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#i think hes professional as fuck definitely
faetreides · 3 days
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modern!feyd thoughts? is he crazier than modern! coryo? i feel like modern feyd would be like a underground boxer or something
this ask is crazy because it’s so good. like i haven’t even considered modern!feyd before but the underground boxer element is 😋, went with the typical opposites attract hello kitty s/o trope again SORRY, mdni (AFAB reader)
Yeah something that like or mixed mma, i do imagine him in a more athletic field but it’d have to be one where he’s allowed to make a spectacle of being violent. The rookie that has a borderline demonic reputation because he’s so vicious. And sometimes he doesn’t even go into fights with winning being the first thing on his mind, he wants a good show as much as the audience does and he wants blood in whatever capacity he can get it.
He’s for sure crazier than Coryo, like lock them into a room together and Feyd’s skinning and deboning him like a fish. Still far removed from how he is in canon obviously, but i think that he does do the same extreme facial expressions during a match to psych his opponent out. Feyd wants to make it big, yes, but more so because he wants a bigger “stage” to have more people see him at his most raw and real.
But he stays because he knows no professional organization worth their salt would turn the other cheek when he loses control and kills his opponent. Not that that’s a common occurrence or anything, but the chance of it happening is never zero.
(His uncle definitely has a hand in the betting that goes on at his matches, and even places his own bets from time to time. Feyd’s resentment grows with every rigged match. He’s an unhinged freak with a penchant for blood lust, but he does still want to win at the end of the day when he’s done playing with his food)
You’re in the crowd for one of his matches. Attracted by the mystery and the taboo nature of what he does. You look nervous, rocking from side to side as your eyes follow every punch and dodge. You’re out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb in your tennis skirt and hello kitty necklace. There’s no date hanging on your arm or friend chatting your ear off, which leaves you ripe for the picking.
He keeps an intrigued watch on you out of the corner of his eye, hollering and crowding his opponent against the ring. He hopes you’re watching as he pummels his fists into the sorry bastard’s face. The low lights and the cheers from drunks and gamblers get his blood pumping. Even through all that background noise, he hears you softly gasp as teeth clatter to the floor.
Underground Boxer!Feyd who stares you right in the eyes when he’s declared the victor of the match, clocking how much you’re playing with the hem of your skirt. He smiles, a gross expression stained crimson and spits at his feet. It’s a good thing you’re so strangely accepting, his muscles are too sore to chase you down through back alleys and city streets.
He’ll burn through his winnings to give you the life you deserve, and he’ll wash the blood off you both when you get home after a fight. He can’t wait to see how you react to the motorcycle he’s got parked outside.
Fucks you against the cage when no one else is there and on his motorcycle. Gives you backshots in the shower, killing two birds with one stone. Bends you over his prize money and makes you squirt until you pass out on top of it.
Mean mean mean bf but he loves his favorite cheerleader with everything he has.
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billthedrake · 2 days
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(This one is a riff from an idea a reader suggested.)
SIX COORS LATER
Sean Bennett woke up a little groggy. He probably had a couple too many beers last night.
The ex-QB told himself he should be a more responsible man. His wife had just borne their third kid six months ago, fer chrissake. But Sean's job had him on the road every week during the college ball season, put up in one soulless luxury hotel room after another. He'd had an amazing run as an NFL quarterback, with some ups and downs to be sure, and now how had an enviable gig being a sports commentator for college ball. Saturday night, after the broadcast, was his chance to let loose a little.
Only Sean realized he wasn't in a hotel room. The ex-athlete's eyes adjusted to the early morning dimness. He was definitely in a bedroom. Some modern condo or apartment, sparsely decorated. A dude's bedroom.
Just then the sportscaster hunk felt the warmth of another body scoot up next to him, placing a thickly muscled forearm over Sean's still-fit and manscaped upper body.
"Hmmmm," came the deep voice cracking in morning voice. The dude scooted up next to him as Sean tried to remembered any details about the guy but was coming up short. Even on the name. Jason? Justin? Jesse? Jackson? Fuck.
The man felt nice. Probably around Bennett's age. Late 30s with a cross-fit body. A work-hard, play-hard professional. BIG Michigan fan. A very thick uncut cock and a sexual stamina that could go multiple rounds. Funny how those details were coming back to the ex-jock so easily.
Maybe it was that hard thick shaft pressing into Sean's hips and the way the fan's hand was pawing at Sean's hard body, even if in a groggy slowness.
"Hm... you probably should go soon, bro... my girlfriend gets back in town this morning."
Sean nodded, but didn't make a move to slip out of the guy's warm bed. Hell, those powerful arms felt SO good. Bennett enjoyed a man's touch from time to time, but he rarely stayed around for the morning, for the more sobered up experience of this. Just a second longer, he thought.
Thing was, Jackson or Justin or whoever wasn't letting go. His kisses traveled up Sean's neck, finding that sensitive trigger spot right behind Bennett's ear, the one that makes the ex-athlete wanna put out. Just like he'd found it so effortlessly last night.
"Yes," Sean hissed. It was only then that he was aware of his own cock, a shank of morning wood that jerked excitedly, now awake. And Jackson's hand was drifting down those washboard abs, over the trimmed light fur to finally touch that QB bone.
"You fuckin' horndog," the guy muttered with a clear lust. Then after he kissed that spot again, he added with a louder voice, "Turn over."
The two had fucked three times the previous night, twice in one go and once waking up at 3 in the morning. But they hadn't done this position. Without ceremony Jackson was crawling on top of Sean's prostrate body, kissing along the shoulder blades and then back at the neck. Sean could feel the guy's hard, hairier muscle on his back and that thick wedge of uncut dick press into his surprisingly wet ass cleft.
