#i yearn to talk to someone who meets my level of passion about shit

[lets-all-calm-down-a-bit]

dude i desprately want to know someone like kyle in real life. i just feel like we could have such a productive conversation, yn? i feel like we would be able to rant at eachother without getting tired out or ruining the mood of the hang out. just two guys yelling at eachother in a non-angry way, and learning stuff in the process

#dont let me know if this sounds mentally ill #i know it does #i yearn to talk to someone who meets my level of passion about shit #it sucks to exhaust or annoy people because you care so much about nothing #ughhhhhhh #im going crazy #south park #southpark #sp #colby rambles #sp kyle

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

OBSESSIVE STOLAS X Male Imp Pt.1

(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

The day Stolas met you, the life which had been boring at worst and full of love and respect at best, was in complete shambles. Broken ever since the "Brunch incident".

He and his wife were barely on speaking terms, and when they did speak, it would almost exclusively devolved into a fight filled with harsh words and thrown objects.

His darling starfire hadn't spoken to him in over a week. Something he'd usually chock up to teenage angst, but she actively avoided him now.

Something she'd never do before.

And so with his homelife slowly tearing him apart, he naturally thought a visit to his favourite Imp in all hell would brighten his day.

And that's where you came in.

You'd worked at I.M.P for the last few months and were quickly becoming a valued member of the I.M.P family.

Youd just finished a job and were about to fill out the rather tedious paperwork the job entailed, When the towering Demon Prince entered the office.

You were too proud an Imp to admit it, but when you first saw Prince Stolas you were a little starstruck.

Said Prince, apon finding a new Imp at I.M.P's office immediately inquired as to who you were

Taken off guard by suddenly be talking to a Prince of hell, you spent a moment fumbling your words, before finally telling him your name.

Stolas finding the whole thing quiet adorable.

Stolas sparked up a conversation, asking how you ended up at I.M.P and your work with the company. Something you were more than happy to tell him about.

You told him how Blitzø had hired you after youd single handedly killed 3 men in a fight with only a can opener.

Then you told him about how working as an assassin was challenging but enjoyable work, all things considered.

You tell him how working for the chaotic force of nature that is Blitzø was great too, when he wasn't being a prick.

As charming as Stolas found your slightly flustered conversation. There was a purpose to his visit. And so asking you if Blitzø was in, to which you told him he was in his office.

Stolas suddenly became anxious, wondering aloud if his outfit was presentable or not.

This caused you to laugh, placing a hand over your mouth.

Stolas was immediately indignant, demanding to know what was so funny.

You killed the laugh with a cough, before telling him you laughed because simply put "You'd never seen a more ravishing demon in all your time in hell" And for him to be anxious was funny to you.

Stolas Blushed hard, a Warmth he didn't understand spreading through his chest. It had been so long since he'd received such praise from someone who wasnt utterly subservient to him.

Sputtering out an timid thank you, before immediately making his way Blitzø's office, Ignoring your cries to wait.

Being violently thrown out of Blitzø's office was not how he saw this unplanned little 'Rendezvous' going.

Blitzø stepped out stared down at him, a mixture of disgust and anger plain on his face.

'I'm so sick of this shit stolas' Blitzø grumble out, pinching the bridge between his eyes. 'We made a Fucking deal, I come over ONCE a MONTH and fuck your brains out. And you leave me alone unless you have a job for us.'

Stolas tried to reply, trying to explain why he was there. But before he could Blitzø interjected 'I can put up with all creepy perverted texts and shit, but I am not your God Damned SEXTOY Stolas! I don't want to see your ass don't here again!' He screamed, before slamming the door.

Stolas just sat there. Unwilling to move. He felt like he'd just been slapped.

His eyes stung. His throat burned. He clutched at the ground, and even as his world fell apart around him, he could only focus on one thing.

He felt so cold...

He had no one.

No one loved him.

He felt so cold...

It took everything he had not to breakdown, he couldn't, not here. It was unbecoming of a prince to been seen showing such weakness.

The sudden sensation of something on his shoulder. Daring to open his eyes, he was shocked to find You, standing over him. Hand on his shoulder and a sympathetic smile on your face.

You reached into your coat and removed a handkerchief.

Croutching down you wiped the growing dew around his eyes.

Putting away the hanky, you stood up and offered him a hand.

Helping him to his feet, you asked him if he was okay. Stolas immediately tried to put up his aristocratic facade and assure you he was fine.

Only for the words to die in his throat and for him to almost burst into tears again.

Leading him into the nearby office, you find yourself in the conference room. You sat him on said conference table.

Quickly zipping off, you returned a moment later with a little plastic cup of water.

Handing the little cup, he took it with a wordless thanks.

Stolas felt cold.

He felt like his whole world was falling apart. He had nothing.

His wife couldnt stand him.

His beloved Starfire wouldn't stay in the same room as him.

He had nothing and no one.

No one loved him.

Why should he even go on.

Even through there crimson glow, you could see just how close he was to breaking down.

So before his despair could consume him completely, you did the only thing you could think of.

You climbed atop the conference table and pulled the poor owl-boi into a hug.

It was a little awkward due to the height difference, but standing on the table brought you high enough to pull his head onto your chest.

Stolas was utterly shocked, not just by the action itself, But the fact you did this on your own acord.

He didn't have to barter or beg or make promises for your affection.

You just... gave it freely.

He couldnt help himself.

It had been so long since he'd last felt the loving touch of another soul.

And for you to give affection so openly, he felt he could let himself be vulnerable to you. He releases a long anguished cry, bursting into tears.

You just held him close, gently petting his head, whispering words of comfort, telling him everything would be okay.

He didn't know why but your words brought out

Stolas threw his arms around you, holding onto you as though you were the last anchor in his sea of despair.

The poor owl drenched the front of your shirt with his dejected tears.

Stolas didn't know how long he cried for, and you simply didn't care.

You could tell he needed this and were more then happy to give the demonic prince some much needed affection.

Eventually, Stolas shed all the tears he had, standing up he unintentionally pulled himself from your warm embrace.

Stolas instantly missed the warmth of your touch. The same all consuming coldness as before instantly returning.

Looking up at Stolas you draw your handkerchief and go to wipe his tear stained face.

But before you could, Stolas grabbed your hand, his other hand was placed on the back of your head, he pulls you into a kiss.

You weren't sure how to react, stolas certainly didn't give you any time to figure it out as he pulled you deeper into the kiss.

While you were initially shocked by the kiss, you honestly, didn't care to put up any kind of resistance.

While you would of preferred he asked for a kiss, you could tell the guy needed this. And all things considered, you were happy to oblige him.

So when his tongue slid across your teeth, asking for entrance, you wrapped your arms around his neck you let it in, giving stolas full access to your mouth.

You began leaning into the kiss, doing your best to return his passion.

Stolas, took your returning passion as further permission, he became more aggressive.

His tongue dominated your mouth, as his hands began roamed across your body.

Stolas was in bliss, each time you shivered or moaned, bringing him further pleasure.

Taking each sound as encouragement, he became more and more aggressive. Sure that each sound you made was an unconscious sign of love.

He became more desperate to hear your angelic voice as moaned or cried out. Desperate to hear someone say they loved him.

Gripping his head, you tried to de-escalate the situation before it got out of hand.

Of course that was easier said then done, as Stolas was much stronger then he looked. But after much effort, despite Stolas's silent insistence that you continue, you finally managed to break the kiss.

Stolas's forceful nature found you pushed back onto the table. Stolas towering over you, staring down at you with those awe inspiring crimson eyes.

'We cant be this doing this' You try to tell him 'Not here. What if someone walks in on us?' The question hung in the air. When it became obvious it wasn't deterring his growing need you asked 'What if Blitzø catches us?'

Stolas pulled back at that.

Looking to the side he rubbed his arm, Anxiety bubbling in his chest.

Stolas hadn't thought of that.

What if Blitzø did walk in?

Finding him with one of his employees.

In his office.

Would Blitzø be upset?

Would he yell at him, scream and throw a fit, insisting he had betrayed him...

Would Blitzø even care?

There was a part of him that said 'Of course he would. Blitzø, no matter how much he denied it, surely Blitzø cared for him on some level.'

Stolas could tell himself that all he wanted, but deep down, he knew the truth.

He placed his hand on your cheek, looking down at you. He tried to speak only for a new wave of emotions hit him, causing him on reflex to fall silent.

It was in that moment, as he stood over you, did he realis he didn't need to hide his vulnerability from you. You weren't judging him, he could be vulnerable to you and would judge him for it.

His heart swelled and despite having just met you, he found himself developing a deep yearning to be with you.

'I-I know this is sudden. And you have every right to say no. But please... No one has ever shown me such genuine affection like you have today.'

