she tolerates them. 
“Really?” 
I shrug, slightly unsure. Stu moves to sit across from me. “You can tell your mom I’m willing to do whatever to get in her good graces.” 
Cringing, I grab a pillow from behind me and throw it at Stu. He barely manages to block it with his forearm. “She’s my mom!” 
“And she’s a total babe.” 
“You’re getting kicked out.” 
Stu holds his hands up in defense, “Don’t worry, you’re still my girl.” 
I roll my eyes, pulling my legs beneath me. “Mhm, I’ll mention that to Tatum next time she calls.”
Stu props the backpack up against the side of my bed. The way he dramatically falls across my bed is almost enough to get me to break character. He places a hand on his chest like he’s wounded. “Don’t turn this into something ugly. You know I love you both, just in different ways.” 
“I’m glad you two felt the need to sneak in through my window to tell me that.” The comment makes me think about something that they practically made me forget about. “Why did you guys come here through the window anyway?” 
“We missed you,” Billy answers with no hesitation. His tone is just a little too sweet to be genuine. When I give him a look, he tilts his head before actually answering the question, “We wanted to check in. It had been a few days, and you didn’t come back to school. You stopped answering calls. Sid told me the last two times she called you, your mom picked up and said you weren’t up for conversation.” 
Normally, the thought of people looking out for me makes me nervous. Especially when it’s a guy. I know that past friendships and family issues aren’t the kinds of things I should push onto them. They’ve been good friends. Maybe it’s okay to let people in a little more than I have in the past. Besides, they’re just worried about their high strung friend that was attacked by a murderer and then had a melt down at school, it’s not like they’re crazy for being concerned. 
“That’s nice of you guys. I’m doing better, I’ve just been...kinda disconnected lately. And honestly, I’ve been spending a lot more time doing makeup work than I’d like to admit.” My posture relaxes slightly. “You don’t need to worry.” 
“There’s also a killer on the loose, and you don’t lock your window.” 
Billy has a tiny bit of a point. In scary movies, I always get frustrated when characters are dumb. It’s the small, careless things that distinguish those that die and those that make it to the sequel. “My room’s on the second floor, I thought that’d count for something.”
“Not when the world’s easiest to climb tree is in your backyard,” Stu adds, “I thought you’d think twice about things like that.” He turns his head so that he’s staring straight up at the ceiling. “You’re always reading mystery books and the only thing you care about in movies is that there’s a final girl.” 
Great, now Stu’s right, too. “That’s not the only thing I care about.” He’s quiet, watching me with a strange level of focus. He’s weirdly calm...almost dazed. I blink, gaze shifting to watch Billy from the corner of my eye. He’s also seems a little weird. “Are you guys drunk or something?” 
Stu lets out a mock gasp. “Wow. You think that little of us?” 
My eyes narrow, focusing on the backpack I so quickly dismissed earlier. “I think that if I opened that bag I’d find beer.” 
With a wounded sigh, Stu sits up. He grabs his backpack, unzipping it casually. He reaches into it before pulling out a tall bottle. The liquid inside of it is as clear as the glass containing it. “Not exactly.” Stu unscrews the lid, taking an easy sip. He doesn’t wince as the liquid goes down his throat. “Here.” Billy shifts, reaching forward to take the bottle. “Ah--c’mon, Billy boy, let her have some. We’re being rude.” 
“It’s okay,” I interrupt quickly, “I’m good.” 
Stu frowns, extending his arm a little more. “Come on, angel, just a tiny sip. Less than a shot.” I don’t move, but my attention does shift to the bottle that’s hanging just a little too loosely from his fingers. “I won’t even tell on you to your mom.” 
I roll my eyes at what he’s so clearly implying. “I think she’d be more focused on the fact that you chose to come in through the window.” Scratching the back of my wrist, I admit, “Plus, she’s not downstairs, so you can’t tattle on me anyways.” I watch him take in the words, a part of me regretting bringing that up. “Why’d you guys come in this way anyways? I would’ve come to the door.” 
“You’ve been ignoring everyone’s calls.” Stu props his head up on his elbow. 
I look at him and then at Billy. “So this is an ambush.” 
Billy drops one of his bent legs just enough to bump his knee into mine. “A wellness check in.” 
Tamping down a grin, I roll my eyes.  “Right. Silly of me not to realize.” 
“If your mom’s not here, where is she?” 
Stu’s blatant nosiness should have been expected. “Why? You actually here for her?” 
“Jealous?” 
Pressing my back into a pillow, I fake gag.”She’s my mom, Stu.” 
He rolls his eyes at my theatrics before laying back down. I know that they must have noticed the way I ignored the question, but telling them that my mom’s not home and that she’s not going to be home for days feels a little like tempting fate now that I know they’re at least tipsy.