The top took a second to enjoy that mounting position before he reached down to guide his fat dong into place. "God, you're still wet with my cum," he said. His voice was clearer now, fully awake.
Sean blushed. He'd been a little drunk when he agreed to come back to Jackson's place, and he wished he was drunk now. At least his hole was loosened up, fully, for this thick tool. The first time Bennett had been shafted by a large cock was a mindblowing experience, but now he got excited by girth even more than length. And Jackson brought he girth.
It was now four solid inches inside him. The hunk was clearly excited, kissing Sean some more. "Bro... I used to jack off so much thinking about doing this to you," he said.
Then, all of a sudden, the top powered the rest of that fat prick into Sean's guts.
"FUCK!" Bennett exclaimed. Not in pain but definitely uncomfortable and surprised.
"You got this, bro," Jackson urged. Sean could tell from the edge in his voice he was eager just to start fucking, and that scared the ex-QB. "You took me like a pro last night."
"Give me a sec, OK?" Bennett pleaded.
"Yeah," came the reply. But a second later, Jackson was reaching over for something. The hand came back, right to Sean's face and it was the smell that made him recognize the poppers.
"Come on, bro," came the guy's voice. Urging Sean to sniff the fumes. "I need to pound one off real bad, and I don't got a lot of time."
One of these days Sean Bennett would learn self-respect. Today, he sniffed the amyl, one nostril then the other.
The heat hit his body just at the right time. Jackson liked to fuck hard and fast, using his whole muscled body. That thick tool was plunging in and out of Sean's guts and felt INTENSE. Only now it was intense in a good way, making the ex-jock's insides buzz.
"Fuck, that cunt is so squishy, man," Jackson hissed.
Indeed, they could both hear the sloshy slick sounds of each inward thrust and Sean could feel excess cum dripping down between his legs, and over his ball sac. Just that tickling trickle made Bennett rock hard against the guy's bedsheets. The bottom didn't know how much was the amount of cum Jackson had shot inside him last night and how much was the girth of the cock forcing the load out with each shove.
"Bro... you're milking it right out of me man... Gonna milk my load right out into that hot ass of yours.... oh SHIT!"
The heaving body went rigid on top of him, and Sean knew he was getting loaded up for the fourth time in 12 hours. He knew when the poppers wore off, he'd regret this. He'd gone cold turkey actually a few years back, and even when he started fooling with guys again, he told himself it would be more of an occasional thing.
And now he felt about 210 pounds of masculine dude rest the full body weight on his stretched out body. Jackson felt heavy, but Sean didn't want the guy to break body contact not yet. That fat dong was still jerking inside him, undoubtedly still shooting some dribbles deep up in him.
Finally the guy shifted on top of him but didn't push himself off. Instead, Jackson reached around to find Bennett's tool. Still rock hard and still leaking so much he didn't need lube.
"Aw fuck!" Sean gasped as he felt the hand stroke his prick. Combined with that very stuffed, very loaded feeling, the very touch of Jackson's hand was magic.
Sean heard a soft chuckle in his ear as the top leaned forward and jerked Sean with determined strokes. The dude had a great touch, for sure.
"Come on, bro," he urged. "You wanna..."
"Yeah," Sean replied. He wanted to. He wanted to let this hot stud play him like a violin. It was the opposite of sex with his wife, when he did all the work. Now, the QB was the penetrated one, passively worked over by a man who knew what he was doing.
The pissslit stung just a second once the cum barreled out, it was that kind of orgasm.
"Nice!" Jackson hissed and kissed Sean's neck once more. "Let it out, buddy."
Sean did. Maybe because he hadn't shot load for load with Jackson's orgasms, and he was behind in the count. Maybe because he loved his mounted position more than he wanted to admit.
He'd barely had time to come down from the high of his cum when that hand withdrew and that thick dong finally retreated from his clenched asshole, but not before dragging some of that fresh deposit with it.
Sean felt a pat to his rump and felt the bed shift as Jackson slid off the bed. His host walked over and undid the bedroom curtains, letting in the dawn light.
Slowly Bennett turned on his side to get a good look. He was embarrassed to realize he could barely remember what Jackson looked like. But he was getting a good look now. About 6-foot-even, handsome more than cute, thinning brown hair, blue eyes. Back in the day, Bennett liked the thrill of fucking around with big-league athletes and coaches, then he went through a phase of being into regular guys... fans, married men, guy next door types. Jackson was in a different league, with an incredible body yet still carried himself like a regular dude.
"God, you're hot," Sean said before his mind could censor what his libido was thinking.
That made Jackson paused and turn toward the NFL star. He let out a little laugh and smiled, "Man, you're a trip," he said.
From the new angle, Sean could see that hard muscle beneath the brown body fur, rounded and ripped, and just how thick and heavy that dong was, even soft, swaying beneath a large nutsac. If this dude wanted to go for round five...
"Your girlfriend is probably on her way," Sean said instead, injecting reality as he sat up in bed. He knew he had a great body, but could see in the way Jackson's eyes swept over his form that the top was definitely starstruck himself.
"Yeah," he said with a little sadness. "Her flight lands around 7."
Sean nodded. He wasn't gonna make trouble for this dude. He slid out of bed and felt proud as Jackson just watched, staring like a wolf circling the hen house.
As Sean got dressed, his host slipped on some gym shorts and walked out to the kitchen to make some coffee.
The ex-QB knew this was gonna be one hell of a walk of shame. Still suited up from the night before. His cohost and work buddy Curt Collins ould probably razz him for going home with one of those dudes from their bar outing.