' I'm so used to people only interested in me for my status or resources.' Stolas held himself, looking dejectedly to the side. A new wave of sorrow enveloping him.

'Your the only one who's shown me the slightes care, past what I could do for them.' He didn't meet your gaze, he ran his hand down your chest, his voice becoming just above a whisper. 'I have nothing (Y/N), I have no one. Right now your the only thing I have.'

'I need to feel something (Y/n), I need to feel something before I fall apart, and I want feel it with you.' He was practically begging you by this point.

Things like pity and mercy were a death sentence in hell.

There was nothing stopping you from saying no. You cared little for royalty. You weren't some door mat that took every word from royalty as gospel.

But right now, this great Demonic Prince standing before you. He didn't want your obedience. He wasn't forcing you to do anything.

He just wanted some sort of affection. something you knew you could give him so easily.

How could you say no?

With a deep sigh, you resigned yourself to your fate. Leaning forward you place your hand under his chin and raised his head to meet your gaze. Stolas was shocked when pulled him close and planted a kiss on his his beak.

'Lock the door' you whispered.

#helluva boss #helluva stolas #x reader #headcanon #helluva boss headcanon #helluva boss x reader #stolas x reader #stolas

[itsapapisongo]

“AS YOU WISH”

Pairing: Johnny x Female Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2.0K 

Parental Advisory Note: The following contains explicit content like slight choking, language, and masturbation (fingering, clitoral stimulation). This is purely for entertainment and this in no way represents who Johnny is in real life or accurately portrays foreplay/sex/intimacy between two consenting adults.

Author’s Notes: This is a second attempt at writing smut—the first, featuring Hwang Hyunjin is still in development—and it came into fruition to see if a) I could make it work and b) tease Ro (@binniesthighs​). What first started as a small scene sort of transitioned into something a bit longer. I wasn’t going to post it but after some encouragement from Ro and some feedback from  I decided to just share it as a way to get it out my system. Hope you enjoy it. #HardHours.

PS: Special shout-out to @binniesthighs, @hanflix, @satanssmuts, @lilixeu, and @moonlit-lixie for being incredibly supportive and beta reading this. You are all amazing so this is kind of a Valentine’s Day gift for all the advice and support you’ve given me. I’m beyond grateful.

To set a Mood: Thirsty by Taemin.

AS THESE stories often begin, this one starts in the middle of something.

In this case, it starts in the middle of the night—a bit past midnight—when you hear frantic knocking on your front door and open it to find Johnny smiling down at you. The height difference is noticeable so it’s not unfair to say that, well, you quite literally don’t see eye to eye.

He’s dripping wet, from head to toes, hunched over, and trying his best to speak as his entire body shudders.  Not wasting time, you reach out, pull him into the apartment, close the door behind you, and chuckle when you hear him mumble a sheepish “thank you.”

“Better get a change of clothes before you catch a cold,” you say, gesturing toward your bedroom.

Johnny nods and chuckles. “Sure,” he replies, teeth clattering. “How about a shower first?”

“Do you even have to ask?” You raise an eyebrow and giggle when he shrugs. “Mi case es tu casa.”

“Oof,” Johnny exclaims, holding himself a bit tighter, waddling towards your room. “Gracias.”

You can’t help but smile. This is the man you’re dating and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

ABOUT TWENTY minutes later, nothing has changed.

It looks like it’s going to be one those nights where it’s colder than usual and it won’t stop raining anytime soon. You smile because rainy days with Johnny are usually days where you both seek warmth from one another; days where you can be lazy and not feel guilty about that.

And as you join him in the living room, watching him sit on the futon, you think to yourself if it rains, it pours—but, y’know, without all the shit about one misfortune after another because the phrase here only applies to the deluge outside your apartment window.

Johnny sits with his head thrown back against the wall, legs spread so that they almost reach the knee-level coffee table he bought in Ikea and spent the good part of an afternoon putting together. He’s bathed, dressed, and unwinding after a shift that was longer than expected. He still smells of coffee, not too strong but enough that you can smell it as you sit next to him and kiss his neck. His eyes flutter open and a knowing smile spreads between his lips, eyes glistening with mischief.

“Well, well, well,” he whispers, half-smiling. “Mi futon es tu futon.”

“Is that so?”

He nods. “Definitely.”

“Do you know of any fun activities that—“ You lean in, meet his gaze, then slowly kiss him in the lips. “—I’d be interested in while I crash on your futon?”

“Our futon,” Johnny corrects you. “I can think of several,” he asserts, his voice suddenly low. There’s a hint of dominance when he speaks again, “But instead of talking, I can just show you.”

“Show me—“ You begin but can’t finish because he leans in and kisses you.

His right hand holds your chin, the left caresses your thighs, slowly but surely making its way to your core. Johnny doesn’t ask or hesitate to spread your legs, his left hand suddenly playing with the waist-band of your lingerie. His touch is delicate yet firm, his movements paced and deliberate. He kisses you softly then roughly, as his right hand transitions from your chin to your neck and stays there; his fingers envelope your neck, compressing every so often but not quite choking you.

Feeling his light touch on your skin, a moan escapes your lips and you immediately crave him. Your eyes are closed, your breathing uneven, your entire body tingling as his digits linger so close to your pussy. You feel him lean closer and closer, his breath warm against your ear, and you shudder when he speaks in a low, alluring voice.

“What’s the point of talking when I can just do it, right?” Johnny bites your earlobe then lightly kisses your cheek, gradually descending to leave marks on your neck and left shoulder. He stops to lift your chin, leaning close to whisper, “Look at me.”

“Johnny—“

“Look at me,” he repeats, firm but not unkindly.

You oblige and see him staring at you. And while there’s lust in his eyes, you notice that he’s not simply looking but admiring. His eyes take you in—up and down, down and up—and a smile appears between his lips; a knowing, lustful, loving smile that makes you want him even more.

“Are you gonna stare or are you going to make me yours?”

The question slips out before you can stop yourself. He raises an eyebrow, his expression that of someone who’s surprised and amused. You’d try and fail to infuse confidence in your voice but instead it comes across as a needy and impatient demand.

Johnny notices and smiles even wider, eyes narrowing with malice. “As you wish,” he says.

MOST OF your clothing, both yours and his, are off: on the floor, neglected, no longer needed.

Johnny is behind you, legs spread to accommodate you. With his left hand he cups your breasts and teases you with his right. He’s leaving marks on your shoulder, lightly biting on your skin after each kiss, whispering ‘I love you’s and commenting on how wet you are. He tells you in a low, sultry voice how much that turns him the fuck on, how he’s going to take his time, and how euphoric you will feel soon. Your moans elicit such a strong response from him that you feel his cock throb against his jogger pants.

He lifts your neck, leans in so that you’re facing him, and hold your chin with a firm grip. Johnny looks at you, eyes narrowed, then his lips brushed against yours; it starts rough, passionate, as if this might be the last one you share, then gradually softens until he’s once again leaving traces on your neck. His left hand envelopes your neck, a stable but dominant gesture; with his thumb against your jaw, he lifts your neck once more and smirks at you.

Motherfucker, you think, mouth agape as you feel his right hand swiftly undress you, dexterously taking off your lingerie. With an idle gesture of his wrist, you hazily make out your panties fall to the ground but you don’t get too think too much of it because you feel his digits caress your pussy, hovering above your labia.

“I want you in me,“ you say, gasping. “Now.”

“As you wish,” he whispers in a low, haughty tone. He tentatively rubs your labia then brings his right hand forward and offers it to you, his index and middle finger inches away from your mouth. “Open wide.”

You suck on his fingers, lick them when he pulls them from your mouth, watch in awe as he directs them back to your pussy; the moment he introduces them in you, his thumb softly rubbing your clit, you tense up and immediately relax, moaning a whiny yet indecent “fuck!” as he very slowly fingers you. He’s left hand is still wrapped around your neck, his thumb still lifting your head so that you’re maintaining eye contact.

“You like this, don’t you?” Johnny whispers not before nibbling on your earlobe then leaving a love-bite on your neck. “Love the way I’m inside you, making you mine?”

“Fuck—Johnny—fuck, don’t stop!”

He smirks. The motherfucker smirks. “Who said anything about stopping, darling?”

You gasp and collapse against him, feeling his erection on your lower back; this only adds to your euphoria because you know he’s enjoying the fuck out of this. You know he can’t wait to fuck you silly and that keeps you going, that keeps you yearning his touch because eventually it won’t be his fingers inside you.

Johnny’s driving you close to the edge—fucking teasing you, building up, taking his time—when he unwraps his hand from your neck. He pauses briefly to adjust his position behind you but his right hand haven’t left your pussy; is fingers are still there, you still feel his fingers in your core—moving in and out, out and in, slow as fuck but nonetheless pleasurable as hell.

