#is it a possibility that i have something worth keeping

[chelseeebe]

too sweet (for me)

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of violence and drugs. eddie is a dick but not when it comes to r <333 :} female!reader

eddie munson had been hardened by life. how could one night possibly demolish all of the walls he had spent so long building?

a/n: sorry for being mia again lol i am trying i swear!! i have another eddie fic coming that i love and probably the other parts to the steve zombie au! i’m usually never busy but these last few weeks have been wild

the club is too loud, too busy and too sweaty. eddie wasn’t a fan, never had been.

he squeezes past the crowd, grumbling to himself as he goes. eddie preferred to be in bed by three. his mom was very spiritual and had drilled into him that nothing good could come out of being awake at the witching hour.

something or someone knocks into him, or vice versa, he can’t really tell. it’s too dark and he’s had too much to even really care.

“watch it,” you snap, twisting around to send the dirtiest glare.

“what the fuck? you bumped into me,” he shouts over the loud thumping beat. immediately wishing he could swallow his words, noticing your eyes narrow, sizing him up. you’re the prettiest girl in this place, the only one he’s even looked at twice and now you hated him.

“whatever asshole,” you snarl, before continuing your way to the busy bar.

eddie hesitates for a moment before shoving through the path you’d made, angering another ten people on his way. he didn’t care, that couldn’t be your only impression of him.

he catches up, squeezing into the tiny space next to you, leaning against the sticky marble as you wait patiently.

his hand brushes your arm, earning another sly glance, face screwing up as you realise he’d tailed you to the bar.

“sorry,” he starts, not giving you the opportunity to tell him to fuck off first. “i wanted to apologise.. i was rude,” tongue resting on his bottom lip, appreciating the new found lighting and how it made you glow.

“you were,” smiling pointedly, eyes trailing down his chest, “but you can buy me a drink to make up for it.”

eddie stares, mouth agape at your brutal, up-front attitude before it turns to a tiny smirk, “i think that’s fair,” honestly he admired it. the only girl in here worth a second glance.

“vodka,” you add, making room for him to order.

he takes one last admiring look at you before turning to the bartender.

you tunnel your way back through the crowd, your friends long gone by now. eddie didn’t mind keeping you company, not one bit.

his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you gently back towards him. rightfully earning another scathing glare as you stop, inches in front of him.

“you’re not gonna even tell me your name?” he leans in, smirking as he does.

your lips brush against his ear, name soft as silk as you mutter into his hair. it sends shivers down his spine, wanting your lips on his ear and his neck.

“eddie,” he replies, resting his hand on the small of your back, keeping you close in the packed club.

“are you a dancer, eddie?” the way his name rolls off of your tongue makes him unfathomably crazy.

“not really,” he mumbles, tongue poking out of his lips.

“too bad,” your smirk, pulling towards the bustling dance floor before he can argue against it.

he didn’t like clubbing nor dancing but if you insist, he couldn’t say no.

the music ripples around him, hazy when all he can focus on is you and the way your hips twist in time to the beat. you’re not even trying and yet he’s completely encapsulated by your body.

there’s an attempt at dancing along with you, though he’s not any good. itching to just place his hands on your waist and let you guide him.

the purple light catches your eye as you move closer, eddie’s eyes latched onto you the entire time.

“you’re really not a dancer, are ya’?” you lean in to whisper.

“can’t help it, i’m distracted,” he purrs, daring to place his hand on the small of your back.

you purse your lips, keeping whatever snarky comment to yourself.

fuck it.

“d’you wanna get out of here?” eddie asks, “i know a place.”

your brow quirks, “hm? how do i know you won’t kidnap me?”

he tilts his head, meeting your eye, “you’ll just have to trust me,” offering his hand for you to take, eager to get you out of this club.

really, he’d go anywhere if it meant he could look at you properly without getting elbowed in the back by sweaty drunks.

you hesitate for a split second, which he supposes is fair, before placing your hand in his, permission to lead you from the dance floor and out into the chilly night.

your arms wrap around yourself, shivering in the cold.

eddie doesn’t hesitate, taking his jacket off and placing it around your shoulders. “it’s not far from here.. we can walk?”

your eyes narrow once more, pulling his jacket tighter, “lead the way, eddie.”

he knows you’re trying to taunt him, maybe rile him up a little and by god is it working. taking your hand once more as you start the walk to his apartment, anticipating coursing through his veins.

-

the elevator ride up to his floor is hell, fingers twitching to touch you. he’d do it too, if you were alone. plagued with one of his neighbours just trying to get home as you hang off of his arm.

eddie’s thankful his floor is first, losing the will to not just grab you right then and there.

your mouth falls open, eyes flitting around the apartment he definitely didn’t pay someone else to decorate for him.

“you live here?”

eddie didn’t grow up around money. he lived in a trailer for most of his life, cramped into the tiny home with his uncle in some dead end town until he finally found the nerve to move himself to chicago.

there were dreams of a music career that wilted away pretty quickly after he realised that there were a hundred and one other screwed up teens just like him, all wanting the same thing.

selling drugs wasn’t exactly his chosen path but he’d sold a little weed in high school and found he wasn’t awful at it and now here he was.

with more money than he knew what to do with and a reputation for being a hard ass.

he doesn’t entertain your amazement, sidling over to you with his hands already finding their place to your waist.

“the bedroom’s even better,” eddie smirks, feeling your fingers twist around his t-shirt.

“go ‘head,” half-smile on your pretty lips.

your body brushes against his as you trail behind, not wanting to waste another second. he hasn’t even kissed you yet, has no idea how addicting you’ll taste, the slight hint of vanilla in your smudged lipgloss.

expertly twisting you around, stumbling over just slightly before he catches you, planting his lips on yours, manoeuvring your entwined bodies around the darkened room.

he’s done this dance a hundred times, but something about you feels different. you’re mailable, trusting in his hands to guide you to the bed while your hands sit atop his shoulders.

falling back onto the mattress, tugging him down atop of your body, fingers clawing at his collar while his hands roam your body, grabbing at your hips and waist.

eddie haphazardly reaches for the lamp, disconnecting your lips for a brief moment before the orange hue fills the room.

you groan in response, sprawled out on the mattress underneath him.

“i wanna see you,” he remarks, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before he kisses you properly again. a full battle between teeth and tongues, barely catching against one another, lips wet with each other.

you sigh softly into his mouth when his hand travels beneath your dress, sliding between your aching thighs, panties already wet and begging to be torn off.

he doesn’t though, wanting to draw this out just a tiny bit longer, removing his fingers from your heat to toy with the hem of your dress.

“fuck,” you gasp, breaking away from his lips, “don’t be mean,” swollen bottom lip jutting out to make it all that much worse.

“okay,” eddie laughs quietly, “i’m done,” sticking to his word as your dress comes down in one rough tug, grunting as he does so.

he sits up on his knees, admiring the sight of your quivering body below. “worth it,” he remarks, tearing off his own t-shirt, and launching it across the room somewhere.

his jeans are next, shaking them off of his leg as they land on the floor with a soft thud.

your hand instinctively covers your chest, shying away from his hungry gaze.

“nuhuh,” eddie bites, pulling your arm away, pinning it underneath his as he comes back to your level, hovering just above. “don’t do that.”

you blink, pulling him closer with your free hand. the cat and mouse routine had been going on far too long, even for him. feeling your heat against his cock, almost painful to the touch as it strains his boxers.

“well if you hurried up..” you start, tilting your chin towards him with a tiny smirk.

eddie laughs loudly, yanking your panties down abruptly, “alright sweetheart, i hear ya,” returning his hand to between your thighs, spreading you open with his middle finger before sliding the digit in.

you huff in response, mouth falling open as that melodic tone he’s been waiting for falls from your lips, dancing around his ears.

your head falls back against the soft pillow, opening your legs further as he shifts fully in between, biting down onto his bottom lip.

“that better?” pumping his finger between your slick folds, your breath quivering with every move.

you nod quickly, readjusting your grip on his shoulder, taking a deep breath when his thumb finds your clit.

he can’t hold off any longer, pulling his fingers out and tugging his boxers down, cock springing up against his stomach.

“mhm,” he groans, teasing your sopping cunt with the tip of his already leaking cock, lapping up every last whine of appreciation you let slip.

eddie slides in, staggered breaths as he pauses, adjusting his position to allow his hand to find your hand, fingers intertwining while you huff into his ear.

“shit,” he utters, slowly thrusting his hips, gripping your hand tighter, pressing you into the mattress.

he wouldn’t have fucked around so much if he knew this is what you’d feel like.

your thighs squeeze around his waist, the soft skin encasing him. goading him on with your sweet breathless whines, repeating his name like gospel.

working his way to the hilt, debating why he could just sit there for a while with his cock buried deep inside of you or not.

your fingers twist around his curls, gently tugging on the messy mop atop of his head.

whimpering into the tiny shared space between your faces, your eyes fighting to stay open. cheeks warm and flushed, incoherent babbling trailing from your mouth.

“you.. you feel fuckin’ insane,” eddie growls, wishing he could swallow that familiar twist in his stomach, keep this going forever and ever.

the air is warm, filthy sounds of his skin against yours fill the room as you desperately move your hips against his. loosely connecting your lips in a hazy kiss, he can feel you tighten around him, whimpers strained and needy as you near your orgasm.

“ahh fuck,” eddie mewls, burying his head into the delicate skin of your neck, leaving lazy kisses in the crook. hoping he can hold out for just a minute more while you tremble around him. coming undone right beneath his body.

you hum into his ear, running your fingers along his scalp, pulling gently on his hair.

eddie can’t stop himself any longer, pulling his cock out of your cunt before he cums, letting his release cover your thigh instead.

your nails continue to trace through his hair while his mouths babbles a bunch of nonsensical bullshit into your neck, surely condemned by a life in hell for the blasphemous shit he was saying.

coaxing his head out of the comfort of your skin to gaze into his tired eyes, your heartbeats coinciding with one another.

instead of saying anything, you grin, laughing quietly to yourself. eddie thinks you’re crazy and yet, he’s sure he might’ve just fallen in love.

-

eddie feels like a creep, watching as you sleep, your leg twisted somewhere between his making him terrified to even think about moving.

he doesn’t want to startle you, in fact he doesn’t really want this to end. he knows that once you wake, he’ll be lucky to see you again.

maintaining relationships wasn’t exactly a skill he possessed.

you stir sometime later, feeling your way up his chest as you come around. maybe you’d think he was a freak, maybe you’d regret it and decide to file a restraining order or something.

“morning,” you croak, lips plump with sleep, eyes barely open as they peep at the other side of the bed.

“hi,” wanting to cringe at his complete lack of charm.

“you talk in your sleep,” you say pointedly, shadows of a smile on your lips.

“oh really? what was i saying?”

you shrug, “something about a fire,” scrunching your nose up. idyllic as you bask in the morning light, a real picture of beauty.

“a fire? that’s weird, i was dreaming about you,” undecided whether it were too much too soon.

you curl away from him, shying into the pillow when a bang at the door interrupts everything, damn near rattling his entire apartment.

you look to him again, confusion threading your brows together, “who’s that?” worry seeping through your tone.

“i don’t know,” well, he had a pretty good idea of who it probably was and he most definitely didn’t want to deal with that right now.

they bang again, eddie unfurling his arm from your waist, “i’ll be two minutes,” frowning to himself as he pulls his boxers on.

as expected, gareth and jeff stand outside, gormless as their eyes fall to his bare legs.

“woah,” gareth exclaims, eyes wide.

“what d’you two want?”

“you not gonna invite us in?” jeff presses, still marvelling at his legs.

“no.”

“why?” gareth peers into the apartment, “who’ve you got in there?”

“your mom,” eddie quips, “why are you here?”

the two idiots share a look, half-offended, half trying to figure out if eddie was telling the truth or not.

“well-“ they come closer, “we’ve got that shipment.. for the thing,” brows wiggling, “couple’a weeks and it’ll be in.”

this leads to eddie closing the door further round, in fear of you overhearing. he’s not sure how well received that’d be on your first morning together.

“shh,” he hisses, looking around the very empty corridor, “you couldn’t have told me this later?”

they shake their heads in unison, “murray said to let you know, no phones.. no paper trail.”

eddie searches both of their blank faces before nodding, “alright.. alright, you can go now.”

they oblige but not before jeff grabs his crotch, winking at eddie which makes him slightly uncomfortable and letting out an almost inaudible have fun before disappearing into the elevator.

the urge to knock their heads together had never been stronger, returning to his apartment to find you stood in the middle of his bedroom, staring at the pictures on his dresser.