Billy lazily reaches for the bottle again. Stu lets him take it this time. 
“She’s in Texas, anyways.” Please tell me my voice sounds casual and not at all nervous. “That must be so sad for you.” 
I’m waiting for some kind of joke about blue balls or being heartbroken. Instead, Stu props his head up again. “So she’s not here not here?” 
The distinction sends nerves straight to my stomach and I’m not sure why. My confusion is more uncomfortable than what I’m feeling. “Yeah,” I mumble, sitting up a little straighter, “Family emergency thing. My godmother is like super pregnant with twins and just got put on bed rest. Her husband’s out of town for work this weekend, so my mom flew there to take care of her.” 
Billy’s head turns in my direction, “So it’s just you and good old step dad.” 
His lips turn upwards at my glare. “No, Wells is with her.” I shift uncomfortably at the thought of being alone with Wells with no buffer for that long. “I would’ve gone with them, but I already had the SAT scheduled and their flight was early.” 
Stu breaks the unexpected silence, “So they left you alone with a killer on the loose?” 
Shrugging, I drop my gaze to the floral pattern of my bedsheets. “It’s not like that. My godmother’s miscarried before, she’s freaked out.” My pointer finger traces the dainty pink petals sewn into the fabric. “And I just calmed myself down, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring that stuff up.” 
“Relax, angel,” Stu mumbles absentmindedly, “You can stay at my place if you want. My parents aren’t home either, so it’s just me and Billy tonight.” `
Yeah, I’ve done a lot of pathetic things recently, and I don’t need to add crashing Billy and Stu’s sleepover to the list. Plus I don’t think I need to know what goes on at boys sleepovers. Living with a grown man for the first time was enough of a culture shock. “I appreciate the offer, but last time I stayed over at someone’s house kind of...” 
“We could stay here.” Stu’s offer comes out so casual, so without a second thought, I nearly get whiplash. I stare at him, waiting for him to grin or do anything that indicates that he’s joking. He does neither, instead he just looks at Billy like he’s asking him if they’re staying here. Not me.
Billy tilts the bottle in my direction, silently offering it to me. “We could hang out, make sure you fall asleep okay.” He relaxes enough to let his free hand fall. His fingertips ghost my forearm. “Pretend all you want, but I know that staying by yourself has to be bothering you a little.” 
Ugh. I hate when he’s right. Maybe a drink isn’t the worst idea right now. It might give me the confidence I need to seem okay with being home alone. I take the bottle, cautiously bringing it up to my lips with the intention of only taking a sip. The bottle tilts upwards with no warning. The unexpected amount of extra alcohol leaves me nearly sputtering. I’m forced to down two large mouthfuls to avoid spilling it all over my bed.
When I finally get the bottle away from me, the sound of laughter and the rush of straight vodka leave me flushed. “Stu!” I’m trying to yell at him, but his name is barely sputtered out between coughs. 
“What? This isn’t even 40 proof.” 
Billy glares in Stu’s direction before he sits up a little more. I let him tilt my chin up softly. His touch is feather light as he wipes excess liquid up my chin and across my bottom lip. The motion is slow, the nail of his thumb pressing into the edge of my lip, pulling it just enough for me to notice. He’s looking at me with such deliberation my stomach drops. 
Wow, I really cannot handle my alcohol. I pull away, hand gripping the side of my bed as cautiously as possible. “You suck, you know how I get when I drink.” 
I’ve only been drunk in front of them once. The entire group was together and after my first beer, I spent the rest of the night holding Tatum’s hand and whining whenever Stu tried to steal her away. He was starting to actually get annoyed with me, but I ended up getting super nauseous before he could actually get mad. The next day, he teased me to no end about being an extremely touchy lightweight. 
“You weren’t that bad,” Stu lies, hand casually reaching forward to catch my ankle. “Just touchy. Thought you and Tay were getting ready to put on a show.”
“Shut up.”
He yanks my foot towards him, placing my calf on his lap. “Make me.” 
I roll my eyes, nerves that I don’t understand rising up my chest at the silence that follows. I could laugh, but he doesn’t need that kind of encouragement, so instead I kick the foot he pulled towards him. The movement is light, more of an attempt to shake him off than anything else. Stu doesn’t take it that way. His hand moves up past my calf, fingers harshly pressing into my skin. 
I’m reminded of that night in the hospital. The way Stu gripped my thigh. Small bruises that I thought about more than I’d ever admit lingered there for days. He was joking then, and he’s joking now, but his touch feels different. More (or maybe less?) restrained. There’s also something about the way he’s looking at me. 
My head turns in Billy’s direction. “Think I could take him?” 
Billy looks at Stu and then at me. “You’d kick his ass.”
