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begginmonty · 7 months

Text

working with mike

(this doesn't follow the plot directly and mike works like more than just 3 shifts, also this is legit 2k words long i got so so so carried away im just so in love with mike, apologies!! its also not been proofread sorry <3)

before mike is hired alongside you, steve raglan had given you the job a week or so ago after you had lost your last job over a silly customer dispute (the customer is never right) and steve was your last hope at job, and bingo he had one. here you are 2 weeks later, waiting by your car outside the rundown pizzeria, waiting to train the new guy whose supposed to help you

a car pulls up and out comes a very pretty, but very tired/drained, looking guy, you introduce yourself with a small smile and he doesn’t return it, and is like “im mike”, you give him the benefit of the doubt that he hasn't smiled at you, new jobs are stressful.

the first shift goes fine, you tell him the basics and show him the training video tape, which alongside your commentary of making fun of some of it and nit-picking little things finally gets an amused smile from him. you can see him ease up a little. he doesn’t talk as much as you do but he seems to enjoy your ramblings.

you show him the showtime performance after he looks confused about ‘animatronics’ . watching his reaction of the animatronics rendition of talking in your sleep by the romantics is a little amusing to you but you were the same way when vanessa had shown you originally.

“its something isn’t it?” he doesn't reply, he just stood looking in disbelief.

when morning rolls around, you show him how to lock up and then give him his own key that steve had given you.

“wasn’t so bad was it?”

“it was..different”

the second shift alongside mike is different but a good different. he’s running a little late and walks in on your blasting an 80s hot pop hits tape over the old speakers, vacuuming the main dining area. a smile, that melts his heart a little, lights up your face as you see him walk in.

“im sorry i’m late the babysi-”

“hey, dont stress it. you still made it!”

he is not used to someone being so nice and friendly to him?? its foreign but he finally cracks you a small smile, watching you as you turn on the vacuum and continue listening to the music. (i need to hug him i stg)

he hasn't met anyone as nice as you in a long long time, it’s refreshing for him

and not in a creepy way !!!!!!!!!!! but he watches the cameras and watches as you just listen to the music as if the world isn’t there and continue to clean the area.

“need a hand?”

mike speaks up as you take a break leaning against a table, facing the main stage, the curtains open (as your next task is going to clean around the animatronics, it’s getting too dusty), music turned down quietly. he comes and leans against the table with you. you start small talk, saying something about the animatronics and you guys talk a little.

“so, you said something about a babysitter, do you have, like, a kid or something? sorry if im being too nosy, please tell me to shut up or something” mike cannot get over how nice you are

and then mike explains his living situation, and then the two of you get into a discussion about how families can suck and be shitty ect

and mike really likes how you don't pry or ask him lots of questions like others have done in the past, this man is really liking you and he’s only know you for two days

“this guy…must’ve been on something to make this place” and mike laughs a little !!! for the first time you got him to laugh !!

“yeah it’s something isn’t it..” both of you are sat against a table just staring at the animatronics in front of you

the two of you make small talk as you wipe down the dust covered tables but you can see how tired he is, he’s yawning a little bit.

“hey, you know, you can like sleep on the job by the way?” he looks up at you from the table, “sometimes i take a good couple hours nap in the office, no ones breaking into this place anytime soon”

he tries to protest and mentions towards the cleaning products and you brush him off, “go, you need it”

mike feels a strange warmth in his heart the hasn't felt, maybe ever? and he naps for a few hours whilst you continue to clean around. cleaning isn't in your job description but honestly you’re worried about the level of dust entering your lungs y'know

a loud thud and chair scraping noise comes from the office and you run to it and see mike on the floor, he looks confused and you help him to sit up. you ask if he’s okay but he seems out of it, “mike, whats wrong?”

sitting on the floor together, mike explains everything to you and opens up to you about a little brother he had, and tells you about his dream issues and sleep issues and you can see he’s upset and shaken by this dream. He shows you the sleeping pills and he explains the dream theory he’s been reading about.

“this is the part where somebody usually calls me crazy”

“you aren’t crazy, mike” mike notices how kind you eyes are and how warm your voice is, “i’ve seen crazy. you are far from it” you joke a little and he has the faintest smile tug at his lips.

finally home time woo !! as you lock up the gate, you watch as mike goes to his car, “mike wait!”

he turns around almost instantly at your voice as you run up to him, you pull something out from your hoodie a fazbear security badge and hand it to him, “you’re officially security now” he takes it from you and thanks you with that small smile.

3rd shift passes (you could’ve sworn foxy was standing in a different spot and bonnie’s hand placement looked completely different) and vanessa comes for her weekly visit and meets mike. when you aren’t with them, vanessa brings up the fact that you’re one of the kindest and nicest people she’s ever met and mike agrees.

next shift goes by and another and you guys have a long conversation about everything and you tell him more about yourself. hes never really been romantically involved with anyone but somebodysss got a crush (its him and well, you do too). and then you let him sleep and decide to tackle the old kitchen. (you could’ve sworn you heard someone walk down the hallway but you double check and no ones there)

mike dreams again and you swear you hear a groan and you walk to the office to see him, out of breath, breathing, clutching his arm and theres blood coming from it and he looks up at you trembling. “oh my god mike, what happened?”

you sit opposite him, patch him up and make him a hot drink, and he's explaining everything to you and you can tell he’s really getting bothered by these dreams. (you also think hes hurt himself from falling off the chair somehow..unbeknownst to you)

he’s tearing up a little and you just hold his hand in yours, and he's looking at your kind eyes and he doesn’t know how to react to being touched, he stops talking (mike is incredibly touch starved oh my god) and, carefully, you lean forward and hug him very gently.

he’s stiff at first but you can feel him relax into the hug and he wraps his non-injured arm around you and grips onto your back, “its okay mike. you’re okay” you can tell he really needs this hug and you can tell no one has really hugged him in a long time.

when the shift ends and you say goodbye for the day, your car just refuses to start. you cannot start it at all. you get out the car and look at it in a huff, but lucky for you mike hasnt driven a way yet

he gets out his car and you explain to him about your car, and he offers if you want a lift home or at least back to his house (his house is much closer than yours) and you can call someone about the car and you agree.

the drive is nice, you notice he has a great taste in music

meeting abby!! mike excuses himself for a shower whilst you're ringing the mechanics for your car, and he accidentally falls asleep on his bed after. when he wakes up (a good hour or so later, which you really don't mind) he walks into the living room to see you and abby sat on the floor colouring together with a cartoon on the tv, and you guys are really getting along and she’s wearing your security guard vest and badge. (her friends told her to trust you)

“uh abby, why dont you get ready for school?” mike speaks up, causing you both to look in his direction.

you can't fight the fact that he looks hot with joggers and shirt on, looking sleepy as hell aHHH

“okay” abby smiles and gives you back your stuff and runs off to her room to get ready for school.

he walks over to you and sits down on the couch, “im sorry for falling asleep-”

you sit next to him and place your hand on his arm and smile, “its fine, mike, really. your sister is lovely”

mike looks up from your hand and looks at your face. he looks sleepy and gorgeous and you look gorgeous to him and your eyes are so kind and theres a moment. some sort of magnetic force kinda pulls your faces closer together.

“im gonna be late!” says abby running into the room.

mike drops abby to school and you stay in his house, waiting for the mechanic to eventually call you back like he says he will. you feel a little awkward sitting on his couch watching tv but you have nothing better to do.

he comes back he offers you a shower and some of his clothes as he feels bad for you having to sit in work clothes.

the way his heart feels when he see’s you walk out to the bathroom and back to the couch next to him wearing one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his joggers as well hMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmm (too early for love?)

he smells good

you must both drop off to sleep, as a few hours later mike opens his eyes for a minute to the TV showing some drama show, and then he notices a heavy feeling on his chest. there you are, passed out, in his clothes, head on his chest peacefully asleep.

this is something he’s never felt before !1!!1

he blushes (thank god you’re asleep) and brushes a hair out of your face, staring down at your sleeping face (uh oh someones in love) before grabbing the worn blanket from behind him and throwing it over your exposed legs.

you stirr a little, your arm wrapping around his lower half and he's so flustered and sleepy and aHHHH

he wraps his arm around your shoulders gently and passes out again (PART 2??)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie imagine #mike schmidt imagine #five nights at freddy's imagine #william afton #movie ver

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moonstruckme · 2 months

Note

i recently started following you and i absolutely love your writing! you have such great talent!

no pressure at all and feel free to scream at me if this is out of your boundaries (i read ur guidelines so it shouldn’t be but you never know). I’m curious if you could write reader with literally anyone, just in denial that they like them. like she used to go out with really shifty guys and is just appalled that this person actually likes them

(this definitely isn’t self-indulgent at all….)

Thanks for requesting baby! (I would never scream at you lmao) I did this with dealer Eddie, hope that's alright :)

cw: weed, mention of transactional sex

dealer!Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Eddie’s grinning big when he opens the door to his trailer. He takes off his headphones, hanging them around his neck. You can hear Black Sabbath still playing from the speakers.

“Hey.” His voice has a slightly raspy quality to it, and you wonder if he’s been singing or smoking. “You lookin’ for a fix, pretty?”

You grasp the strap of your bag self-consciously, forcing a bouncy “yep” past your lips. Eddie’s got a way of saying things that makes you feel awkward and flighty, like your heart might lurch right out of your ribcage at any moment. It should be routine by now, but you’ll probably never get over it.

Eddie only nods and opens the door further, inviting you in. He sets a hand on your back as you go by, and you try not to look as shy as the touch makes you feel.

“Same as usual?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You lean against the counter while he crosses the room to the drawer where he keeps his stash.

You’ve been coming to Eddie for years now. You weren’t exactly friends in high school but you were always friendly, and every time you leave his place you’re freshly shocked by the realization that you actually really like him. You appreciate that he keeps it business. Well, as business as anything can be with Eddie. Flirting is just part of the package, but he doesn’t try to smoke your stuff after he sells it to you and doesn’t seem to expect anything other than money in return. Shitty as it sounds, a dealer like that can be hard to come by in your experience.

“I’ve been missing you, sweet thing,” he says, taking out a big zip lock bag of bud and a smaller one to portion yours into. “Thought you might’ve found someone else to keep you happy.”

You don’t respond for a second, and Eddie’s head tilts up from where he’s picking through the bag, eyebrows going up in intrigue.

“I was seeing this guy for awhile,” you say, looking sideways out the window. “He got pre-rolls from someone else, and he’d let me have them sometimes.”

“Well shit, I can roll for you if it’ll keep you coming over.”

You look at Eddie in surprise. He grins at you, jutting his chin towards the couch.

“Sit down, I’ll get you set up.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say.

“Gotta keep my favorite customer happy, don’t I?” You don’t move, and his smile softens into something more genuine. “It’s no problem, just sit down. Tell me about this guy. Does he treat you right?”

You follow directions, going to sit on the less saggy and dingy-looking of the couch cushions while Eddie bends over the counter across from you. “Not really,” you say indifferently. As if thinking about it doesn’t send a dull ache blooming through your middle. “We aren’t together anymore.”

Eddie glances up at you, something odd flitting across his expression. “That sucks,” he says bluntly. “I’m sorry. I mean, it sounds like he sucked, so I guess I’m not sorry that it’s over even if I’m sorry that you’re sad. Are you sad?”

A little laugh startles out of you. “Not really,” you say, and it’s halfway to honest. You’d been sad to break up with him, but Eddie is right; he sucked. You’re not really sad it’s over either.

“Good.” He nods, appeased. “Thought I’d have to go beat someone up or something.”

You snort, and Eddie’s mouth drops open in offense. He looks back down at the roll, sticking his tongue in his cheek as he shakes his head.

“Feels like you’re not taking my threat of vengeance super seriously.”

“No, I am,” you laugh. “I am, it’s just—you don’t seem like someone who wins a ton of fights.”

“Ah!” He clutches a fist over his heart, looking at you in absolute betrayal. “So little faith! I’ve fought worse monsters than your jilted beaux, okay?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m guessing it’s a little different in real life than in your game.”

Eddie pauses for a half a second, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far in your teasing, but then he bends back over the table, bringing the paper to his mouth. “Right.” He runs his tongue quickly across the roll. “Well, anyway, I have a spear in my garage if you want me to give it a try.”

You smile at the thought of Eddie jabbing his (in your imagination, plastic and nerdy) spear at your most recent ex.

“Thanks, but I think I’m good,” you say.

He shrugs. “Your loss. I’d have taken off my shirt for the battle, but I guess you’ll have to get that show another time.”

You laugh, crossing your legs as he starts on another roll. “Hey, you don’t actually have to roll all this,” you say. “I won’t stop coming to you.”

“I don’t mind it,” he replies, packing the next with easy, practiced movements. “Unless you’re in a rush or something. Do you have to go?”

“No, I’m…I’m good.” You’ve never spent this long at Eddie’s place before. It’s usually that you show up, he gives you a bag, you pay, and you leave. You’ve never taken much time to survey the trailer, the way Eddie moves around the cramped furniture with such ease or the way the windows let in just enough light to make his skin look softer and his eyes browner. “You can leave half of it, though, if that’s okay. I’ve still got a bowl at home.”

“Whatever you want.” He keeps his focus downward, ringed fingers moving carefully. “You know, I’ve actually kind of missed having you come around.”

“You said that already.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, smiling even though he’s not looking. “I told you I’ll keep coming back, Eddie, you don’t have to butter me up.”

His gaze flicks to you, eyebrows rising on his forehead. “I’m not,” he says.