But even as the regrets were sinking in, the sex had been worth it. Sean made sure he looked presentable and that he had everything. Then he walked to find Jackson shirtless and hunky as hell, drinking his coffee and scrolling through his phone.
The guy looked up with that look again. The look of a man who'd had his bucket list fantasy satisfied in the biggest way.
"She's in an uber now," he said. "You good, man?" he asked. Maybe worried Sean was freaking out some.
"Yeah," Bennett replied. "I'm good."
It was Jackson who seemed shy now. "Well..." he started. Then he picked up a folded scrap of paper and handed it to Sean. "In case you're back in town," he added. "It's my Google number, just be discreet."
"I usually don't," Sean said, taking the paper nonetheless.
"I get it," Jackson said. "Shoot your shot, right?"
That made Sean laugh. This guy was just a normal dude. He stuffed the paper into his suit pocket.
"A final kiss at least?" Jackson asked.
Sean smiled and stepped up. The dude was a few inches shorter but their heights matched well. Their kiss was soft and surprisingly sensual.
"I taste like stale beer," Sean apologized.
"Yeah you do," Jackson said with a smile. "It's cool though. You're a good kisser. We didn't do enough last night."
They kissed again.
"Fuck!" Jackson finally hissed. Sean knew why.
"All right," the athlete said. "Take care."
Sean was in the Uber back to his hotel before he pulled out the folded paper. The handwriting was simple and masculine, more neat than a scrawl. "Matt," it read. The phone number.
So that was his name, Sean thought.
He didn't know the next time he'd be in this city. Probably once next season, though maybe his travels would bring him here again. Maybe Matt would want to come to Ft. Lauderdale, or even Miami.
Doofus, he thought to himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? Sean took another look at that piece of paper then picked up his phone.
"Hey, great to meet you. SB." was all his message said. He typed it, looked it over, and hit Send.
No reply immediately. Matt was probably showering up, or washing the sheets. Maybe the girlfriend was already home.
Instead a text came in. Collins. "Tell me you had as much fun as I did last night." Sean couldn't remember who his buddy and colleague had chatted up. Maybe one of Matt's buddies. Hell, THAT could have been Jackson. Or Jason. Whatever.
"Probably more," he typed back with a grin. "What happens in Austin stays in Austin, right?"
"Right-O," Curt typed. "They grow 'em big down here in Texas dont they buddy?"
Sean smiled. His hole ached to think of Matt's huge dong. "They sure do man."
He'd find a way, any excuse, to come back before next year. Somehow.
He slid his phone in his pocket and shut his eyes just to rest them. He'd need a major nap on the plane ride for sure.
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dairy-farmer · 24 hours
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Sneaking back iiiin~☆ After a period of being away o/
D-Lister Otome Powers POG? I think SO! CONSIDER:
Tim, out on patrol, things have been... tense. He's gotten Bruce back from the timeline, but it hasn't FIXED anything. Things were said. He spiraled. Trust was betrayed. He doesn't... he doesn't feel like he HAS a home anymore.
Dick feels betrayed and worried TOO. He needed Tim's support. Instead he broke down, went rouge, and nearly DIED. Didn't explain ANYTHING. Now he's drifting away from the family.
Bruce is barely recovered. His family is in pieces around him and he's pretty sure it's his fault.
So... Patrol is... Professional. Tense. Like it has been for days.
Red Robin is checking out some minor disturbance. Discovers clues that it's some INCREDIBLY naive or foolish out-of-towner who thinks they can "make a name for themselves" in America's crime capital. Idiot is going to get himself killed.
But why target a minor gaming company?
No matter, RR can handle it. He's tired, patrols nearly over. Should be quick.
The days after weeks of hurt and hypertense emotions have left him exhausted. Making mistakes he would normally NEVER make. Like going after an unknown alone. No matter how small they SEEM.
You could always be wrong.
And that KILLS.
Batman trained him better then that. Bruce, catches his plan, too late. Is blocks away. Can hear, through Tim's comms, the most terrifying sort of confidence in that opponents voice. Not fool hardy overconfidence. Not arrogance. But "I have a nasty trick that I KNOW you can't counter". Tim. Tim, get out of there! TIM!
Red Robin does not respond.
And Tim? Wakes up with a splitting headache. Too... honestly? What looks A LOT frilly, hyper feminine version of one of Drake Manor's guest rooms. But with "personal touches" added to make it LOOK like someone supposedly lives here. Too generic though. And too artfully placed. It looks like a movie set.
Where the fuck is h-*DING!*
Then a blue screen like some of the holographic screens he's seen before, pops up. "Welcome to ☆~Knights In Gotham~☆! Complete the game or be trapped forever~♡!" It reads in cutesy font.
Well that ONE way to get him out of bed. But unfortunately, it takes less then 15 minutes to confirm that he is, indeed, not in his native reality. MIGHT be drugged or hypnotized. He'll have to test. But the whole new reproductive set, suggest otherwise.
So he pokes around. Speed runs his emotional "I'm trapped, might never see my family again. No. No! I WILL escape!" Character arc/mental breakdown in the shower. Finds some pants.
Figures out what sort of game this is. It's an Otome game. Dating. Based on? His FAMILY. Fffffuck his life.
Okay, should be TOO bad right? People never get their personalities right in fan stuff. Thanks to the Bats being Cryptids. So Tim can just pretend they're other people, right?
Wrong.
The game world he quickly realizes, is using HIS knowledge to fill in the blanks of the massively unfinished framework. This assholes Meta powers? Can only trap him IN here. He's not in control of it. NO ONE IS. Oh, that's so much worse.