I grin openly, glad for the break from tension. Stu’s hold on my leg loosens. He’s no longer gripping onto me, but his touch is persistent as he draws patterns against my skin. The change doesn’t exactly ease me, but I’m worried trying to pull away will make things worse. Something tells me he won’t take it seriously, he’ll think I’m challenging him as a joke or something. 
“You wanna kick my ass?” Stu drags his fingers up my leg, stopping at my knee before slowly moving back down.
I shrug, “Not sure yet.” 
Stu rolls his eyes before extending the hand holding the bottle. “Decide after another sip.” When I dramatically glare at him, Stu smiles slightly. “I promise not to do anything this time. I’m still not convinced, and it doesn’t entirely have to do with Stu. I’m not sure I want to drink anymore, I’m already finding it hard to focus. “Tell her, Billy.” 
“I can’t help that she’s not an idiot.” 
Billy’s response isn’t even that funny, but I laugh freely anyways. Stu pouts at my reaction, pulling the bottle back towards him. “Fine, don’t trust me.” 
I’ve dealt with Stu’s coldness for days and he’s just starting to act normal again. The last thing I want is for there to be another fight, even if it’s just a petty one. With a roll of my eyes, I lean forward and grab the bottle. “Don’t be so dramatic,” I bring the bottle to my lips and take a quick drink. The liquid burns as it goes down. “See, I trust you.” 
Stu doesn’t relax. He just stares at me. Are his eyes darker than they were earlier or is the alcohol starting to get to me? I need an excuse to break eye contact. I raise the bottle again, taking another sip.
Billy’s touch on my back is easing, which is nice because the buzz is starting to kick in a lot stronger than I expected it to. There’s no way Stu was telling the truth when he said that the vodka’s less than 40 proof. “Have you had anything to eat?” He’s moving his hand in circles like he did when he found me in the bathroom. It’s more soothing than it should be. “Last time you didn’t you got sick.” 
His words are so calm I find myself giggling. “That’s very motherly of you.” Billy throws me a slightly irritated look. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, it’s nice.” My head tilts forward, the motion more drastic than I intended it to be. Billy places a hand on my cheek, stabilizing me. “I um--I ate. Ordered Pizza earlier. There’s still some in the kitchen if you guys are hungry. Or I could--could get you something to drink. My mom would be mad if she knew you guys were here, but she’d kill me if she knew I had people over and didn’t offer then anything to eat.”
Billy tilts his head downwards, a strand of hair falling forward. The urge to push it back into place leaves my fingers itching. “Does that mean you’re letting us stay?” 
What does that mean? They’ve been staying. It takes me a second to realize that he’s asking me if they’re staying the night. “It’s--” 
“Come on,” his voice is soft, his breath warm against my jaw, “We just want to help.” 
My thoughts are mush, and I’m not sure that’s just because of the alcohol. I lean back in hopes of creating some distance. “You guys can hang out,” I mumble, “But I don’t think you should stay too late. I’m kind of spacey and a little tipsy and tired. Think it’d be good for me to stay by myself tonight.” The answer feels awkward, maybe even a little risky. My eyes focus on the Princeton banner in the corner of the room. His silence is beginning to crawl under my skin. “Billy?” 
When I finally find the courage to look at him again, there’s something eerie about the blankness in his expression. His hand drops from my face. “It is getting late.” He glances at Stu, nodding his head once in the direction of the window. “Wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome.” 
I settle the bottle in my lap before wiping at my face with both hands. I should have known better. He takes things like that more personally than one would expect. Memories of the time Billy asked me if I wanted to study for our History test together after school leave me frozen in place. I had already promised to help Randy study for a math test. Billy was cold towards me for a week. 
“Billy.” He doesn’t look back at me. I scoot to the edge of my bed, placing the bottle on my nightstand. “Stu.” Stu glances at me, but says nothing. “Don’t go.” I can’t look at them. My nails dig into my bedsheets. “Come on, I-I need you guys.” 
God, I’m never drinking again. The admission is so embarrassing I can feel blood rush to my face. I don’t look up until fingers press in to the skin beneath my chin. My head is tilted upwards before I can make any kind of decision. 
“Need us?” Billy’s voice is low and unbearably patient. 
I blink up at him, unsure on how to proceed. I learned early on in our friendship that it takes little to trigger some kind of power trip in them, and that that tends to lead to meanness. But every part of that’s lost to the buzzed feeling of the alcohol doesn’t care. I nod slowly. 
I’d consider the slight uptilt of the corner of his mouth a smile if it wasn’t for the strange look behind his eye. He’s so hard to read sometimes and that just makes me resent the fact that I’ve always been an open book. He knew about my concussion before I did. “A little bit of alcohol is all it takes with you, huh?” 
His tone is so patronizing I’d pull away if I was any less fuzzy. “More than a little.” 
Billy lets out a partially amused breath. “To you.” 