He lifts you up, enough so that you’re sitting on his lap instead of between his legs, and wraps his entire left arm around your neck; his palm rests on your right shoulder, the crook of his neck having replaced the hand that a second ago was gripping your throat. Johnny does all of this without breaking his stride, swiftly, with the experience of a man that embraces balance.

“You think you can last, baby? Think you won’t cum yet?”

“You—ah shit—you keep this up and I’m gonna cum.”

“Soon, baby, soon. Hold on a little while longer,” he coaxes and you can feel his smirk, you can practically picture it. “I know you want to cum but I want you to enjoy this moment. Flow with it—“ he thrusts his fingers faster then pulls them out slow, to softly pinch your clit and rub it again with this thumb “—stay here, embrace this, and lose yourself in it.”

“You fucking—just like that—” your breathe hitches, caught in your throat.

You feel your entire body tighten, your back arch against his chest, against his hard cock, and you immediately grip the edges of the futon. Your body is shaking and you’re just embracing this sensation; flowing with it, losing yourself in it. He doesn’t stop—in fact, the motherfucker doubles down, moving faster, his grip around your neck tighter—and bites your earlobe as you moan louder and bite your lower lip to keep from bothering the neighbors.

“You wanna cum?”

You nod, unable to respond. Yes, you think, yes, fucking yes!

“You wanna cum, baby?”

Another nod but this one is feeble. You’re too caught up in the moment to speak, too lost in your pleasure to form a full, coherent sentence.

“I can’t hear you,” he whispers. “You wanna cum?”

“Yes!” You exclaim against his chest. “Please—fuck, Johnny—I wanna cum.”

“Look at me,” Johnny says in a firm tone, his hands moving slowly now. He moves so that you can face him and you see in his eyes that he’s enjoying every second of this. Just as you feel close to coming undone, like you can’t hold any longer, he purrs, “As you wish.”

And you do cum. Right in his hand, right in his fingers, because he doesn’t stop nor does he slow down. He keeps thrusting his fingers in your pussy, faster than before, then pulls them out to spank, grip, caress your thighs; his left hand lets go of your neck and instead steadies you by your stomach. Your entire body feels light, electrified, sensitive to contact, and yet you yearn for more. He knows it because you feel his touch on your clit and labia.

You collapse against him, smiling as you catch your breath. He moves you so that you’re both facing and straddling him. Johnny has that frustrating but irresistible shit-eating grin that crinkles his eyes and he sports whenever he’s proud of himself.

In between breaths, you smile. “Is that all?” you ask, trailing a finger across his chest.

Johnny’s grin falters but doesn’t disappear. It’s instead replaced by a look that you know very well; that look that says, I see your challenge, I’ll take it, and you’re gonna regret it.

“That was just one of the activities,” he replies with a wink. “Let me just—“ he moves again, lowering his pants with a wiggle, showing yet again how dextrous he is with making clothes disappear. “—get more comfortable.”

Johnny’s cock, hard and veiny, is on his hand, the tip glossy with precum. You lower yourself and sit on his thighs; the moment you make contact, you can’t help but hold back a small groan of pleasure. He’s warm and sweaty and ready for you just  as you are ready for him. Johnny wiggles his eyebrows and strokes it, pleasuring himself, then bites his lip as his eyes linger on your figure.

“I could tell you about this activity—“ he takes your right hand and offers you his cock. “—but it’s best if I just show you.”

#johnny suh #johnny seo #johnny nct #johnny smut #nct smut #female reader #nct imagines #johnny imagines #johnny x female reader #teasing #johnny suh smut #johnny seo smut #happy valentine's day

[d0ntw0rrybehappy]

i’m going insane lol

so i feel like the next step in working hard is to not even perceive the work i’m doing as tiring. (rereading this it’s making me lol.) it seems weird that i find a part time job at a restaurant this exhausting? and like i can’t pretend that i’m not tired, but i have to somehow take better care of myself and set the conditions to not be tired from it.

i’ve been thinking about baudrillard/barthes a lot still -- pleasantly surprised that their theories are interesting to apply to any- and everything. for example, they both go into how every statement can also be read as its opposite or negation. so, to quote baudrillard, saying “i am not afraid of communism” also implies that communism is something you should be afraid of.

i’ve been using this as a kind of paranoid way to gain insight into why people tell me that i am “strong” because i don’t really know what that means. (other things i am told i am often: sweet, intense). it’s like what they’re saying is, there’s some kind of context, a milieu of weak people i’m being compared to. or like they want to reassure me that i am strong, because i actually come across as how i feel: like a particularly lost, unstable, emotional, sensitive, and lonely person.

i can’t with restaurant work anymore. it. SUCKS. i want to fucking get out, i am like a rat scrabbling at the walls of a glass aquarium. all novelty has worn off, all misguided overtures of honest work or “people skills.” and i’m still stuck here, still holding my breath in the deep end until i can find the eject button. i am tired, my body aches. my body aches!!

i want to just grind my way out (here we are with barthes again -- well if you truly wanted to do that you’d just shut the fuck up and do it instead of writing about it), but here i am, eating another round of chocolate (i don’t smoke, i don’t have sex, i truly just eat), constantly fucking hungry. then like a bull mowing into a red flag i realize i have been grinding...in a completely useless direction. it is like my passion for learning about things gets scattered every which way and i just can’t start, every path is equally exciting and awful and the injunction to “choose” is not “clicking” in my “head.” it’s like my mind cracked open at some point in my teenage years (when i started smoking weed, when my child universe was decisively fractured by a friend) and now the crack is snowing fireworks and glitter and i shift in and out of unreality. 

reality is almost too painful to bear. nobody’s happy: you can find contentment by accepting your current lot, but “happiness" is really just contrast or relief from pain. it comes in and out. most people are too lazy or small-minded or too busy complaining to feel content, or their lives are just too twiggy, got too long in the wrong direction or are just too fucking hard. i guess i still am happy, and still love life, in a sort of ferocious and bloody and hungry way. 

love is bleak, though. i barely even know how to define it anymore. (culture defines a love which we yearn for; we experience “love” insofar as our real love fleetingly resembles this model, only to come up short -- baudrillard). re: love, to use my mom’s favorite school-of-hard-knocks memory device for the laws of thermodynamics -- a subject she took? -- you can’t win, you can’t break even, you can’t get outta the game (and death and taxes). you are going to get royally FUCKED by love just like everybody else, and you are STILL gonna play, you beautiful mortal fool. like the tarot cards lauren dealt me, putting away the three cards she’d used to describe my near future and then flipping through the entire deck, picture side up, without realizing that i was quietly watching it describe my whole entire life -- clinging at the edge of my seat to see some eventual combination that spelled good, strong, lasting love and seeing only struggle, happiness, struggle, pain, struggle, and finally ending, at my death, in a small statue made of gold. 

see also, other realities i hate to swallow: nearly all interpersonal problems are insurmountable and better left undealt with, and work basically sucks unless you are very lucky and very smart. 

work. let’s go back to that. i used to think my work would be respected off its merit; now i see the merit in literally fucking my way up. i wonder if i should even be an artist at all. artists are kinda like showponies or whores; they’re not actually important. the more honest and wonderful they are, the less important they probably are, like schoolteachers. they have an impact on an individual level. but on a societal level, you have no control as an artist. you just get played by bigger fish. better to find a way to have your hands on the gears; that way you have a shot at making a higher-order change to society. but alas, the (capitalist) system is totally out of everyone’s hands and will keep running as usual no matter what you do, still savage in equal amounts, i think. doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. but at this point i’d give a toe or finger to work for someplace like youtube. at least it’s reached critical mass where i could do something cool and make a difference with emerging media. 

that or i pander to whatever blathering brain-melting slop, drivel, they’re putting on tv for kids and adults. or manage to convince a smaller nonprofit that i am “good at talking to people from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds,” whatever the hell that fucking means. or maybe, ugh god, i’ll work for an ad agency? or do digital strategy? and um, i could say some shit about how capitalism is darwinism and money is a form of social control that works so well because it’s out of the hands of any individual person, and i should probably just stick with art and believe in it, and maybe like, apply for grants. but i want a job, a full-time job. i want stability and enough money that i don't feel guilty buying new underwear and i don't want to hustle to keep the tap running month-to-month and i want to spend the majority of my time doing something i find fulfilling. and soon enough i'll get that, and all my dreams will come true: i’m going to get married and become a fat mom taking my kids to piano practice and saying “the meeting went on forever today,” and i’ll have a husband who never cleans the house enough, and then we’ll get divorced and he’ll find someone 20 years younger and i’ll live out the rest of my years semi-happily alone and i don’t know how i will ever have time to make art again. or if i do i just hope it’s not hobby-like, second-rate.