Outside? Bruce has BatDad'd panic beat downed the Otome Meta. Where is his BABY BOY!? He can't answer you unconscious, Bruce. Thankfully, Dick is observant. There us a computer on. With Tim on it. He puts two and two together. They are able to keep the power on and transfer the computer to the cave.
Meanwhile? Tim is staring down a Bruce in FULL Brucie Mask. Debating with himself. Because on ONE hand? Childhood wet dreams: Get? But on the OTHER, baggage for daaaaays. And there us no guarantee this isn't a PG title. So like? Bruce would DEFINITELY be the hardest Route, wouldn't he?
He has no idea what he's doing.
He doesn't PLAY these type of games.
He figures, since demon child DOESNT have a reason to hate him here? Probably the safest bet. Especially since he won't feel as bad manipulating a version of him. It should be fine right?
Wrong. He doesn't play these sort of games. Is unaware of how they work and what's at stake. He bungles it. Doesn't play to the troupes, gets his first Bad End. He knew just a touch TOO much, too soon, too openly. Damian's character became convinced he was either a Rouge or an Assassin. But! He got all those "heart event" thingies! Tim mentally protests!
Which is why it doesn't just cut to black, a sudden attack from behind, "Game Over".
No, Tim wakes up behind bars. In a bunker. Nicer then a prison cell, but only just. Because Damian LOVES him. But can not allow him to continue his criminal ways. So he's going to rehabilitate him. By force if necessary. And he knows, because he is not a fool, that Tim does not truely love him. But?
He can fix that too.
They have time.
Outside? Actual Damian is horrified. His feelings towards Drake are... complexe. But this?! Absolutely not! He lunges forward. Dick is trying desperately to hit the Restart. It's not working. Damian hits it HARDER. It works immediately. (They later realize only the "Route" target can restart the game)
Tim wakes up in the starting room.
This time he fuckin LOOKS UP Otome Games on a computer.
Takes a bracing shot of whiskey, because this IS Drake Manor and he knows where his parents hid the good stuff, and tries again. Gets the Neutral End. Fuck! Okay, tries AGAIN. Gets shot, Game Over. Oh god damn it!
He keeps going.
Nothing seems to be WORKING. He's getting stressed. Lonely, desperate, hopelessness trying to set in. He just... just wants to feel WARM you know? Reassured. Held. Knows he's not thinking clearly, but...
So he goes after "Brucie". He KNOWS Bruce. Knows how he picks his one night stands. Knows how to dress up just enough, just OFF enough, to not be suspicious. It's a bad idea. He knows it as he gets dressed. As he arrives. Flirts. Charms and drinks, but not too much. Let's himself be tucked under Bruce's arm. Led away.
Kon always said he was great with his mouth. From the way "Brucie" tenses, like iron under the sild of his suit, holding himself back from grabbing and being rougher then his reputation would allow? He'd say Bruce agrees. Tim certainly puts his all into it. Let's himself lose himself to the rhythm of movement. The scent of Bruce's cologne. The slide over his tounge.
Stolen moments though, aren't enough to get to everything Bruce wants.
The party ends too soon. And Tim leaves with the other guests.
Only to find himself FIRMLY in Bruce's route. The man showing up everywhere. Stealing kisses. Hands disappearing under clothes. Bruce, as he tends too, obsessed. In love. Overwhelming. Tim finally, FINALLY get a Good End.
He also gets fucked, in his bed, within an inch of incoherence, by Batman.
Yet the Game does not release him. Because it did not say "complete A Route" the realse conditions were Complete the GAME. So now Tim has to "win" the others.
All while they watch.
Because THEY are the only ones who can start a new route. Bruce absolutely could have hit that restart once the Good End popped up. Yet... he let the scene play out. Sat, alone, having sent the others to bed... and watched his son get fucked by a version of himself. Watched his son gasp and whimper, cry out and sob, in pleasure.
They each get to watch. As Tim bonds with "them". Spends time with "them".
Eventually, Tim manages the secret Harem Ending. Stumbles free into the waiting arms of his family. They rejoince. But the question remains~! What will they do know? After so long, thinking darkly that they could "do better"? That TIM deserved better then the touch of imposters? That is the question we ask! As I run out of steam and need to sleep! Thoughts?
-🐼🐼🐼
tim's family watching as he works through all their "routes" 👀👀👀👀
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jimraisedmeup · 1 day
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TICK // 10.1 - magic man
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Rating: mature (angst, language)
Word Count: 1800
A/N: this is the epitome of drama. sorry, not sorry.
Cold, late night so long ago When I was not so strong you know A pretty man came to me I never seen eyes so blue You know, I could not run away it seemed We'd seen each other in a dream
February 14, 1984 - junior year
Eddie tapped his pencil on the desk with nothing but resentment.
After school detention was a literal hell. His punishment was to write lines, I will not vandalize school property, over one hundred times on the paper in front of him. But it wasn't his handwriting, or his paper, or even the detention itself, that irritated him.
It was the fact that you were in there with him, sitting a mere four desks away, and he hadn't heard a goddamn word from you in over two months.
He stewed over what you could possibly be writing lines for. Have you ever even been assigned detention before? A few punishments popped into his mind that he thought you deserved.
I will not abandon so-called friends.
I will not be the epitome of avoidance.
I will not ignore Eddie Munson in the halls every fucking day.
I will not make out with a man on New Year's Eve then literally act like he's a stranger the next day.
The pencil suddenly snapped in his hand, and Eddie threw the pieces on the floor.