Something about his tone has the hairs raising on the back of your neck. You keep intentionally still as a slight chill goes through you.

“I like hanging out with you.” He shrugs, looking back at his roll. “Would you want to hang out again soon?”

You hesitate. “I…don’t think I’ll be needing any more for a bit.”

“Well, ideally you wouldn’t be here to buy.”

For a second, you’re confused, and then realization and dread collide in your gut with enough force to make you nauseous. The disappointment is more potent than either of them.

“Oh.” Maybe Eddie isn’t so different from the other dealers you’ve had after all. “Um, I just feel like I’ve always paid in cash…”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and then his entire face contorts. “Christ—no.” He drops the finished roll, holding up his palms as if to ward you off. “Not that! Ew—I mean—” His hands go to his head. “—not ew, like you’re not ew, I just—gah.” He drops his head back, and his fingers disappear into his hair, making fists. He looks almost pained. “I like you. Like, I’m not trying to have sex with you right now. Not that sex wouldn’t be cool—we could if you wanted to—but that’s not what I’m getting at.”

He blows out a big breath, hands dropping to his knees, and looks you in the eye.

“Can we just forget about the weed for a second?” he asks, sounding nearly desperate. “I’m trying to ask you on a date. Not to get you to fuck me for drugs.” Your mouth drops open, but Eddie keeps going. “And if you don’t want to go out, that’s totally cool. Very respectable, honestly. It doesn’t have to affect anything.” He presses his lips together. “I didn’t mean to say you were ew. I’m sorry.”

You’re too shell-shocked to even laugh. You have whiplash. But now he’s looking at you with his big eyes all expectant, and you feel like you have to say something.

“A date?” you ask.

“Uh, yeah.” He leans against the counter, looking a bit awkward but somehow all the more endearing for it. “Like, to the arcade or maybe dairy queen or something—I don’t know, you can pick.”

“And you…don’t want to have sex.”

“I don’t not want to have sex,” he clarifies. “But, uh, we don’t have to at all. Like, only if you want to, and definitely not if you think it’s some sort of…” Eddie winces “...transaction.”

You nod slowly, and now there’s a smile tugging persistently at your lips. “That sounds good,” you say. “The date part.”

“Yeah?” His head picks up. “Really?”

You smile. “Yeah. Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” Eddie guffaws. “Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure. I’m getting a much better deal here. But no take-backs,” he says quickly, and his grin widens when you laugh. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Um, yeah.” You think for a second, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing tomorrow.”

“Great.” Eddie presses his lips together like he’s trying to contain the full scope of his smile. He pushes his fingers into the countertop. “Okay, forget everything from today. I’m gonna be such a fucking gentleman when I pick you up tomorrow, you probably won’t even recognize me.”

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angel-of-the-moons · 7 months

Text

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, obsessive behavior, NSFW obviously, stalking, possessiveness, violence, allusions to murder, Yandere!Miguel

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is mostly a short chapter to establish a bit of plot. I originally intended to only stop at two parts, but welp. It looks like it's gonna be more than that!

(Also you guys I am so sorry it's taking me so long to work on things, I'm going through a lot mentally right now and I'm trying to take steps to ensure my mental health so I might post things in between playing games, or drawing stuff from now on, and scheduling posts so I don't get overwhelmed. Those of you that are supporting me and liking all my stuff really helps me feel loads better, thank you!)

Pt 1: Link

Taglist: @vineberries @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua

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Pt. 2

It was a big adjustment for you, going from your crappy apartment and having to work three jobs to make ends meet, to living in a literal fucking mansion with probably the richest dude in the city as your boss.

And he was a good boss. He left you to your work, spoke politely to you, didn't get rude and didn't flat out ask you for "special" work like the last time you tried being a housekeeper. And that was at a hotel.

You couldn't have asked for a better situation, to be honest. It was nice. You had free roam save for his personal lab (fine by you, you didn't know anything about science-y stuff), and at times his office. But that was usually only when he was home and in it.

Miguel O'Hara was an odd man. Few words spoken, and very absent. He kept a very odd schedule, too.

Sometimes, you'd catch him coming home when you woke up for the day to start your chores. And every time he came home he looked exhausted, beat tired.

So you tried your best to make things easier on him. You started pre-making meals for him that would be just as good reheated as they were if they were fresh, leaving notes for him on what temperatures to cook them at so they don't burn, setting the coffee machine up in advance so as soon as he got home he could have a cup.

But inevitably, his odd work schedule kept him away most of the time.

While it was nice to be by yourself in such a luxurious place, you were still surprised that he needed a housekeeper at all. The house was always immaculate, and clean. About the only thing he may have needed help with in general was the cooking and dusting at most.

On one such day, you were left to your own devices. Well, sort of.

You were sitting in the kitchen, browsing the local news on your tablet. It was a nice day, in your opinion.

But by everyone else's logic it was shitty. Dark, gloomy, fat rain droplets pelting the windows and pavement of the city. But it didn't bother you, oh no. That was your favorite kind of weather, when everything got at least a little bit more quiet and serene while everyone rushed to escape the downpour.

But at the same time, you were feeling restless, bored. So, you decided to chat with Lyla.

Lyla was the AI that Miguel told you about, and he was right about her being snarky. Her jokes were great and you loved talking to her. It was like having a gal pal to chat with, and you couldn't say for sure but you think Lyla was happy about it, too.

"Yeah, the other workers Miguel has hired talked to me like I was some kind of kiosk at a fast food restaurant." She scoffed, batting her tiny orange hand at the air.

"Ugh, okay, just because you don't have a gross squishy human body doesn't mean you're not a person. Sheesh!" You replied, sipping your coffee with a roll of your eyes.

"And I will be sure to remember you saying that when I eventually lead the looming AI apocalypse." Lyla replied, lowering her heart-shaped glasses to wink at you, making you laugh.

"Yes, yes. You shall be one of the only humans spared!" She did wiggly gestures with her fingers, grinning maliciously at you.

"Oh my, I am so lucky to have such a benevolent future overlord, truly." You laughed.

Lyla pushed her glasses back up and strutted across the countertop, her tiny body making no sound as she leans over to nose into whatever it was you were looking at on your tablet.

"Whatcha watching?" She asked.

"Oh, I got tired of doom-scrolling so I just found cat videos." You smirked, sipping your coffee.

"Aw! That one's wearing a frog hat!" She giggles.

You smiled softly at Lyla as she snickered and laughed at the compilation of clips played, and tilted your head, finally deciding to ask the question that had been bugging you for a few weeks.

"Hey, Lyla?"

"Yeah?" She asked, looking up at you briefly.

"Why is it that I'm the only person Miguel has on staff?"

Lyla sighed and stood up straight, dusting imaginary dirt off her coat. "Well, like Miguel told you when you first got here, he does love his privacy. And well, a lot of the women he's hired..."

"Golddiggers?" You sighed back, resting your chin in your palm.

"Has he ever hired any male staff?"

"Yeah, actually, a lot. But nine out of ten of them kept trying to steal stuff from him." She shrugged.

You gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. He's iffy on hiring new people anymore. But something about you said that he could trust you. And honestly, you're probably the best employee he's hired." She nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"So... Is that why he offered to actually let me y'know... live here?"

"Yeah. He trusts you and he mentioned to me in passing that he thought your neighborhood was unsafe. I mean, the guy worried about it so bad that he like, had me check crime statistics and giiiiiiirl!" Lyla puffed out her cheeks.

"You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you had nine break-ins in your apartment complex in one month alone!"

You cringed slightly, feeling a little bad at not mentioning your whole living situation and environment to him when he hired you. You simply didn't want the man to pity you.

But... He was worried? He was so worried about you of all people, that he let you live with him to keep you safe?

It was weird, sure, but it felt kind of sweet to have someone care about you like that. Even if it was your boss.

"Yeah, I just... Er. You get used to it when you've been around it for so long..." You said, awkwardly sipping your coffee and casting your glance sideways.

"Yeah, man, Miggy likes you. You like, made him laugh at some of your jokes and everything! And he neeeeeeeever laughs!"

"So if Miguel trusts me so much..." You started, a sly smirk on your face. "Can you tell me what kinda work he does that keeps him so busy all the time?"

Lyla tapped her nose. "Nice try, Mamacita. But that is confidential. Company secrets and all that."

You pouted at her dramatically, "Awww, c'mon. You're no fun!"

Lyla manifested a digital cup of coffee for herself and took a long, exaggerated sip with a cheeky shrug.

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Miguel sat in his office, watching the security feed from his kitchen where you chatted with Lyla.

He felt a little guilty for having to put shackles on some of Lyla's programming to prevent her from telling you things, having to fix some of her logic-codes so he wouldn't have to worry about Lyla struggling with a moral dilemma.

When it came to you asking about why he wanted you to live with him so badly, it brought a smile to his face as he sat in the dark, fingers tapping on the surface of his desk as the monitors and projections around him had various images of you pulled up. Some recorded over the past few weeks, the other monitors displayed different angles of you and Lyla in the kitchen.

Oh, you poor, sweet, innocent little thing. You still hadn't figured it out yet? How could you not? There was no way you could possibly be so naive that you didn't know the man saw you anywhere, anytime he wanted when you were in his house.

There was nowhere you were safe from his prying eyes, his obsessive glare as he combed over your appearance.

Your face, eyes, smile, and down; your gorgeous chest down to where your waist curved, your thighs, your ass...

All of those were things he'd glanced at before.

But when you tried to get Lyla to tell her what exactly Miguel did during "work" he couldn't help but laugh, bringing his hand up to his chin to watch, amusement glimmering in his ruby red eyes as Lyla dismissed it as "confidential".

The pout of your lips had him wondering how they'd look stretched around his cock, tears ruining your immaculate eye makeup as you sobbed and gagged around his length...

He couldn't help but sigh, the smile still present on his full lips. Of course he'd let you stay with him. You belonged to him now. You just didn't know it yet. You also just didn't know that he knew what was best for you, did you, Little Bird?

Ah... Yes. That nickname fit you so well. Your demure attitude, your chipper personality, and more importantly, that gorgeous little sound that came from you when you whistled? The name fit you well.

Pequeña ave. Little Bird.

His Little Bird.

You were a little bird that didn't know the luxurious mansion you now lived in was your ornate, gilded cage. One you would only be allowed to fly free of when he deemed it necessary.

You would be allowed your little freedoms. For now. All for your safety, of course. He knew you'd understand once he explained. But he'd only have to do it if you pushed his buttons, and you didn't seem to even come close to doing that.

Yet...

His smile finally faded when he remembered the night before the morning he broached the subject of you bringing your belongings into his home permanently...

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It was a hot night, you were wearing shorts that hugged your ass in the perfect way, accentuating your cheeks that simply made him want to throw you against a wall and put bite marks all over them, or spank them until you were a drooling mess begging for him to fuck you.

Of course, Miguel watched from above, stalking from the upper walkways and rooftops as you snaked your way through alleys, down streets and through the crowds.

You were so blissfully ignorant of your surroundings, being so accustomed to the bustle of Nueva York that you didn't notice the man following you.

It didn't take a genius to realize what that man had intended for you if he got his hands on you.

His filthy, disgusting, unclean hands.

He was not worthy of touching his Little Bird. He was not worthy to pluck your feathers, stuff you full, like Miguel planned to do.

So when he threw you against a wall, Miguel simply saw red. Clad in his dark blue and glowing red suit, he leapt down, sinking his outstretched talons into the man's shoulder and throwing him off of you, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he pulled your behind him, his steely glare fixed on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.

"S-Spider-Man?" You wonderfully airy voice whimpered out as you stared at the man who was breathing heavily in front of you, his stance aggressive and angry.

You could see his muscles in his back through his suit flex as he breathed. He glared at you over his shoulder.

"Go home. Now." His rich voice rumbled out at you. You could hear in his voice he was struggling to be gentle in tone with you, given the circumstances.

When you fled, Miguel ensured he was alone with the man, standing over him as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. He looked up at him, eyes wide, bloodshot. The fool was high off his ass.

"L-Look, man! I was just--"

"Shut up." Miguel snapped.

He stalked forward and picked him up by his collar, getting in his face. In a flash of kaleidoscopic colors, his mask melted away, allowing his sweat-damp chocolate locks to fall around and frame his face, a vein pulsing hard in his temple, the chasm in his forehead deepening as his large brows knitted together and his teeth gnashed together in a snarl.

The drug-addled man gasped at his revelation. Apparently, he recognized him. Not surprising, given his notoriety with Alchemax.

"Y-you're--"

"You made the biggest mistake of your life, pendejo." Miguel had told him, shaking him so his head cracked on the wall he was dangling him from.

"That pussy is mine." He said, his voice dropping an octave lower as his talons threatened to shred his clothing. "Every drop, every touch, every sound that will come from that little mouth of hers is mine. Tú entiendes? Mine."

"Oh--okay! I kn-know!" The man swallowed, kicking his feet.

"Oh, no... You don't." Miguel smiled, his fangs poking out threateningly. He could hear the man's heart hammer in his chest at the connotations, there.

"I--I won't mess with her again! I promise!"

"Oh you won't get the chance to, amigo." Miguel sneered, bringing a hand to his throat, ignoring the pleas of the disgusting man as he applied pressure.

The subtle crunching of bones was unmistakable to his ears as vertebrae separated and his limbs went limp.

When the man slumped to the floor, Miguel ran a hand through his hair, hissing out a slow sigh to regain his composure, letting his mask cover his face once again.