“Remember how you got after two beers?” Stu sits next to me, so close our knees touch.
I shift back, forcing my eyes to stay on my lap. “That’s why I didn’t want to drink a lot, but some asshole tilted the bottle with no warning.” 
“Mean of them,” Stu agrees, shockingly amicable as he takes my hand from my lap. I watch as he messes with my fingers, curling and uncurling them like a child would with a toy. “Let us stay, bug. We’ll have fun, watch movies, I’ll go downstairs for you if you get thirsty in the middle of the night.” 
The specificness of that last part leaves me confused. I tilt my head in his direction, but Stu pays no mind to it. Billy half huffs, “I’d get you the water, Stu’s too selfish when he’s tired.” 
“Fuck you,” Stu protests, squeezing my hand once, “Maybe I’d do for it Y/n. Maybe I like her more than I like you.”
Billy barely justifies that response with a look in Stu’s direction. He then turns towards me, eyes softening slightly as he shakes his head once. Despite myself, I smile fondly. “It’s not that I don’t want you guys to stay, it’s that I don’t know if it’s okay.” 
Of course Stu’s the one to ask, “Why wouldn’t it be okay?” 
Even in my state, I know he knows exactly what I’m implying. He’s fighting a grin, enjoying the prospect of me having to say it a little too much. For once, I can’t use my mom as an excuse. There’s literally zero possibility of her finding out, she won’t be in the same state as us until Tuesday. The only way she’d find out is if I tell her and if I admit that I’m scared of letting it slip out, the mommy’s girl jokes will never end. 
“You know why,” I begin, watching Stu trace the line of my palms. “Don’t think Sid and Tatum would love the idea of their boyfriends...” He’s really going to make me say it. I resist the urge to pull my hand back into my lap and curl into myself. “...Having sleepovers with me.” 
The words are barely out of my mouth before Stu laughs. “You and Tay get up to a lot at your sleepovers?” 
The alcohol’s really getting to me because it takes me a second to understand the joke. My delayed eye roll is definitely noticed. “That’s not--it’s--” I pull my hand away, crossing my arms over my chest. “You know what I mean. It’s different.” 
“Why’s it so different?” 
That’s the kind of question I expect from Stu, but from Billy, it’s not as easy to dismiss with an eye roll and halfhearted shove. “It’d-it’d seem weird,” I whisper, “Tate and Sid--” 
“Would be happy that we’re keeping you safe. They love you.” Billy places a hand on my shoulder, his thumb brushing against the strap of my tank top. I was too distracted before to think about what I’m wearing, but now I can’t help noticing that this is the skimpiest I’ve ever worn in front of them. 
It’s not like I’m naked--but my old, elastic pajama shorts are the kind of thing I can’t wear around Wells. My tank top isn’t scandalous, but I’m too aware of the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. I also don’t love being seen in clothes like this. Two different types of insecurity strike at the same time.  
“Sid would kill me if I let anything happen to you,” Billy continues, his thumb moving up and down my skin. “C’mon.” 
This was always a losing fight. It’s kind of hard to put your foot down when it comes to something that you don’t really want. I know that my points are valid, or at least, I think they’re valid.
Maybe I am being a little dramatic. It’s not like we’re doing anything bad. Even if they didn’t have girlfriends, I really doubt either of them would see me like that. And is it so bad that I don’t want to be completely alone in this house? We’re friends, friends have sleepovers. Plus it is nighttime and they’ve been drinking, sending them to walk home could lead to something happening to them.
“Okay,” I give in, “But best behavior. My mom will kill me if she thinks you guys stayed over.”
“Aw,” Stu says, moving to rest his head on my shoulder, “Willing to keep a secret from your mom for us.” 
Instead of shaking Stu off, I rest my head against his. “Guess I like you guys.” 
“You’re cute when you’re sleepy.” 
I frown, “I’m not sleepy.” 
“Then let’s go watch a movie.” I pout when Stu moves away, “Come on, I brought options.”
Moving to sit closer to the edge of the bed, I wipe my eyes with the back of my palm tiredly. Stu brought more movies? For a spontaneous, tipsy visit, Stu seems remarkably prepared. He grabs the bottle off of my nightstand. The implications of that makes me sigh loudly. 
Billy reaches forward, grabbing my hand. “It’s easier to go along with it.” I let him help me to my feet. When I sway, Billy’s hand is quick to find my hip. “I’ll help you down the stairs.” 
I don’t protest. It’s probably for the best, anyways. Tipsy me isn’t exactly known for her coordination. 
True to his word, Billy’s hand stays on my hip as as we walk to the living room. Once we’re down the stairs, Billy’s hold on me doesn’t loosen. Stu’s already messing with the VCR by the time I’m sitting on the couch. I consider offering him some help, but decide against it. I’m comfortable, and probably too out of it to be useful.