i wish i could have (feel) the bare-faced honesty and love of sha’carri richardson hugging her grandmother after she worked her ass off for a race. instead everything is this weird simulation where i never feel like i love anybody enough or like i’m working hard enough. i can’t speak honestly except when i am writing about myself (strong, sweet, intense, narcissistic) or things i have noticed, as directed to my own imaginary friend. when i try to communicate irl (or, worst of all, “be real”) it’s all so overthought, overwrought, self-conscious. the only person who knows my real private self is the girl winking at me on my black lives matter poster. i hope she doesn’t mind being here in my room. ducky, the stuffed animal brandon gave me, was also supportive but i put him away because it seemed bad to tell future guys that my stuffed animal is “the child of divorce.” and now /you guys/ know me a little bit, because i took the time to pretend you were all my imaginary friend, my dearest pen pal who laughs at all my jokes and gets all my references, and stopped pretending i was anything besides what’s written here. 

and i think, like, a lot of people now live in this weird simulation? and are so confused about romantic and familial love to the point where everyone is getting off on family members fucking each other and can’t decide if it’s normal to think kids are hot? but i guess that was always some weird fucked-up demon side of human existence? another thing i’m supposed to accept. (also sorry trigger warning.) and another thing i took for granted as a child, that most people, if not everyone, is weird/gross/evil, but now that my mind is cracked this shocks me all over again and i seek some sort of explanation. it’s like i can’t find a real hunk of closeness anywhere. i’m close to my own family, but in my other relationships we’re either too distant or too close and i’m desperately searching for just some normal friends. and to be able to give a speech where i tell someone i really love them and for it to ring true. but i try to be grateful that i live in driving distance to the beach and there’s air conditioning and once i stop being a stupid baby there’s probably more friends and work and stuff out there for me. and then i’ll have some new problem.

#i would put this as read more but it doesnt work on my blog SORRYYY

[corruptedsorrows]

what do you think of chuuyaxdazai? chuuyaxatsushi? chuuyaxakutagawa? chuuyaxyasano? chuuyaxranpo? chuuyaxkunikida? chuuyaxtachihara? chuuyaxango? chuuyaxtsujimura? chuuyaxodasaku?

   Heck that’s a lot of ships anon. I guess the easiest way would be to put them in a sort of number ranking and explain my reasoning, yes? Let’s go with that. 

   So the range is 0 - 10, 10 is OTP/intensely shipped and loved, 0 is absolute NOTP, don’t bring it near me with a 20 foot pole. Sound good? Alright let’s go! 

(read more because this is a titan of a post)

ChuuyaxDazai

Hnnngh… my grandmaster of BSD ships. I don’t think it should come as much surprise to anyone here that this is my OTP, ranking an easy 10/10 ship. There is so much complexity and depth to these two I could rant for hours, but I’ll hold my tongue. I will say at the very least, with this being my OTP I am honestly quite choosy about who I open my heart to with it.

I want to explore all facets of this ship, not just jump straight into romance and smut (although yes, I do like it). More than anything I want to explore the drama between them. I want to have fun shenanigans of teasing and their childish banter. I want Chuuya to understand the shit that goes through Dazai’s head and pull him back from the cliff he’s drawn to–if only for a moment. Chuuya knows how much his head tortures him now, he understands that after having spent so long together. He knows he absolutely isn’t the cure Dazai needs, but he can’t help longing for it. The double edged sword of always being the one passed over for Dazai certainly doesn’t make admitting what he feels towards the man any easier to understand. Why should he want to be involved with the person he’s always being compared to? 

This sort of depth is what I’m looking for in anyone that wants to RP this ship with me. I want to dive into the core of SKK and swim in those troubled waters. I want them to fight and scream at each other, to reach their limits and break down as the finally have their masks shattered. These two know each other to such a depth–even with all of their bad blood that they can still understand each other’s thoughts and actions without speaking on it. They can still trust each other with their lives and know that even though everyone else they thought they could trust–that may have even shown kindness towards them, has let them fall. No matter how badly these two fall out with each other, they’ll never let the other fall past the point of being saved. At the end of the day they’ll be the one outstretching their hands to catch each other.

ChuuyaxAtsushi

I WANT TO RP WITH AN ATSUSHI SO FRICKING BADLY. As the brutality of SSKK I want Chuuya to mentor Atsushi and work with him on accepting his ability. Chuuya’s gone through so much of the same strife and struggle I think these two could understand each other very well. Granted, they’d probably clash on the surface given how little patience Chuuya has for those too afraid to fight (it’s the Port Mafia way), but knowing Atsushi’s fears about hurting others with his ability and being afraid of it he understands very well. He knows what it’s like to feel like a monster, to be transformed into something when everyone else’s ability is merely an extension of themselves. It’s different when you become something instead of wield it. 

I want these two to have these talks so badly, and I sincerely hope Kafka will give us this content because I think Atsushi could stand to grow so much under Chuuya’s guidance. Again, like Akutagawa I view these more on a familial/mentor relationship, but I think unlike Akutagawa, Chuuya would be able to dote on Atsushi more and be allowed to express himself in more heartfelt ways–like hugs and gentle hair brushes… things like that. I’d put these two at 6/10. 

ChuuyaxAkutagawa

Oh Akutagawa… while I don’t really ship these two, I like to think of Chuuya as something like the replacement for Akutagawa. I don’t think Chuuya did a very good job considering how much Akutagawa still pines for Dazai’s attention, but Chuuya understands that pinning at least. He knows how painful it was for Akutagawa when Dazai left suddenly, and seeing how Dazai’s effectively replaced them all with ADA equivalents must hurt like hell to him. I love having Chuuya as a source of comfort for Akutagawa, but I don’t romantically ship them together. This would be more of a familial/mentor relationship and I prefer it that way between them. 4/10.

ChuuyaxYosano

I WANT THESE TWO TO GET PLASTERED IN A BAR TOGETHER! Chuuya and Yosano would be THE BEST drinking buddies and no one can tell me otherwise! I think these two have decent potential as romantic partners–but there’s a huge problem between them–and that would be Mori. Yosano can’t stand the idea of him and Chuuya has dedicated his life to servitude under him. There would be so many arguments and fights over this that it would be a serious point of contention between them. 

I would love to see though… if one day they got on well enough for Yosano to truly see the damage Corruption has done to Chuuya. It’s something she wouldn’t be able to heal from how long its existed in his system. She could of course heal him if he were in a state of Corruption that lasted long enough to put his life in jeopardy, but otherwise Chuuya would be one of the few cases where she simply wouldn’t be able to heal someone and could only watch them waste away with each use like a fatal disease. What sort of affect would that have on her I wonder? 6/10.

ChuuyaxRanpo

Ok this is admittedly a guilty ship for me. I honestly didn’t realize how much I would ship this until I actually started RPing here and got to interact with an amazing Ranpo. I think it’s enjoyable because in many ways Ranpo is like Dazai as far as intellect is concerned. While Chuuya doesn’t have background with Ranpo, the man is able to easily cut through Chuuya’s bullshit and pride in order to get to the heart of what Chuuya is really feeling. And he teases Chuuya about just as badly and as a MUN I’m horribly weak to my muses being teased. I would put these two at about 8/10? 

As much as Ranpo is able to give Chuuya by means of healing and growth, I’m not sure how much Chuuya would be able to give Ranpo in return. He’s certainly not the best intellectual companion, but maybe that’s what Ranpo finds amusing. He can indulge in simpler things and not have to overthink all the time.

ChuuyaxKunikida

I don’t think Chuuya would ever meet any of Kunikida’s ideals so 0/10. No, I’m kidding! I think these two would fit really nicely together as work friends–even though they’re on opposite sides. They have one extreme headache in common and it would be nice for them to just chat out their frustrations over drinks at a bar. Kunikida may just have to step down from his high horse a bit to be able to stoop to casual conversation with the enemy. I’d give them a 2/10. I’m not much for a romantic ship for them, but friendos? YES PLEASE!!!

ChuuyaxTachihara

At first I was like, ah… they’re good bros. Just what Chuuya needs, a best friend that he can confide in. And then Tachihara was revealed as a spy and member of the Hunting Dogs, betraying Port Mafia and I just tiorewihtwfoilahflidu. CHUUYA APPARENTLY ISN’T ALLOWED TO HAVE ANY FRIENDS OR FAMILY JFC. When’s Kouyou handing in her notice at this rate?! However, Tachihara’s leaving of Port Mafia, and his compounded feelings towards them definitely added a nice level of spice for me with this ship, giving it room to have less bromantic feelings and more romantic. 