“i used to be cute, right?” he knows exactly which one you’re looking at, startling at the sound of his voice.

you turn, still holding onto the frame, “is that your mom?”

“mhm,” he hums, taking the frame from your grasp, “she..” clearing his throat, “she died when i was younger,” tracing his thumb over the image of her crazy hair.

“oh,” you frown, looking at him with pitiful eyes, “i’m sorry.”

he shakes his head, hair falling out of the loose bun he’d thrown up, “don’t apologise,” placing the photo back in it’s rightful place, “she was sick,” turning to you with his half-moon eyes.

he wishes he hadn’t even said it, the look on your face was too woeful, especially after the large grin you’d had plastered on it just this morning.

eddie sniffs, jumping to action, “get dressed,” he practically orders, wanting nothing more than to change the subject, “we’re going out,” telling, rather than asking.

“where?”

he shrugs, opening the large closet which mostly consisted of plain black tees and his jeans.

“i don’t have any clothes.. or my toothbrush, give me an hour and-“

interrupted by a shirt flying over, just about catching it before it lands on the ground, “wear mine, there’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom,” eddie nods, sliding into his own clothes.

you stare dumbfounded at the cotton, before glancing back at him, “uh.. i don’t- what if people think..”

he turns, smile already peaking through, “if people think what? that we fucked? oh no,” riddled with sarcasm.

“you’re not funny,” you pout though you shimmy into the t-shirt, “i didn’t mean that i just..” trailing off into silence.

eddie’s eyes widen, something about seeing you in his shirt invigorated something within.

“don’t look at me like that,” shying away though there was really no need. he’d seen it all already.

“i can’t help it,” he remarks, standing wide-eyed.

your eyes roll in return, turning away to slip into his sweats though that makes everything worse. eddie instantly jumps to grab you, squeezing your arms against your sides, eliciting a high pitched squeal from you.

“maybe breakfast can wait,” growling into your ear, tripping over your legs as he barrels towards the bed.

-

eddie sighs, eyeing the seemingly stagnant clock on the dash. he knows you get off at three, toying with the idea of telling you he’s coming to get you or just turning up outside your building.

he figures he’s close enough that he won’t bother, shifting into drive. you’d only seen each other yesterday but he couldn’t get enough.

girls came and went in his life, never sticking around long enough for him to really get to know them. it felt different this time, he was itching to be with you, this constant need to be near you, with you. it scared him deep down, turning his stomach at the thought of someone actually meaning something to him.

he watches the door like a hawk, positioned outside so that you can’t possibly miss him.

it’s five after three by the time you emerge from the grand door, closely followed by who he assumes are your co-workers. eyes narrowing at the sight of the spindly guy following behind.

eddie clocks the exact moment you spot him, ducking your head as you break away from the group and slide into the passenger seat.

“what’re you doing here?” you flush, though your smile is evident, creeping onto his own face.

“i can’t come pick you up from work?”

you shrug, still coy as your co-workers dawdle, staring into the car with eager eyes.

“why’re you so shy all of a sudden? not even gonna kiss me?” eddie teases, feeling the eyes of your colleagues hot on his face.

“shut up,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

he takes this as a challenge, leaning over the centre console to press his forehead to yours, waiting for your approval before embarrassing you any further.

your lips lock onto his before he can think about it, deciding to turn the innocent kiss into what he can only describe as a sloppy, over exaggerated makeout session. something similar to his first attempts at kissing.

you pull back, groaning in disgust, averting your eyes from the nosy gaggle of colleagues that still stood gawping.

mission accomplished.

eddie grins before speeding away, not bothering to acknowledge them another time.

you want to be annoyed, eddie can tell. tutting in your seat as if you didn’t enjoy that just as much as he did.

“who was that? your boyfriend?” only half-joking.

there’s another sigh, “i wish,” as you mess around with the dials on the dash.

eddie would normally smack your hand away but for you, he couldn’t.

an absolute sucker for the way your fingers danced around the tortoise shell interior, making yourself comfortable in his car like you should.

-

“you’ve never been to brunch?” you fret, looking at him with pure amazement over the table.

“no,” eddie chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee, “why would i?”

“why wouldn’t you?” smiling wide.

there’s been a lot of firsts for eddie these past few weeks.

you’d dragged him for a walk around the park in front of his complex, perplexed that he’d never even bothered. he’d been into a florist for the first time, hand picking some overpriced bouquet just for you.

he shakes his head, shrugging. there wasn’t any time for brunch when you had to move kilos of cocaine for rich aristocrats.

“you don’t live,” you scoff, sipping on your 11am mimosa as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

it’s ridiculous how soft you make him feel. he’d do brunch in some gentrified neighbourhood every day if it meant you smiled at him like that.

everything about you is too sweet, your clothes, the perfume you doused yourself in, the lipstick stains you’d leave behind on shared cigarettes. even last week when you’d made him stop for some cat food for the tiny stray that hung around your garden. who does that?

“some of us have to work, sweetheart,” eddie teases, shuffling around on the far-too-fancy chair.

“i work,” you hit back, “only difference is that what i do, isn’t illegal,” whispering the last part of your sentence, smug as you take a drink.

he looks on in pure awe. the fact that you could speak to him like that and yet still end up his favourite person was a miracle in and of itself.

“d’you want me to pay for your fuckin’ brunch or not?”

“i can pay f’myself,” you huff.

“but i don’t want you to.”

your eyes glint, pursing your lips to the side, “i don’t want to either.”

-

eddie’s already trembling in the car, murray droning on about the importance of gloves next to him. this all seemed like a good idea a couple of weeks ago and now his stomach flipped with every turn.

that was before he had something to lose, before he met you.

maybe weeks of you loosening him up had ruined him. the soft life was a dream in comparison to this. the complete fear coursing through his veins was enough to make him never want to leave the serene calm of your arms ever again.

a couple of years ago he was just some kid selling weed to the losers that hung around the block and now he’s clutching a pistol, contemplating whether he’d survive if he just jumped out of the car.

murray wouldn’t let him. he’d find him, make him pay for being such a pussy.

eddie’s eyes fall shut, head lolling back against the seat, conjuring up images of you in his head. if he had to do it, he also had to make it out alive.

for you.

-

a ringing bellows through his head, fumbling with the keys as his fingers shake.

he couldn’t remember if you were at work tonight, hoping you wouldn’t have to see this. get pulled into his ridiculous life.

eddie stumbles through the door, making a beeline for the bathroom when your voice calls out from the kitchen.

“eds?”

choosing to ignore it, focussed on the churning in his stomach and the need to empty whatever was rumbling around in there.

it all comes out into the toilet, heaving and retching as you round the corner completely perplexed by whatever was going on.

he’s slumped on the cold floor, gasping for air when you speak, “eddie?” terror in your voice.

“what happened?”

eddie barely looks up, focused on not throwing up again. he can’t explain it, there’s no words to tell you what happened without incriminating himself.

your eyes fall to the red splatters on his shirt, the cuts that littered his knuckles and the purple hue that had started taking over his cheek.

any idiot could put two and two together.

he’s been cryptic about what he does for work, never saying too much but just enough for you to understand. he didn’t want to tell you, to have to drag you into all this. that wasn’t fair.

for a moment, he thinks you’re about to run out of the door and never look back. he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

instead, you take charge, stepping into the bathroom with your hands resting on your hips, “get up,” you order, tugging at his arm.

he doesn’t. still partially curled around the toilet bowl, confused about your attitude.

“i said get up,” barking again, holding onto his elbow with an iron clad grip.

eddie obliges this time around, shakily standing up. he feels like a child, waiting for you to tell him what to do, to make him feel normal again.

you pull him to the sink, running the warm water, scrubbing his hands with yours. the water runs a murky colour, red and brown alike.

“get under your nails,” you add, lathering the soap on his palms, laser focused on his hands rather than the sorry state that had overcome him.

he does as you ask, scrubbing under his nails. standing aloof when you turn the water off.

your hands find the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head, “off,” nodding towards his jeans.

it’s a little unsettling that you know exactly what to do, but eddie’s not complaining. grateful for your presence, for your forward thinking. who knows what he would’ve done if you weren’t here. he thinks he probably would’ve handed himself straight into the cops.

you hold a bag open for him, gesturing for his clothes to go in. “we’ll.. we can get rid of them tomorrow,” eventually meeting his eyes again.

he nods, allowing you to guide him through to his bedroom. pliable, completely at your mercy. if you told him that jumping off of bridge would help, he’d do it.

you dump the bag of evidence on the floor before pulling out a fresh shirt and sweatpants, flinging them on the bed.

“get dressed.. i’ll get you some water,” before flouncing out of the room.

eddie hated himself for dragging you into his life like this. it was always supposed to be something separate, something isolated from your relationship.

he’s barely dressed by the time you return, feeling like a pitiful mess. if the look on your face were anything to go by, he looked like it too.

“eddie,” you begin, that same sad tone you’d had when he told you about his mom, “i don’t..” stepping closer, “need to know what happened- i don’t really want to know either but.. you can’t let it fuck you up,” looking at him earnestly, which honestly hurts more.

he nods, “i know,” because he did. “i’m sorry for-,” he sighs, “for getting you involved, i never wanted you to see this.”

you respond by throwing your arms around his waist, squishing your cheek against his chest, “don’t.. don’t start with that.”

his chin finds the top of your head, nestling into your hair, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

it’s a nice type of silence, the air heavy with unspoken words but he thinks that’s okay.

you understand anyway.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot

[ifwebefriends]

My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

#Bluey #bluey the sign #meme #Bluey heeler #rad heeler #bandit heeler #chilli heeler #baby race #my ramblings #my rambles #frisky heeler #brandy cattle #spoilers #bluey the sign spoilers #bluey spoilers

[mphountitled]

heyyyy!! my brain gave me a half-assed thought in the nighttime starring best friend/perv!Lee Minho and bimbo!Reader. Minho's ALWAYS flirting with and staring at you, but you just (somehow) never notice. he likes seeing you wear those little outfits that barely cover you up and always mentions that you should only wear that stuff for him. one day he was just at his limit after another failed attempt at flirting. so, he just pushes you against the wall. you can feel how hard he is behind you, but you didn't see this coming so you're freaking out. and he just tells you "i'm gonna have what i want. so you might as well take what i give you."

-💌 (p.s. i hope this was coherent) ((p.p.s. make sure you take time for yourself to rest and just breathe bc that beautiful mind of yours is so so important!! <3))

𝐏𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Insecurities, Jealousy, Possessive!Minho, Smut +18 (Minors DNI) dub/con, Bratty!reader, Brat Tamer!Minho, Perv!Minho, Dom/Sub Themes, Mean Dom!Minho, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Grinding, Mutual Masturbation, CNC, Overstimulation

Fueling the Dom!Minho agenda

You did not particularly deal well with being unliked. Everybody has to like you all the time and there is no concrete way to tell your best friend this. Especially while he's driving down the highway, with rain pellets beating down the windshield.

You did not look at Minho when you initially slipped into the car. So completely and utterly suffocated by embarrassment.

The call prior to being picked up had been less than savoury.

"Isn't it too early to be calling me to come save you from your date?" His voice was completely drenched in his ususual smug sarcasm, "Or was he just that fucking boring?"

"I've been stood up and I'm not exactly sure where I am."

Almost immediately, Minho forced you to send your location until he was speeding over to where you sat, in your little dress all alone under the awning of a Michelin star restaurant.

You had thought the worst of the evening was behind you…

The car is completely drenched in silence with neither you, nor Minho knowing exactly how the broach such a sensitive topic. You're embarrassed. He knows this. The only thing evading his understanding is why… Why are you embarrassed when you shouldn't be?

"At least give me a name or an address or something," Minho's voice is dangerously low and you peer up at him with wide eyes from the passenger seat. Seeing him so put together is wholly off putting. Dressed in nothing but his sweats and a polo shirt- all black, all Tom Ford- Minho's gaze is fucking deadly as he glares at the road ahead. His frustration manifests in the form of whitened knuckles gripping a steering wheel for dear life.

"Minho, I'm not giving you his address just so you can go and harass him." The fact that you even had to reiterate this is beyond your comprehension.

"Why can't anyone love me?" The rain droplets rattling Minho's vehicle only amplifies the question and for the umpteenth time tonight, Minho is overcome with mass frustration. Again, you should not be the one feeling unwanted. You should not be letting scum of the very earth dictate the trajectory of your self worth. To make matters impossibly worse, another car swerves into his lane, completely cutting him off from a seamless drive.