Watching a movie feels like a good thing. Knowing them, it’s probably something scary, and they take their horror movies seriously. It’ll consume their attention, which means I’ll be able to recover from the alcohol in peace.
Stu must figure out the VCR because he stands up and walks towards us. He sits down next to me, stretching an arm over the back of the couch. “What’d you put on?”
"The Shining.” 
“Finished the book recently.” 
“Hm,” Stu hums in acknowledgement, already turning his full attention to the movie. 
The movie playing lets me relax. There’s no need to worry about doing anything stupid or embarrassing because the two of them are going to be immersed in what’s on the screen. 
Only a few minutes into the movie, Stu takes a sip from the bottle of alcohol. I almost forgot he brought that down with him. He then offers it to me without looking away from the TV. My hand wraps around the neck of the bottle. After a few sips, Billy takes it from me. He ignores the way I look at him, opting to drink even less than Stu did before setting the bottle down on the coffee table. 
I’ve watched The Shining before, and I’ve been meaning to rewatch it since finishing the book, but focusing isn’t coming easily to me right now. At least I know enough about to plot to not be confused as my thoughts tune in and out.
My head ends up on Billy’s shoulder. I don’t remember making the conscious choice to do so, but I’m comfortable and Billy doesn’t shake me off, he just brushes his knuckles up and down my leg absentmindedly. 
The longer the movie continues, the harder I find it to understand what’s going on. Maybe it’s because I’m tired, maybe it’s because the bottle somehow keeps making its way back to me.
I blink hard, trying to figure out what point of the movie we’re at. We’re not near the end, Jack Torrence hasn’t fully snapped yet, but his writer’s block is getting bad. A confident touch to my left knee snaps me out of my analysis. My head turns against Billy’s shoulder. Stu’s eyes are still trained on the movie, but his hand is on my leg, and not in a casual, mindless way, either. 
He squeezes my knee as the little boy rides his tricycle past room 237. “Stu.” His fingertips trail up my inner thigh slowly, lingering where my shorts end. I shift, unintentionally pressing myself more into Billy. Stu presses his hand down in order to keep my leg in place. “Stu.” What’s meant to be a scolding comes out too sleepy and slurred. It practically sounds like a whine.  “’M serious.” 
Stu’s nails drag up my skin. My breath catches in my throat oddly, a tiny sound slipping out. “Serious about what?” My lips part, but no words are ready to come out. “You’re okay,” he whispers, “Just watch the movie, angel.” I’m too buzzed to do anything but nod. “Want more to drink?” 
“She’s done,” Billy squeezes my forearm, “Anymore and she’ll get sick.”
The thought of drinking anymore does twist my stomach. Sometimes the way Billy reads people is a tiny bit eerie. I nod against his arm, squeezing his hand. Stu shrugs, turning back to the movie without moving his hand from my thigh.
By the time the movie’s ending, the fact that I’m aware of anything is a miracle. I only fell asleep once and woke up to the feeling of Stu squeezing my thigh. The fact that my initial reaction wasn’t to try to get him to knock it off, but to pretend to still be asleep scared me so much I didn’t let myself relax for the rest of the movie. 
"She asleep?” Stu’s voice is barely louder than the sound of still rolling credits. 
I shift against Billy in a sad attempt to sit up fully with no support. “Still awake,” my voice is too drowsy, I try a little harder to sit up before wiping my eyes. “’M up.”
Billy keeps a hand on my arm in an attempt to help stabilize me. “Clearly.” I try throwing a sarcastic look in his direction, but it feels kind of pathetic. “Let’s get you to bed.” 
Stu grabs my hand, pulling on my arm before I can respond. They help me stand and stay up. They’re attentive as we move up the stairs, pausing and holding me a little tighter each time I threaten to sway or stumble. I’m barely there by the time we get to my room.
The second I see my bed, I abandon them both in favor of finding my mattress. I stumble, pulling back my sheets before laying down. Billy sits down on the other side of the bed. I roll onto my stomach in order to reach for him. My hand falls short, but Billy moves to compensate for my lethargy. 
I can barely lift my head off of the mattress, “Hi.” 
His hand is on my back, moving in small circles. “Hi,” he echoes. I smile at nothing in particular as I try to keep my eyes open. “You need sleep.” 
With a laugh, I turn onto my back. Billy moves his hand away, looking at me sternly as I continue to giggle. “Astute observation.” I lazily try to wipe the sleep from my eyes. “Weird word, huh?” Using the last of my energy to sit up, I laugh again. The sound gets cut short by a yawn. “Never really thought about it before the SAT.” 
“Uh-huh,” Stu starts, placing a hand on my shoulder, “You spent who knows how long with your nose in an SAT prep book, we get it. Now go to sleep.” 