Mr. Eulin, the unfortunate teacher supervising this detention, immediately saw this. Eddie could have snorted with arrogance at the fact that Eulin actually looked up from his Anne Rice novel to shoot him a nasty glare.
"Munson, pick that up or it's another detention for you tomorrow."
"Oh, woe is me."
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing, sir."
"That's what I thought. Now clean up the mess."
Eddie looked towards the windows, bright warm light shining through the dusty panes of glass. It was a freezing February day in Hawkins, but the sun seemed to wish differently.
He knew that you were looking at him. He could feel your eyes on him, even though you were a few rows back. Anger rose up, like a disease feasting on its victim, his stomach turning over. There was no controlling it now.
Lacing his words with instigation, he touched the piece of paper in front of him, crumpling it slightly. 
"Sir, I would much rather watch Buckley pick up the pieces."
Eulin stared at him again, his bushy eyebrows rising up in surprise as he flopped his book on the desk. 
He knew he was already dead set on another detention. Like a wrongfully accused prisoner on death row, Eddie Munson felt the need to be vindicated. What else did he have to lose? It was fucking Valentine's Day, of all days, and your stare on the back of his head in detention was burning holes through his skull.
"Now, why on God's green Earth would your fellow student do that? You got a bug up your ass, Munson?"
"Maybe. There's definitely something up there, sir. Wanna check?"
The old man before him nearly had an aneurysm. Exactly what Eddie wanted. He didn't even need to turn his head to see your reaction, he could literally hear you fidgeting in your chair, picking at your fingers.
 "Munson! Out, now. Let's go, tough guy." Eulin stood up, pointing at the door.
Faking reluctance, Eddie also rose from his desk. All of the students in the room were focused on him now. Honestly, he just wanted an excuse to get the fuck out of the same room that you were in.
Before leaving the classroom, Eddie balled up the paper on his desk and chucked it at you. It hit your chest, making you jump, but you still refused to look him in the eye.
In the hallway, Eulin still had his index finger out, this time in Eddie's face.
"You think you're untouchable, don't you?"
Eddie leaned against the locker behind him and didn't respond. He turned his head away from the educational professional trying to verbally assault him.
"Munson. Listen up. You're going to end up just like your father. Doesn't surprise me one bit that you're in detention every other week these days. I would shoot myself in the foot before I'd believe you would graduate."
Inching closer to Eddie, Eulin's face began to redden. At the close proximity, Eddie visibly flinched, resisting the urge to bitch slap the man with a fat finger too close to his face.
"You are the scum of Hawkins."
"Come on home, girl" he said with a smile "You don't have to love me yet, let's get high awhile But try to understand, try to understand Try, try, try to understand, I'm a magic man"
The classroom door was already open, but you slammed it against the wall anyways.
"Fuck you, Eulin."
Taking a step back from the brown eyed boy on the lockers, Eulin was stunned to see another one of his students beginning to cause a scene.
"Girl, you better get back in the-"
You laughed rudely, immediately interrupting him. "You think I'm going to let you talk to him like that?"
"What's going on here? Buckley, get back in that classroom," Eulin choked out.
Eddie stared unabashedly at you. One hand was clenched in a fist, ready to go down swinging at his teacher's harsh words. His other hand rose to his own mouth in shock.
But you ignored Eddie's presence, as usual. You just hounded Eulin.
"Sir, I'm not going back in there." 
Your words were polite on paper, but the tone of your voice was the exact opposite. Eulin seemed as speechless as Eddie. 
A few seconds of stuttering, and Eulin finally found a comeback. "Buckley, don't you dare get involved in this. Don't be a failure like Munson."
Eddie audibly gasped as you actually spit in the teacher's face, saliva dripping down Eulin's cheek.
"Fuck. You." 
And then you were gone, rushing down the hallway towards the doors leading outside.
Winter nights we sang in tune Played inside the months of moon "Never think of never let this spell last forever" Well, summer lover passed to fall Tried to realize it all Mama says she's worried, growing up in a hurry
"Buckley! Buckley! Helloooo, feral woman on the loose!" 
Eddie ran after you, abandoning detention, abandoning Eulin standing dumbstruck in the hallway. He finally caught up with you as you made your way through the parking lot, your hair flying in the frosty wind.
"Hey!" he touched your shoulder, trying to slow you down. "Will you talk to me?"
You shrugged his hand off and kept walking. "What's there to talk about? Eulin's an asshole. End of story."
"Oh, sunshine, I think there's a lot that needs to be discussed between us."
"No idea what you're rambling on about," you mumbled.
"You gonna ignore me for another two months?"
You almost paused for a second. Eddie knew your mind was racing, he could see how tensed your muscles were as you stormed past the parked cars. 
Eddie continued to poke at your temper. "Where are you even going? You don't have a car, you don't have a license. You don't even know how to drive!"
Turning on him in a flash, the look in your eyes made Eddie stop in his tracks. 
"Maybe I'd know how to drive if you actually taught me like you said you would!"
Eddie snorted. "C'mon, now. That's not what this is about. People don't just spit on teachers because they're butt hurt about not being able to drive."
You threw your hands in the air, let out a frustrated laugh, and stomped away. "You're the one who brought up the license thing! You're such an infuriating creature."
But Eddie was surprised to see you stop right at his van, which was parked at the back of the lot. You sat on the rear bumper.
Now it was his turn to be dumbstruck. 
"Happy Valentine's Day, Eddie," you exclaimed sarcastically. "Take me home, will you?"