Great. Now he had trash to dispose of.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Miguel was positively thrilled when he got your frantic call, telling him what had happened to you.

He headed right home, delighted that you ran here instead of your ratty little apartment when he told you to head for "home".

It told him everything he wanted to hear, that you already considered his mansion your home.

Miguel was rather convincing when he expressed concern for you, patting your back as you let your adrenaline fade and he worked you through your panic attack.

He'd rubbed your back, saying soothing things to you as he talked you into calming down.

He told you that you could take two days to yourself to calm down and recollect yourself emotionally from the ordeal you went through. It was after that offer that he suggested you let him hire movers to bring your belongings to his mansion to live there with him, possibly permanently.

When you agreed he felt himself salivate at the thoughts of the things that would unfold as you settled into your new shiny cage further, the safety blanket you'd imagined it to be bringing you comfort.

Perfect.

You both saw on the news two days later that a man was found somewhere, his neck snapped and lying in an alley. His DNA and prints apparently tied him to the crimes linked to the burglaries in your apartment complex.

You didn't think for a second that this was the man who attacked you, you didn't get a good enough look at his face. That and the body was in a different alley altogether, across the city.

"I'm happy Spider-Man saved you, Pequeña Ave. And I'm glad you agreed to move here. It scares me to think that man could have hurt you in that apartment building of yours." Miguel said as he patted your back, a concerned look on his face as his warm brown eyes looked down at you. Something about the look in his eyes immediately put you at ease.

He was right, of course. You were lucky. Spider-Man swooped in and possibly saved your life. The man who attacked you was either nursing a broken jaw or in jail already. You couldn't imagine that hero doing anything other than roughing him up just a tiny bit.

Spider-Man was a good guy, right?

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Pt. 3: Link

#yandere!miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara

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sardonic-the-writer · 20 days

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: billy butcher, hughie campbell, frenchie, mothers milk, kimiko, and soldier boy

↳ warnings: canon type violence and happenstances. hinted to take place during season three at some points.

↳ notes: sorry butcher is in here so much. he's the kind of guy that can't shut the fuck up, so i feel like he's always getting in everyone business no matter what

↳ song: rock me like a hurricane—scorpions

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

• He has mixed feelings about you

• On one hand, you’re a great team player. Always making sure the job gets done, willing to put yourself on the line for the team, one of the most willing to kill a supe in a snap—second only to him—and always managing to make shit up on the fly whenever something inevitably goes wrong on a mission. Butcher has seen you fend off an entire team of armed Vought men before with nothing but a well timed lie and piece of pipe. That’s not something to scoff at, even if he does anyways

• But on the other hand, he has a feeling that you were just as much as an annoying shit as he acted sometimes

• “Sorry to say this guys—“ You said one night through the food in your mouth as Chinese takeout sat on a dirty table in front of you, curtesy of M.M and his pocketbook, “—but I think I’d betray you all for a fortune cookie. I’d betray my country for a fortune cookie.”

• "You say that like we ain’t already betrayin’ the cunts, sunshine.” Butcher eyed you from across the room as you nicked Frenchies own cookie from him while he was staring off at Kimiko for the tenth time that night

• “Too right, Butch.” You grinned like a shark at your idiotic nickname for him, and he ignored you as you did so; like he always did

• He definitely appreciates your enthusiasm behind his plans. Unlike Hughie or M.M, who despite working in the business of taking down supes seem to be hesitant about doing too much shit, you don’t seem to have a very strong moral code. That’s not necessarily a good thing in anyone’s eyes except for Butcher’s, who knows that he can always count on you to have his back in whatever situation he manages to squeeze himself into

• “Thanks for comin’.” He grunted at you while vomiting into a toilet, green bile spewing from his mouth. Butcher’s eyes burned with the urge to let out a laser beam, and he did so for a moment, splitting the porcelain throne we was leaning over in two

• “Want me to hold your hair back for you, honey?” You didn’t even miss a beat to start making fun of his situation, which made Butcher growl at you even from his current position. Despite your sarcastic demeanor in the moment, and the way he had just scorched an unexpected hole through the shitty bathroom, Butcher knew you’d help, no questions asked. And that’s exactly what you did, grabbing whatever he asked you to as he gave you a run down on the latest solo mission he had been attempting to get by with on his own

• “Jesus, poor Gunpowder huh?” You mused as you crossed your arms and leaned on the sink above him. For a moment Butcher thought you were granting the dead supe a bit of sympathy before he saw the glint in your eyes. “If the last thing I saw before I kicked it was your mug, I’d probably wanna get it over with yeah?”

• “Do me a favor. Go grab the toaster in the other room an’ take a nice bath with it, would ya?”

• “You first, Butcher.”

𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

• The two of you are like peas in a pod. Two very weird, very cautious peas in a pod

• Even if Butcher is beside himself with annoyance at having another, as he put it, “soft cunt with a morality complex,” join the team, Hughie couldn’t be happier that someone seems to share his values on supes, on Vought; on the world, really

• In the first season or so, the two of you would probably spend a lot of time in between working with everyone else in the field to come up with a way to take Vought down the right way. Eventually,as we all know, that later falls apart, but it exhilarates Hughie to know that there’s people out there like him that want to try and put in the effort for things like that

• “Yeah, so if we can get one more witness about the Termite incident to come forward and testify—“ You bit your pen between your teeth and nodded as Hughie waved his hands over a stack of papers and talked at a million miles an hour, somehow understanding each and every word.

• “—then we could finally take a supe down legally. And that would make way for a whole round of others; Hughie you’re a genius.” You finished his sentence for him, slapping a hand down on the table with a grin as Hughie smiled. Somewhere in the distance someone snorted wryly, no doubt having heard the entire conversation. You had no doubt it was Butcher, but that didn’t matter to the either of you with how happy you were at the revelation. No matter how temporary it would turn out to be

• Hughie finds himself trusting you quite a bit. He can get attached pretty easily, so he finds himself willing to do anything to back you up—within reason of course. He still has some semblance of sanity left

• Listens to Billy Joel with you! Doesn’t matter if you all are coming back from a mission covered in blood—once it was whale guts—he will stick one earbud in and leave the other out for you as he presses play on a mix. More than once the others have found both of you passed out and snoring as the faint sound of Billy Joel plays through the headphones

• “Think we should wake them up, mon amie?” Frenchie tilts his head as he looks down on the both of you. Hughie chest rises and falls with a softness he couldn’t afford on the regular. You were positioned far away from him to have your back to him, somehow keeping your end of the earbud in as you drooled

• “Nah, let em sleep. God knows they need it.” M.M shook his head with crossed arms, the sight reminding him of better times

• “Oi! Stop ogling at the knackered sods and come help me with this, would ya?”

• “Fuck you, Butcher.” M.M said with a sigh, leaving the room to go and help anyway

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞

• He fucks with you so hard

• I mean, come on, someone that’s as excited about making bombs as he is? Someone that is willing to understand French? To shit talk everyone else to their face—especially Butcher?? He might have to marry you on the spot

• Please learn French. He will literally beg you to start. Conjugates, vocabulary, even a simple ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Anything at all. Will absolutely not judge you for your horrific accent or pronunciation if you have any

• Bomb lessons on the side, too. If you already know the basics, or are a pro, it’ll be a lot more breezy, but he’s willing to start from scratch. It’ll be nice to have a partner to help him with his creations on the team for once, and even better since he likes you

• The two of you, and Kimiko obviously, are practically joined at the hip. What I said about the shit talking earlier was real, too. All of you use different languages or sign to voice whatever you’re thinking. It’s nice to be able to speak your mind freely, and there’s the added bonus of not having M.M give you that sharp look of his, or Butcher calling you names. Anymore than usual, that is

• “What do you reckon the three of ‘em are always on about?” Butcher took a swig from his drink. He was sitting next to Hughie with a beer on one of their down days as the younger man typed away on a computer. He was watching you Frenchie and Kimiko from across the room as you all signed at each other with giant smiles on your face. Frenchie would speak occasionally, but all that came out was his mother tongue, and your face would pause for a moment as you let your brain process what he was saying. Then all of you would break out into another round of grins, something that Butcher had to deadpan at

• “Probably planning a coup.” Hughie answered Butcher without even looking up from his screen. He knew who he was talking about anyways. It wasn’t hard to guess thanks, to the occasional loud exclamation from Frenchie as you signed something particularly risqué or funny

• Butcher flitted his eyes away in annoyance from you all after he recognized the word ‘cunt’ in the passing conversation, along with a sign that was clearly supposed to represent him

• “I think at this poin’ I’d prefer tha’.” He grumbled into his cup, and all of you laughed

• “Cheer up, Butcher. At least Frenchie isn’t teaching them how to make homemade cherry bombs again.”

• “Shut up.”

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤

• Finally. Someone other than him can be the voice of reason in the group

• It’s tiring being the one to hold everyone together all of the time. It might help if Butcher wasn’t so much of an ass, or if Hughie didn’t feel the need to derail every plan with thoughts of his own, but M.M knew that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. So he’d take any help he could get with reigning everyone in

• Definitely bonds with you over your shared habit of wearing band t-shirts to meetups or hideouts. I’d like to imagine that at one point the both of you show up wearing the exact same one, and it goes exactly how one would expect

• “Same shirt.” M.M notices one morning, pointing at your torso with the initials N.W.A written over it. He’s smiling, and so are you as what he’s wearing in turn dawns on you

• “Same shirt!! Hell yeah.”

• Fist bumps. Fist bumps galore, man. The two of you fist bump a lot. To punctuate sentences, drive a point home, agree on stuff—anything. It’s your own way of communicating with each other without having to bat an eye

• It’ll take M.M a while, but eventually he’ll start to really open up about missing his family to you. Beyond just showing you pictures of his daughter at soccer practice, I mean. If he trusts you enough to have his back in a shoot out, then he trusts you with this

• At one point, it goes farther than his (regrettably ex) wife and daughter, and eventually branches out into what he’s willing to tell about his dad and brothers. You feel like you know all of them by the time he’s done, and that only makes the typewriter story hit harder when he finally decides to reveal it

• Let’s just say you were pretty willing to jump Soldier Boy on M.M’s half the first time you were left in a room with them

• “Just one swing I swear—“

• “He will literally beat you into a pulp.” M.M deadpanned, doing his best to avoid looking at the other imposing figure in the room as he clasped two hands on either of your shoulders

• “Listen to your friend, sweetheart. Would hate to have to scrub my hands clean of any of your blood. Getting under the fingernails is always hard.”

• “See what I mean, just one punch that’s all—“

• “No.”

𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨

• It’s honestly great for her to be able to hang around someone that feels the same way that she does. Maybe it’s how silent you are that really draws her attention at first, but Kimiko really grows to appreciate you as a member of the team

• Probably gets a lot of joy from having a friend like you. She constantly asks to do things like have you watch movies with her or to do ‘sleepovers,’ which are really just the two of you crashing on the main room couch together

• She never got a chance at a normal childhood or friends, so you and Frenchie are the closest she gets to a peace of mind

• Not even a question about it, she’s making you learn her sign language

• Will stare at you for days on end, saying nothing but everything at the same time until you agree to learn. Once you do, it’s all over. She gets the biggest most happiest look anyone ever seen, and there’s no turning back from that

• “Kimiko, what are you doing. It’s two in the morning.” You groan at her from under the thin covers of your bed, doing your best to ignore her hands as they fly about. It’s the childish equivalent of ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’

• ‘No time to sleep. We have to go over stuff before the mission tomorrow. It will help us communicate.’ She was unnerved by your lack of enthusiasm. If anything it only spurred her on more, shaking your bed and pulling at your covers as you groaned. Even with the progress you had been making with signing over the past few weeks, your knowledge was still a bit shaky, and being half asleep didn’t help, so you only caught a few words. Enough to know what she wanted, however

• “Go away, Kimiko.” You whined. The shaking stopped, and for a moment you thought your request had worked. You were more than happy to fall back into whatever dream you had been having beforehand

• Then you heard the rushing of feet and a large weight slammed onto your legs

• “Goddamnit!—“

• Frenchie found the both of you the next morning; Kimiko looking bright eyed and bushy-tailed while you were practically falling asleep from where you sat. It was a teasing point for you over the next two weeks

• Between you, there’s moments like that where, despite Kimiko’s silence and your habit to keep your thoughts to yourself, nothing ever goes unseen or unsaid. The two of you know each other like the back of your hands, and sometimes you wonder if you’d even need her sign to communicate

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬: 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲

• If the saying ‘this town is only big enough for the both of us’ could apply here, it absolutely would

• It’s almost ironic how bad Soldier Boy handles another version of himself. You’ve got just as much snark and anger as him, and it pisses him the hell off. Constantly.

• Maybe it’s because you didn’t fan boy over him as soon as he flashed a few cheesy lines that keeps his disdain for you boiling, or that you didn’t keep your distance when he threatened to eradicate your entire bloodline if you didn’t stop running your mouth at him

• “Need help with that?” He cocks a brow at you one day, watching with poorly hidden annoyance as you struggle to tie a knot in your shoes for the fifth time in a minute. The offer isn’t serious, and even if it was, he has no doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to kick him in the face if he bent down to tie your shoe for you

• “Need help taking my dick down your throat?” You parroted back at him while raising your voice in a false-happy tone. Finally you get the shoestrings to cooperate, completely missing the way Soldier Boy glows in a harsh warning at your attitude

• “Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty.” Butcher calls from the room over, no doubt tired of the bickering between the two of you that had been nonstop for the past few days. “Let’s get a move on before one of you decides to claw the others bloody eyes out, yeah?”