My head lulls to the side, mainly subconscious protest must be visible on my face because Stu pushes against my shoulder and that’s all it takes for my back to fall flat against my bed. My eyes go wide in surprise. I shift like I want to sit up, but then decide to just roll onto my side. “That wasn’t nice.” 
He sits next to me, “I’ll make it up to you in the morning.” My eyes are now shut but I can hear his movements. The feel of a hand brushing against my side should alarm me more. I open my eyes just enough to see Stu lying next to me. “Promise.” 
I hum vaguely in agreement, nodding my head more into my sheets than anything else. I’m so close to sleep I barely register the feeling of Billy’s hand against my back, moving in the same circular motions as before.
The last thing I register before falling fully asleep is the light getting turned off and long fingers brushing against my neck. I’m in a state that’s more dream than reality when something oddly sharp--but not painful--quickly brushes against my neck. Before I can think about it, I’m pulled under. 
----
Narrator’s POV
Stu can’t help it. He’s been trying to keep it together all night, trying to pace himself and hold onto the way he’s supposed to act, but it’s been getting increasingly harder around you. Especially tonight.
The urge to break character, in a sense, isn’t his fault. Not really. How is he supposed to focus and play best friend’s boyfriend when you’re everywhere? The postures and pictures on your wall, the overflowing, well loved bookshelf in the corner, and your sheets. The dainty floral pattern, the softness of the cotton, and the way that they smell so much like you. He can’t stop imagining what it’d feel like to press your face into them as you took him from behind. 
He thought being in your room would be easy. It’s not like he’s never checked it out before, but only while you weren’t home. But being here with you? A drunk, touchy, needy you? Almost impossible. He’s been trying to hide how hard he is all night. 
But now you’re asleep, and the alcohol he kept getting you to drink is guaranteed to keep you that way until late morning. His hands have been all over you since he first realized that your breathing evened out. He moves one hand to palm himself over his pants. His free hand trails down your side, squeezing your hip. 
“Go to sleep.” Billy’s voice isn’t tired, just a little flat, and maybe a tiny bit annoyed.
 Stu recognizes the lack of demand in Billy’s tone and decides that his words are more of a ‘knock it off’ than a serious ‘stop’. “Like you’re not hard.” Stu’s fingers brush against the hem of your shorts. “Y/n said she needed us and then spent two and a half hours basically laying on top of you.” Stu slips his hand beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, knowing that with a few more words he could finally get some release. “Remember yesterday?” Stu groans, his hand moving down his length. “You came to the thought of that.” 
Billy stays still, ignoring a feeling he’s been in control of since early in the night. “It’s too soon.” He glances at you, so tired and so needy. “We push anymore tonight and we won’t be able to blame it on drinking.” Your breath flutters slightly, your chest expanding a bit more than usual. “If she thinks anything’s up she won’t talk to us anymore. She’s still too close to Sidney and Tatum.” 
“Relax,” Stu sighs, his hand moving a little bit faster, “Sh-she drank enough to keep her knocked out until tomorrow. Fuck.” Stu turns his head at the sound of Billy moving. He frowns dramatically when he realizes that the movement was just Billy brushing his knuckles over your cheek in order to sooth you and make sure you’re still sleeping comfortably. “You’re babying her, we should just talk her into it already.” Stu likes the thought of that more than he can put into words. The three of you, like it should be. “Should’ve felt her when my hand was on her thigh. She--fuck--she was shaking, pretending to be asleep.” 
Billy lets out a breath, reaching over for Stu lazily. You don’t even shift at the motion. “You think I’m babying her, but she’s the one that has you wrapped around her finger.” 
Stu parts his lips to protest, but Billy pushes his hand beneath the waistband of Stu’s pants before he can get the words out. “Shit,” Stu’s breath hitches, “Fuck you, Y/n lets me do whatever I wan-want.” Billy moves his hand at a pace that’s agonizing. “She wouldn’t stop me if I-” 
Stu cuts himself off with a groan. Billy finishes the sentence for him, “If you spread her legs apart, pulled those tiny shorts to the side, and ate her out until she’s crying.” With each word, Billy picks up his pace, indifferent to Stu’s whines. “You want to do that?” 
“Yes,” Stu doesn’t hesitate, “Fuck, yes.” 
“She’d squirm under you like before.” God, Stu’s practically seeing stars. “She’d let us fuck her like a whore.” 
Stu bites his tongue to suppress a whine, his fingertips digging into your hip. “Shit, I’m close.” 
Billy moves his hand up, pulling it away from Stu slowly. He ignores Stu’s whine. “Go to sleep.”
----
Taglist: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129
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paradoxolotl · 10 months
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OH PARA MY DARLING!!! :))))
For the writer ask can I beg to see a snippet of Neil being banned from another coffee shop (Andrew's maybe 👀) or what led to him being banned from half the coffee shops?? (From Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage)
My beloved PAS ♥️
Unusual Asks for Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage
~
“Sir.”