"Come on home, girl" he said with a smile "I cast my spell of love on you, a woman from a child" But try to understand, try to understand Oh, oh, try, try, try to understand, He's a magic man, oh, he's got the magic hands
Instead of taking you back to your own house, Eddie drove towards Forest Hills trailer park. He knew that you were confused, but you remained silent in his passenger seat the entire drive, peeling some paint off the trim of the door.
The van came to an abrupt halt in the grassy area of his uncle's trailer. Eddie could see a few small kids running around the other homes, screaming and playing.
He was struck with nostalgia from his childhood, back when things weren't complicated by a doomed future and unruly hormones and a drunk father in jail for dealing drugs.
"Why'd you bring me here?" you uttered quietly, ripping him from his tortured thoughts.
"This is my home now, Buckley. If you would have been a good friend the last couple months, you'd know I moved in with my uncle a little sooner than I anticipated."
Eddie didn't try to hide the bitterness in his voice. He wanted you to know how hurt he was. Before you could get a word in, he snapped on you.
"Did you even think about checking on me when my dad went to jail? The whole damn town was talking about it. I'm really living up to the infamous Munson name, aren't I? I'm a pariah, a phenomenon."
You chewed on your lip, staring heatedly out of the window. "Of course I thought about you."
Gripping the steering wheel, he was seething. "So why have you been ignoring me? You act like New Year's never happened. So help me God, if you don't answer-"
"You know why I was in detention?"
Distracted, Eddie's leg bobbed with anxiety. "No, but you've piqued my interest."
"Eulin caught me trying to put something in your locker this morning."
"Something? What something? Why would that land you in detention?"
You huffed. "A letter. And I got detention because I wouldn't give it to him."
Eddie thought for a moment and laid his hand out dramatically. "May I have my letter, then?" 
You gently slapped his outstretched palm away from you.
"No," you replied offhandedly. "I tossed it."
He rolled his big brown eyes and opened the driver's side door, hopping out. The snow crunching underneath his boots was harsh. The cold air filled his lungs, forcing his nerves to calm and bringing him back to some kind of reality.
Walking around to the passenger side, he opened your door for you. 
"Come inside, then. I can make us some hot chocolate."
But try to understand, try to understand Try, try, try to understand, he's a magic man
(song lyrics credit: "Magic Man" by Heart)
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silveredsound · 25 days
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How you go from harry styles to hockey I will never understand.
I was going to make a little joke, as I do, (would have been v hilarious, best joke ever pls know this) and leave it at that. But like, it's been raining for over 24 hours, it's 2am and it might be good for me to reflect a little.. So sorry anon I am going emote all over your ask (which (the ask) sounds a bit judgey tbh but the written word is NOT a great conveyor of tone so that might be on me.)
On one hand it's just fandom. And, I think it's been pretty clear that as much as I love Henry Stars, I'm not like, a 'Harry is the be all and end all of all music creation and creativity and actions.' I like him for the good and the bad, and I don't leave critical thinking at the door. (Not saying I'm the only person to do this, just that it's hard sometimes in fan spaces and Stans definitely do..)
Which, can make it hard to participate in fandom as a lot of people are not great at irony, or accepting that someone else can say, god damn that is a terrible song - and that it's okay for that to happen. It doesn't mean that the person who expressed the neg opinion is not still a fan of the artist they were speaking about. Same with if the artist you are a fan of does something that gives you the ick.
I def learnt this when Harry went to Google Camp the first time. Like obviously I've been around 1d fandom in some way since 2012 ish I think it was - and it was my own reaction to Harry going to Camp Douchebags the first time that made me go, oh jeez Silv, you are a bit too involved in the parasocial relationship here. Like I was genuinely upset that he'd done something I thought was so dumb and wanky.
Anyway, clearly I still loved - love - him and I celebrated him and spent a fuckload of money on him and engaged in fandom and etc etc. But I just did at that point I think turn a little from heading in a very blinkers on version of fandom to one that's def more me - where you just get to have fun, make fun be creative, make friends! and have a bit of a perv depending on the silk cream vanilla ice cream outfit Harry might be wearing in Nashville.
I like RPF. I mean I like all transformative works and fandom extending and enhancing source material via creation, but I don't have an issue with RPF. I believe in 4th wall. And I clearly have written 1d fic. A lot of my good fandom mates, and real life best friend(s) are people I have met through sharing a love of writing in fandom spaces. Obviously all the best writers in 1d went to Hockey. And I stayed here. And I tried. I wanted to be where my friends where. I had fomo and I was lonely! My fandom had changed in a few ways all around the same time.
But Hockey is very confusing, (for starters as I often say to Angela or Joanna, snow is fake) and nothing clicked for me - it seemed large and I had no idea where to even start and I didn't really try.
But I think the change in some fandom fellow participants, and also anons being mean when they would get even a glimpse in their peripheral that I might have vaguely indicated that Henry did something that I thought was dumb or embarrassing, or just not that good, (it's no fun sharing a thought and feeling chatty about it, and wanting to engage with other people's thoughts if some random is going to anonymously tell you that you are a dumb c*nt and should delete etc etc so I stopped sharing any thoughts at all.) Of course Nick leaving breakfast and then R1 altogether - as well as obviously my whole life narrowing to a point that was just tend Mama- work - tend mama - work - tend mama - sleep - grow a tumour - tend mama left me not so much time for proper joyful engagement.
And then, in Jan/Feb this year, I think as I'd been looking at book reviews and as soon as you search for a book on tik tok they push book tok romance reviews into your feed and I think then that pushed an actual hockey clip (which is a really shite 4th wall issue as is the whole Kraken thing etc) and I can't even remember what it was but I know I then swiped through and watched other videos on the account and like 1d being adorable shites repeating stock answers and sitting on top of each other I was intrigued by what seemed to be very dumb and very entertaining.