"I honest-to-God, just wanna have a word with the guy..." Minho says, swinging his head towards you, completely paralysing you with the depths of his endless dark eyes. Instead of waging a war with Minho (one you knew you couldn't possibly win,) you choose to accept defeat. It consumes your entire countenance as you sink down into the passenger seat, avoiding eye contact.

"Jesus, Fuck!" While Minho curses out the driver, you keep your head against the window.

"I think I'm cursed to stay single and bitchless for the rest of my life."

You didn't get it.

You were a fairly good girl, never once stepping out of bounds. Not at work: where you worked so diligently for a boss who didn't always deserve it.

Not in your adolescence: Where you never rebelled, not even once. You lovingly spared your parents all the heartache even after you matured enough to go to college.

Perhaps the reason all your dates ended with a certified ghosting was because you simply weren't cut out for relationships. That is the most harrowing thought of them all...

Minho's voice pipes up from beside you, effectively saving you from slipping into self pity, "I think you're overlooking one major factor when it comes to staying single and bitchless for the rest of your life," You're already rolling your eyes, "And what's that?"

You can practically hear the pompous smirk as Minho says, "I'm right here. I'm always right here."

Instead of responding, your tone remains wistful and airy.

"The guy took one look at me and gassed the fuck out of the restaurant." Your blood pressure is being shot to hell at just the very thought of the man (who had contacted you first, thank you very much).

Minho, who continued to glare at the wet tar road ahead, allows his mind to conjure up every possible way your 'date' might've died on his way home. Instead of voicing these homicidal thoughts, Minho instead, cleverly and cooly asks, "What kind of weirdos are you going on dates with?"

"It's like he decided reality didn't match what he saw on tinder and took it all back..." you conclude your rant with a heavy and listless exhale.

Your reply comes sickeningly quick. "The kind of weirdos that give me the time of day," and to make matters impossibly worse, you attach a pitiful and dry chuckle to the end of your sentence. "Not everyone is like you, Minho. Not everyone has the luxury of being the object of everyone's desires." His stomach sinks deeper and deeper with the sadness that coats your voice. Anything that might save him from this suffocating feeling at the bottom of his stomach brought on by the sadness in your tone.

"I just don't get it?" Your sad eyes watch as Minho pulls into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

"I didn't smell bad ‘cus I made sure to wear Chanel number five-" Minho can do nothing except clench his jaw. His grip on the steering wheel is deadly as he eases his car into the vacant spot… “and this dress Lix bought me for graduation- I mean he assured me I don't look fucking bloated in it so I assume I looked fine." He tries to make it through your pity party, really, he does. Whenever you found yourself in this state, slipping deeper and deeper into your insecurities, Minho found it terribly difficult to pull you out.

Difficult but not impossible

Instead of entertaining Minho's words, your mind wanders, “Maybe I'm just not hardwired for a relationship. Maybe all I'll have until I reach my deathbed is my rose toy and 5000 cats-”

"I'm telling you," he chooses to say instead, righting his shoulders and cutting off the engine as he forces that confident smirk back onto his face, "If you wanna get laid so badly I'm always a phone call away...."

And for some reason, that statement alone… that one little flirt becomes the undoing of your sanity. “MINHO BE SERIOUS FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS JESUS CHRIST!” You do not know, nor do you care if your voice is loud enough to bleed outside, enough to disrupt any passerbys. You've fucking had it.

“False. You have my fingers any time. Or my mouth-”

With men who disappoint you.

With men who say they'll show up but choose not to.

“I'm telling you I fucking failed this evening! I failed and you're not listening-

In what appears to be a snarky remark to the side, Minho mumbles, “I'm not the one that's not listening-”

Minho scoffs incredulously. That sunshine smile bleeds quickly into a dangerous glare and he watches as you type frantically across your screen. “Say what you gotta say.”

“I don't need your teasing right now, Jesus! The fact that I have to spell that out-” you release a sigh “Fucking never mind,” you feel utterly defeated, and before you brain catches up to the movement of your hands, you're already typing frantically for a ride assistance app.

“I didn't ask you to come pick me up, just so you could interrogate me-” before your sentence could become another uphill screaming match you shake your head in a way that has Minho's knuckles whitening across the inactive steering wheel. His patience was dwindling dismally and he had the vaguest suspicion that you know this.

In fact, you might have always known this: Which buttons to push to get which reaction.

He's noticed it for a while since the peroration of your ‘friendship’. Something that blossomed into a friendship when he so very clearly tried to make it everything but.

“I'm gonna take an Uber home,” you say in a tone he can only describe as bratty.

“I swear to fucking God.” he says, manic eyes crinkling at the sides in a smile of disablief, his tongue jutting against the inside of his cheek.

Minho's not sure what he wants to do but he's damn sure you're not going to like it. “If you set foot out of this car-” He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index. Quietly muttering Korean expletives while you sit meekly, taking your scolding. “If you set foot out this car-”

“You're not my father, Minho,” he flinches. “I'm getting my uber-”

“Try it, see what happens.”

“Minho, goodnight.”

The last thing you expect to feel as your hand touches the car handle, is Minho’s larger hand covering your wrist in a calloused grip. His hand is firm, almost concrete and before you're able to process this, he's already dragging your face towards him.

“W-What the f-fuck, Minho, let me go!” the words come out mangled and squashed because Minho has his hands squishing your cheeks in an equally iron grip. Enough to have your teeth pushing against the inside of your cheeks. Enough to have tears stinging your eyes.

“Why the fuck do you never listen?” He whispers, almost to himself. As if he's completely forgotten about the girl, leaning over the centre console because he's squishing her cheeks for dear life. You anticipate the bruises. You can almost feel them coming on.

“It's like you purposely want to piss me off-”

Despite the aircon pouring warm hair to combat the Korean chill you feel very much icy all over. It's as if the chill has seeped into your very bones and it's not long until you're completely wracked in a series of violent shivers. You have never experienced anything like this.

Minho watches in apparent awe at the way your pupils, dark as they, dilate into even darker slits. His hand shifts silently from your cheeks, to your jaw, and lower until his hand is wrapping around your neck.

“Are you wearing panties right now?”

The question hurtles through your foggy brain like a runaway train until you're forced to bore your eyes into his, “What?”

“Which pair are you wearing right now?” He asks, despite the hand already drifting from your neck, all the way down your body. He swipes his hand against your slightly damp skin, prying your thighs apart with his hand as if it were nothing. “I wanna see which you were planning to have on for him,” he knew he wouldn't like, whatever the outcome may be, but he's only just begun this game and he's not ready to stop.

“Minho.” Your hand shoots out to cradle his bicep, which proves to be a deeply harrowing mistake for someone as inexperienced as you are because his arms are so firm, so taut. You instinctively find your thighs opening just a fraction wider, even as you say, “I don't think we should do this.” You begin oh so slowly. Hoping to convey with your eyes, that which you refused to say with your lips. “I want you to stop.” Minho is absolutely breathless at the sight of the stars sparkling in your dazed eyes.

He knows exactly what you want and he's damn well going to give it to you. An escape.

“I've never known a bigger slut than you, you know that?” So casual. So forward. His words nearly have you whimpering into the quiet air.

“I can see how badly you want this,” Never ever letting his gaze stray from your helpless expression, Minho pushes his hand further into the apex of your thighs and you wait. You wait with bated breath for the euphoria to trickle in by the cold tips of his fingers touching the lace of your underwear. “You want it so bad, don't you?”

“I-I- don't,” you force the words out with your hands unknowingly wrapping themselves around Minho's forearm. “This whole time, you knew,” he laughs dryly as he lets the pad of his fingers finally reach your clothed cunt. Your legs are trembling. “You fucking knew I wanted you and yet you still went on your little date anyways,”

That has you momentarily slipping out of your subspace, but before he lets that happen, he's rubbing slow circles against your cunt, with his right hand, a hand closest to the console, easier to reach the most intimate parts of you.

“didn't know, Minho,” the whimpers leaving your mouth are soft, so intimate, like the colour pink personified and it has Minho squeezing his eyes shut for all of a few tense seconds.

When his eyes flutter open again, the old Minho is nowhere to be found. Gone is the overly flirty best friend. Gone is the unnecessary jokester. Gone is the dry humour. The only thing in its place is a stone whisper of a smirk as he says, “Ride my hand.”

“W-What-”

“You don't talk,” he says, before sliding your panties to the side, “Useless little girls don't get to talk.” He says, racking a moan from straight out your throat as his hand presses against your drenched heat. “Useless little girls don't even get to speak.”

“Minho-”

“All you think about is getting to cum, right?” There's so much of a condescending nature in its tone, it almost has you instinctively tightening your grip on the forearm between your legs and pushing your heat against his fingers. The sight of you so worked up by his bad words have Minho cursing under his breath.

You're watching him as if he invented the stars, as if to say ‘What else’, and it drives him to complete madness.

“F-Fuck,”

“She knows how to say bad words,” he cackles as you squish your soaked cunt against his calloused palm. His knuckles are pressed firmly into the seat and his wrist is giving out but his horny brain fog is far too powerful.

“That's it, Petal,” he says, watching almost as if slipping into his own trance, “fuck my hand, I wanna see how bad you want it-”

“P-Please-” You whisper, “I need your cock-”

“You don’t get to make demands when you're being punished,” he mumbles, before leaning his head back against his seat, watching you desperately try to bring yourself to orgasm by rutting your hips against his hand. “Unless, you don't need my help and you'd rather just make yourself cum-”

“NO!” you keep a firm grip on his forearm, bottom lip quivering as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I'm s-so close, please.”

Minho can't help it. The very act of you asking him for something as sacred as an orgasm… It has him trying to adjust the bulge forming in his sweatpants.

“You're close, yeah?” He asks, now entering his own pleasure. He slips his left hand into his boxers while he watches you ride his hand.

“You’re close from humping that wet pussy against my hand?”

“Oh god, yes,”

“You’re such a good fucking girl you know that?” His breathing is heavy now because he's jerking himself off to the same pace as your cunt rubbing itself against his hand.

“You're such a good whore,” he whispers.

“Call me that again- p-please I’m gonna cum!”

“I've always wanted to treat you like the whore I know you are,” he whispers, watching as your eyes slip to the back of your skull, “I hated watching you go on those dates.”

“M-Minho-”

“Kill them,” he whispers silently, “I’ve fucking wanted to kill every single one of them.” he squeezes his cock, feeling his own ripples of pleasure shoot down your spine.

“Y-Yours,” you whisper, “I'm yours-”

“F-Fuck baby-” Sensing Minho slipping into his own prgasm, you grind your cunt harder against his hand. It doesn't take much for you to make a complete mess all over his seats. You're both wracked with a wave of shivers and Minho tries to keep his eyes open as he milks his cock for all it's got. He wants to watch your hips stutter. He wants to see how you look when you cum and he wants to commit it to memory.

He decides it's the most addictive thing he's ever seen.

“No fucking way you made me cum all over myself like some fuckcing teenager,” he grumbles, staring down at the mess he's made all over his shirt.

You're still a panting shivering mess and you yelp when Minho squeezes your sensitive, overstimulated clit.

“Hey,” he says, gaining your attention immediately, “No more dates yeah?”

You do nothing but nod.