I enjoy them as an angst ship and I so yearn for that confrontation between them. I enjoy ships that have a lot of work to be done and aren’t smooth sailing–but there’s potential. There has to be some foundation there that holds them together, and in this case it’s that former friendship. So for these too I’d now say that they’re at 6/10.

ChuuyaxAngo

This is quite honestly a ship I struggle to understand as far as how it would work. I see how they could get on with being mutually misunderstood by both their organizations and suffering as a result of their abilities but Chuuya has so much animosity towards Ango for all that he has done and what he represents by working for the Special Abilities Division. Hell, Ango has even referred to Chuuya by his number, making him feel even less human when he already struggles with that concept so much in his life. I truly don’t see these two working together and think they would be far better off with others. 2/10.

ChuuyaxTsujimura

In perfectly good honesty I have not read the spin off novel for the Special Ability Division. However, Chuuya would likely feel very similar to her in the way he does Ango. Chuuya HATES the government with a burning passion for what they put him through. While Tsujimura does seem to have a considerably bigger heart, Chuuya would likely not be able to stand her due to her affiliation not only with the Division, but working directly with Ango as well. Strangely enough though, I do think her concern for Chuuya’s well being would warm his heart quite a bit. It’s rare for anyone to show compassion towards the danger he throws himself into so… on that merit alone it gives her quite an advantage: 6/10

ChuuyaxOdasaku

Again, Chuuya once more doesn’t get on with someone in this listing. It’s an unfortunate pattern. He blames Oda for convincing Dazai to betray the organization and leave, so Oda is in his own way a traitor in Chuuya’s eyes. However, he can also see how Oda’s influence has changed Dazai for the better, and he’s grateful for that. Chuuya’s feelings towards him went from jealous friend, to enemy, to a father figure he wished he could’ve had. Dazai was very lucky to have had someone to teach him in his life for so long. So if anything, it would be more of a paternal/familial ship with Oda and it would certainly be complicated. I’d place this at about… 3/10?

#◺ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇᴅɢᴇʀ◹ ┅ ᴀsᴋs #☈ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴡɪɴᴇ — ᴏᴏᴄ #Anonymous

[fancy-lad-oneshots]

Hi hi! I’m so happy to see another Fallout 4 blog and your writing is so good! I was wondering if I could have What Romanced! Companions first kiss with Sole would be like? Thank you so much!

You have no idea how hyped I was for this one. I thought about it all day and now I’m cracking down to do it. GET READY KIDDOS. IT’S GONNA BE A LONG RIDE. *breaks fingers cracking them*

Cait: Angry drunk Stupid, arrogant, stubborn, sonofabitch of a man. Cait took a swig of her lager, grumbling about the man who she was ‘sold’ to, the man who dragged her around and got her shot at day in and day out. And NOW, she thought as she finished her drink, NOW the twink of a man wanted her to stay and watch a settlement of goodie good farmers. 

“Screw it, I ain’t a babysitter.” She stood from her spot by the fire and walked around the edges of the settlement, embracing the cool of the night. It didn’t help cool the fire she was feeling though, every time she thought of Sole her body responded as such. Why didn’t she just ditch him anyway? Cait threw her bottle, shattering it against a tree. Why did him leaving her at these settlements get her so angry? Her discontents grew as she realized the reason… She was worried. She worried about that stupid man. 

Damn it all. “And now,” She grumbled into the dark, “‘ere I am wonderin’ about him like a damn school girl. Well, screw him. That’s what I say.” Her resolve was met with the silence of the commonwealth. “I need another drink.” Cait made her way back to the fire, where she left the rest of her bottles, only to meet the man she had just been complaining about. “Oh welcome back ya scut, yer lookin’ a bit bloody.” 

The crimson blotches looked black on Soles face. The fire in Cait only grew, realizing she was worried if he was hurt. “Cait, I thought I told you to watch the settlement, not drink yourself stupid.” It was more of a sigh that came out of Sole, who was walking towards the irish woman. 

 “Aye, and I told ye not to get yerself shot again!” Her anger grew, not enjoying being talked to like a child.

 “What? Shot? What are you talking about?” Those green eyes rolled, pointing at the blood on soles face.

 “Yer tellin’ me this ain’t your blood?” She hissed.

“No, it’s not. Why do you care anyway?” He pushed the hand away from his face. Sole had to admit, he wasn’t sure why this woman got to furious when we got hurt. 

 “I care about ya, ya damn fool!” Cait grabbed the collar of his vault suit, pulling him into a sloppy drunken kiss. Something she’d probably regret, or not remember later. “So, don’t be getting’ yerself killed!” A stunned Sole was left standing there, as Cait stormed back to her bottles by the fire. Stupid man, she grumbled. 

Curie: Shy

Since her freedom from her vault, Curie was always looking for ways to practice medicine in the new world she was introduced to. Most of the time this meant patching up a very reckless Sole, whenever they returned from a mission. Occasionally, however, Sole enjoyed bringing her along. Usually it was less harmful missions, since Curie herself wasn’t proficient in firearms she had to admit. This particular mission was simple, go and collect some hubflower from the nearby quarry. Simple and safe, just like Curie.. Except… No one told them that this quarry would be mirelurk infested. 

Sole had made sure she was safe, telling her to stay back the whole time. The women hated feeling so useless, what was she worth if not another body to protect? Her inner monologue was cut short when a stumbling and… heavily bleeding Sole came for aid.

 “Monsieur! Are you ok?!” Concern radiated her voice as Sole merely chuckled, wincing at the pain that came along.

 “Only a scratch, I’ll be ok.” Curie’s eyebrows furrowed, this was NOT a scratch.

 “Sole, please, you can’t be so reckless…” She began working on the gash in Sole’s side, forcing the man to sit down and lean against the wall. “You know… You could’ve brought someone more adapt to fighting, you wouldn’t get hurt so easily then.” 

 Sole tensed when the stimpack was administered. “Heh, but I like your company.” She felt her cheeks growing red as she felt Sole’s eyes on her. “Besides, doc..” He grinned and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her head close enough to peck her on the cheek. “I know you can patch up anything.” (I made this a little fluffy since I er, never actually had Curie as a companion) 

Danse: ApprehensiveThud. Thud. Thud. It had been hours and the paladin was still slamming his power armor into the heavy cement wall that trapped him and Sole to a confined room, doing little to no damage to the obstacle. 

“Danse, please you’re just wasting the fusion core and wasting oxygen…” Sole sat in the middle of the room, her pipboy illuminating the otherwise dark space they were in. Her comment was met with silence, then one last thud before Danse swore and exited his suit. 

 “There has to be a way out, soldiers don’t just give up. I’ll be damned if I die in here.” His voice seemed raspy from the dust he inhaled, leaving his place by the suit to sit next to Sole. “How are you so calm?” 

 She had to laugh, oh god she wasn’t calm at all. In fact, she was on the verge of breaking down and begging for a way out, but she knew better. “You set a distress signal so… I’m sure others are going to show up eventually.” 

 Danse scoffed, “Remember the others who had distress signals, I’m sure they thought the same…” It wasn’t like him to think so negatively, but he promised to keep Sole safe and this was the exact opposite of that. “Knight I’m sorry.. I failed you. I failed your mission and if we do make it out of here, I..” His words hesitated, “I won’t blame you if you took another paladin as lead to help you find your son.” 

 The green glow of the room only assisted in showing the shock on Sole’s face. “Danse, why on earth would you say that?” 

Was that hurt in her voice? Undoubtedly, Danse thought, she thinks I’m giving up on her too… He felt a twinge of guilt in his chest as he looked away. Sole shifted in her spot, facing the Paladin, and firmly grabbing his hand.

 “Do you feel this?” The sudden hand on his caught him off guard, making his gaze turn towards her once again.

 “Of course, but how- “. 

 Sole cut him off, “This is real. We’re not dead yet, we still have a chance. Stop acting like you’ve already given up.” 

Silence. Had he given up? Was he going to accept death here? How did this woman see a way out in such a hopeless moment? 

“Danse.” Soles voice brought him back from his mind, her own hand finding his cheek. Suddenly his heart began racing as he realized just how close they were. “Promise me you won’t just give up.” 

She was pleading, she needed him to be strong as well. “I won’t give up.” He found himself saying. Staring into the face of someone he cared so much about made his head feel dizzy, or maybe it was the oxygen levels getting lower. Surely, he was hallucinating when Sole leaned in those last few inches and placed her lips on his. 

Danse felt it though, felt her, felt the tightness in his chest and for a moment he went back on his promise and didn’t care if they died right there. Sole’s lips were so soft, he yearned to pull her closer, to feel more of what they had to offer. His hands found their way to Sole’s waist and closed what seemed to be feet of distance between them, still not able to be as close as his body ached for. His mind and heart were swarming with emotions and thoughts, he barely noticed when her pipboy began beeping in response to a signal. Sole pulled away, just enough to see what it was. Her eyes met his, hope gleaming in them as they both heard commotion from the other side of the cerement. 