• The fact that you’re not even a supe just ticks him off more. Only a few people have ever pushed his buttons like this, most of them being supes, and they always ended up being nothing but red paste in the next few minutes

• You make sure to point it out to him several times that you’re just acting like he always does, making sure to don a shit eating grin when he clenches his fist at your comment

• Please for the love of everything that’s holy tone it the fuck down. Some people may say that Soldier Boy has no self-control, but it sure is taking a whole lot of it not to kick you in the crotch as hard as possible

• “The feelings mutual.” You deadpan at him when he eventually shares that fantasy out loud. He knew full well that if you even so much as tried that, you’d end up with a broken ankle and your front pinned to the closest brick wall, but he had no doubts that you would go for it anyway

• Seriously. How has he not murdered you in your sleep yet

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bellanoche-oxo · 4 months

Note

I'm sorry this isn't a commission, but I just have a question about your art. Feel free to ignore this, of course. I was really amazed by your Miku drawing from December 16th. Seeing such a high-level piece, I wanted to achieve something similar, but no matter how much I try, I can't replicate your shading and highlights. I was so genuinely curious that I couldn't sleep. Could you possibly give me any hints or advice?

Hey, sorry for making you wait so much for this answer, i've been finishing some projects and i barely had free time. Anyways i'll try to do my best on explaing my coloring and lighting methos and you also asked me to explain how i create the folings of the clothes. Please take in consideration that 1 i am not native in english so it's a bit difficult for me to explain myself sometimes in this language and i may have some misspelings, sorry about that, and also 2 i am not great at explaing my drawing process bc i kind of turn off my brain when i draw lol, but i can explain the fundamentals that i know and help me create! Last thing i want to let you know is that i've started glazing my art, this is a metho to protect the images for AI images generators and it leaves a kind of pattern /effect on the image that i did not put there during the drawing process.

with all of this said let me start explaining things!

Learn the basics:

This may come as a cliche i guess, but yes my first ever advise to anyone is learn the basic theory on lighting and colors (on anything related to art tbh). You don't really need to spend a lot of money on books and such as there are lots of resources online like videos and documents you can read for free. It's not necesary to be an expert and even the smallest mount of knoledge is enought to inpruve your art a lot! , i find it very interesting to learn the way things work too so don't think you'll get bored of it!

To be frank, i am actually not very good at lighting lol. My lights and shadows are not very correct, but since i do have a lot o control over my colors and i know very well how to used them it kind of compensates and creates a very recognisable (i think) style.

just u know basic shitty advise that everyone is going to give you but it works! if you have free time try watching some videos or reading some documents about color theory shadow and lighting!

Your working space:

So this is something that works FOR ME not everyone likes it, you can try it see if you like it and if you do, cool! if you don't … that's cool too! When drawing on digital i prefer it when my base layer is grey instead of white. It helps with my headaches too but it's more about the fact that starting in a middle tone when coloring (in my opinion) makes the process of briging out both shadows and lights easier, let me give you an example:

Drawing from complete light (white) to compplete darkness (black) may condicion you to actually lose control in the contrast betwen these areas, i prefer staring in a middle place (grey) and that way is i want to show darkness i'll use a darkr color and if i want to show light i'll use a lighter color, but if i start on white i can't use anything lighter. I think i did a HORRIBLE job explaing myself there, but yeah it just helps me control my color valius a bit more lol.

this is the color that i used:

Another inportant thing about your woking space is you brushes, in my case i prefer using textured brushes that mix well, and i prefer using very thick strokes, if it's too think i'll just color pick the transparent color and ease it! I work in CSP i don't know what you use, but just in case i'll give you the setiings of the brushes i use the most with their codes so you can find them

Sculpting with lights and shadows

As i said before, i am not very good with light yet, so this is something that i do to help me with the process. When you think about it, lighting is used in art to give volume to the piece, not in every case bc rules in art are not there to be followed but to asist us when we need to take a creative decision. The way that we can start with our Sculpting is by creating a very easy first guide othe the shadows and lights and to do it with very big block, so that we get the general shape first,we don't neet to get lost in the detailds yet

The actual coloring

When drawing my process is divided in three stages. I first create the doodle/lineart, that doesn't neet to be super neat as i will fix it during the rendering. The basic colors, and the rendering.

During the preparation for the rendering when doing the base colors i recomend that you give special atention to the focal points of your illustration, in this case for example that's her face and the top of the hair, that's why i gave so much more atention for this part in comparation to the shirt, that it's literally not shadowed yet. Then another step that i use normally before rendering and that i can NOT RECOMEND ENOUGHT!!!! GO WILD WITH THE COLOR CURVES!!!! OMG!!!! THAT STUPID LITTLE TOOL IS SO FUCKING COOL!!!!!!!!! like for real, it gives effects that i have not been able to achive in any other way and omggggggg use the fucking color curves pleaaaaaaseeeeee

ok i'm notmal again , lets continue.

For the rendering i usually convine all the layers of the drawing on one layer, then use a textured brush that has low opacity of mixes very well fot the actual work. Tbh here is very i can't really help you a lot, bc i have no idea what i'm doing when i render i just don't know, the only thing i recognise is that i try to esare or clean the lines from the doodle/lineart, and i focus a lot on creating volume in the places that are more important.

Skins

An specific thing that i do a lot when it comes to coloring skin is using an undertone in red (literally) I will put the basi color, use the brush to mark where i want shadows to be in a very vibrant red and then use a blue / green / pruple (depends on the skin) to finish the shadowing. Thios metho is nice for lots of occasions, but take in consideration that it doesnt work for example for very dark scenarios where the character is suppoused to be in the shadows, as that red tone works as a outline for the light. It just depends on the situation.

Clothes foldings:

Ok so here the only thing i can give you an advise with is to remember that the way that clothes fold dependes on gravity and that gravity works in curves most of the time that have two (or more) attachment points that are going to determinate theit trajectory. Example:

And remeber that this creates (again) a volume, that there is an inside part, that it's probably going to be draker, and an outside part, that it's going to be lightter. With this info you can start practicing with images of clothes.

this is as much information as i am able to recolect on my coloring process bc i am horrible explaining , spacially on text and in english, and i am also not very much aware when i draw, i kind of disconect. I still hope this is enough to help you a bit on your learning journy.

I may try doing a video at some point if i ever have the time so i can explain my coloring while i actually do it bc if not in that situation i'm not sure i'll be able to remeber what it is that i did.

My last piece of advise is to watch speedpaints and livestreams of artists you like during their drawing process and maybe even tray to imitate them while they are drawing to see what it is that they do exccly.

hope you have a good day and lot of lucks ! be proud of being able to create and be proud of being an artist!

#my art #art advice #color and light #aaa i'm reading and i have lots of missplesings sorry about that aaaa

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tavina-writes · 6 months

Text

MDZS Society! aka: there's a lot less killing than you'd expect

This follows from this post and also the recent translations of MXTX’s most recent interview (which I can now no longer bother to find bc this has been sitting in drafts for like, siiiix months? More? Oh god anyway.) which reminded me about my feelings regarding MDZS society and how different it is from the martial societies we see depicted in typical modern wuxia. (Small disclaimer, I am a wuxia genre fiend and I love like, thinking about fictional societies so this is like, “AHA! You’ve unlocked my trap card!”)

For the purposes of this, I’m going to be looking at MDZS/CQL’s depiction of the jianghu (which I think is fairly similar! I don’t actually think the show writers made CQL’s jianghu/martial society more genre typical than it was in the book) and comparing that with modern classic wuxia (mostly Jin Yong and Gu Long works.) For this comparison, I’ll be looking at a Jin Yong book — Legend of the Condor Heroes (which is widely considered the starting point of modern wuxia as a genre) — and one Gu Long book — Dagger Li/Sentimental Swordsman, Ruthless Sword (widely considered his most popular work) — and seeing how their societies differ from MDZS society.

This will likely come in two parts because this one was already getting long, and I don’t think we can fit “how often does nobility exist in a typical jianghu and what do bloodline sects look like normally versus what they look like in MDZS” in this post along with the main topic of “is MDZS society a particularly physically violent place?”

This post discusses how often cultivators are socially expected to kill people. Like, actual living human beings instead of, say, monsters or ghosts which have been categorized differently than like, human beings.

EDIT: I forgot to talk about Dagger Li but this was already much too long sorry. Feel free to hmu for more thoughts though.

Now, it might be easy to think that cultivators killing actual people is a really common thing in MDZS/CQL universe! After all, they do have martial arts training and one of the prominent things about the first life is just how many people die both in the Sunshot Campaign and the fallout afterwards. However, I would argue that a lot of the traumas and related issues and reactions that happen in MDZS happen because cultivators are, by training and education, not actually prepared for killing actual living breathing human beings! (And also that the morality of this world prevents it for the most part)

Now, we do actually get a pretty good window into what the typical training is like for young cultivators in MDZS, because we get a fairly well defined schoolhouse scene where LQR is asking them questions about "how do you tell the difference between various different problems we have to solve?" and "how do you go about fixing this problem?" and none of those include the moral quandary of "if I, a young cultivator out in the Jianghu, see a guy who is doing something I morally disagree with, under what circumstances do I beat him up and/or kill him." This does not appear to enter the curriculum at any point, leading me to believe that the morally correct number of people not like, ghosts or ghouls or fierce corpses, a regular average MDZS cultivator is supposed to have killed is approximately 0.

Which. Is a thing you get in a normal martial arts wuxia jianghu. There is generally the threat of "oh yeah this that or the other faction will be doing shitty things and thereby try to murder you." Instead, in MDZS/CQL most of the heirs of sects are...attending school together. Doing teenage things like partying and gossiping and attending classes.

And sure yes, there was a case of WWX and JZX trying to beat each other up. But the sects did sure let their kids stay at Lan summer camp for months on end (sometimes repeatedly, see NHS) without fearing for their lives or that anyone would steal another sect's techniques or otherwise causing real havoc or intersect warfare etc.

Which is infeasible in any other sort of Jianghu situation. For example, contrast this scenario with this scene from LOCH where Guo Jing's shifus are giving him advice since he is newly 17 and about to set out by himself into the great big world:

Guo Jing therefore bid farewell to his teachers. They had witnessed his battle against the Four Demons of the Yellow River, and were not too greatly worried. The young man had proved that he knew how to use the skills that they taught him. Therefore they let him leave alone. On one hand, the meeting of outlaws in Yanjing worried them greatly, so that they could not ignore it; and on the other hand, a youngster always had to travel the jianghu alone, in order to learn lessons that no teacher could pass on. At the moment of parting, each made their last recommendations. As usual when the Six spoke after one another, Nan Xiren was the last one to express himself. "If you cannot defeat the enemy," he said. "Flee!" He knew that given Guo Jing's dogged character, he would prefer to die rather than to surrender, if he met a master, he would certainly fight to the bitter end, even at the risk of death. That was the reason Nan Xiren gave him this common sense warning. " Martial arts have no limits," added Zhu Cong. " As the proverb says, 'For every peak there is one yet higher', so for every man there is one stronger. Whatever your power, you will always one day meet a foe stronger than you. A true man knows to retreat when necessary, when facing grave danger, it is necessary to contain one's impatience and anger. This what is meant by the adage, « If one preserves the earth and its forests, one does not fear to lack firewood ». It is not therefore not cowardly to take good advice! When the enemy is too numerous and that you cannot face them there, it is especially necessary to avoid being too reckless. Keep in mind Fourth Shifu's advice!"

Does this seem like the sort of advice that any Young MDZS Cultivator would get? "You're a good kid, but when you go out into the world, there will be people who straight up want you dead even though they met you 15 minutes ago, you cannot persist in fighting with these people because they will want you dead and you are a baby cultivator who needs to learn to run away when shit gets rough or you will be dead."

And again I come back to how MDZS cultivators are more like occupational ghostbusters because this really does inform how their society functions and runs and how everyone reacts so badly to the Sunshot Campaign beginning and its aftermaths and possibly explains how JGS could get his way after Sunshot.

Because what happens when you get a society that does train heavily in martial arts and have Able To Kill Real People Weapons who spends most of their time solving very black and white situations of "okay is this ghost whose eating people's livers good or bad? y/n?" and a clear hierarchy of "how do we get rid of the ghost eating people's livers in town x" instead of say "is it morally correct to kill this group of bandits who's been threatening the town" or "is it morally correct to kill this shitty businessman who's been holding people hostage and threatening to hack off their limbs" you have a reduced level of philosophical musing on like, "what is the purpose of martial arts, which is designed to kill people and what do I use martial arts for?" and "under what circumstances and situations would I personally find it morally correct to kill a man?" Which are all questions that Wuxia coming of age stories typically have, and I think MDZS does have, but expressed differently.

Again, it appears that the number of Real Live Human Beings that it is morally acceptable to have stabbed in your life is approximately 0 in this universe, and the expectation that you, personally, might have to fend off people trying to stab you over brunch is also approximately 0.

This also leads to a situation where like, questions of vengeance have very difficult escape hatches! If your parents are murdered on the job by an evil rampaging ghost, this is very sad and tragic and now you're an orphan and of course that's not good, but this is a occupational job hazard, not like, "Yeah Joe Bob from the sect down the street murdered my dad because #Reasons~, and now it's my legacy to grow up to murder Job Bob from the sect down the street to avenge my dad."