#lee minho #lee know #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #minho smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids

[thesunshinecourts]

five curiosities for the next book, after reading the sunshine court

a non-exhaustive list, but five things i'm curious to (hopefully) find out more about in TSC2, or that i have questions about still:

what happened at the trojans' fall banquet (presumably jeremy's first year)? it's a Scandal, and jeremy cannot stand to be around bryson, and annalise has never forgiven him for sticking with exy after that, despite having attended all his games in high school. given the allusions to his stepfather, and also his step-grandfather being a congressman, i can see how jeremy's sexuality might be relevant to the situation—especially if we read into lucas' stiff apology and shame at his implication about jeremy and jean as being born from more than just common decency, but rather knowledge of this being a previous sticking point in terms of jeremy's scandals—but i also keep thinking about what cat said. jeremy has—three. two brothers, one sister. the way she says it, how it sticks out to jean as an odd switch, and the fact that we've only met two siblings – it makes me wonder what happened to the third. or if that's even the right question to ask, regarding jeremy's siblings.

elodie. i'm curious if we learn anything about what happened—by and large, i kinda hope not, if only because then jean has to too, unless it turns out stuart is lying, but that's a very different kind of fallout. (i don't actively theorise he is—at some point, these kids will run out of tolerance for ghost stories coming back to life—but i think its possibility ought to be considered, at least). i think we'll get more flashes of her from jean's thoughts, though, and i anticipate lots of heartbreak lmao

lucas. assuming stuart's contact comes through, and neil's hit goes ahead, we've got lucas in the aftermath of finding out his brother is a monster, and jean saying not to call the police, and then possibly his brother being dead. if it happens any other day—if it happens in west virginia, especially—i suspect lucas might be able to look at it like another domino in the ravens machine falling down, or even that something horrible happened to him when he returned home, but if it's still in LA, after what he did to jean, after jean said no cops-------i can see how that might twist into something more suspicious. who knows! i'm curious to see what happens there. grayson is a monster, but he is still lucas' brother. aaron and kevin still have complicated grief about tilda and riko, and they were their direct, constant abusers; cass never learned until after the fact, and lucas is in a complex space between the two parts of that spectrum. if grayson dies, i think the fallout will be unavoidable for exploration

this is a small one but man, i just want to keep seeing jean's list grow. it tears something out of me every time, and stitches me back together, and i want to go through that over and over, because i want to see a jean who not only hears that his life is his and worth living, but a jean who learns to believe it too

i'm just kinda assuming we see the foxes again, because i remember nora's character list having new details about characters who didn't show up in this one, but i'm also quietly hoping for more thea. their scene made me ache, and he'd never had good defenses against thea, and kevin knew that. jean would kill him for bringing her here made my heart do the !! double-tap. i'm extremely invested in jean, thea and kevin as a unit, and it would be so incredibly wonderful to see more

#the sunshine court #tsc #tsc spoilers #TSC2 #jeremy knox #jean moreau #elodie moreau #thea muldani #lucas johnson

[joelmillerisapunk]

When Life Gives You Lemons

Nurse!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,559

Summary: You've just been diagnosed with cancer, and as you navigate through the grueling treatments, you find solace in an unexpected place - a deep and intimate connection with your nurse, Joel.

Warnings: 18+, reader has cancer, Joel is the softest, kindest man ever, fingering. Yes, there's an orgasm in this cause maybe I'm whackodoodle, but it's my fantasty and I'll do with it what I want.

Notes: Thank you, @saradika-graphics , for the pretty divider 🥰 and thank you @morallyinept for posting adoration it truly made me feel more comfy posting this. This a hard one for me to post, and im not looking for sympathy, but it truly has helped me process my own experience with this. I am not a doctor or medical professional, I only know my own lived experience, and this is semi-based on my own cancer diagnosis and current treatment and me wishing Joel was my nurse. 😍 and obviously, I've added embellishment for the story.

You've always been a fighter, but the diagnosis still hits you like a truck. Cancer. The big C-word, the one you never thought would apply to you. You're only in your late twenties, you think, far too young for this. But here you are, sitting in a sterile hospital room, staring at the white walls and trying to process the news.

A knock on the door startles you, and you turn to see a second doctor. Two doctors, that's never a good sign.

The first doctor, a middle-aged man with a kind face and gentle demeanor, speaks up. "This is Dr. Lee. We've been reviewing your test results, and we wanted to discuss them more in depth with you."

You nod, still in shock from the diagnosis. Dr. Smith continues, "As you know, we found some abnormal cells in your recent biopsy that are cancerous. Unfortunately, the results confirm that you have acute myeloid leukemia, a type of cancer that affects the blood and bone marrow."

Dr. Lee, a younger woman with a serious expression, adds, "This is a serious condition, but it's also highly treatable. We recommend starting chemotherapy as soon as possible to destroy the cancer cells and prevent them from spreading."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Not sure exactly how to respond or process this. "When?”

Dr. Smith glances at your chart. "We can begin tomorrow if that works for you. You'll be here for several hours each day, and we'll monitor your progress closely.”

The doctors make you feel cold, sick, disposable, they have a job to do, and you're just the next number on their list.

After the doctors leave, you sit in silence for a few minutes, trying to process the news. The word "cancer" keeps echoing in your mind, and you can't help but feel overwhelmed and scared.

You know you need to leave, so you gather your belongings and head to the parking lot. You sit in your car for a while, staring blankly at the empty space in front of you. Your mind is racing, and you can't seem to focus on anything.

Eventually, you realize that you need to do something more productive than spiral, so you decide to go home and research. You know you're not supposed to do this. The doctors said you shouldn't, but you can't help yourself. What the hell do they know? You're the one with the diagnosis, not them. You need to know what you're up against.

When you get home, you spend hours scouring the internet for information about AML and chemotherapy. You read that AML is a relatively rare cancer. Of course, your bad luck would curse you with something rare that wasn't worth anything of value.

You learn that chemotherapy is the primary treatment and that it involves administering powerful drugs that destroy cancer cells. However, you also read that chemotherapy can have significant side effects, including nausea, hair loss, fatigue, and an increased risk of infections - the lighter of risks among them all.

Hair loss - your safety blanket gone in those two words, nothing left to hide behind.

As you read more and more, you start to feel overwhelmed by the statistics and the potential complications. You know that chemotherapy is going to be rough.

Eventually, you drag yourself to bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. You lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling and thinking about what it would feel like to have these drugs in your body and how they would truly affect you. It makes your heart race, and you feel hot, and you get almost no sleep.

The next morning, you wake up feeling groggy and disoriented. The reality of your diagnosis hits you like a ton of bricks as you get ready for your first treatment. You can't help but feel a sense of dread, but you know you have to stay strong.

When you arrive at the hospital, you're led to a large room with several chairs. Each chair is equipped with an IV pole and a monitor to track vital signs. You take a deep breath and find a seat next to an elderly lady named Ronda. She gives you a warm smile and introduces herself.

"Hi there, I'm Ronda. You don't look like you're feeling too well. It's your first time here, isn't it?" she asks gently.

You nod, still feeling overwhelmed and unsure of what to expect.

"Don't worry, dear. You're in good hands here. Just take it one day at a time," she reassures you.

Before you know it, you see a tall, broad-shouldered man with a kind smile and warm, dark eyes approaching you with a big smile on his face.

"Well, hello there, darlin. I'm Joel, your nurse for today. I'll be takin care of you and makin sure you're comfortable during your treatment," he says in a friendly Southern accent.

You feel a sense of relief wash over you as Joel expertly sets up your IV and begins administering the drugs. You can't help but notice that he's different from other medical professionals you've encountered. He takes the time to explain everything to you, answers all your questions, and even cracks a few jokes to lighten the mood.

As the treatment progresses, you start to feel the effects of the drugs. Your head begins to spin, and your body feels heavy. You glance over at Ronda, who nods sympathetically.

"It's normal to feel a little sick during your first treatment. Just rest and let the drugs do their job," she advises.

You take her advice and close your eyes, trying to focus on something other than the discomfort. As you're lying there feeling particularly weak, Joel pulls up a chair next to you and takes your hand. "I know this is tough," he says softly. "But you're tougher. You can do this.”

Joel squeezes your hand gently, and you can feel the warmth of his touch radiating up your arm. You open your eyes and look at him, taking in his kind smile and the concern etched on his forehead.

"Thanks, Joel. I really appreciate this," you say, feeling a lump forming in your throat.

Joel's face breaks into a warm smile. "Of course, darlin'. I'm here for you every step of the way. Now, I'm going to try something that might help with the nausea. It's an essential oil that's been shown to help with chemotherapy-induced nausea. Would you be open to giving it a try?"

You nod, eager to try anything that might alleviate the queasy feeling in your stomach. Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bottle of lavender essential oil. He uncaps it and wafts it under your nose, and you inhale deeply, feeling the calming scent wash over you.

Within a few minutes, you feel your nausea start to dissipate, and you can feel your body relax a little. Joel smiles at you, pleased with the results.

"Now, I'm going to let you rest for a bit. I'll be back in a little while to check on you, okay?"

You nod, already feeling yourself drift off. Joel's voice fades into the background as you slip into a peaceful sleep, feeling comforted by his warm presence.

When you wake up, you're surprised to find that you feel a little better. The nausea has subsided, and your head is clearer. You look around, and your eyes land on Joel, who's sitting in a chair next to you, taking your vitals. You swear he's the most handsome man you've ever seen.

—

The next day, you return to the hospital, feeling a mix of emotions. On one hand, you're anxious about the treatment and the potential side effects. They haven't been too bad yet, but you know it's likely to worsen. On the other hand, you're grateful for the support and care you've received from the medical staff, especially Joel.

As you enter the treatment room, you notice that Joel is already there, setting up your IV. He looks up and gives you a warm smile, and you can't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over you.

"Hey there, darlin'. How are you feeling today?" he asks, his voice full of genuine concern.

You shrug, still feeling a little down. "I've been better," you admit.

Joel nods sympathetically. "I can imagine. Remember, you're not alone in this. You need anything. I'll be here for ya." As he speaks, you notice that he's holding a single red rose. Your heart skips a beat as he holds it out to you. "I know I'm not supposed to be bringin’ in flowers or scented things, but I thought this might help brighten your day.”

You can feel your eyes welling up with tears as you take the rose from him. "Thank you, Joel. This means a lot to me," you say, your voice choked with emotion.

"You're welcome, darlin'. Now, let's get you settled in and start your treatment, okay?"

As the treatment begins, you can feel yourself relaxing in Joel's presence. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, feeling the warmth of the rose in your hand.

As the chemotherapy drugs begin to take effect, you start to feel nauseous and weak. You can feel your body tense up, and you know that you're going to be sick.

Joel notices your discomfort and quickly moves to your side. "It's okay, darlin'. You're doin great. Let's get you to the bathroom before you get too sick," he says, his voice calm and soothing.

He helps you to your feet and leads you to the bathroom, holding your hair back as you vomit into the toilet. You can feel his hand on your back, rubbing gently, and his other hand holding your hair back. The warmth of his touch is comforting, and it helps you to focus on something other than the nausea.

After a few minutes, you're spent and leaning against him. Joel helps you to sit down on the floor, cradling you into his own body as he begins wiping a cool washcloth on your face. "Take your time, darlin'. It's okay to rest for a bit, I gotcha. "

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. Joel stays by your side, holding your hand and rubbing your back. You wonder if Joel's this nice to every new patient.

After a few minutes, you feel well enough to stand up. Joel helps you to your feet and leads you back to your chair. He gives you some water to drink and encourages you to sip it slowly. "It's important to stay hydrated, darlin'. Even if you don't feel like it,"

You nod, taking small sips of water. It feels heavy in your stomach.

Joel looks at you and notices that you seem to be getting a little restless. "Hey, how about I tell you a story? It might help take your mind off things," he says, smiling at you.

You nod, eager to hear what he has to say. “Lay it on me.”

Joel begins, "So, there I was, just a young boy, livin' in the countryside with my family. We had this old, beat-up truck that we used to drive around on our farm. It was so old that the engine would sometimes just give out on us in the middle of nowhere."

He chuckles, shaking his head at the memory. "One day, my brother and I were driving the truck down a dirt road, and sure enough, the engine died on us. We were miles away from home, and it was gettin' late. We tried to start the engine, but it just wouldn't budge."

Joel pauses, taking a deep breath. "So, there we were, stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no cell phone reception, and it was starting to get dark. We were both getting pretty worried, but then my brother had an idea."

He grins, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye. "He said, 'Joel, we have to push the truck to the nearest hill, and then we can coast down it and hopefully make it back to the farm.' It sounded like a crazy idea, but we were out of options."

Joel starts chuckling again, and you can't help but smile, his laugh, his smile - it's all infectious. “We both got out of the truck and started pushin' it up a nearby hill. We were determined to make it back home without telling our parents. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally managed to push the truck to the top of the hill."

He takes a deep breath, still chuckling. "And then, as we were gettin' ready to hop back in, the truck suddenly came back to life. The damn engine started purrin’ like a kitten, and we were both stunned. We looked at each other, and then we both burst out laughing. It was the craziest thing. We never figured out why the engine suddenly started working again."

You laugh, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you. Joel's story has taken your mind off the treatment, if only for a little while, and you're grateful for it, for him.

When treatment is finally over, Joel helps you to your feet and leads you to the can waiting for you. He gives you a warm hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek. "You did great, darlin'. I'm proud of you."

You feel your eyes welling up with tears as you hug him. "Thank you, Joel. I don't know what I would have done without you today," you say, your voice choked with emotion.

"You're welcome, darlin'. I'll see you tomorrow."

—

You find yourself growing more and more comfortable with Joel as the weeks go by, and you soon find yourself confiding in him about everything - your fears, your hopes, and your dreams. You know that he's there for you, no matter what, and you feel a deep sense of gratitude towards him.