“They found us.” 

Hancock: DrunkIt was a pretty common scene in Goodneighbor, drinking and music, however Sole rarely let themselves a moment to relax while looking for her son. Hancock insisted she needed a break, dragging her all the way to the Third Rail to watch Magnolia preform.  

“So, Sunshine, what’ll be?” He flashed a toothy grin, inquiring to get her a drink.

 “Anything strong.” But her mind was somewhere else. They had just gotten information on Kellogg; how could they not be out right now looking for Shaun? Hancock slid her the drink in a clean glass, somewhat of a luxury it seemed nowadays.

 “That’s my girl, stiff stuff only, just like a champ.” He finished off his own drink, wincing at the taste. He was more a chem guy anyway, the ghoul decided. 

 One, two, three, four songs in now and Sole lost track of time, and of how many drink they had. Albeit they felt pretty good, better than they’ve felt in a while and the company couldn’t be better.

 “Hancock! Come on an *hic* dance with me, you said you would.” Sole cooed over Hancock, who had been dealing with Magnolias hasslers. 

 “Damn Sole, how many did ya drink? Heh, seems like you’re havin’ a good time.” He just about caught the stumbling women who attempted to stand.

 “A great time! I think I wanna.. get some air though.” The sudden shift in her gravity made her head spin as she held onto the mayor. He agreed and led her outside, all the while making sure she was standing up right and not falling into anyone. 

“Hancock… Thank you, for being here. I don’t think I could find *hic* Shaun on my own and… You’re a big help.” She leaned on his side and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool night air that was offered. 

 “Shit, I’m just a ghoul who got lucky enough to run into you, sunshine.” Sole looked up at him and smiled, it’s true she was feeling good because of the alcohol but also because she had someone who she felt really understood her. 

It was no surprise the moment took a romantic turn when Hancock caught the look in her eye, he leaned in and kissed her with moderate passion, he didn’t want to spook her since kissing a ghoul could feel strange at first. He tasted the whiskey on her lips and smiled when the action was returned. 

 “Heh.. I must be more drunk than I thought. No way someone like you wants an ugly mug like me.” But she did, and that feeling was better than any high he had ever experienced. 

MacCready: Reassuring They were trapped, no doubt about it, crouched behind what was left of a desk in a broken-down warehouse.

 “WHERE ARE YOU HUMAN?” Heavy footsteps echoed, not letting them know from what direction they were coming from. 

 “Shit…” MacCready, not even bothering to correct himself, swore and looked at a nervous Sole. This was all his fault, he wanted to come here and look for ammo and now they were trapped with barely enough rounds for the mutant’s hounds. 

 “This is it, we’ll die here… Shaun, I’ll never get to find him, I failed him…” Sole was on the verge of a breakdown, dropping their weapon with a hopeless thud.

 MacCready’s chest ached so badly, god how could he do this to someone he cared so much for. She was so strong, but now… It was his turn, he decided. The mercenary cupped the back of Soles neck, pulling her forehead against his. 

“Listen to me,” he whispered, unfaltering, “we won’t die. We’ll get out of here, we will get Shaun back, I promise. But first, we gotta kick some super mutant as-butt. Got it?” He closed the gap between them, feeling the soft warmth of their lips part. He’d be damned if they did die and he didn’t let her know how he felt. “Alright,” He pulled back with a fresh blush on his cheeks and hand them their gun. “Let’s do this.” 

Preston: Sad, they can’t ALL be good kisses 😉 The minutemen were symbol of hope, of change, of unity, and boy was Preston glad he had a leader like Sole to follow. He admired everything about her, ever since she came rushing in to help his group in Concord. So, it was no surprise to him when he realized his feelings went from adoration to a romantic interest. For a while he suppressed them, knowing Sole was looking for her son and still grieving over her loss for her spouse, but that didn’t stop him from watching the way she smiled at settlers and always lent a hand. 

 The sun was setting slowly, already past the castle walls when Preston was getting done his last round of patrols and spotted Sole playing with Dogmeat. Just a chat… he told himself. Nothing more. Just a friendly chat with my general. He slung his rifle onto his back and walked over, smiling all the while. 

“More settlers are finding their way here, it’s becoming a nicely sized settlement now.” He sparked the conversation. Sole stood from where she was petting the dog, greeting Preston with a grin. 

“That’s great news, hopefully they take what they learn here and bring it to other settlements.” Her eyes scanned the field they had planted more food. 

 “That’s actually what I came to talk about,” He motioned towards the room they designated for meetings, “got a minute?” 

 Sole picked up her weapon from the ground, “For you, always Preston.” 

 That comment sent a blush across the mans face. Maybe she felt the same way? Once in the room, they placed their weapons on the table and stood over a poorly drawn map of the commonwealth, spots ‘starred’ where settlements were. Preston could feel the warmth from Sole’s body, their arms just about touching. The conversation was mostly about where to start new settlements, but for most of it Preston could keep his thoughts focused. For a moment, just a brief one, he let his control go and pulled Sole into a warm kiss. Immediately he regretted this, as Sole pulled away and stared at him with hurt eyes. 

 “Preston I..I’m sorry I just..” Oh god, what did he do? “I’m still grieving for Nate.. I’m sorry.” 

 The man felt like he had just been whacked over the head by a super mutant. How could he be so stupid? Not only did he jeopardize his general, he hurt his friend. Sole left the room without another word, leaving Preston to wallow in his mistake. 

Piper: Excitable accident “Blue, Blue! Come see this!” Piper waving around a newspaper, Publick Occurrences, in her hand. “I knew it! I knew the mayor was up to no good!” Sole grabbed the paper from a nearly jumping Piper and read the article. Diamond City Mayor, Sell out. It was the headline she had been waiting for. People had to believe her now. “I knew it! I told you!” 

 Her laughter was contagious as it reached Sole, making the smile out of sheer joy for their companion. Happiness was rare in the commonwealth. “Sole this is amazing, and I couldn’t have done it without you!” Without a second thought Piper wrapped her arms around Sole’s neck, catching their mouth with hers. A second went by before the reporter realized what she just did, and she pulled back. Blushing and apologizing, trying to wave the newspaper as a distraction. Of course, later there was no paper to distract them. 😉 

Bonus!Maxson (because I love this man) Pissed  Respect, honor, integrity, duty, these were thing that the Elder expected out of his soldiers. These were qualities that this… Woman, didn’t seem to possess. He had trusted Paladin Danse’s judgement, even with his reserves, but this woman was getting on his last nerve. There was always some complication with her missions, regardless of the fact she got them done she would use resources like ghouls and synths, and on top of that she tested his authority. Unacceptable.

 Maxson had just gotten done his speech to the knights, when he called for Sole to stand fast after their dismissal. The sun was setting on the Commonwealth and through the windows of the Prydwen the golden rays splayed across the room. There she stood, caught in one of the rays and staring down her superior.

 “Something wrong, Elder Maxson?” 

 Arthurs mind snapped back to attention. “Yes, in fact,” He took a few steps in her direction. “You’ve been walking on thin ice soldier. I need to know the Brotherhood can depend on you.” 

 Her eyebrow quirked. He we go, Arthur thought. “Have I not been completely my missions?” 

 There it was, that tone, that condescending tone that no one had ever used on him before. “You have, but that’s not the point. You know our goal is for humanity to thrive, humanity that does not include ghouls and synths. Yet I have knowledge you still communicate with them on a regular basis, why is that?” 

“Could it be because they have better information than your scribes?” Maxson felt the blood rising to his face, this woman infuriated him, so why couldn’t he just order her down?

 “Do you know who you’re speaking to?” He let his anger get to him as he stepped closer, entering Sole’s personal space. She backed up in response, but he merely followed until her back was to a metal wall. “I don’t take insubordination lightly, give me one good reason not to throw you out of the brotherhood right now.”

 A rather overly confident Sole stared down his eyes, sticking her chin out proudly. “You need me.” She felt his breath on her face, she knew that was her trump card. “You need me to get into the inst-“ 

Sole’s words were cut off by a pair of rough lips. Maxson’s hands slammed the wall behind her, making her body jump as his own body trapped hers. He thrust his tongue in her mouth, exploring every inch before pulling away. “Stop talking, Knight. That’s an order I won’t give you again.” His eyes were dark with promises that if she spoke, he’d shut her up in other ways.