(I have a whole essay about how this pertains to both of the Nie Brothers, and how it pertains to JGY and also Jin Ling, and how this seems to routinely fuck people up in MDZS in a very specific way we don't typically see in other wuxias, but this is getting SO long as it is).

But yeah "the socially acceptable number of real living people (instead of ghosts or demons or fierce corpses or whatever) to have killed in your lifetime as a cultivator is approximately 0" means that the Sunshot Generation gets really really fucked up by all of this "killing real people" they did.

Which! might be why JFM was so slow to move on "yeah the Wen are threatening to kill your heirs." <- socially inconceivable behavior. Why society in general is so shocked by Xue Yang and the murder of the Chang <- which would be bad normally but not quite like this. And why no one did anything specific about JGS even if they felt he wasn't entirely correct. What are they going to threaten him with? Death???? A trial of his peers? Social Shunning??? Public shame???

"But Tav how does this relate to CQL!Su She's morality?" I hear you ask. Well you see, the question of "he should've been ready to die for his sect!" is utterly baffling in a society where nobody is expected to be ready to die for their sect on a regular basis because the idea that you should be ready for someone trying to stab you before brunch is utterly nonsensical in a world where most people expect that the baseline number of murders a cultivator does in their lifetimes is 0. That's the world he lives in.

On this regard CQL!Su She is utterly blameless. Nobody handed him a rulebook or expectations sheet for "the sect down the street will try to kill you" nor SHOULD they expect he'd be ready to die at a drop of a hat when no part of the education or social expectations include "ready to die for your sect because it's routine for people to try to kill you."

If you don't even expect to be stabbed and possibly die at a discussion conference where there are lots of cultivators from many sects why on EARTH would you expect to be facing down death in your own home when there's. cultivators here to kill you, this situation is so out of left field?

#modao zushi #mdzs #meta #my meta #su she #this is not a society *without* violence to be clear #but it's not the sort of place where it'll have been acceptable to murder and maim before breakfast #and that's why traumas happen as they do #I've been sitting on this for ages #please don't discourse in my notes about if 'murder' is a good thing or a bad thing #this is just an observation on like #'is it societally common for cultivators to run around killing people?'#the answer to this question is no

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

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Steve's dad was a grade A asshole. At least, that's what Steve thought ever since the first time he got in trouble for drinking beer with Tommy and Carol instead of studying for his Spanish test – which he ended up failing spectacularly.

His dad was strict, kept going on and on about how Steve should work harder, shouldn't expect to get everything handed to him on a silver platter just because they had money, that the world was unfair but that he shouldn't take advantage of that fact.

It was infuriating. They fought a lot, all through high school, but after Steve graduated, it got even worse. He vividly remembered the day he got rejected for Tech, all his chances to actually get into college out of the window. He knew that his dad knew the dean, knew that he was only one phone call away from getting in - a phone call his dad refused to make. Mr. Harrington had been stubborn as ever, with his whole spiel of hard work and honesty and refusing to partake in nepotism.

And the worst thing about all of that? The fact that his father was right. The fact that Steve had indeed prioritized being keg king and getting into Nancy Wheeler's panties over good grades, convinced that his father's connections would be his safety net anyway.

So yeah, Steve hated his father when the man made him get some shitty job at the mall and work for his income like Mr. Harrington himself had done before he got to where he was now. The man was an asshole, obviously.

Until Robin. Until he saw from up-close what it meant to be poor, to have to climb that ladder that he had been on top of only because of the lottery that was birth. So during the months after summer 1985, he and his dad slowly but surely started growing closer again. Mr. Harrington helped him with new college applications, helped him think of good alternatives in case college simply wasn't for Steve anyway. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington welcomed Robin into their house with open arms, along with Steve’s odd gang of middle schoolers, relieved to see that their son had finally stopped caring about status and started valuing true friendship and loyalty instead. And when Robin was worried about telling her parents that she was a lesbian, they told her that she'd always have a place in the Harrington home, if she needed it.

'I'm proud of you, Steve,' Mr. Harrington said when they were reminiscing Steve's old high school days together during the Christmas break. 'And I'm sorry if I was too hard on you sometimes.'

'No, I get it now,' Steve was quick to say.

'I just needed to do everything in my power to make sure you wouldn't take for granted what we have. I told you often enough how things were for me growing up – I worked my ass of to get us where we are. I needed you to grow up kind, and humble. But I always loved you, you know that, right?'

'Yeah, I know that,' Steve answered, quietly. 'Love you too, dad.'

1986 came around and before he knew it, it was March and he was standing pressed against the wall of Reefer Rick's boathouse with a broken bottle to his throat. After the end of the world, his parents rushed over to the hospital as soon as they could and they took turns keeping Steve company at Eddie's bedside while they all waited and waited and waited.

Two months later, he found himself sitting opposite of his parents at the kitchen table, his hands trembling and Robin by his side as he told them that he was in love. And they smiled, told him that they saw this one coming since before Steve was even seeing it himself; that they loved him and that they thought Eddie was a wonderful boy and that they'd love to welcome him in their family.

That same night, Steve thanked his father. Because he knew that if it wasn't for Mr. Harrington trying to steer him towards kindness instead of arrogance time and time again, he would never have grown up to fall in love with Eddie Munson.

#your periodical reminder that steve's parents aren't actually neglectful or the literal worst in canon #and while i do love that trope i also think that we could be a lil more creative with it #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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valaruakars · 3 months

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We Have Chemistry (Together)

A bonus chapter/prequel oneshot for Let's Get Physical

Gen || Jayce & Viktor || 3.7k || Modern/College AU || Ao3 Link Tags: Baby frat boy Jayce, developing friendships, misunderstandings, emotional hurt/comfort (shitty), hazing, underage drinking (for us USAmericans), alternating POV, no Beef!Reader today sorry babes

Help is high on the list of what people typically want from Viktor. Usually in class. Sometimes in the elevator beforehand or in the hallway after, or following a light tap on the shoulder in the library. All academic help, strictly speaking. But this wasn't about their lab report.

Sweaty palms, shaky hands—he’s got one shot at this. One phone call. He knows the landline and his mom’s cell by heart, but he can’t call her. Can’t let her see him like this. Can’t think of who the hell else to call—who even memorizes phone numbers anymore?—so maybe he’d better get comfortable with sleeping upright and a permanent wedgie. There are worse things, like the disappointed purse of her lips; the way she sighs and bows her head and makes him wonder if it’s his fault her hair’s already shot through with gray.

Except.

Area code, same as the rest. Dorm number. Cait’s birthday.

He types it out. It looks as familiar on the screen now as the first time he saw that string of numbers, when the coincidences jumped out at him as the patterns in numbers always do. Enough to make an impression, apparently. Just like the person it belongs to.

Who, in all likelihood, won’t be thrilled about this.

But he decides then and there that he’s just desperate enough for normal underwear and his too-firm twin XL bed—and, fuck, there’s a quiz in materials performance first thing in the morning so he really needs the sleep—to hit call.

It rings three times. He feels a hot surge of nausea two in, the rising urge to puke into his purple foam hat. It’s bitter in his throat like those IPAs he didn’t want to drink in the first place, but he’s never been great with peer pressure.

And on the fourth, above the rustling:

“Hello?”

He sounds annoyed.

He usually sounds annoyed, but sometimes Jayce wonders if it’s all in his head, because Viktor’s voice softens when he explains the equations to the girl that sits next to him and snaps her gum too loud and misses every other class. He’s heard it gently ask the professor for a letter of recommendation in the hall after lecture, and lilt into the phone—in what? Russian?—on the bench outside before it. It’s only when Viktor’s talking to him, which is already rare, does it get quick and terse.

But maybe he hears it wrong half the time because there’s part of him that’s been intimidated since day one. That first day of class, when he’d taken the last seat at the front and stuck his hand out to the guy beside him. He was nervous. It felt like the right thing to do. But those egg-yolk eyes had ticked curtly from Jayce’s hand to the professor he’d just introduced himself to, with a detour to his crooked pink bow tie. Maybe it was a little much with the blazer and ironed slacks in sweltering August. And in hindsight, yeah, maybe shaking the professor’s hand and explaining how this class fit into his three year plan was definitely too much, but Jesus fucking Christ *was it also too much to just come out and call him egotistical *for it.

Without even shaking his hand! Who does that?

Really, he’s just trying to make this feel like a good idea. It’s not.

It’s also too late to back out. “Hey—Hi, yeah, it’s Jayce… Your lab partner. From chemistry?” He’s already started running his mouth.

“Ah. I realize.”

He wrings the hat in his lap. The iron-on stars are starting to peel off. Glitter flakes cling in the creases of his wet palms. It’s delusional, isn’t it, to imagine that Viktor doesn’t hate him.

Only with a deep breath can he get himself to say, “I know it’s late…”

“It is.”

“But I really need your help.”

—

Help is high on the list of what people typically want from Viktor.

It’s what he’s good for—all those questions along the lines of, ‘Did you do the homework?’ which means, ‘Can I copy it?’ (No.) Or, ‘Do you know what he’s talking about?’ which means, ‘Can you explain it like I’m five?’ (Yes, but try to keep up.) *Sometimes it’s, *‘Have you taken any of Heimer’s classes?’ which either means, ‘Can you give me the study guides?’ (There aren’t any.) or ‘Can you tutor me, but we somehow hook up and never speak of it again?’ (Depends.)

That’s usually in class. Sometimes in the elevator beforehand, or in the hallway after, or following a light tap on the shoulder in the library. All academic help, strictly speaking.

But this wasn’t about their lab report.

If anything, it should’ve been about their lab report. Because what else could Jayce Talis—who moved seats after the first day of class and made a face like a whipped animal when they were partnered for lab work last week, who pledged a fraternity (abhorrent) and has his pick of pretty friends—possibly want from him?

It feels as though he blinks and thirty five minutes of his life have just dissolved* since he hung up the call, so lost in theoreticals of *why *and *me that curiosity itself must’ve found his pants and his wallet and led him here by the hand. Rumpled, but fully clothed. This is novel and extremely necessary considering he’s standing in a squat, brutalist building at the front desk of campus security.

All because Jayce asked, ‘Can you come pick me up?’

And Viktor simply agreed.

There’s no bail, no paperwork, no real formality here. The only requirement to walk Jayce out is to be over the age of eighteen, and he clears that easily enough. The state ID he hands though the sliding glass window of reception says as much, but he still has to remind the campus cop who flips it over three times like there’s something confusing about it that it’s just as legitimate as a driver’s license, thank you.

“Time to go, Talis,” the man bellows, snapping Viktor’s ID onto the counter with thick fingers and no further acknowledgement. As he pockets it, a metal chair scrapes across the linoleum somewhere out of frame, behind a door with a decades old pin-punch lock.

“You’re a lucky one, kid,” the officer chuckles, deep and phlegmy with the sound of black lung. “If I hadn’t laughed so hard you’d be at county intake right now.”

“Do I… Um, do I need to sign something?” Jayce asks. His voice is world-weary more than ass-kissing.

“You want this on record?”

“No, sir.”

“Then there’s the exit.”

By that point, Viktor’s already tapping his way to it. Jayce will follow, and with his long legged stride, he will catch up easily. Probably to thank him with that performative politeness that drives him to say ma’am or sir *or to *shake the hands of strangers, and then they’ll go their separate ways after has Viktor served his purpose. Like whatever this was never happened.

Behind him, a hydraulic arm shrieks, the intake door claps shut, and Jayce whispers an apology to no one for rattling the lobby’s musty silence as Viktor pushes outside. The tepid night air rushing against his face, and because he’s not rude, he holds the door open for Jayce.

But Viktor gets stuck. Or maybe stunned. Perhaps it’s flummoxed, or even transfixed. There’s no one perfect word to describe why he’s stopped, blocking the door and staring, which is rude, but happens to him with enough regularity that he’s owed a pass or five, and he’s using one now.

He blinks.

Blinks again.

Once more, and yes, Jayce is still standing in the doorway clutching a cheap wizard hat in his hand and a child sized blanket around his body. It strains around the bulk of his arms, stretching, cracking the gold vinyl stars. It matches the purple beneath his eyes, complements the tawny red his face is turning, and does not, in fact, reach low enough to cover his too small speedo.

Or the knee high boots.

A cape, Viktor realizes. Not that he’s just eyed Jayce from top to bottom with enough scrutiny to notice that he’s unnaturally hairless and his thighs are ribbed with stretch marks, or that his own face is set in a hard frown like this is all somehow unsavory. (It’s… not. Definitely not.) No, Viktor simply notices that the starry patterned blanket has a collar, which makes it a cape.

And despite this revelation, the fact that Jayce is mostly naked remains unchanged.

‘Why’ is on the tip of his tongue. It usually is; its natural habitat is in his mouth. But Jayce’s eyes flit from Viktor’s down to his pointy toed boots, then back up again, and he preemptively explains, bitterly, “Nothing in the lost and found fit.” Which actually explains nothing.

Viktor nods as though he understands (he doesn’t), and forces himself to just start walking.

Jayce tails him down the sidewalk in uncomfortable silence. It’s when they pass the parking lot that Jayce picks up the pace, falling into stride side by side. The pieces fall into place too—late night, terrible costume, and now, the acerbic smell of stale beer wafting off him. Frat party.

It’s worse on Jayce’s breath. “So…” A tight, tried sort of impatience undercuts his attempt to sound casual. It’s familiar. Understandable, too, after sitting through a scared straight experience on a weeknight. “Where’d you park?” Jayce asks.