Neil took a slow sip of his coffee. Only his third cup of the day. Or hour. He couldn’t remember anymore. The beauty of a deadline he had pretended to prepare for rearing it’s ten hours until due highlight covered head? Kevin’s “inhuman level of coffee consumption” ban was lifted.
Not that Neil followed it all that closely anyways. What did Kevin know.
“Sir.”
He flicked his eyes up and to the left, hand still blindly typing away at his keyboard. He had a word count to hit after all. The familiar death glare of a service employee not paid enough to give a proper fuck but forced to anyways waited for him. Usually, Neil continued silence turned most people away, or at least made them uncomfortable enough to spit out whatever they decided was worth interrupting him over. But this one only glowered harder, jaw setting.
“Ma’am.” It turned up at the end like a question, but Neil’s voice held too much faux pleasantry to be recognized as such.
Nostrils flared on her inhale. “Sir-” and honestly the amount of complete disdain and over your bullshit she packed into that single word even impressed him- “you need to leave. Now.”
Oh boy, this was almost worth pausing an essay for. Neil finished his sentence. “I’m actually pretty busy at the moment,” he said, turning back to his work. Was a Freudian mention too much? He tapped the space key twice, not quite hard enough to move his cursor. Probably not.
“Sir.”
“Jesus,” Neil muttered. He needed more coffee. Matching her glare with one of his own, Neil shook his cup, the pitiful remains just enough to splash against the sides. “I’m a paying customer. You can’t just kick me out for no reason.”
“You taped crime scene photos to our windows!” she snapped. And well. Okay yes, that was true. He didn’t need to spare a glance to see the expanse of carnage he had set up.
“It’s for research,” he said.
She jabbed a finger at the cup in his hand. “And that isn’t even from here.”
Neil glanced down. The cup sported the bright orange colours of Fox & Nip Cafe. He looked up to the hat the employee was wearing. It was purple, with The Drip stitched in white across the front. Slowly, he raised the cup to his mouth, tipping the last of it into his mouth.
“I’ve told you guys before. I don’t see what the problem is,” he said. “Your coffee is shit. You know that right? I could order a triple shot and it wouldn’t even hit me. It’s an art, how you’ve taken something so easy and weakened it to the point of threatening extinction.”
Turning in his chair, Neil pointed to the man not even pretending not to be watching. “Your coffee is shit!” he said, making the man jump. He turned back to the employee. “This is literally the worst coffee is town. You have two things going for you: the tables are big enough to work at and your muffins aren’t sweet like fucking cakes. If I have to provide my own passable coffee, I should be allowed to use the space provided to finish my work.”
If looks could kill. “Get the fuck out,” she said.
Neil had three rules he lived by. Number two: when a retail employee drops the word fuck as a promised threat, it’s time to go.
Tossing her a quick salute, Neil shoved his laptop back into his bag and left everything else behind. He didn’t really need the photos anyways.
Two blocks down, he pulled out a small notebook from a side pocket. With a sigh, he crossed out The Drip from his list.
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r-adio · 1 month
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⋆ NAME?: jack
⋆ PRONOUNS?: he/him
⋆ MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?:  alastor, my little guy
⋆ RP PET PEEVES?:  not cutting posts is the top one for me, i say as i forget to cut my own posts sometimes
⋆ EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: i'm ancient, from the skype days, so probably about 10+ years at this point. i've had blogs since i was much too young to have blogs i would say.
⋆ FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?:  i'm a FLUFF king, i love a good fluff thread. i just like writing the characters doing little mediocre things, it makes me happy. angst is alright to me, too sad & it makes me sad, so i'm not fully sold on it. smut i will only really write with certain people if i'm honest, which i likely will not be doing on this blog.
⋆ PLOTS OR MEMES?: i'm a memes kind of guy. i cannot be trusted to plot out a thread & actually write the starter for it. i go by winged things nine out of ten times. it's just easier to get a hold of me if you go for one of my short starter calls or send me a meme honestly. i'm a horrible starter writer.
⋆ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?:  i'm a medium kind of reply person, but i can keep up with anything. though i will admit, if the replies are too short i have a hard time holding an interest in it. i like the middle ground between para and liner stuff.
⋆ TIME TO WRITE?:  after i take my adhd meds honestly, once they kick in i'm usually good to go. though usually it's right after work for me, i like to come home & destress after a shift by writing is usually what i go for.