Edit: Deacon 

It had been weeks and the two were shamelessly flirting, Deacon had to admit he didn’t mind at all, but on this night Sole seemed to not be having it. The cooled air brushed past Deacon, following his friend who had just snapped at his recent attempt to chat her up. Weird… He thought, somethin’s gotta be buggin’ her… Though his pride told him to walk away, Sole was still a dear friend who he didn’t intend on upsetting even through harmless flirtation. Deacon decided to follow her at a distance, all the while wondering where she was headed. 

“I’m sorry Shaun… I’m just wasting my time and you-God I don’t even know if you’re alive…” Though quiet, her voice carried through the motionless Commonwealth night and Deacon’s heart sank at the words. 

“Hey, no giving up, we said we’d find him, right?” The sudden voice made Sole jump and reach for her weapon, earning a chuckle from the man.  “I’m on your side,” he said as he raised his hands innocently. 

Sole let out a sigh and relaxed her shoulders. “I said to leave me alone.” 

“Yeah, about that,” With long strides he closed the remaining distance between them. “We’re friends now, so I’m allowed to not listen to you without repercussions.” Though his tone was joking, it had undertones of concern that matched the crease on his forehead. Sole had to have read the message, looking away without a word. “Look if you don’t want to talk about it I get it,” Deacon’s hand reached up and was placed on her arm. “but I know loss too, you can talk to me.” 

Whatever reaction he imagined was not the one he received, as Sole turned and wrapped her arms around his neck placing her lips to his. Stunned, yet responsive, the man held her shoulders firmly and pulled mere centimeters away. “Sole I-“

“I’m sorry I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.” She choked out, eyes filling with tears. 

Shit… Deacon thought, she needs someone right now… “It’s gonna be ok, we’ll find him.” He pulled her into his arms, offering his warmth and friendship during her low point. He swore though, in the silence of the night, anyone around would be able to hear his heart racing.

Edit: Nick

It wasn’t often the detective had spare time to just sit and think, between the missing persons in diamond city and his new companion desperately looking for their son, it was a rare pleasure. As a synth he obviously didn’t have a need for sleep but that didn’t mean a moment of quiet wasn’t appreciated. He leaned back on his chair, puffing out the smoke from the remainder of his cigarette when Sole ran in. 

“Nick, Nick! I think we found something!” They announced with enthusiasm, Dogmeat at their heels. 

“You think?” He leaned forward, putting out his cigarette and examining the item placed in his hand. “San Francisco Sunlights… Where did you find these?” 

“Well after his apartment, Dogmeat tracked these to a spot outside the city! It’s a lead!”

Her excitement was contagious, as Nick let himself smile proudly. “That it is.” he reached down and scratched Dogmeat’s head. “Good job boy.” The detective was so preoccupied with the dog that he almost didn’t noticed the gaze that was upon him. “Something the matter?”

“No, it’s just… I wouldn’t be this close to finding Shaun if it weren’t for you,” her hand rested on his cheek, causing the synth to appear surprised. If he could blush, that’s most likely what would be happening. “Thank you.” 

It was quick, nothing too grand or awkward, but it was quick enough that Nick didn’t even have time to pull away. Him? This wonderful person couldn’t possibly want to kiss... him. A machine. It was just in the moment, he told himself. Yet, her blush and smile spoke otherwise. 

“We should uh... Follow up on this lead, asap. You ready for a hunt, Dogmeat?” The dog barked in affirmation. He didn’t bring it up the rest of the mission, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wondering there every time he looked at his companion.

#fo4 #fo4 companions #cai #curie #danse #hancock #maccready #piper #preston #arthur maxson #long post #i hope you guy love this as much as i do #first kiss #deacon #nick valentine

[themiracleisstillwaiting]

shizaya

I love when my mutuals indulge me on my Shizaya Thirst. 

• when or if I started shipping it. Ever since I saw them on the opening and I’m not even kidding. I wish I was.

• my thoughts: Literally, almost every problem those two ever had (including some of the emotional ones) would be fixed if they could find something like a peaceful coexistence. A Truly peaceful coexistence. That could be by just being companions, snarky friends or being a couple (this last one, Im just saying, IM JUST SAYING). 

But at the same time, it just… wouldnt be them, if they didnt have passionate  feelings for each other. So much of their characers, of their actions, of their feelings, of their personality, was build because of their meeting, because of their contact with each other. This is why I cant really see them being close friends without, somehow, falling in love. Or becoming destructive/self destructive again.They’re literally incapable of being indifferent to each others very existence. Not, at least, without taking a huge toll of their energy.

• What makes me happy about them: They’re on each other’s mind all the time and thats canon. Izaya costantly mentions Shizuo when talking about his only exception on his sick, twisted love for humanity. Scratch that, Izaya mentions and talks about Shizuo all the time when nobody asks. 

 Shizuo is reminded of his own brother when he sees Izaya’s little sisters. I though that connection was odd to have with someone you hate; to be reminded of the positive bonds in your life, by remembering the ones your enemy has. At some point in the novels, on Shizuo POV, when he’s wondering about his past, in which everyone was afraid of him, he specifically remembers Izaya as the one who didnt. And then Narita immediately goes “but he was a man! no homo”.

Besides that, they complement each other. In personalities, in color palettes (I draw! Leave me alone!), in actions. They polarize each other on a perfect way inside the narrative.

• What makes me sad about them: WAHT DOESNT MAKES ME SAD ABOUT THEM, I SHIP THESE GUYS ENTIRELY TO SUFFER, IT SEEMS. 

They’re both very lonely. And its due to their own unchanging nature. And they have a very difficult relationship with bonds. Y E T they seek for bonds, each one on their own way. Izaya by rejecting them and creating his own rules about his relationship and dynamics with people. Shizuo, by accepting his loneliness while at the same time accepting he yearns for connecting with others.

They’re both very sad, deeply lonely characters and due to that I think they do understand each other on a level no other character is able to. (Shinra sees it, but from a detached point of view.)They seem to deny it and push it, though.

Obvs, at the end of the novels Shizuo gets better (but at what cost?).

They’ll never be completely happy or free until their conflict reaches an satisfiable end and I do hate the fact Narita pulled away from that at the last fucking second, after an entire, intense and ultimately useless build up.• things done in art/fic that annoys me:

- When they’re already on a stablished relationship but Shizuo is constantly brute and hurtful. So unnecessary. Especially when, on the plot, is constantly uncalled for, when Izaya has barely done anything to be an acceptable target.There’s a difference between this and being snarky, and I cant see Shizuo not being devoted and compromised with a person he’s in a relationship with. Also, because its usually justified that, despite how brute, uncaring and hurtful he acts, “Izaya knows Shizuo loves him”, which is just…. Yeeeaaah, guys, being treated like shit by somebody you do know loves you, doesnt necessarily makes things better.  The same thing for Izaya taunting Shizuo or provoking him on a distressful manner.

((Its not like I dont want conflict in their relationship, but if I start to wonder wtf those people are even doing together, then you’re not handling writing them on a “relationship”. Relationships are supposed to have nice moments once in a while.))

- When people go ~~dark and gritty~~ and cant decide if they love or hate each other, and then tropes like rape and abandonment and emotional abuse are evoked. Dont do that shit if you dont know what you’re going to do with those plot elements.

- People are usually way too afraid of going far with Izaya’s character (which is such a waste, he’s the character to go far with.), afraid of making him OOC and getting him wrong (which I kind of get it). And then they go T o o F a r with Shizuo’s one instead, making him IDK kill people, be angry with everyone 100% all the fucking time, eat 92059482 cakes, act stupid and unthoughtful, and generally being dumb or selfish, which is just… Ok, but what happened with the Silent Shizuo, who honeslty ponders over things while walking the street, and is kind with people he cares about??

 • things I look for in art/fic: Well written Smut To Be completely honest.   Its been months I havent read fics of those two but I used to read all the time. . But  I was usually up to any kind of trope as long as the author made it work.

Oh! Things around their relationship with their siblings or Raijin schoolmates. It honestly surprises me the lack of it.

• Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:  I’m not a multishipper with Shizaya, man. Its all or nothing. Cant see them fitting well (and being honestly happy and peaceful and at ease) with anyone else.

• My happily ever after for them: So many. One in which they slowly learn how to trust each other and how to lean on each other (after, I assume, a lot of heartbreak). One in which, by loving each other and accepting each othe’s love, they learn how to love themselves, for who they happen to be. And then, they get a puppy. 

• what is their favorite non-sexual activity? Play videogames. Imagine those two playing Mario Kart, how fucking competitive wouldnt it be??   They usually end up yelling at each other, at the end. But the fun, overexcited, kind of yelling. 