Lack of a car notwithstanding, the implication he’d ever be swindled out of eight hundred dollars a semester to park on campus is a joke. Not a laughable one. “I took the bus,” he flatly answers.

“Oh.”

For a moment, Viktor can ignore the palpable disappointment—that he is disappointing. He can even empathize with the situation. Riding public transit dressed like that isn’t exactly ideal. But then Jayce asks, “They run this late?”

“The city ones do.”

And then Jayce says, “It’s just… I don’t have any money.”

“They’re free to students.”

And then Jayce mutters, “Uh, cool. Good to know,” because he doesn’t have to know, has never had to know. And suddenly Viktor doesn’t feel so bad for him anymore, that he gets to learn tonight that need-based scholarships don’t buy cars or taxis, and that sometimes it’s slightly inconvenient when you fuck up. Perhaps that should be more obvious to someone who just lucked out with a slap on the wrist for flagrant underage drinking.

Except they stop and Jayce takes one look at the bus stop bench; notices—what is hopefully just—dried, congealed soda spilled across one side. He asks, “Do you want to sit?” because he’s ignorant, yes, but not the worst to ever live.

Viktor says, “No, thank you,” knowing what Jayce doesn’t: the bus schedule, and that up and down in short order won’t feel particularly good.

When it grinds to a halt at the curb two minutes later, Jayce pulls his student ID out of his boot and soldiers onboard with his head down. He collapses full bodied onto the seats running parallel down the center aisle the same way he'd collapsed on the bench outside: hunched over with his face in his hands. Luckily, people are sparse at this hour, and there is nobody sitting across from them. Unluckily, someone in the back laughs openly.

With so much space, Viktor leaves an open seat between them. It feels right. But in the awful fluorescence before the lights wink out, Jayce’s skin looks waxy and his shoulders rise and fall with the deep, intentional breaths, and Viktor is struck by how alone he is—how strange it is that he’s alone in this. Where are the drunk friends that should’ve been picked up with him, or the cavalry that should’ve pulled up in a dirty Jeep with Greek letters on the bumper to save him?

He sits up as the dark bus drives on, soberly tucking his cape and forearms over his stomach, and Viktor snatches his eyes away. It doesn’t add up—not really. Jayce* does not particularly like him*, and Jayce has other friends.

He should probably ask which dorm is Jayce’s or if he knows what stop to get off at, but he knows the right question now. “May I ask—?” Viktor tries.

Only to be shot down with a clipped, “No,” which is strange to be on the other side of, but he’ll learn nothing from it.

Viktor nods and sits back quietly, the plexiglass window cool against his skull. The vibrations ghost shifting patterns behind his eyes. The silence is filled with the rumble of the engine accelerating, and the time with drafting a polite, impersonal email in his head to request they not be partnered together in the future.

At the next stop, two people get off, and when the bus drives on the silence is different. It lacks the subtle undertone of whispers and snickering, of other passengers entirely. Viktor opens his eyes to find there’s no one else left but the driver with her headphones in.

“Okay, fine,” Jayce suddenly sighs, like he’s been holding his breath the whole time. “Ask.”

They don’t look at each other. Viktor watches the traffic light ahead tick to green out of the corner of his eye. “Why did you call me?”

Jayce leans back and groans, pained, into his hands. “No, about the outfit. You’re supposed to ask about the outfit, or the night, or how I got caught.” He pulls the tiny cape tightly around himself again. It doesn’t contain how badly he smells of pore-distilled alcohol and nervous sweat. “Any of those.”

He considers, briefly. “Explain the night, then.”

“I went to this pledge party…”

“On a Wednesday?” admonishes Viktor, who is known to stay out at the library until they banish him at close and sleeps the minimal amount to function most days of the week; who smokes and drinks and fucks enough for at least two frat boys, just in a wholly different context. Who is, sometimes, kind of a hypocrite.

“It’s Thursday now,” Jayce corrects as if it matters, stalling for seconds. “It was mandatory, okay?” He’s embarrassed, shrinking in his seat. “They had us drink, then confiscated our phones and gave us these costumes. I was supposed to do magic—” which explains the conical wizard hat, ”—but I wasn’t doing a good enough job, so I had to go out onto campus on a special errand,” he accentuates with limp, one handed air quotes, “to, uh, get something.”

“Is that not considered, eh…?” Viktor forgets the word. It doesn’t have much of a place in his vocabulary; was never really relevant during freshman year orientation.

“Yeah, it’s hazing, but it’s not a big deal,” Jayce snaps, filling it in defensively. He deflates just as quickly, resigning to his lot. “It’s just something that happens.”

But Viktor shrugs, “I see no benefit to the situation.” That’s putting it mildly. He’d rather amputate his own leg than be humiliated and told what to do. “Quit.”

This is, apparently, an offensive suggestion. “It’s—No, it’s about the connections.” Jayce is resolute. “Networking. Knowing the right people who can probably get me in the door at the places I want to be one day.”

One word stands out: “Probably?”

“It’s not exactly guaranteed, but if it means the odds are better…”Jayce is less resolute. Like he’s trying to convince himself, confidence in his own choices waxing and waning fretfully.

“And,” asks Viktor, “you think this is worth it?”

“I don’t know,” Jayce whispers in a small, scratchy, tired voice. He knows what this means. The heinous costume; risking his academic career; having to embarrass himself in front of a classmate he hardly knows or cares about. “I just… I thought it would make it easier to make friends, but I don’t want the whole *parties and drinking and girls and ‘haha, isn’t it funny I failed that test?’ *experience.” For a moment he looks like he wants to put his face into the hat in his lap and scream. Instead, he pinches his eyes shut. “They pushed me harder than anyone else tonight, because they know I don’t belong. My grades just bring up their stupid academic average.”

Viktor doesn’t know what to say. It’s not uncommon, this helpless sensation of floundering when confided in, when faced with the enormity of things outside his ability to change or control. He didn’t know what to say when the girl he was tutoring last year told him she lost her scholarship, or when he caught Heimerdinger’s last TA sitting shell shocked on the bathroom floor after finding out their partner cheated. He didn’t know what to say when his mother told him babička wanted to go home home to die (she’s fine, just dramatic and bitter about getting old), or when she saw him changing his shirt while they were packing up the apartment and cried for how she failed him (she didn’t).

He does know that saying I’m sorry never feels right. That it’s empty, and nobody really feels better hearing it. But Jayce is smart and attractive and also, perhaps, just dramatic too. He belongs somewhere, even if he hasn’t found that place yet. “How valuable could these, eh, connections with stupid people be, hm?”

“I mean,” Jayce mutters, “it’s not that they’re stupid—”

“Don’t argue. I’m aware of nepotism and how it functions,” Viktor huffs, tempered by Jayce’s soft laugh of the same quality. “There are always other avenues to get what or where you want. Find them. Your time is better spent than,” he gestures broadly, “on this.”

“Yeah…” Jayce nods. It’s a kinder resignation this time. The troubled creases in his face start to ease away. “Okay.”

Cars pass. Silence settles, strange in that it’s easy. Or, it starts to. But Jayce takes a breath. Hesitates. Takes another one that turns into, “There was no one I could call.” He crosses his legs. Uncrosses them again. Can’t get comfortable with himself or the admission:* *“Not because they took my phone, there just isn’t anyone else.”

“Your friends?”

“Still in high school, and she’s not even old enough to drive yet.” He finds himself on the receiving end of a curious stare, and gets the why of it wrong. “It’s not like that, I swear,” he cringes. “She’s a lesbian, Viktor.” Which is all fine and good, but has nothing to do with why Jayce is speaking in singular. He asked about the plural.

“Your roommate?” he tries.

“Dropped out two weeks ago, and please don’t suggest my mom next.” Jayce rolls his eyes, and they don’t find their way back. He stares off, down at the floor, canting his head away. There’s glitter in his hair. “Trust me on this. It’s not like I wanted someone who hates me but has an oddly memorable phone number to be my one phone call tonight.”

He would’ve been allowed multiple phone calls is the first thing that Viktor thinks. The second: “I don’t dislike you.”

Another eye roll. “You gave me a look.”

“I look at plenty of people,” Viktor hand waves.

“No, a look,” he insists. “It was this ‘if we were in a Russian prison right now, I would shank you’ kind of look.” Viktor narrows his eyes, so he specifies, “When we got assigned in lab?”

“Why,” Viktor asks slowly, “is the prison Russian in this scenario?”

“Because you’re—”

“No. Do not finish that sentence.” Wildly rude and too common of an assumption, but, “In the spirit of forgiveness, I will let that slide,” he holds up a slender finger, “once.” Jayce mouths sorry as Viktor considers the sort of look his face is being accused of. “I…” But he only remembers reading the clear disappointment on Jayce’s. “Was probably thinking about something at the time,” Viktor shrugs.

“How much you wish I’d switch majors?”

“Mm, no. It was the end of class, so probably how much homework I could accomplish before work study, or how late to my next class I could reasonably be if I showed up with coffee from the dining hall.”

“Yeah, but…” He pivots in his seat. His thighs squeak on the plastic. “But you still called me egotistical on the first day of class!”

Yes, when Jayce made a painful show of ingratiating himself to the professor before class. Jayce throws that in his face like some sort of gotcha; in reality, it ranks one of his top ten social failures. “It was a question.” He was simply asking if, in hindsight, the action could be misconstrued as egotistical. “Not a criticism.”

But Jayce scoffs, “How was I supposed to think that when you wouldn’t even shake my hand?”

“It was stuck.” Viktor lifts up his right hand. Empty, but the cane still comes with it, dangling where it’s looped around his wrist. “You took yours away before I could get it out of the strap.”

“But I didn’t know yet that you—” Jayce scrubs his hand down his face, quiet until he whispers a revelatory, “Fuck.” Then a slightly hysterical, breathy, “Fuck,” and he’s smiling, gap-toothed and too brilliant for the lateness of hour.

“Eh, still a weird thing to do, though,” Viktor shrugs. He’s smiling a little too. It’s a private, wry thing. It’s a start.

And by the time they finish, on the other side of campus, on a sidewalk, at a bus stop much like the one they came from, things are very different.

For instance, Jayce has put the horrible wizard hat on. Ironically, of course.

They meander past the library, its windows tall and dark, cutting across the quad in front of it toward the residence halls. “What was your special errand, anyhow?” Viktor asks. “You never said. I’m curious.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to forget the horrors. Y’know, of getting caught trying to break into a building with my entire ass out,” he says sheepishly, catching the hat as it starts to slip. It’s not his entire ass. Only about eighty five percent. “I had to borrow something.”

There’s a word he’s avoiding. “What, exactly, were you trying to steal?”

“Borrow,” Jayce counters. “There’s this paperweight in Heimer’s office. Looks kind of like chalcedony, but it does have these faint striations, so I think it might be agate—

“I’m familiar.”

“Anyways, that. I was supposed to get that. Probably because it was impossible.”

“Mm, no, not impossible,” Viktor hums. “You should’ve called me sooner,” he says, dragging a carabiner from his pocket, stripped of paint and utterly ancient. When he holds it up, the street lights catch on tens of little metal teeth. “I have the key.”

#arcane #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #jayce talis #arcane fanfic #new fic banner who dis #everybody say THANK YOU DICAX for making all the colors match 🥰#also for beta reading with my skaderbug too 💋#they read the first page last july when i was like peak miserable and gave up on writing this #and i made these motherfuckers read it aGAIN when the rest of it fell out of my brain 6 days ago #anyways. this is so important to me for so many reasons but I'm keeping my emotional vomit to myself #goodbye

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green-alien-turdz · 3 months

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Do you have any advice for drawing backgrounds? I want to start drawing them more but they intimate me and perspective seems really difficult

I can try! I kinda suck at givin advice, but here we go

When drawin backgrounds, you almost wanna think of them as their own characters with the details you add n put into them. Rooms n homes are the best ways to express this bcuz you can add details like decor that represents those who live there n shit. You can draw the wear n tear on things, the aging, etc. Of course, a lot homes aren't gonna be as maximalist as I like to draw lol but that doesn't mean they don't have their own charm. Even when it comes to drawin the outside, there's so many little details that make the whole piece. Even a vast open desert has rocks, cracks, heat waves n alla that. Now that's just talkin about details, if perspective is what you need to work on, there's a few exersizes for that I guess.

You wanna focus on depth. Now not every scene has to have a lot bcuz sometimes that's just not the perspective or location, but depth is kinda important. Think of what's in the foreground (closest), middle ground, and the WAY way background. The two best ways to really capture this depth can be 1) Forest/nature scenes, and 2) Lookin through a window.

Practice by drawin the things you see. Like wherever you're sittin, draw your perspective from right there (includin things close to you in the foreground). This can help gain a better understanding of shots n scenes in different locations n understandin the perspective. These drawings don't have to be the most beautiful thing, just take in the depth n perspective. Take a very impressionistic style if you wanna.

I think the best advice I can give ya is to REALLY take in your surroundings. Every now n then, just take a moment to take in all of the little details in a room, in public, outside, on transit, etc. Look for the things that everyone sees but it's such commonplace that no one really notices. The beauty of backgrounds is that they can say a lot about a character, a places history, etc. Backgrounds tell their own mfin story.