One day, as you're feeling particularly vulnerable, before treatment, you find yourself wanting something more from Joel. You're not sure what it is, exactly, but you know that you want to feel closer to him, to experience a deeper level of intimacy with him, you want to feel something.

The words leave your lips before you have a chance to think them through, and you can feel the weight of what you're asking hang heavy in the air. You can see the hesitation in Joel's eyes, and you understand his reservations. You're asking him to cross a boundary that he's never crossed before, and you know that it's not a decision to be made lightly.

"I know this is a lot to ask, Joel. And I understand if you say no. But I feel so numb and heavy right now, and I just want to feel light. I want to feel alive," you say, your voice quiet and earnest.

Joel looks at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. You can see the struggle in his expression, the war between his professional obligations, and his personal feelings for you. Finally, he takes a deep breath and nods.

"Okay," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do it."

You feel a surge of relief and gratitude wash over you as Joel takes your hand and leads you to the small break room just off the treatment floor. He locks the door behind you and turns to face you, his eyes full of concern.

"Are you sure about this, darlin'? I don't want you to do anything that you're not comfortable with."

You nod, feeling more certain than ever. "I'm sure. I trust you, Joel," you say, your voice firm and steady.

Joel smiles and takes a step closer to you, his hands reaching out to touch your face. You can feel the heat of his touch, the warmth of his skin, and you close your eyes, letting yourself fall into the moment.

As Joel's lips meet yours, you can feel the weight of the world lifting off your shoulders. You can feel the lightness and the joy of being alive, and you know that this is what you need. This is what you've been searching for.

Joel's hands tremble slightly as he undresses you, and you can feel the heat of his gaze as he takes in every inch of your exposed skin. You can see the longing and the desire in his eyes, and you know that he's holding back, that he's trying to be gentle and careful with you.

You reach out and take his hand, guiding it to your breast. You can feel the warmth of his touch, the gentleness of his fingers as they brush against your nipple. You moan softly, your body responding to his touch.

Joel continues to touch you gently, his hands exploring your body with reverence and respect. You can feel the tenderness of his movements, and you know that he's taking his time, that he's trying to make sure that you're comfortable and safe.

You can feel the tension in your body beginning to melt away as Joel's hands continue to touch you, as his fingers continue to explore your skin. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, the softness of his lips as they kiss your skin.

As Joel's fingers move lower, you can feel the heat building between your legs. You can feel the wetness gathering, the ache growing stronger, and you know that you want him. You want him to touch you, to explore you, to make you feel.

Joel's fingers begin to move in slow, gentle circles, and you can feel the tension building inside of you. You can feel the pleasure growing stronger, the ache becoming more intense, and you know that you're close.

You moan softly, your body trembling with pleasure, and Joel's fingers move faster, his touch becoming more urgent. You can feel the orgasm building inside of you, the pleasure becoming more intense, and you know that you're close.

With a cry of pleasure, you come undone, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm. Joel holds you close, his arms wrapped around you, his lips pressed against your skin, and you can feel the warmth of his touch, the tenderness of his movements.

As the orgasm fades, you can feel the exhaustion washing over you. You can feel your body growing weak, your limbs growing heavy, and you know that you need to rest. You lay in Joel's arms, feeling more at peace than you have in a long time. You know that what you did was a risk, that it could have consequences, but you don't regret it. You needed this.

"Thank you, Joel," you say, your voice quiet and sincere.

"Anythin’ for you, darlin'.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head.

As you lay there in Joel's arms, feeling the warmth of his body and the rhythm of his heartbeat, you can't help but feel grateful for this moment of respite from the harsh realities of your current battlefield.

"Hey Joel," you say, sitting up and looking at him with a mischievous grin.

"Yeah, darlin'?" he responds, looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"I think we should start a cancer patients' underground fight club," you declare, trying to keep a straight face.

Joel stares at you for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. And then, just as you think he's going to take you seriously, he starts to laugh.

"A fight club, huh?" he says, still chuckling. "You never fail to surprise me darlin'."

You grin, feeling a little silly but also relieved to have broken the tension. "I just figured it would be a good way to blow off some steam," you say. "And besides, who wouldn't want to see a bunch of cancer patients duking it out in a makeshift ring?"

Joel shakes his head, still laughing. "I think we'll leave the fight clubs to the movies, darlin'. But I appreciate the creativity."

You laugh, feeling a sense of warmth and affection towards Joel. Despite the challenges you're facing, you can't help but feel grateful for the moments of lightness and joy that he brings into your life. And as you lay back down in his arms, you know that no matter what the future holds, you'll always have this moment to look back on and smile.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #tw medical

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.32

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Nat tells you everything about what happened a month ago, including some details you were probably not authorized to know. She seems determined to get you to understand her no matter what and you’re endeared at how important it is to her that you know absolutely everything. 

You take note of the fact that you’re definitely past Avengers Tower and are now in what looks like rural New York. There are more trees and greenery around and you’re curious about where you’re going but you focus your attention on Natasha for now.

You listen to her story diligently and with as much empathy for both sides as you can. You can understand why none of the other Avengers wanted to be the government's lap dogs but you also understood that fear was a powerful thing. You subconsciously rub your healing scar at the thought.

When she finishes her explanation she seems to look at you expectantly, waiting for your response and you take a moment to formulate the right words in your head before speaking-

”You left me with no contact and I’m trying my best to understand your situation but it doesn’t stop the fact that I was still hurt by it” It’s a painful truth but if Nat could share her vulnerability with you than you could do the same.

”I know. I know and I’ll spend however long you need me to making up for it. I’m sorry Y/n. You have to know that it hurt me so much to hurt you.” 

“You’re already forgiven”

”That was fast” She seems surprised and even a little amused at the quickness of your forgiveness and you shrug

“If I'm honest, I forgave you the second I saw you. I missed you, Nat. I’m just glad you’re home safe” Her eyes hold a look so full of admiration that you have to force yourself to look away. If she keeps looking at you like that you’re not sure what you’ll do.

To distract yourself, you urge her to continue her story and resist the need to pull her lips to yours. You hope she doesn’t notice the way your eyes subconsciously go to her mouth when she begins talking again but your chances are slim with a super spy.

If she notices she doesn’t say anything and you have to wonder if it’s due to the presence of someone else nearby. You can’t help but be a little frustrated- would you two ever get a moment alone together? To say what you’ve been itching to say since you found her again?

Natasha tells you about being lonely and drafting argument after argument with Clint. Waiting for the right moment to come back. 

“Honestly we thought it was going to be another half a month at least but I rushed the process.” You might be hallucinating but you’re pretty sure there’s a light blush on her cheeks. “ Even if the argument wasn’t perfect there was something important I had to come home to.”

You nod in understanding, you’re sure it’s not easy being in her position “Yeah, the world needs its heroes” 

She gives you a look that seems to say ‘That’s not exactly the reason’ but you can’t think of any other reasons for her to rush something so important to them. The risk seems to have been worth the reward for her.

Seeing that you’re not understanding, she drops the look and continues with her story “Anyway, with the government facing so much heat from the public combined with our statement they had no choice but to agree or they would be out of heroes the next time aliens came knocking on Earth’s door.”

You resist the urge to first pump the air at the news. Surely that meant she would be around often right? At the very least you could visit her as a friend, even if every part of you was madly in love with her.

Much to your surprise, the car eventually pulls into a large gray and white building in the middle of nowhere surrounded by trees. The driver drops you off at a side door before pulling off to another part of the building and you stare in awe at the huge building with the Avengers ‘A’ printed on every part.

You’re admiring the sheer amount of space around the area but before you have the chance to gawk any further Nat is guiding you inside of the building to be met with glossy cement floors and very modern interior design.

“You’ll have time to look later” You can’t help but read into her words. That meant she wanted you around for longer right? Maybe this whole thing wasn’t one-sided after all.

A robotic feminine voice from above makes you jump in shock and Nat glances at you in amusement at the action.

“Miss Romanoff, welcome back. An unregistered person is accompanying you, shall I register them in the database?” Nat is seemingly unfazed by the voice of God coming from the ceiling as she speaks freely to it.

“Hey Friday, She’s my guest, feel free to register her if you’d like. I know how Tony is” She mumbles that last part but you still hear it anyway.

“Creating guest profile… Scanning… registering Y/n Y/l/n as Natasha Romanoff’s guest” You flinch when it says your name, briefly wondering how it got that information and you turn to see Nat smirking at you.

You glare at her obvious pleasure at your confusion and try to brush off how freaky a voice from the roof talking to you is.

“Sorry I’m not used to rich billionaire tech” You huff a bit childishly and Nat just shakes her head with a chuckle, placing a hand on your back and guiding you to a set of double doors. The two of you are about to enter when you hear the sound of two familiar voices. The same voices from inside your apartment.

Noticing your obvious discomfort, Nat stops and steps in front of you, her hands finding purchase on your shoulder 

“Are you okay?” Truth be told you feel a little shaken but if Nat wasn’t weary about what was behind this door then you shouldn’t be either. Worst case scenario Nat was there to protect you from whoever those men were.

You nod your head, unable to bring yourself to speak and she takes a minute to observe you and rub your shoulder in reassurance before she opens the doors.

The doors lead to a living room space with a kitchenette attached to it and sitting at the island table are two roughly familiar faces. One of them was none other than Clint Barton aka The Hawkeye, and the other was Steve’s friend Bucky. He was still pretty new to the group so you didn’t know much about him but much to your surprise the voices from your apartment were coming from them.

When Clint's eyes land on Nat he grins from his seat and pats Bucky on the back but Bucky’s eyes immediately fall on you, his face paling as he struggles to make eye contact.

Your eyes widen as you realize not only were you being stalked but you were being stalked by a trained assassin and Avenger. What possible reason could he have been following you for this whole time?

“I told you she’d recognize you” Clint has the heart to fix you with an apologetic smile as he talks to Bucky and to your credit Nat seems equally confused.

“What’s going on here, boys?” She narrows her eyes at the two of them and Clint raises his hands in surrender, not wanting to be a victim of her wrath. 

“Well I was watching over Y/n like you asked me to but imagine my surprise when I found someone else doing the same” You take a minute to register the fact that Natasha asked Clint to keep an eye on you and you struggle behind finding it endearing and being uncomfortable.

All this time you were worried about getting kidnapped, you were actually safer than you’ve ever been in your life. At least you don’t have to worry about being stalked anymore as it seems that mystery was solved. It’s a large weight off of your shoulders. You decide to count it as another positive to add to the tally for today. 

Nothing could ruin today for you and the feeling of Nat’s hand settled comfortably on your lower back only further cements that statement.

A sigh draws your attention back to the group and you along with everyone else, stare at Bucky expectantly for an explanation.

“Listen, Steve wanted me to find a way to check up on you but when I started digging the only lead I could find was Y/n” It’s weird to hear him say your name as if it’s familiar and you wonder how many other Avengers know of your existence. “I thought if I watched her long enough she would lead me to you but I wasn’t getting anywhere so when she went out of town I might’ve..broken into her apartment to look for signs”

“-and that’s where I found him when Y/n had the unfortunate timing of coming home” Clint is the only one who seems to find humor in this situation but it’s clear from the look on Bucky’s face they had been bickering about it before you came in.

“I thought she was gone!” Apparently done with pretending you’re not in the room, Bucky turns to you with an apologetic look on his face “I’m sorry” 

You’re not quite sure what to make of this situation but there’s still one question nagging at the back of your mind

“So were you guys in the SUV’s that followed me as well?” 

Shaking his head no, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your statement “I prefer to tail people on foot. It’s easier to blend in” His assurance only fuels the confusion in the room and everyone’s heads whip to the door before you can even sense anyone coming. Stupid super spy senses.

The door opens to reveal none other than Tony Stark sporting a guilty look on his face- well as guilty as a playboy billionaire can feel.

“That would be me.” Your eyes widen in surprise at the confession. “Really it’s shameful that neither of you noticed. I think you need more training” He makes his way to the kitchenette, opening the fridge and perusing the contents until he pulls a container of blueberries and begins snacking on them, completely unaware or just disregarding the eyes glaring at him.

“Why were you following Y/n, Stark?” Nat is the first to speak, she seems irritated at the fact that not only one, but two of her coworkers were stalking you and if you’re honest you’re a little irked that they would use you to try and get to Nat. 

He rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated that you aren’t following “Oh come on, you guys didn’t think you were the only ones who thought to check her phone records?” He shakes his head in disappointment. “Clint’s attempt at hiding your phone was commendable but I don’t need the actual phone to hack into the records” he turns to Nat once again “Your little firewall was cute though”

“You’re still on thin ice Stark”

He raises his hands in surrender and places the berries back into the fridge, talking to your group with his back turned as if he isn’t in a room full of irritated super spies and assassins. “Well imagine my surprise when I find out not only is Nat’s little ‘boytoy’ a girl, but she’s also already in my system”

“Wait wait- what do you mean?” It’s your turn to speak up and your head is spinning with all the new information you’re receiving. If you’re honest you’re still craving the nap you were robbed of earlier.

Tony seems to acknowledge you for the first time since he walked into the room, his eyes scan observantly up and down your body before he quirks a brow and you wonder if everyone feels this small in his presence “Friday runs automatic background checks on everyone who enters my elevators. Obviously”

You realize he’s talking about when you and your friend attended his part at the Tower and he gives you a tight-lipped smile when he sees you’ve caught on 

“ I was worried you were an over-obsessed fan or something but a quick little peek into your text messages told me everything I needed to know. So I had Happy tail you but Natty here was nowhere near her girlfriend. So cold of you to completely ghost her like that Nat, really?”

“Good to know everyone here respects my privacy” Nat rolls her eyes and Bucky averts his gaze from the two of you, clearly uncomfortable with the situation he got himself into. 

You can’t help but notice the fact that Nat doesn’t object to Stark calling you her girlfriend and you’re sure you must look crazy as you blush in a room full of suffocating tension. Maybe they’ll think you’re a nervous blusher.

”Yes well-” Tony gestures at himself as if to say ‘you know who you're dealing with’ “Imagine my surprise when you came back claiming you would get the government off of our asses- I thought it was because you liked us but clearly you had ulterior motives.”

Before you can question what he means, Nat huffs and turns to drag you out of the room. You’re grateful to get away from the stuffy tense environment but as you're leaving you turn back to see Tony smirking at you for some unknown reason. His eyes hold a playful but knowing mirth and you wonder if you’ll ever understand what goes on inside his head.

Pt.33

A/n: Imagine Tony Stark reading every text message you’ve ever sent. Mortifying.~ Starry

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#marvel #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #fluff #women of marvel #fluff fic #natasha romanoff #mcu fluff #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #upon a starry night writes #number neighbor story #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow #black widow x you #black widow x y/n #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow fanfiction #black widow fluff #black widow fic #angst

[pepsiboyy]

Could you do one where the boys are on a tour (in Australia maybe😏) and the reader gets like a backstage pass for her and he bff and reader is talking to Chris in the meet greet(earlier cause of the pass) and Chris seems to take interest in her so he slips his number in her pocket and she eventually finds and called the number confused and he picks it up and then after awhile of them talking back and forth Chris asks her out and they start dating blah blah blah (sorry for the in Australia maybe lol I just want them to do a tour here so I can meet em)

SAVE MY NUMBER.

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: the triplets are finally having an abroad tour and the reader purchased vip tickets with their best friend to meet them. what happens when she finds a stray set of numbers on her postcard when she gets back to the hotel? warnings: cursing, use of y/n!! a/n: thank u for the request love <3 i hope this is awesome sauce !! i tried so hard to make this enjoyable LOLL but i think it may have come out ok!! <3 lowercase intentional !!

my fingers anxiously picked at my shoes with one hand as my other hand scrolled through instagram.

"come on, y/n, aren't you excited!?" my best friend, harper, exclaimed as she gripped my shoulder and shook me rapidly.

with a soft nod and a small chuckle, i nodded as i locked my phone and let it fall into my lap. "of course i am. i'm just tired of sitting here."

we had been sitting in the sun on the side of the venue in line for the last hour and a half. it was that point in the day where the sun was beating directly onto us.

i had managed to get my best friend and i some tickets to the triplets' tour with the meet and greet pass. counting down the days was grueling, but we finally made it and the hardest part was now. waiting outside to be let into the building.

"it'll be worth it. who even cares?"

i nodded softly as i looked her up and down. she was decked out in purple, some purple stars drawn on her cheeks under her eyes and some purple cargo pants with a let's trip tee and some white air forces.

i, personally, was drowning in orange. with an orange crop top and deep gray ripped jeans, my outfit was topped off with orange nike high top dunks and an orange belt. my friend had helped me out with the orange stars, mine on the opposite side from harper's.

"y/n, the line is moving!"

i turned my head to harper, being ripped from my thoughts before quickly standing to my feet and moving up in line.

the line moved slow, but it was something.

we still had a long way to go.

-

the line for the meet and greet felt like it was forever, but as we got closer, i felt like no time had passed at all. i could see them every once in a while through the lit cloth between the line and the boys, and my eyes shifted to harper. "dude, we're almost there." i chuckled, trying to keep myself as calm as possible as harper made noises i didn't even know were humanly possible.

"y/n, i don't know what to do or say, i think i might shit myself."

i slammed a hand over harper's mouth and let out a cackle, shaking my head. "shh, say that less loud." i scoffed and before i knew it, harper was next in line.

my hands toyed with the orange belt that helped my jeans hug my hips, my eyes glued in front of me as i watched the three boys.

the three boys i watched at first every once in a while when they appeared on my for you page, but i quickly became a huge supporter of the triplets, and they were somewhat a coping mechanism for me when things were hard.

and now i'm meeting them.

"next!"

i shot harper a smile and tapped her shoulder. "you got it!" i smiled brightly and waved as she approached matt.

i felt a lump develop in my throat. this was bad.

it wasn't a crying lump, but an anxious lump. unfortunately, when i get nervous, i can't help but ramble and yap.

"next!"

no way time flew by that fast. as i approached matt, i swallowed and smiled brightly as i felt like each step that i took was in slow motion.

matt's arms opened and i quickly stepped towards him and hugged him tightly. "hi, matt," i breathed, taking a deep breath as the reality of the situation began to settle.

"what's your name?" he asked softly, picking up his photo and signing it quickly.

"oh, it's y/n," i breathed, the smile on my face so wild you could have probably found me in a horror movie.

"nice to meet you, y/n. i hope we haven't kept you waiting too long?" he questioned, and i quickly shook my head.

"i'm just happy you guys are here," i breathed and smiled brightly at him before my expression fell. "oh my god a picture-" i scrambled to reach and get my phone from my back pocket, opening my camera and lifting it up.

two bright smiles later, matt pulled me into one more hug and smiled brightly, while i wished him luck on the rest of the tour.

i turned to see nick and smiled brightly, pulling him into a deep hug. i always had a theory that nick gave the best hugs of the three. so far, my theory was correct.

"hi, friend!" nick cheered, signing his card and smiling at me. "your star makeup is so cute, your friend had the same thing, no?"

i smiled brightly and nodded, biting my lip. "yeah, she did them for me actually! she's the best." i smiled and pulled out my phone.

"i'm so glad you guys could come." he stated as he wrapped an arm around me and held up a thumbs up in the camera.

i smiled brightly as i pulled away and gave him one last hug. "you guys are amazing. i just thought you should know, i'm proud of you guys. good luck tonight!" i told nick as i pulled from the hug. nick shot me a soft and quick thank you as i was rushed off to the final triplet.

christopher sturniolo.

i felt my entire being crumble the moment i took a few steps forward.

of course, i loved all three of the triplets with everything i had.

but chris.. i related to him in many ways and always found my eyes gravitating to him while watching their videos. he's a silly guy, and it doesn't help that i find him insanely attractive between the three.

"you in there?"

my eyes shot to chris as i let out a breath i didn't know i was holding.

i literally just spaced out in front of chris, who waved his hand in front of me to snap me out of my trance.

not to mention i'm decked out in his color.

"hi!" i squeaked, and he pulled me into a hug.

i bit my lip as i hugged him tightly, taking a deep breath.

the hug lasted for a little longer than needed, but i wasn't complaining.

not sure if it's because it's chris or not, but i think nick has some competition for best hug.

"i like your outfit," chris stated softly as he pulled away from the hug. i smiled brightly at him, and i couldn't tell if i was gaslighting myself or if he licked his lips while looking at my orange self.

"thanks, i don't really wear much orange," i stated and i felt my face heat up.

"it's definitely your color more than it is mine. consider wearing it more often?" he asked, writing on the card and pausing before deciding to hand it to me. "wanna take a selfie?"

i nodded quickly and shakily took out my phone and began to raise it, but chris carefully took it from my hands and raised it himself, wrapping his other arm around my shoulders softly.

he took about four photos and handed me the phone back.

after signing the card, taking a little longer than usual, he looked me up and down one more time.

we stood there for a few moments, simply looking at each other and i noticed my friend waving at me from behind chris, about ten feet away.

"you're gonna do great tonight," i quickly said to him, and he simply smiled at me and nodded, running his fingers through his hair to adjust his bangs.

holy fuck, this guy isn't real.

"i'll do great because you came. thanks for coming." he stated softly, and brought me into a tight hug.

i bit my lip hard as i hugged him back, taking in a deep breath.

-

the night went incredibly well. the show was enjoyable with the games they all played, and i told harper about the interaction i had with chris.

harper was in the shower. i had just gotten out, my pajama pants and small black tshirt hugging my body perfectly as i laid against my bed in the hotel.

i turned to the postcards, smiling brightly as i took them into my hands and admired them. i turned them in the light to look at the layered marker, holding them towards the lamp. as i got to chris's, i noticed some writing on the back through the light and my heart jumped out of my chest.

i threw myself up off the mattress and flipped the postcard over, feeling my heartrate pick up at the phone number written against the back.

"dude, the shampoo in there is awesome. you weren't kidding." harper stated as she dried her hair in a towel as she sat in front of me, also in her pajamas. "you okay?"

i looked at her and slowly held up the card, pointing at the number.

"holy fuck, is that..?" harper trailed off, and i bit my lip.

"oh my god, i need to call it." i stated as i searched for my phone under the comforter, quickly retrieving it and dialing the number.

i put my phone on speaker as i looked at harper, my leg bouncing anxiously.

"hello?"

my heart sank.

"h- hello?"

i mentally cursed at myself for stuttering.

"who is this?"

"uhh, it's y/n, i found this number on the back of my postcard-" i was quickly cut off.

"y/n!" he cheered. "it's chris."

"are you fucking for real?" i whispered, biting my lip.

"yes ma'am." he chuckled, and i shook my head. there's no way this is fucking happening right now.

"i know it's late and you guys probably have jet lag, so i'm sorry, but i just found it-"

"it's fine, really, i was running fortnite with matt." he stated quickly, cutting me off.

i snorted. it made sense.

"well, get a victory royale ok?"

"for you, i will. save my number, i'll text you." chris stated, and i looked at harper who was in utter shock.

"right, yeah i will." i stated quickly, and hung up afterwards.

silence overcame harper and i before i bit my lip and we both screamed at the top of our lungs at the same time.

there was no way this was real.

-

my eyes were beginning to shut as the video of the triplets from a few weeks ago seemed to be watching me.

i turned to harper, who had fallen asleep a little while ago and blinked a few times when my phone vibrated and chris's name appeared on my screen.

a bright smile took over my face as i began texting him, and my night was made even more. somehow.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo texts #chris sturniolo texts #chris x reader #chris sturniolo x you #requests🤍

[ncis-nerd]

Natasha winking at you in a meeting

grey november au

-You were new to the building. Steve hired you to listen in on their meetings and take notes.

-After one of many arguments of who said what, Steve finally caved. He agreed to get someone who they vetted well to keep track.

-Now it was quite obvious you were younger than the old agents but it didn't stop the Russian spy from stealing glances at you.

-You'd be in the kitchen making coffee and turn around to the red-head inches away from you.

-Startled, you jump, nearly clashing into her. "Sorry dear, didn't mean to scare ya" she hummed, catching you in her arms.

-"O-oh, it's okay Miss Romanov, I really should be getting back to my work." You rush out of the room. Why was she everywhere you went? You could swear she was following you. But she won't do that...Would she?

-Later that day, Steve called an emergency meeting. Something about their enemies plotting a heist and they needed to stop that.

-You took your usual spot next to Steve, across from Natasha. You put your computer down on the table.

-"Alright, now that we have everyone.." Steve babbled on. You were just focused on typing. Documenting everything that was said.

-Steve stops talking for a second. You look up, Steve says "We will have Nat go in, she is the best lookin and our only chance at distracting the guard."

-You looked at Nat with doe eyes. Could Steve really do this? Why was Nat always the one who had to do their dirty work? Seducing the gross older men.

-Nat met your eyes and gave you a wink. Upon seeing your frown, she gives you a comforting smile. But you go back to your duty of typing.