But Silv, you cry, what about the emotions! You need emotions! Ah, yes, see, because I am nothing but devoted I had followed Angela and La's hockey blogs, and something La posted grabbed my attention and I followed a link and read an article and I was like. Oh, I want to read more about these kids. So I did. And after a little while I reached out to La and was like, um, I think I get it. And I posted something about the Fantilli Bros and then Max reached out and tbh I don't think anything says it better than my wide eyed enthusiasm reply. (You are probably by now thinking, Silv why is your answer to Max so short, why didn't I just get a paragraph? This is an endless essay with no conclusion or indeed a thesis statement, (that is if you have even made it down to here) & anon I can only apologise.)
I am really enjoying learning so many new things, being welcomed into a new space of connection and joy and silliness and emotional breakdowns. It's been so lovely to meet new people who are so excited to share their niche interest with you and no one minds how many questions I have and everyone searches out Primera and Important Past Instagram Posts from the archives - and of course reconnecting with people who I have always been friends with, fandom changes didn't change that, but it's delightful chatting much more often. The other day Angela and I watched an Avs game together via Tumblr chats, which was delightful, to learn about the team and to talk about random other things, and I've spent my last month of Saturdays watching umich with lovely people who La introduced me to, and having MANY EMOTIONS. (It's like hanging out all posting about a show's fits and one liners and if he's going to sing medicine but it's many pantomime gooseberrys. The performative homoeroticisim, wild hair, jokes, punching (only now during not pre show work outs ) and very goddamn impressive skill and physicality is actually pretty similar). Meghan and I have been able to chat through our very similar horrible experiences with cancer and mums with cancer and it's been so lovely and strengthening to be able to share that experience with a person who beyond gets it, and then also I've been able to announce to her that I want to write a fic about 5 ways Nolan saw god with the UMich Bible Study Group but didn't find faith. which is obviously a completely ridiculous concept but equally worthy of discussion. It's this that I love so much about fandom friendship - you share SO much because you are sharing something that gives you intimate joy, so the relationship always starts from a place of an automatic mutual understanding and empathy - and from there we make it our own.
But also, I really like the game. Like I love watching them play, all of them! It's fast (obviously - and oblig have to say - ice is slippery) and it's hard - and they make it look easy. When one of the special players (they are all special, but one of the ones who play almost with innate ability) makes a pass or a turn sometimes it's almost almost magic, like how the fuck did they see that gap between four players, and did you see how they kept the puck a moment longer so they could release it perfectly into the lane !! Hot.
The game can be all encompassing and it's SO SO SO silly. Like it's the dumbest sport. It's The Show. I'll put on ESPN and stream a match while I'm working during the day (the time difference is perfect for once) and I'm spending time cos I want to, learning the rules and the logistics and business side of it all. And of course, the differences between college hockey and the show. Idk. It just clicked on so many levels for me.
And so, I have no idea why it took me so long to transition from Henry to Hockey, but I am not surprised I did now that I have - it def wasn't something that I was bloody expecting. And Anon I will say this, the last few years of my life have been sad, hard, and tbh shitty. Now, I know what it's like to have fucked years, so I am not saying this to try to be and show off but 2024 feels a bit better. I feel clearer, I have started to lose some weight (15ish kg so far depending on the time of the month) and now I have a meeting w a PT on Tuesday as I actually don't care what I weigh but I want to get stronger and reduce my visceral fat as it will be better for hormones which is better for lessening my cancer reoccurrence %.
God knows it's (2024) not all roses, I literally had surgery again a fortnight ago and the cost of living in Sydney is giving me so much anxiety. I am still a terribly disorganised mess, my work is undergoing a complete restructure (thanks NSW gmnt) and my clean washing is NEVER folded and put away, it's always in the basket - but I feel so happy and entertained and creative - I am writing again! like it's joy. It's ye olde you are who you are at this moment but you are also the 4 year old you and the 15, 27, 34 year old you - girlhood (non gendered concept of not literal interpretation) and I love it. 💛🩵🌱
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scoliosisgoblin · 8 days
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yo, @bennydunbar, check this out
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july-19th-club · 3 months
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ok dean's do as i say not as i do ass in the cassie episode when sam realizes that not ONLY is his supposed playboy brother actually a guy who will drop everything and reveal The Secret to the first girl who spends more than a month with him but . he will reveal The Secret at all, a thing he's spent the past six months loudly saying there is never any use in doing because we can't keep friends in this life anyway
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skyburger · 2 months
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i love reading things set in countries that i'm knowledgeable and/or have been to because i can point out really minor errors in fanfiction. i think the average american does not know that in england (and apparently some of asia! which i only just found out) there are switches on power outlets so you can just turn it off instead of unplugging it. like 9 times out of 10 that won't come up but on the off chance it does i'm like ohoho. this clown has never been to england...! my favorite part though is watching americans (specifically americans because i swear to god people who speak english as a second language and/or are from any other country have some idea of what it's like to have an accent / personally know people who have accents? idk) try to write british accents like it is REALLY funny. i literally only lived their for five years and i never picked up a full accent myself (certain words and tones i did but they're mostly gone after living in the states again for a few years) but between living there and having a ridiculous amount of family there & visiting them often (like once a year if im lucky) i like KNOW what british accents sound like. i think some americans genuinely dont even know theres more than one or two english accents i think some people think there's like posh english and chav english and nothing else. maybe scottish accent gets thrown in there if they remember the uk is not in fact just england. i would bet real money they've never heard a welsh accent. anyway my point is it's really funny watching people who don't know as much as i do write this stuff. like i see it and i understand how doctors read this and go Oh that is so medically inaccurate. i get them now. anyway i dont remember what my point here was but please know if you are attempting to write a british accent. reddit and youtube are your best friends if you don't have a british friend you can ask and also rest assured even if you do ONE google search. it will not be the worst attempt ive seen guaranteed