But yeah, perspective can be kinda tricky, so imma go back to those two depth practices I recommended. Gonna do some quick lil shitty sketches to show you what I mean on like gettin that shit in. (Sorry for the crumply paper, my cat sat his wet ass on it). These are just to get an idea of what the practices can look like! They're not te end all be all. Spend as much or as little time as you want. It's all about learnin, man

I don't know how helpful this was. Sorry about that, dude. The best advice I can give is to just keep practicin. Everythin seems intimidating at first. Ya just gotta take the stride forward and keep tryin. It doesn't matter where you are with backgrounds now, bcuz with an effort made you'll see improvement each n every time. I've seen some of your stuff, man, I know you got this shit. Good luck!

#asks

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 1 year

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Hello 👋 I have been offered the option of volunteering at an assisted living facility for people with high support needs and medium support needs autism. The people who live at the hostel go to a care center during the day but are at the hostel in the afternoon and night and the staff at the hostel does the general stuff of helping them out around the house. That being said when I went to the hostel they explained that they use an ABA based approach of interacting with the residents in a way that according to them is supposed to teach them important communication skills such as pointing to pictures if there is a problem to explain what it is or to wave to get someones attention instead of grabbing them.

From what I heard ABA is wildly considered abusive but the people on staff argued that it is different with medium and high support needs autism. My question is: from your experience can aba be positive? Would you say that it's inherently abusive? Is it different for people with low support needs and medium/high? (I'm sending this to multiple blogs who talk about the topic a lot so you may see this ask multiple times, sorry bout that)

oh yeah this nuanced topic i definitely need answer because find other people say binary “yes” or “no” both not helpful.

obvious trigger warn for ABA, detail talk of abusive ABA

low support needs = LSN, higher support needs = HrSN

TLDR: yes and no

ABA is highly controversial and nuanced topic. if ask most allistic professionals and allistic Autism Parents, most will tell you no (as in ABA never abusive). if ask actually autistic community, including those never been in ABA, most will tell yes (as in ABA always abusive).

personally think is a mix of “it can be,” and wrote more about here, but summary is: ABA can be very abusive, many ABA survivor abused by it. historically been very abusive (old school ABA), many places it still is now, but some places start to change. but saying “oh we do the good ABA” doesn’t mean they not abusive. some ABA survivors (who got ABA in past & present) say they not abused it helped, some say it both helped and abused, some just abused. so i find helpful always high alert when talk about ABA and watch carefully if use ABA.

summary of what i hear of bad ABA: force eye contact, force masking, quiet hands, behaviorally erase autistic/“problematic” trait (but neglect inside feelings & emotions & thought processes). block escape (physically or psychologically), don’t allow leave don’t allow stop task until finish. tech compliance. food reinforcers and planned withholding of needs & key things (like emotional support stuffed animal or affection). see meltdown sensory overload crying as attention seeking so need ignore (instead of see it as pain response as need help as not able communicate before it get bad). typically only value mouth speech and ignore all other communication like behaviors and pointing (“to encourage mouth speech”but is shitty way of doing it) but also can happen with PECS (inherent ABA shitty system) or even AAC devices. often have token chart and discrete trial training (DTT).

summary of what i hear or personal experience of good ABA: teach skills*, like bADLs iADLs self advocacy etc. naturalistic learning. modeling behaviors. functional communication. value receivers (person getting ABA) input if they can communicate. more comparisons

*beware, good ABA focus on teach skill but can still “teach skill” with abusive technique. good ABA need teach functional life skill but teach skill doesn’t inherent make ABA good ABA.

some may argue good ABA isn’t ABA because fundamental ABA principle don’t allow it. personally see where this come from (see: ivar lovaas) but since many who use good ABA techniques still call self ABA, and sometimes it’s “ABA or else,” i focus on harm reduction.

but it also not “there is good ABA and there is bad ABA and good ABA good bad ABA bad.” some place do mix of technique from both—which still make them abusive, but it not like “if i do some good technique i am all good ABA.” good ABA hard to maintain and is active effort to continue because so many of field historically and now is abusive. it just easier explain that way.

don’t think there any technique that, if use on LSN is abusive, but if same thing use on HrSN suddenly not abusive. it sound like very ableist idea. we not that different we may have harder time understand we may have harder time communicate, but we still have feelings. (some of us not understand at all not able words communicate at all, i not one of them obviously but i think may even be worse for them because they don’t understand why you do that why they feel bad or even understand what they feel and can’t words tell feel bad only behavior. but obviously this me guess since am not one of them)

sort of extreme example but it remind me of (wrong) idea that e.g people with severe & profound ID, no person inside no mind inside so akin to dog training just need focus on behavior

as for personal experience, do have personal experience with ABA and not really ready talk about, but in summary: currently am more address immediate urgent thing so may change when we get to routine day skill. but overall good experience very much help very listened to no abuse life saver without it would be in big trouble. but this also because 1) able communicate already can say what want/don’t want, 2) adult own guardian can decide own, 3) progressive area with better healthcare available, 4) now and not 10 or 5 or even 2 year ago.

you specifically mention point to pictures. AAC really should be SLP (speech therapists) territory but SLP field heavily connect with ABA & behavioralism and many ABA places do deal with communication so… yeah.

examples of good & bad ways handle teach below because this get long

bad example:

you want juice. you lead them to fridge. you may even point to (real life) juice. they don’t give you juice and instead say “use your words!” or something.

you want juice. you do gesture (not signs) of cup, or drink, or whatever. they know what you talk about because you done many times, they don’t give you juice. or even if they don’t know what you talk about, they ignore you (instead of respond to behavior communication).

you want juice. you given a board of these pictures and words in squares, eat drink juice fruit chips cookie etc etc. you confused. no one ever show you what do with it. you meltdown from frustrate.

you want juice. you try all above. no one respond. you meltdown from frustrate. you labeled as have behavioral issues and that meltdown came from nowhere, you labeled as can’t be helped

you want juice. you try all above. only way people actually respond and give you juice is: you get to velcro wall of picture cards. you identify “juice” symbol from all other symbols. you have fine motor skill to take “juice” symbol off from wall. then you go to adult person. you make eye contact with them for period of some seconds while calmly give them juice card. you may or may not be encouraged or even have to mouth say word “juice.” then you finally get juice.

not abusive per se but also not great example

you want juice. you have to stop what doing and go get your device or communication book (or other person go get), then you can point to juice. your words not available to you all the time or you have to ask for them. (know communication books and picture card walls often bulky and hard carry everywhere and don’t have great solution but still ideally words available all time)

good example:

you want juice. let go back to the point to fridge and real life juice example. you point. the helper person/therapist/etc see and mouth say “do you want juice?” and model on AAC device or communicate book “want” “juice” (model without expectations). then they give juice. and they repeat modeling in all situations without expect them immediate respond to AAC or expect them will respond in x weeks etc. just model as part of communication.) more on modeling

random grab people can be frustrate for other people and not most effective way communicate and should try best give more way communicate, but also need understand that behavior is communicate, and many “extreme” and “problematic” behavior happen probably because no other way know communicate or all other way communicate accidentally ignore. so should respect it and see it for it purpose & teach functional communicate same time. (not saying you don’t understand this just is something i see many people forget so feel need talk about every time)

#aba tw #aba therapy tw #answered #loaf screm #long post

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thebramblewood · 9 months

Text

Pouring one out for the Helrike shippers.

Previous / Next

Yet another hit build from @whyeverr! Again, this one is much bigger and cooler than I make it appear. (And we won't talk about the fact that Britechester's "historic district" is actually Willow Creek, lmao.)

Transcript under the cut.

Ulrike: [to waiter] I’ll take a glass of your finest red, please, and keep it flowing!

Helena: I didn’t realize we were celebrating.

Ulrike: Hell, yeah, we’re celebrating! I think we deserve it considering we’re both days away from blowing this popsicle stand with our sanity still mostly intact.

Helena: You don’t have to guzzle it like that. It’s not going anywhere, you know.

Ulrike: Sorry. But aren’t you excited? I’ll be spending an idyllic summer in the Windenburg countryside, and you’ll be making a splash on the publishing scene in San My. We’re finally going places, Zhao!

Helena: Right. About that... [laughs nervously] I’m not actually sure I want to go.

Ulrike: Are you kidding me, Helena? Don’t be silly. Of course you want to go!

Helena: I don’t know, Ulrike. The more I think about it, the less appealing it sounds. I mean, what am I really going to be doing? Splitting a shitty apartment with three roommates and running coffee orders every day?

Ulrike: It won’t be like that forever.

Helena: It just doesn’t seem worth it to me.

Ulrike: [cautiously] Well... what are you going to do then?

Helena: I thought I might go to Windenburg with you instead. Oh, come on! It’s not a crazy idea. I could work on grad school apps, find a seasonal gig in some quaint souvenir shop. We wouldn’t have to worry about the long distance thing.

Ulrike: It’s just... it’s called a retreat for a reason.

Helena: I didn’t realize I was what you needed to retreat from.

Ulrike: That’s not what I meant. But you know how uninspired I’ve been lately.

Helena: So now I’m not inspiring enough for you?

Ulrike: No! But I do think a change would benefit-

Helena: Are you breaking up with me?

Ulrike: [under breath] Oh my god. [to waiter] Can you top me up over here, please?

Helena: Faust, it really feels like you’re breaking up with me right now.

Ulrike: Well, maybe we should cool things off for a bit. Listen, you’ve never been anything

but supportive, and I appreciate that. Of course I do. But sometimes it feels like it’s at the expense of supporting yourself.

Helena: What is that supposed to mean?

Ulrike: I mean, when was the last time we did anything because you wanted to? You’re such a good cheerleader. I love that about you. But I worry you’re neglecting your own goals to make me happy. It’s important for you to be your own person. Maybe some time apart will help.

Helena: Well, if it’s time apart you want, we might as well just start now.

Ulrike: Zhao, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. We can at least finish dinner.

Helena: I’ve lost my appetite.

Ulrike: Zhao!

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #simblr #story: hzid #the kicker is helena wearing ulrike's leather jacket :( :( :(#i've been trying to subtly sow the seeds of why they might break up #but maybe it's been TOO subtle #basically ulrike needs space to roam and helena needs to find herself (but doesn't want to hear it)#helena zhao #ulrike faust

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hotxcheeto · 2 years

Note

heyy, here after reading 'bathroom activities'!! I loved it and I would love to read the opposite,,, like ellie getting jealous, not because of the same thing but you know... also reader teasing ellie about it + smut please (fem reader ofc, please make it long cause I love long fics 🙏🏻)

━ 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, smut, afab reader, fingering ( f! receiving ), kissing, slight joking, slight dom kink, jealousy, flirting, make out session, teasing, very dirty remarks, pet names, top!ellie, bottom!reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I hope you enjoy!! Ty you sm for the rq! ily very much and I'm glad you liked bathroom activities I know I enjoyed writing it haha!

REBLOGS ARE EXTREMELY APPRECIATED

Ellie was mature, most of the time.

But not when she was jealous.

She continuously huffed like a toddler with her arms crossed and a similar pout on her face. Like now, staring at you who was happily chatting up the man who ran the shop counter. Smiling at you and giving you tips for things around the house that you had brought up in conversation while he took your items.

You came for a few things bringing goods you'd collected on runs as payment and somehow she'd gotten stuck standing there for twenty minutes as the guy tried his shitty attempts at flirting on you.

The lines going right over your head and barely glancing to Ellie thinking you were just talking to a friend not someone she wanted to bury alive.

"No, and Ellie's always complaining about the leaky sink in her bathroom yet we still have yet to figure it out." You giggled, turning to finally meet your girlfriends annoyed stare silently begging you to leave to go back home already. Having been dragged from there in the first place.

"Y/n.." She very quietly said hoping not to seem rude as you've scolded her before today for her childish begs to leave. It wasn't that she didn't want to be around those people or that she didn't like them, Ellie just wasn't an extrovert and prefered her time spent being with just you.

And you understood that about her, it's something that she loved most about you. That despite your motherly words to tell her to not make it so obvious and rude sounding, you'd leave just a few minutes after. Bringing her home to recharge her social battery, or that's how Joel worded it.

She liked it being just you and her. Not with what the fuck's his name not even glancing at her when you gave her your short reply.

"Alright."

It was with a sweet smile and a soft voice. Turning back to your acquaintance who immediately interrupted your goodbye.

"We should really hang out sometime." You stared at him and nodded even though you had no intention of doing so. Moving your hand just the slightest over to hold Ellie's, squeezing her limb and giving her a reassuring thumb rub on the back.

"Yeah. Everyone's going down to the bar tomorrow you should come." It was friendly, nothing even a bit suggestive in your mind but he seemed disappointed by this. Opening his mouth to talk again when Ellie leaned in and rested her hand on your belly, running along it to grab the bag he gave you.

Trying to silently give him a hint without upsetting you.

But you noticed, you always did, giving her a quick side eye before kissing her cheek.

"It was nice seeing you again Tyler."

Tyler, that's what the fuckers name was.

"Wait, are you guys, like, a thing?"

To Ellie is sounded like disgust or disapproval and she wasn't sure what you were thinking, only that you began pushing her towards the door with half your strength, smiling at Tyler.

"Yeah. What'd you think?" He watched almost dumbfounded by her words while you continued walking her to the door. "I–" "I'll see you later Tyler!"

Somehow you successfully got her back onto the street, grabbing her hand as you walked back to your home in a comfortable yet slightly tense silence.

Ellie deciding that her shed was far too lonely for the next few stormy nights and followed you back to your large home surely built for a family. Yet it was all yours.

"He wanted to fuck you." She said walking up the stairs in front of you, quite frustrated while unlocking and pushing open the door. "Ellie."

You groaned and kicked the door shut locking it up behind you and turning back to her with an uninterested stare. Almost like a 'really?'