⋆ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: i like to think so, in some ways. we have some similarities. but i wouldn't go as far to say that i am exactly like him by any means. i think in order to write a muse you probably have to vibe with them by some kind of common ground. but i definitely am not a serial killer, nor do i think murder is okay. though i do love his dramaticism & most other things about him, so maybe we are on the same wavelength to some degree. it might just be the fact that neither of us shuts the fuck up tbh
tagged by @jizzlords tagging @l-ucitiel , @xluciifer , @spiderslvts , @angeliclunette , @knifvd , @zestials , @outforlve , @prnkill
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thana-topsy · 9 months
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If you're up for sharing more writing tips, how can I tell if what I've written is actually any good? With writing I get stuck in a cycle of feeling like I'm the next Shakespeare while writing but then I'll look over my work a few days later and absolutely hate everything and think it's the most cringe shit ever, then I'll leave it a bit longer and think eh it's not as bad as I thought but still not great and so on. I feel like being forced to write for a grade during school and having everything be marked and assessed and assigned a particular value has robbed me of the ability to critically analyse my own work in a way that's objective and accurate but also fair and realistic. I can analyse other peoples' stuff till the cows come home but I lose all rational thought when it comes to my own stuff
Adding onto that, how do I get to the point where I can stop looking back at my old work and hating everything and wanting to delete it all? Realistically I know finding fault with my old stuff is good bc it means I've grown and improved from where I once was etc but at the same time I wanna enjoy stuff I've made in the past without cringing every time I read it
Hey there Nony, I wanted to let this one percolate a little bit before answering because I've been where you are. And it's a rough time for sure. But aside from my own experiences, I also wanted to get the opinions of some of my writerly friends in the fandom, too, since everyone is a little font of wisdom in their own right.
So I'm going to share their advice alongside my own, because this is kind of a complicated string of questions you're asking. Long post ahead!
@paraparadigm says to Keep Writing: "Write more. Write so much (and so many different things) that eventually the sheer volume bulldozes over self-devouring ego, comparison twitches, or feeling lost, because you don't yet know your own baseline. Coupled with "read more, read everything, read things you enjoy and things you don't, read for the craft as much as the entertainment." And: "I'd add that when revisiting old writing, it's helpful for me to differentiate between "ew the writing is not as technically solid as it is now" and "ah that's interesting, I guess that's where I was at then, emotionally and psychologically". Old writing is also a sort of archaeological record of your younger self, and that can, in fact, be a bit itchy to revisit, so learning to cherish that without passing judgement can be really helpful. I try to treat it like those little marks one puts on the door jamb to track a kid's height."
@mareenavee says "Part of it is writing more, as Para said and I will always second that. Another part is, honestly, the hardest part. It's to try very hard to get out of the habit of negative self-talk.... There's so much work involved with this but normalizing being proud of your work and having some grace with yourself is part of that answer."
@archangelsunited says "Early on, instead of going “this has to be a masterpiece” I would tell myself my only job was to tell a story. I couldn’t tell a story if I was deleting it. Also, talking about your work helps. The less ashamed I was of my writing, the more people wanted to read it. There is a need to hide your work, and that can lead to a downward spiral all its own. And, 90% of the time, you have to suck at something to learn to be good at something. The work you already wrote shouldn’t be the sum of all your skill, it should be one of those measuring sticks for the moment. Despite previous thought, you won’t be stuck at the same level forever."
@polypolymorph says "In addition to accumulating experience via reading and writing, you also have to be willing to reinvent the wheel. Unfortunately the Process™️ is unique to everyone, and even when you are deliberately mimicking a voice as, say, a ghost writer, you can't expect that 2+2=4 for you. Your process might look more like a Lotka-Volterra equation for the same type of work and that's okay. Trial and error is the best way to figure out what advice actually works for you--and if it doesn't, it doesn't mean you're wrong. Don't get stuck on pop writing advice like a sad roomba does on an upturned rug. Learn when to throw it out."
So there's some advice from some other excellent writers! I hope you've been able to find some value in their advice, because it certainly kicked me in the pants a few times.
As for me, I think, having been where you are, my biggest piece of advice is: Find joy in the craft. Get curious instead of critical. An artist shouldn't down themselves over a rough sketch when they're working out a drawing, so why would a writer do such a thing? Everything you write is practice. Everything you make has value because it builds up to the next thing you make.
At the end of the day, you are the only one who is capable of telling the stories that are in your head. This fact alone gives whatever you put onto paper value, regardless of quality. You are creating magic, in the most literal sense! Creating something out of nothing, conjuring images into someone else's mind from hundreds of thousands of miles away, transcending space and time. It's amazing!
Lastly, my final piece of advice is to just write for fun. Write things nobody else will ever see just because you wanted to get words onto paper. You have to unlearn what was drilled into you in school. You are more than a content creation machine. You are an artist, a wordsmith. And just know that there will never be a day when you look at your own work and say "That's it, I have achieved perfection."
Writing is a life-long journey. Just enjoy the ride!
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