#muffin mumbles#idek what the definitive worst one ive seen is#but ive seen some baaaaad ones#favorite example though is in the fucking jjba dub.#like thats not even a fan / indie project thats a real professional thing people were paid to do?!?! and the accents. are fucking TERRIBLE#please im begging you. you dont need to hire famous american voice actors for this. just go to any pub in the whole of england#and i can guarantee youd get better results accent-wise.#speedwagon's accent is easily the worst in part 1 like if you want examples lemme know cause i have some. its so bad. its really bad#but also so so funny#joseph in part 2 is. MARGINALLY better than most of the part 1 cast#not good. far from it. but an improvement#anyway hearing speedwagon say anything especially in part 1 (hes calmer in part 2 and he sounds better (not good. better)#like hes better in part 2 but not by much and only sometjmes.)#hearing this painfully obvious attempt at an american doing a cockney(?) (cant even tell for sure) accent complete with misused slang.#is SO fucking funny#like i showed me mom and she said it was worse than dick van dyke in mary poppins and shes not even wrong#and the slang isnt even like. irs not even super uncommon slang and i dont think its used wrong technically (iirc) but it just sounds so#painfully unnatural. please i am begging them to just hire british people next time. i promise you there are british voice actors#that being said i am still incredibly sad they just gave everyone american accents from part 3 onwards because i miss the awful accents#i miss them dearly.#the main benefit to this imo is that now joseph joestar despite living in england for the first almost twenty years of his life#just got this full blown american accent after living in new york. like i know he did not pick that up naturally#i KNOW dude watched stupid fuckinf tv shows to practice his accent. i know he sounded like a cartoon mobster and suzie q was like jojo.#please for the love of god. you cannot start talking like this. go back to being british#alas he did not listen. but he did drop the mobster thing (sadly.)#anyway this is really unrelated but if joseph was not old as fuck when it started airing i think he wouldve gotten a kick outta seinfeld.#like if the years lined up that wouldve been his main show to practice his american accent to the point people are like hey you kinda sound#like jerry seinfeld. and hes like hah i wonder how that happened!#hes a massive fucking loser is what im saying. hes like my weirdo great uncle joseph joestar#anyway. got really off topic. thank you for watching remember to SMASH that like button
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prommytheus · 1 year
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now for the psychopomps! this format is actually hilarious btw im having the time of my life
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detectivechandler · 3 months
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that moment when joe and i were mentally the same person.
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wellenklavier · 5 months
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the-redcrate · 10 months
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I'm an Eddie Munson is a NWA fan Truther. You know our boy went feral for professional wrestling. The Stories! THE DRAMA! THE LOUD PERSONALITIES AND MOVEMENTS! Eddie Munson definitely camped out at his friend's houses every Saturday night to watch NWA. He could do a perfect Nature Boy whoop.
Eddie Munson IS A PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING FAN.
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ickypuppi3 · 2 years
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billy and robin giving each other more piercings can be something so personal
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boomerang109 · 2 years
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obsessed with this interaction i had with my boss
my boss, joking about the bowl of fake sausage i left on his desk without telling him: so you made that prop? at first, i thought you were trying to feed me
me, internally: omg that’s such a compliment that it’s realistic enough that i tricked him into thinking it was real
me, internally, bad at jokes: HOLY SHIT WHAT IF HE TRIED TO EAT IT
me, out loud: play-doh—fun to play with, not to eat
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fakeoutbf · 1 year
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#anxiety tw#i just watched lewis’ documentary#this is gonna be a little tmi so bear with me#genuinely did not know that much about him personally so it’s fucking wild to see all the pressures and anxieties he had to face after#the success of his first album like i can’t even imagine feeling so much pressure over something so complex#huge love to him honestly#i’m gonna side step a little from bc i was watching it with my mom right#and mental illnesses are so fucking complex and different for every person that has them right#so we get to the big climax in which it all starts to build up for him right#and i’ve never said this online before right but my brother’s has diagnosed autism since he was a toddler and he has add and anxiety on top#and my mom’s always been very on top of that with him and tried to get him therapy and shit for it for years#and medication and all that stuff#like to the point where i remember going out of town to get him to a doctor and get him meds and shit#and he hasn’t taken anything in a while and my mom kind of chilled about it after he graduated high school#so she goes ‘you know that’s how your brother is like’ while we’re seeing lewis experience his own anxiety etc#while i’m over here almost crying bc it definitely hit close to home for me and my own personal experience#and it feels so fucking shitty that like bc a professional has never told us that i have an anxiety disorder or depression or any other#fucking mental illness that my mom just brushes off my own feelings and struggles#when some days i can barely get up in the morning and somedays i think about not doing it anymore and every day i sort of harm myself#so i just tell her to shut up and she gets mad when like#i’ve had to hide it for years so she doesn’t get worried then hit the breaking point and asked for help and they didn’t do anything about it#idk i guess i’m just tired of being pushed aside when i’m clearly aching
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supercantaloupe · 1 year
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okay survived my lesson. head still hurts but survived and even managed to play some kalliwoda despite The Agonies. although it helps that my teacher spent the first full hour of our lesson talking about grad school and jobs and bitching about how much it sucks to make it as a professional musician
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