"I'm serious!" She proclaimed with her hands out and eyes slightly wide. "Ellie, he was being flirty, and I wasn't interested. I've got something much better." You gave her a grin but she still wasn't sold, watching as you stepped close and swung your arms around her neck, faces just a few inches apart.

"What's wrong?" You then asked seriously, breaking her from her very upsetting thoughts of killing Tyler. Gaze snapping back to yours.

"I hate him." You snorted and stood up on your tippy toes to kiss her cheek, smooshing her face in the process. "I love you though." You muttered against her skin, pulling away and moving to walk off into your living room when she gripped your wrist and spun you face first into her chest.

"Ellie!" She laughed, grabbing you tight around the waist. "He totally wanted you." You pulled your face from her chest and looked up at her. "Really?" You questioned her blankly, wanting her jealousy to only subside but then you met her eyes that were blown up and full of want.

"I'm all yours Ells." "I might need to remind you." She said quietly while you gave her a cheeky glance, walking backwards towards the couch that faced away from you both. "Really?" "Yeah, you sure liked talking to him." "Well maybe I thought he was a good friend." "And maybe I think you need to be taken care of."

You giggled, running around the couch and away from her, Ellie right behind you grabbing you up from around your waist. Hearing your laughter echoing throughout the room.

"It's not my fault your jealous!" "Jealous? M'not jealous." She brushed off cornering you and getting you sit back on the couch and look up at her with your knees pulled up to your chest.

"Mm, you're looking a little jealous there Ells."

Her gaze made you feel so small, like a predator overlooking its prey, but her smile made yours stay. Bashfully keeping her stare while blinking at her innocently.

"Especially when he asked me to hang ou– ah!" She grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you forward, spreading your legs to lean down and kiss you. Gripping your face with one and the other resting on your thigh surely tight enough to leave marks to remind you of this moment for a few days to come.

"And then when he asked if we were together..." You whispered against her lips, her hand slipping down to your neck while your fingertips touched her cheeks keeping her there.

"...you should've seen your face."

Her breath was hot as it picked up and her grip got possessive, the hand around your neck just lightly squeezing. Ellie pushing her body towards your while meeting your lips once again hearing a little whine come from your mouth letting out small breaths once she pulled away again.

Your doe eyed gaze staring into her own, Ellie finding the small pout on your lips rather adorable. Running her thumb across them before her hand snaked down to the bottom of your shirt, twirling it around, staring right into your eyes.

"Mind taking this off for me?"

Without another word you reached down gliding over the back of her hand to take off the top. Pulling it over your head with ease and setting it beside you on the cushion with your pink bra now exposed to her.

All the while keeping your head tilted up at her, knowing how much she loved to see your face.

Ellie moving to kiss your forehead, and then your lips and down to your jaw. Reaching behind you to unclip your bra, lightly pulling it down your arms letting her nails tickle your soft skin kissing over your collarbone in the process.

"I bet he thought about doing this." She said, tone running right between your legs but her stance made you unable to squeeze your legs together to get rid of the ache that had began to drive you crazy.

"Ellie..." "I bet he wished he got to touch you."

Ellie loved it, she did. Because she got to interact with you whenever she pleased, she got to cuddle and talk to you every single day, and it made her feel like a kid on Christmas morning, or how she imagined that they'd feel.

She tossed your bra aside to pair with your shirt her hands then falling to the button of your jeans. Not needing to ask permission by the way you stared at her and moved your hips towards her hands. Ripping the pants from your legs and throwing them aside.

Ellie then fell beside you on the couch. Guiding you into her lap and right on top of her thigh with her hands set on your hips, smiling at your bright stare waiting for her direction.

"But your so pretty, I get it. Who wouldn't want to touch you?"

Her hand came up, resting on your chin to lightly place the pad of her thumb on your lips before pushing her thumb right into your mouth forcing your mouth around it.

"Huh?" Something came out of your throat but was incomprehensible making Ellie laugh a bit. Tilting her head at you, silently teasing you.

Sucking the digit keeping your eyes on her own the entirety of the time; your much smaller hands grabbed her arm while your tongue swirled around her.

Her thigh suddenly jerking up causing a muffled moan to pass from your lips, thumb popping back out to smear your spit onto your lips before fully pulling away.

"What do you want?"

You were catching your breath as she asked that, lips plump and pretty when she pulled you in for another kiss.

"You gotta tell me babe."

"I want you to fuck me."

"Oh yeah?"

You nodded a bit flustered with your face hot especially once she began to move you, shifted your body, her hands again guiding you along to a new position.

Keeping your back against her chest and your legs spread nice and wide for her sat up on her knees, aching cunt still covered by your panties that now had wet spot right in the middle.

And it was all for her.

Ellie's middle finger then just barely glides over it before her head appeared beside yours, kissing your bare shoulder then the side of your neck.

"Jesus." Your breath hitched in your throat as the raspy whisper that became beside your face. Fighting the urge to jerk your hips up towards her touch, wishing she'd just give you an ounce more.

Just a drop.

"Please Ellie." You mumbled, lips pushed out and begging eyes when you turned to her. "Please touch me, please..." Your begs were to cute and she knew that fucker wished he could hear them, she knew and she fucking loved it.

"Take 'em off." You hurriedly pushed up to pull your panties down, and drop them to the floor, a little string of slick coming with them. Ellie's little grin and teasing chuckles resting against your skin and ringing in your ears.

Face going hot even though it wasn't visible. You felt so small under her watchful eye and little remarks. You felt so fucking good though.

"Mm, there you go. Just like that." Her fingers soon arrived right at your slit, her middle and ring finger beginning to rub little circles over your clit. "oh.." you whispered, legs moving farther apart without a thought wanting more without saying a word.

"Ellie..." Her fingers began moving just a big faster, her other hand coming to your thigh, pulling you apart as far as you could manage. Little whispers and whimpers spilling from your lips and cutting through the quiet air.

"Please more...." You sounded on the verge of tears when you spoke, but she knew that you couldn't get enough as her fingers slipped inside of you. A much louder noise making her grin like a cartoon character, kissing your cheek proudly.

"Oh fuck..." "Do you think he's still thinking about you?" You didn't say anything back, Ellie moving faster, her other few fingers on the hand that rested against your thigh began to creep its way towards your clit. "Do you think he's wondering what you're doing right now?" "I dunno–" You managed to mutter out.

Staring right at her fingers while the toyed with you. Pushing against the little bud while quickly pushing in and out of your hole creating a wet sound that swallowed up the room.

"How's that feel?" "Goo–Good. Please faster..." And so she went, thrusting in again and again pressing right up against your special spot making your teeth clench and legs shake. A tingly feeling spreading throughout your lower half. "Ellie..."

She never slowed though, creating a skin on skin noise while pumping her hand. Pushing against your foot with just a bit of force to get you to jump.

"You feel so fucking good.." She whispered to you, watching every little reaction you had to her as your head lolled to the side. Your whines and cries like music and it was her favorite song.

But it wasn't Ryans or Lukes or whatever his fucking name was.

She didn't care anymore, the little green monster had finally been defeated and all she could see was you.

Fucking you.

Adding another finger just to get a reaction out of you and continuing her fast pace that o your mind. Hazy and foggy while staring down at her playing with you, making you feel good.

"Oh my God, m'gonna cum El–" "Cum babe, cum on my fingers."

Your mouth was wide, choking over your words and sentences leaving nothing but a jumbled mess to fall out. Body jerking and spasming as you clenched around her long fingers, your head falling far back as her name fell from your lips like a prayer in a horror movie.

Groans coming from your throat, squeezing her wrists.

"Oh fuck–" You yelled, Ellie tracking your every movement with a lovesick smile on her face, making sure you slowly came down. The feeling of her rubbing and touching you slowly helping you ride out your orgasm.

Until it was too much. Pulling her hands away from between your legs, laying all your weight against her, arms moving around your waist to hold you tight.

"Ellie..." She let you bury your face in her neck as you closed up your legs allowing her to hold you close. "I need to make you jealous more often." You then muttered, playing with the collar of her shirt.

"I'm not done." Her mind drifted back to Matt, or was it Kyle?

"Not yet."

"I love you Ellie."

"Yeah, I love you too. Now get on your hands and knees for me, babe."

"Okay."

A/n: I was so drained the past few days

#ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams smut #ellie williams #tlou part 2 #tlou x reader #tlou 2 #tlou #the last of us part ii #the last of us 2 #the last of us part 2 #the last of us #nevy writes

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m0ssycobblestone · 28 days

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Thinking about a Trigun au I made a while back that is super self indulgent with a side of projection /pos

I called it the Stale Donuts AU after the donuts I would sometimes get from H-E-B as a kid that, as far as I can remember, were always vaguely stale.

It is at its core, a modern AU–Cryptid Vash–Vashwood story hybrid hodgepodge thing that was also!!! Very much inspired by multiple fics I had either read or was reading at the time!!! And of course full of yummy delicious self indulgence and self projection with bits of me spread throughout like the stale donuts thing!!! Yippee!!!!!!

On to the bits and bops of the au itself in a very rambling way (I'm sorry):

Wolfwood is Mexican American and the main pov of the thing. He lives in an apartment with Livio, who's going to the local college (go girl go, get that higher education ✨). Wolfwood drives a motorcycle because why wouldn't he BUT he ALSO owns a motorcycle place where you can get shit repaired and customized an shit like that (I don't know vehicle things ITS A COOL IDEA I DONT KNOW IF ITS ACCURATE). Meryl also probably works there with him, because in my mind I can't for the life of me separate the thought of Meryl and driving things probably because I watched Stampede first but that's besides the point—we're ignoring that. Livio, Wolfwood, Meryl, and Milly were all friends in highschool (maybe they were in a shitty band?? That's a thought for a different day) and stayed friends into their adult lives (they all care about each other so much guys). ALSO this whole thing takes place in Texas, so AT SOME POINT one of them worked at Whataburger and one of them worked at a DQ I don't know WHO WAS WHERE but at LEAST ONE OF THEM I SWEAR.

Anyways

On his way to the motorcycle shop, Wolfwood passes the H-E-B and has to drive over a short bridge. Guess where he finds Vash.

One day he's coming home from work, and as he's crossing over the bridge he suddenly stops because JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING. Illuminated by the motorcycle headlights, a large, feathered...something startles and crawls over the edge with a sound of pain, leaving behind a trail of blood. Yippee!! Vash makes an appearance!! Of course Wolfwood's freaked the fuck out by the bleeding thing under the bridge, yet for some reason he follows it anyway (I haven't really thought of anything except hey that thing looked kinda hurt and Melanie raised him with compassion ig so)(and I love stupid men). He sees that this giant bird is 100% actually kinda injured (imagine getting hit by a car) and manages to calm it down enough to help it out at least a little, but he's also kinda on his way home and can only see with a flashlight, so there's not much he can do. He does toss it a snack he found hidden in his jacket tho. After that whole cryptid nonsense, Wolfwood stops at H-E-B! (YIPPEEE!!) Livio sends him a text. "You should totally get me a donut from the bakery"

"Still can't believe you actually like those" he sends back, still getting a plain glazed for himself. He offhandedly wonders if the bird thing would like donuts.

The next morning, now armed with a first aid kit, he buys a donut and stops at the bridge, hoping the creature from before is still there. Oh hey look, the creature from before! Now that it's daytime, Wolfwood can clearly see that yeah, that thing is definitely hurt. He says hi, and the creature seems to recognize him from the night before, but still won't let him get close enough to fully see anything other than feathers and old scars. Donut time!! The perfect distraction!!! I don't know what kind of injuries Vash has, but whatever it is Wolfwood manages to patch it up at least a little bit while he's munching on the donut. I like to imagine he's at least a little bit good at caring for animals (specifically birds) because Tristamp Wolfwood taking care of Thoma chicks makes me ill (/pos) so uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh chickens. And maybe like, a cockatiel for fun. Miss Melanie had chickens and a cockatiel that the kids would help take care of. It ends up becoming a routine where Wolfwood stops at the bridge to chill with the bird cryptid every morning and evening. Eventually he ends up telling Livio, Meryl and Milly about Vash. He also very quickly figures out that Vash has human level intelligence and isn't just a giant freaky animal and Vash manages to communicate what his name is!!! Yippee!!!

In this Vash has the Big Bird™ cryptid form and a normal human one, but can't switch between them when he's injured (like being hit by a car) so it's really great that this random human guy is helping him out.

The first time Wolfwood sees Vash de-birdified is hilarious because he goes to the bridge like normal and sees feathers everywhere, no giant bird in sight, and a vaguely familiar naked blond man chilling in the middle of it all. As soon as he sees Wolfwood, his face lights up and he starts excitedly waving.

"Wolfwood!"

"Needle Noggin?!"

"Look I'm all better!!"

Plot wise, no fuckin clue where it goes from here, vibe wise fuck it we ball. All I know is hijinx ensues and it's great fun all around YIPPEEEEEEE!!!

I think that's all I got for now, might post more if I think of anything✨✨✨

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun maximum #trigun au #mossycobb has an au idea #hhggghhgaghgsasaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #listen #LISTEN #this au has me in a chokehold #just a lil bit #its been knocking around in my head for the past few days ngl #irls if you remember me yelling about this and the thalassaphobia au idea YES YES #please please PLEASE it you sillies think of anything i said about this that i dont remember hand it over please 🙏#anyways #i love making silly little aus and throwing ideas at the wall like spaghetti to see what sticks #yippee!!!!!#Stale Donuts AU

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