-After the meeting is over, everyone has left. Well, except you and Nat. You were still typing but you're about done now. As you're getting up to leave, Nat grabs your arm.

-"Wait." She said, looking at you. You turn around, confused because Miss Romanov never makes you stay back. Did you do something wrong?

-Nat could sense your anxiety and sees you fidgeting nervously with your hoodie string. "Don't worry. You're not in trouble hun. Just wanted to make sure you're okay. You seemed upset in the meeting?" Nat question.

-You sighed "Miss Roman-" "Call me Natasha" the spy cut you off. "Natasha, it's wrong for them to treat you like this. Like- like you're just a pretty woman they can use to distract creepy men who can't keep it in their pants." You pouted, holding her hand.

-"Pretty? You think I'm pretty hm?" She teased. You were still frowning. She sighed, realizing this is what was bothering you before.

- "Okay, detka. I'll be honest with you. In this field of work, unfortunately most people will want you on missions just because youre a woman. I do lose a bunch of opportunities because of my gender but if I can help the planet then I think it's worth it." she says in a more serious tone.

-Softening her gaze when you ask her why she doesn't just quit. "It's not that simple, love." She sighed, wiping a stray tear that escaped your eye.

-You don't register you're crying until the older woman pulls you in. Embracing her warmth, she holds you close and strokes your hair. She closes her eyes, trying to remember this moment.

-That you are real and you care about her.

A/N: new possible au?? what we thinking? want more of this storyline?

taglist: @ssa-shaylam @madamevirgo

#my writing #my fic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha x you #black widow #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romonova #natasha romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x y/n #black widow x y/n #black widow fic #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow angst #black widow movie #the avengers #avengers au #avengers fic #steve rogers #grey november au

[dittaturamonegasca]

I think there should bé a fic where anyone from the grid would be third wheeling Landoscar, like, have you seen how these two interact.

So, I lack the ability and the time of f1writingbyme and LestappenForever to make this idea into a proper work like they did for "How (Not) To Third Wheel Lestappen" (check it out on Ao3 if you haven't already, definitely worth it) BUT BUT BUT, I can tell you how I think most of the grid would react in third wheeling Landoscar!

1) I feel like we should spare Checo, cause honestly this man has had enough as third wheel of Maxiel and Lestappen, I don't wanna give him extra traumas, SO –

2) Logan Sargeant: this one I really feel guilty about. Cause I like the narrative of him and Oscah being besties and still I cry over the sad edits of Logan just left behind. I think Landoscar with Logan has the most space for improvement?? I forgive Oscar even tho he definitely ghosted the poor Logan for the whole honeymoon phase with Lando (it's been almost two years, Osc, get a grip). I have a feeling Logan will speak up at some point and this would shake Oscar a little, so maybe he would be the more aware and more involved third wheel, possibly? They'll end up doing triple video-games championships with Lando and Logan mocking Oscar's gaming skills, mark my words.

3) Carlos Sainz: my man how does it feel to know you've wasted your chance (multiple chances, lets be real) for good? I have mixed ideas about this one, cause I think it would probably being more like Lando struggling to keep them both as close as possible resulting in Oscar being rightfully jealous 👀👀 so the third wheeling situation would be like Lando trying to involve a very annoyed and confused Carlos in their things (safe for work, ofc). I don't really see a way out of it.

4) Daniel Ricciardo: I mention him but I can't really explain cause honestly my idea of Daniel third-wheeling Landoscar is either him babysit them around Australia and bonding with Oscar over weird aussie habits OR OR OR something very NOT SAFE WORK so ( ... )

5) Max Verstappen: I love to think he'll remain an unbothered king, you know? Like he's well aware and a bit upset that his crepes companion invited someone else (beside from Daniel) to their dessert dates and that the two of them acts like lovebirds even without an actual physical contact. He'll probably send SOS texts to Charles and Daniel until a topic of (his) interest comes out and honestly at that point the power of maxplaining will win over pretty much everything and everyone. At the end of the day Landoscar turn out to be the real victims.

6) George Russell: poor thing was originally invited for a golf morning from Carlos (Landoscar were already supposed to attend), but Chili called off last minute so Georgie ended up with just the others two. LET ME TELL YOU he jumped off the golf cart cause he saw Lando placing a hand on Oscar's thigh and feared for his life. It took several minutes for them to notice he was aggressively walking behind. He was also hit by a golf ball because Oscar distracted Lando for a second too long, I guess you can figure out the rest.

7) Special mention to the PR and the McLaren team in general who's main job rn is having them to SIMPLY F O C U S outside the pit for like interviews and debriefings. I can picture Lando losing it after hearing a single compliment like "SO YOU THINK I'M PRETTY", cause ✨babygirl✨ energy hitting here and there, even tho he has tried to be somehow a model for Oscar, at least for what concerns work. Indeed I pity trainers and strategists bc ofc Oscar listens at them, but image them trying to explain a concept to him just for Lando to get there and rephrase it in the dumbest way possible and Oscar going like OHHHHH NOW I GOT IT, COULDN'T YOU EXPLAIN IT THAT WAY?

8) This is mostly a guilty pleasure but do we all agree they torture the entire f1 group chat with their subtle flirting?

IDK if this was what you had in mind but I really REALLY had fun writing it.

So let me know what you think in the comments down below, if you agree or if you want me to make it longer and/or more detailed or just to focus on a specific one in particular?

Again, my dms and box section are open to discussions, requests and any sort of (respectful) thing!

PEACE OUT 🤌🏻❤️

#ask juls #landoscar #landoscar headcanons #headcanon #f1 #lando norris x oscar piastri #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #mclaren #formula 1 #ln4 #op81 #logan seargent #carlos sainz #max verstappen #george russell #daniel ricciardo #the grid being the victims #landoscar took thirdweeling to a new level

[wbswag]

To follow-up my last Hardcore Delusional take, I will be discussing the possibility that Chisaki being taken in by the Shie Hassaikai was actually planned. I’m not saying I necessarily believe this to be canon, just how I think it’d play into canon if it was. This post is long as hell, so simmer down and buckle up, if you so please.

Okay so, as was confirmed in chapter 419, Chisaki was in one of AFO’s facilities as a kid. Now the question to be begged is how he got out of said facility, when his quirk obviously holds a lot of power and potential, which makes it feel like AFO would’ve put at least some effort to keep Chisaki within his grasp.

So here’s the thought: He did. Chisaki didn’t truly escape the facility, he was just put into another one. Chisaki being taken in by the Shie Hassaikai was just to put Chisaki somewhere AFO knew about, so that his lesser project could be monitored and molded while he worked on his primary project, Tenko. Also maybe Chisaki proved a bit too rebellious/resistant? So AFO thought the best course of action would be to give him the false security of a new start so that he would be more pliable.

So, AFO got into touch with one of his contacts to take care of Chisaki in the meantime. And considering both the theory that Chisaki accidentally killed someone with his quirk when it manifested (maybe his mother) and also the likely dynamics of the facility he was in, it’d be relatively simple to introduce him to a parental/mentor figure who’d he then attach to and feel like he has to prove his worth to. Which, on top of this, said parental/mentor figure being some flavor of authority figure as well would probably deepen Chisaki’s feelings of admiration and respect towards them. And it needed to be someone who’d be able to easily blend someone new into their home without much suspicion, someone who has a life of secrecy, someone whose lifestyle would be a gradual immersion into crime, and who, behind the curtains, knows how to get people to look up to them and also subtly mold them to their desires. So basically, Pops (a Yakuza leader) was the perfect candidate.

AFO contacts Pops. They make a deal of some sort. Chisaki escaping and being taken in by the Shie Hassaikai is staged.

Now the actual process of Chisaki being in the Shie Hassaikai. Here’s where things get tricky.

They want Chisaki to feel indebted and loyal to the Shie Hassaikai and Pops so that he’ll listen to Pops and have the independent want to help the Shie Hassaikai however he can. They want to make it feel like the Shie Hassaikai are the only people that’ll accept him and care for him. That’ll make it easier for them to project their goals onto him, as they’re already pretty sure this mindset will start by itself in Chisaki’s head, and all they have to do is water it/not stunt it. Which leads into…

“I get that you’re trying to repay me for getting you off the streets, but ya always take things a little too far.”—Pops to Chisaki. One might say this is an argument against Pops negatively influencing Chisaki, but! I present: That’s simultaneously stoking the flames that it’s okay for Chisaki to feel indebted to him, BUT that it’s not okay for Chisaki to be too ambitious with it. If the Shie Hassaikai isn’t declining, there’s no motive for Chisaki to eventually agree to work under the League. Instead of harboring similar feelings of respect and indebtedness towards the LOV because they helped the Shie Hassaikai at their lowest, he’d most likely begin resenting them for “siphoning their spotlight”, or something along those lines, in the case that Pops would sign an alliance with the LOV, if that makes sense.

So yes, the idea was to get Chisaki to be devoted and hardworking, but to also keep him from doing anything too bold. The plan was that hopefully, he wouldn’t branch out too much, and when he did, Pops would simply smack his hand away.

Then Eri came into the picture. Something I think about but don’t really see anyone mention is how easily Pops remanded Eri into Chisaki’s care, despite her being dangerous in ways they didn’t yet know how to handle. Was he not at all worried Eri might accidentally kill Chisaki, too?

Anyway. Chisaki is appointed Eri’s caretaker. He’s assigned to figuring out what exactly is going on with her, and when he does, it doesn’t bode well for his begging-to-overflow ambitions that’ve been getting stamped down for years. He thinks up the quirk-destroying bullets + antidotes to make a monopoly on the market plan. He presents it to Pops.

Pops is decidedly not happy about this. That’s a plan that could completely ruin AFO’s (or so he thinks) and Chisaki is becoming way too enterprising and persistent with it. He finally decides to shut down the whole concept by using a fear tactic he knows will strike directly to Chisaki’s heart—threatening that Chisaki will have to leave the Shie Hassaikai if he considers anything like this anymore. (There’s also the idea that getting him to leave the Shie Hassaikai would make that yearning to be approved of/accepted have to get redirected somewhere else, since Chisaki currently seems the type to thirst for validation, which would turn him to the LOV/AFO more “naturally”. As a potential thought process behind Pops saying that)

This backfires,, to say the least. Pops had underestimated just how devoted (obsessed) and one-tracked (insane) Chisaki already was.

Now here’s the thing. It doesn’t seem very plausible that AFO wouldn’t have found out about Chisaki taking over the Shie Hassaikai—and he almost definitely did. Now here’s the other thing—that doesn’t necessarily mean he knew about the bullets. Especially since his inside source was taken out instantly after learning the specifics of it. Think about it: How did the initial meeting between the LOV and Overhaul go? I think if AFO knew about the bullets, he would’ve at least told Shigaraki, and Shigaraki would’ve told the LOV.

But backtracking, here’s some more quotes of Pops: “That again? You’re obsessed. Straying from humanity means the end of gangster chivalry, Chisaki. And people won’t follow such soulless heresy.” (Ironic on that last one), and another: “I can’t have you straying so far from our way of things.”

And finally, “If you don’t want to follow our way… then you should just leave.”

The language Pops uses can feel a bit strange or off sometimes, in the way that it feels a bit domineering/demeaning. Him ingraining it into Chisaki that he needs to “follow their way” could easily be written off as he just wants him to follow the Yakuza code of ethics, of course. But that’s the thing with pretty much everything Pops says. All of it could be seen as innocent, just as much as it could be seen as ulteriorly motivated. All of these could be genuine, but they could also be a means to try to keep Chisaki in place until AFO needs/wants him again. That’s the thing, ain’t it? It’s all ambiguous.

#bnha #kai chisaki #overhaul #chisaki kai #mha #mha 419 #chapter 419 #bnha 419 #overhaul bnha #overhaul mha #all for one #mha all for one #bnha all for one #mha theory #my hero academia #bnha theory #boku no hero academia #shie hassaikai #yap yap yap -me #as always the floor is open!! #tell me your theories/opinions on this whole matter!! #compiling this post took the soul from my body

[dnd-smash-pass-vs]

If someone were to make a tabletop game (rpg or otherwise) about smashing monsters consensually, what would you want to see in it? What would get you to take a look at how it plays? Very open ended question I know, but I’m sure there’s a market for this.