Also talk, just … talking. Izaya loves to babble on, about philosophy and whatnot, but Izaya also talks about the russian literature he’s read, his favorite authors, his favorite theories, the random trivia knowledge he posses for which he has no use for (”did you know Shizu-chan, that [random useless fact about caterpillars]” “…. …. ..hmm, caterpillars are cute” “are they?? no, theyre not.” “yes, they are.”.).  Shizuo just listens. He likes listening him. Shizuo would also confide him things. Slowly and in parts. Like his feelings of loneliness, his feelings of guilt, his complicated emotions towards his brother, towards his failures, his fights, his violence. Things that make him feel awful but dont anymore. Izaya wouldnt judge, he’s done and thought worse. Izaya would know better how to put into words, talk with Shizuo about myths of monsters, of heroes. Of psychology theories. Fill the silence after every confession, knowing hes doing so and why hes doing so until he gets a laugh out of Shizuo, or leaves him at ease.

Also, maybe watching cartoon when Akane and the Twins come to visit. Izaya overanalyses them or falls asleep, no middle term. Shizuo just enjoy them and makes tea for Akane.

Eat out at the Russia Sushi. Meet up with their siblings for awkward karaoke nights (Kasuka’s idea.). 

Shizuo cooks for Izaya. Shizuo moves in cuz Izaya’s place is nicer. Izaya remodels his kitchen solely for him and Shizuo to cook more confortably. 

Shizuo makes breakfast while Izaya is asleep. He hums or sings while making tasks. Izaya loves hearing his voice from the other room. He could always tease Shizuo about it but he doesnt because he doesnt want Shizuo to stop doing it.

#shizaya #durarara #drrr talk #orihara izaya #ty! i know u dont ship it so this was really nice of u #long post #text heavy #how do you english #the otp #otp talk #isa talks headcanons

[hibiscushut]

The truth needs so little rehearsal

I started my first relationship when I was 16. He was my best friend from church, a tall and awkward boy with a lopsided grin and wonky haircut and a penchant for Star Wars and video games. He followed me around a youth camp for a weekend, while I battled with whether I should be annoyed by his constant presence, or give in to the curiosity of what boys had to offer.

We kissed in the woods and he became my first. My first kiss, my first love, and my first heartbreak three years later.

I loved him with the same passionate intensity I remember seeing in the eyes and hearts of the teenagers I teach today. When puffy-eyed girls came to throw their woes of breakups and loss on my teacher’s desk, a piece of my heart broke with them. Because I remember how deep the love was.

I find myself defending the depth of what some might easily describe as puppy love. Colleagues would roll their eyes over the antics of teenagers entering and exiting these fleeting moments of love. I could see the yearning to be loved in the eyes of young women who hoped to fill the void left by absent fathers, insufficient mothers, and robbed childhoods. I saw them beg to be loved–often looking for the kind of emotional support only given by someone committed equally to reckless abandon–a disaster in the making from the start.

No 17 year-old boy is equipped to provide the support needed to save these girls. But God save them, they’d try. Or they’d enter into the equation unknowingly committing themselves to a business venture doomed to failure. No foundation, a house waiting to crumble under the weight of years of neglect and of jerry rigged patchwork repairs.

But it’s certainly fun while it lasts.

Because in those three years I learned what it was to love without fear, to explore our bodies knowing full and well that neither of us had a clue what to do…I remember being so embarrassed to buy condoms for our first time that we drove an extra 15 minutes away to find the Walmart where we didn’t think people we knew shopped.

I remember getting so irritated to have to buy them that we opted to buy the huge box (which I jokingly referred to as the “Family size.”) We had to sneak…which was part of the fun. Because his mom was a snoop, we hid a backup condom in a random Aviary Guide leftover from Scouting, so sex became referred to as “Birdwatching.” I learned a lot about birdwatching in 3 years.

I learned how my blood flows, how my back arches, and how my fingers find sheets or clothing or skin to grip in anticipation of release. I became skillful in avoiding a stick shift on my left knee and how to use a headrest for support when fucking in the front seat. I lied, made him lie, and spent too many nights “at the library” to justify my lackluster 3.8 GPA–so I could feel the intimacy of another kindred soul, just trying to get through life.

And it was beautiful. I was so very lucky, I didn’t have drama or insecurity, or unfulfilled curiosity in high school. I got to love with reckless abandon until college came, and we went our separate ways.

The scariest day came when I realized I was alone. That my silly dreams were never going to work out. And I had to start over.

So I did what every good trooper does. I wiped my tears, packaged up the tender pieces left from my broken heart, and I became a woman.

And I was fearless. Fearless because I knew that power comes from being the person who cares the least.

I knew what I liked, and for an 18 year old, that’s dangerous knowledge. And it’s sexy. I could be bold and courageous and get what I wanted because I laid out the terms (with no uncertainty) that I was willing to offer XYZ in exchange for ABC. I’m not looking for love (I wasn’t) and you can’t fall in love (or I’m out.)

So I thoroughly enjoyed most of my twenties. I had short affairs, long-standing agreements, and some in-between. I knew when it was time to cut out, reiterate the rules, and from time to time, when to cheat to seal the deal.

Because I was powerfully in control of my wants, my needs, and desires.

I am not proud of some of the people I’ve hurt along the way. In retrospect, a few deserved a chance at more. But I don’t live with an ounce of regret. Until perhaps, now.

Because when I met Lee, he was broken. And I was growing tired of the game. So I swooped in, gave him a shoulder to cry on, and mended his brokenness with my faithful determination to make his (and my) life better. I was devoted in a way I had never been. Because I was rewriting the rules and I figured (I’m laughing as I type this) that if I did this “right” that it had to work. If I closed my eyes to curious contenders, and became his cheerleader, that I would be able to fill the gaps left from his broken childhood, his negligent mother, and his fearful single father.

I could be his hero.

A month ago in counseling Deborah (who I am convinced is the smartest listener I’ve ever met) asked him, “Do you believe that unconditional love exists?” And he quickly responded, no hesitation, “No, of course not.”

I’m not sure I spoke for the rest of the session.

People with Attachment Disorder, which loosely is described as a condition that stems from an insecure childhood from birth-3 years of age, often feel that no one is capable of a love that conquers all. Because of this, when things are “too good” they self-sabotage.

For me, that meant discovering a series of indiscretions including a year-long affair with my best friend, and a half-dozen other affairs over the last five years.

I loved this man unconditionally until I just felt stupid.

So everyday I choose to love my children, with passionate intensity, because I’ll be damned if they grow up believing that true love can’t exist. And I’ve tried over the last year to find joy in everyday living with my husband, because I have hope that he’ll learn to accept his past and embrace the life that’s sitting in front of him.

But I owe it to myself and my children to love myself unconditionally, too,

In retrospect, if I’m really being honest with myself, I never took that packaged shattered heart off my high school shelf. It’s still tucked away under piles of useless shit gathered over the years.

When you described the part of sex when someone really lets go, the sentiment slammed me in the stomach. In truth, it made me cry. I know exactly what that moment is, how it feels, and why it would be an intoxicating moment to share with someone.

You’re an odd duck, Dr. Wiener. Too smart for your own britches. You’re too smart, too fit, and too self-confident for my taste. I feel like I’d never feel beautiful enough, thin enough, or smart enough to rally wits in a debate. I have a 156 IQ, but I’m not well-read and I don’t have a slew of letters scrambling after my name. I’m 6 classes shy of my Masters because I had kids. You win on too many counts. And you know how to ask the right questions and dig in to capture the essence of a conversation, minus the bullshit I’ve learned to use. I feel like sleeping with you would be a battle. I’d be too concerned with telling my brain to shut up, while attempting to keep my head above water. And let’s face it. I’m a hot mess.

Talking to you is like being forced to dance in front of a floor to ceiling mirror. I love dancing–just don’t make me watch.

But I am very thankful to have met you. You have made me think about my life in a new way. And when you talk about integrity, it made me realize something very important. I never want to act in a way that I have to make unnecessary excuses for.

Since we started talking, I’d be lying if I said I’ve gone an hour without thinking about you. I’m telling you this with the caveat that I’m a level-headed woman and you don’t have to reiterate that it’s foolish to “have feelings” for you. I get it. I know the rules. You’re not my hero and you can’t fix things, blah blah blah. You’re just a beautiful escape. You aren’t fully real to me, so I want to know more.

The day will come when we go 2, then 3 weeks without a text or call, and you’ll eventually be a fond memory or someone I could call for an honest appraisal of life. No hard feelings.

And maybe, who knows, we’ll meet and it’ll be one of those moments when we see each other and it’s like waking up after a drunken hook-up and the person you thought you met doesn’t match the memory. Unfortunate, but fun while it lasted.

It’s 12:57. And I’m sleepy. I’ll read over this once, but know it’s the best draft you’re gonna get. I’m not writing to be nearly as witty as you. You win. ;)