Marked sexual themes because obviously, and I'm putting a break in since I'm more straightforward than usual. And non rebloggable so my friends don't find me mentioning this XD

If a TTRPG, I'd go for something rules-lite to keep the game flowing and fun, like Rapscallion's Vice & Violence: Salacious Sword & Sorcery Adventures for the Uninhibited & Unhinged. Haven't actually played it, but back in college my group did try to make a game like it. And in my experience it just doesn't work as much once the novelty wears off? Fun for a session, but it's a gimmick, and those tend to fizzle fast unless EVERYTHING lines up perfect. Doubly so with one like this, as it's hard to just keep that up that energy the whole time, for EVERYONE to, and to match desires for how the smashing goes. It could work for some specific groups, but I feel like the market for a TTRPG of that isn't anywhere near as large as people think it is. And this is the sort of thing that's up my alley, my first video as an adult was me and my pals reading naruto hentai. My voice went on the internet for the first time by pretending to be Hinata full of dicks, everyone laughing cause I actually shoved something down my throat for more realistic line reads (I always FULLY commit to a bit). So it's not like my group is prudes or something, we would talk about or read or watch shit together without batting an eye last I tried this sorta thing. but playing is a whole different beast.

Now one of those fancy board games could get really interesting, THAT I think has more staying power. A card battler where you're trying to wear opponents out, or a game where you're trying to get (and keep satisfied) a variety of monsters partners, or maybe just a normal board game where you're scoring by...well, scoring. Maybe different monsters are worth different points, or you're trying to fuck as many as possible? Hell, just a board game version of monster prom would work wonderfully! So to answer your question I guess, to draw me in it'd have to be more like a party game. Rules-lite TTRPG based around one-shots and short campaigns, or a board/card game that takes a few hours but commits hard to the theme.

#not tournament #answers

[theamityelf]

If I've understood right, their luck is like this?

Komaeda: Luck manipulation and luck balance. His luck is at one time extremely bad for him, only for him to have a huge life-changing strike of good luck. Rinse, repeat.

Naegi: Luck as in unpredictability. It'll save his life but in ways that lead to chaos.

I think my preferred view of Komaeda's luck, at least right now, aligns with something I said in one of my fanfics, which is that it "gives him what he actively desires in the moment and takes what he passively values." Basically, it aligns with his immediate wants enough to make him feel that it trends positive, but really the negative far outweighs the positive in terms of magnitude.

I've seen an alternative explanation (which I also mentioned in the same fanfic) that Komaeda's luck is based in least likely outcomes. Where he'll be afflicted or attacked despite low odds, but he'll also survive despite low odds, because the least likely thing will always happen to him. The person who said this (and it was a YouTube comment on, I think, ProZD's Danganronpa LP) suggested that Nagito survived the Russian Roulette specifically because he gave himself the hardest difficulty setting, and if he'd played normally and used just one bullet, he would have died. Basically, unlikely successes and unlikely failures. And I am simultaneously satisfied with the tidiness of that explanation and disenchanted with the idea of treating luck quite so mathematically; I feel like, for me, it kind of goes against the spirit of how it operates in the story to completely strip it of...I don't know, guile? I don't know exactly how to put it.

For Naegi, I think the unpredictability thing is pretty spot on. I think it's worth mentioning that the clearest manifestations of his luck are usually in the form of protection from plots against him. Or not even protection from, but protection within plots against him; the plots will fully go into motion and come apart in the exact ways needed to save him. But I think it's also possible that the best way of explaining his luck is Plot Armor. In-universe, there is something metaphysical that identifies him as the protagonist and shields him in ways a protagonist needs to be shielded. It's unpredictable to the characters is because the ways in which it influences Naegi's life are largely a means to an end. Because the characters, in-universe, have free will to plot and scheme in ways that will harm Naegi, the world itself sets things in motion that will protect him from that harm long in advance.

But I also find that explanation a little...cheating. Like, I realize I'm the one who said it, but it does feel unsatisfying to say "Oh, the rule of his luck is that he's the protagonist so the writers will set up whatever is needed to keep him from dying early." I do think it could be interesting to consider the in-universe metaphysical implications, but I also think it robs Makoto of a lot of what's cool about him if we hand the credit over to the machinations of the universe, so I think the unpredictability explanation is the best way to look at it.

#danganronpa #nagito komaeda #makoto naegi

[good-beanswrites]

oomph i know i'm definitely really early with this ask (changing time zones for vacation is weird o.O) but I was thinking about it over the past few days

for the lights, camera, sing your sins au, are the interrogations somewhat scripted where the prisoner knows what to say and Es is mostly just reactions or questions to that? I feel like we've talked about this but I have forgotten jandjnf o.O

because all i can think about is Es getting beaten up or close to tears in the first voice dramas and man if it's scripted, i feel bad for the prisoners who have to do this to es o.O

Hi Mug :D No worries, a slightly late reply because I was on vacation too haha! 🍂

And I mean it's whatever works best in people's minds, but I always pictured there being very little scripted, actually! I'd hoped that everything was as natural as possible. The prisoners just have to make the little shift to act as if they did follow through with the murder instead of talk about how close it came -- other than that, everything that happens is the characters' honest questions, answers, and reactions.

When explaining the no-violence ban to everyone, Fuuta and Kazui (and later Amane) tell Jackalope how they would think during their interrogations. Jackalope instructs them all how to act in order to stay consistent with the barriers/losing strength stuff. I think the only explicitly scripted action is Mikoto's violence, since Red admits he may resort to that if Blue felt threatened. Jackalope tells him to get to the point of violence no matter how the interrogation goes, as it's necessary (to proving Mikoto's situation, to driving home the central ideas of Mikoto's case, to reveal Milgram's process and 'limits,' etc).

And yeah, it definitely tears him apart to actually do it -- he has to verify that Es signed up for this several times (which they did), and it still takes a lot of resolve to follow through with hurting an innocent kid like that. I imagine that's one of the reasons he's not really upset that Kotoko surprised everyone by intervening: he felt so guilty about the attack and was grateful someone came in to stop it.

Although it wasn't physical pain, Mahiru is also really upset that she brought Es such emotional strain. She thinks it's cruel to fool them into feeling bad for her when she's okay, and it takes a lot of reassurance from the others to convince her it's for the sake of the experiment -- every part of the process has toyed with everyone's emotions, she's not a terrible person for doing so.

Whether in the middle of the trial or the final executions, I think any characters who die next trial will also feel awful for making Es mourn for them when they're still alive. It's not all one-sided guilt, though. It's balanced by anger/sorrow towards Es for condemning them to death in the first place because of their decisions. Any time they get too caught up in thinking "I'm so cruel for tricking them like this," they have a moment of "well, they did specifically order my death, so..."

When I'm looking for a pure fix-it, I'll let those emotions go pretty easily <3 But unfortunately my writer ass is never free from The Themes asdfsdf and sometimes I still get caught up in the project's major focus -- not only is Es facing the original Milgram dilemma of choosing whether or not to follow authority, but now the prisoners are faced with the exact same decision. Do they physically/mentally hurt this child "for the experiment?" Because someone in authority told them to? They're doing this to prove a point about justice and fairness, but where should they draw the line? At what point is it not for the greater good and they are just causing more harm?

I think I mentioned it before but in this au the prisoners are extremely motivated by the promise that this experiment will help others like them. Yuno wants to make a statement about society's views on abortion and sex work. Muu wants to make a difference for bullying victims. Kazui hopes to be a voice for all those who have had to keep theirs quiet about something. Mikoto hopes his story creates more awareness and acceptance for people who are usually terribly stereotyped and feared. Kotoko wants to bring to light the problem of corruption and what can be done about it, and so on. In the end, they can always justify causing a little emotional/physical harm because they are doing it for a good reason.

#milgram #thanks for the question! #sorry for another rambly au post -- i just love chatting about it LMAO #ironically im trying to keep everything as canon as possible 😅 #i think mikotos interrogation is the only one with something specifically set down by outside influences #because red would be really against the idea initially but he figures if its all consensual and it can really help people like himself #then its 100% worth it #i havent quite pictured how the prisoners think the results of the experiment will be released #i dont think they believe their videos/time in prison will reach the whole public #but they still assume the end goal is making a very public report #i think thatll be for me to decide at the end of the project when we have a better picture of everything #asdfsdf we havent even finished t2 and im already undoing character deaths from the finale 😂😂😂 #anyway i hope your vacation went/is going well! take it easy pal :) #lights camera sing your sins

[theokusgallery]

What do you think Nick and Sunny's ethnicities are?

I've always somewhat headcanonned Sunny as Japanese-American, and Basil as having at least one European parent, both living in Europe, and an American grandmother. I have no idea where that second headcanon comes from. It's probably me projecting my own French-ness onto my favorite little blorbo -- another explanation is that OMORI seems to be pretty explicitely set in the USA, but Basil's parents are said to travel frequently and Sunny's never seen them in his life... and since it's easier to travel in Europe in my (limited) experience, my brain might've just made the association. Sunny being Japanese-American is a pretty popular headcanon because of his chara-design so I don't feel like I have to explain that one.

Anyway, they both live in France for plot reasons.

#in that last comic i made its said that sunny has an hour and a half of public transport to get there. its important to them growing closer #and ngl from what i'm hearing i dont think that's something that would even be possible in america. #america's public transport system doesn't seem to... be big enough to go for that long. #also: arsenic's AU is massively inspired by some personal elements (not the toxic relationship part don't worry) #and some of these elements just *require* shit to happen in france. #like for instance: sunny lives very far away instead of getting a college dorm... #...because college dorms just aren't really a thing in france. and although sunny doesnt have the money to rent an appartment closer to uni #-he has the money to go to college in the first place... because public unis are practically free here. #there's also no reason for sunny's family to get the story for how he lost his eye... #...because he has public healthcare... so he doesn't need money from his family to pay for it. #so he doesn't *owe* them an explanation and he can just hide it until he has to see them again... #...months later‚ because he's already moved in with nick by this point. #so if i had to change where they live i'd have to do lots of research and adjustments just to make this *vent AU* less relatable to me. #so... not worth it. im keeping the french in ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #arsenic #omori #rant #jesus how many tags is that. #im sorry i Cannot shut up about them

[samiferboy]

i am not immune to the idea of s1-2 samifer

#avery.txt #young sam being so desperate and confused and distraught bc he thought he could escape this life but no. he couldn't #and here's this easy calm confident man who tells him it'll be alright bc he's strong and capable #sam keeps having nightmares but sometimes this man shows up and pushes them away and makes him feel at peace #not to be all freudian abt it but he never had this support from his father & now there's this handsome man encouraging and accepting him #so he feels Something. and it's fine because it's just this recurring dream right? #but then he finally is able to ask this dream man what/who he is and. he says he's an angel. who's been watching over sam since he was born #(this is a scenario where lucifer gets out of the cage 4 seasons early ig) #and sam finally feels SEEN. he finally feels like his faith has been worth it. #he throws caution to the wind. grabs his angel and kisses him. tells him he wants him even tho he knows its wrong. #and his angel is kinda taken aback. this was NOT where he saw this going/where he was trying to steer it. he didn't think sam would do THAT. #but he gives sam what he wants and oh. it's GOOD. sam dreams that he shows his angel all the love his angel has given him. #idk where this goes/what the endgame would be here but. i love young sam still grieving jess and searching for his dad or grieving for him #*being swept up by someone who gives him what he needs and cares about him unconditionally #and doesnt care that he ran away. that he doesnt obey. that he doesnt fit the mold. someone who loves these things about him. #i love them so much in every possible way <3 con or noncon <3 varying lvls of fucked up <3 love all of it

[starbuck]

the fact that i don’t have time to fall in love right now is literally SO unfair.

#I AM YOUNG AND FULL OF JOY AND POSSIBILITY!!!!!! #LET ME LIVE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME LIVE #unfortunately in reality i still have ten semesters to go… #and then maybe grad school as well... #and like. i get it… #one part of me says ‘don’t even think about dating until you have your own house’ #but the other part of me says ‘what the hell is WRONG with you????? GET OUT THERE AND LIVE AND LOVE RIGHT NOW IMMEDIATELY!!!!!’ #so there is what you could describe as a SLIGHT conflict #idk… if i could just casually date someone i think that could be fun #but i know i don’t have time for a serious commitment #and i am an unfortunately serious person #i have to keep in mind that i’m planning to run away for two years at the beginning of 2026 #and do i REALLY wanna put up with something long-distance?? #probably not #it wouldn’t matter to me - but i wouldn’t expect someone else to deal with it #overall i just have to wait for the right person and i’ll know them when i see them and they’ll know me too #and that’s all there is to it #i’m waiting for a Connection #and until then i need to focus and keep up with my classes and work #miserable miserable things - but worth it #and i can continue to build myself up in the meantime with my personal studies #so that when the right person comes along i am exactly who i want to be #and that is why they will love me