#me using graphic design to cope

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | dark-ish!joel miller x reader

sequel to 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | your... relationship with joel, if you can call it that, has become all you know. you might be his only indulgence, but what happens to you when he needs to leave the boston qz?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | just under 6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | no episode 2 spoilers/no relationship to the show's plot, extremely dubious consent SMUT (18+ only as always; unprotected sex, non-graphic somnophilia, free use, cnc), angst, graphic depictions of addiction, drug use, and withdrawals, daddy kink, breeding kink, implied but unspecified age gap, degradation and praise, mean!joel but with some hints of soft!joel in there

The lights are on, but you’re not home

Your mind is not your own

Your heart sweats, your body shakes

Another kiss is all it takes…

There were words in your mind, a faint melody echoing, but you couldn’t tell where any of it came from.  You didn’t think you dreamt it, but you weren’t even sure if you’d been asleep this morning.  Time didn’t seem to move the same way when he was gone.

You were tangled in Joel’s sheets, but suddenly it was too warm for them and so you kicked them off, letting the still air of the room sink onto your bare skin.  Your eyes were open sometimes, shut other times… but because the view never changed— the window, the table and chair, the radio— you never knew how much time had passed.

It had to be afternoon when you heard the door open and shut; normally, if he came back during the day, it was the afternoon.  You imagined getting up and greeting him, but you knew you couldn’t— too tired, exhausted to the bone, still recovering from what happened before he left this morning.  In fact, you were already damn near asleep again by the time he had stepped inside.

He approached the bed, tilting his head slightly as he watched you lay still on your back.  He said nothing, just started to open his belt.

“I can’t,” you pouted, but he just grinned at you.

“Can’t say no to me, baby,” he reminded you softly.

“Joel, please,” you whimpered, as he climbed on top of you with a groan, “no— m’still sore…”

“Shh,” was his only reply, his hand reaching into his jeans so he could guide his cock to your opening.  He wasn’t even fully hard yet— but he was hard enough, and he forced his head into you with a grunt.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, holding onto him tightly to cope with the pain; he stretched you open and reawakened the pain from before when he’d fucked you for hours, spitting on your pussy to keep it wet when your body had given all it could.

He buried his face in your neck, breathing in deep, whispering a few things you were too caught up in your discomfort to really make out.  “Just need you right now,” that was one you remembered— “need you, baby…”

This was pretty typical.  Well, it didn’t always hurt this much, but waiting for him all day just so he could come back and use you however he wanted, that was normal.  So normal that you’d basically forgotten what life was like before this— before him, before the pills… it was like a memory of a dream, fading faster than you could try to remember it each morning.

He kept you high pretty much constantly, though not nearly enough for your tastes.  It was a delicate balance: not enough pills, and you might say ‘fuck this’ and leave him, if you even knew how; too many, and you’d be too fucked up to do what he said— or worse, you might OD.  His regiment for you was strict, and designed to keep you addicted enough that you needed him but without getting your tolerance too high.

It was only a few months after this little arrangement started that you moved in.  He wanted access to you all the time, and frankly, you only agreed to it because you thought you could find out where he kept the motherlode and steal a lifetime supply of pills before disappearing into the night.  Of course, even if you had found the stash, he would’ve found you not too much later— because it’s Joel, and that’s what he does.  But it didn’t matter now, because you never found anything more than what he was already going to give you, and that was… you didn’t even know how long ago that was.  Everything was sort of a blur now.

He pulled out, but he wasn’t done; he was only stopping to roll you onto your stomach, running his rough hand down your bare back with a soft hum.  You hissed as he slid inside you again, but if you knew how to do anything by now, it was how to lay down and take it.  Joel admired this talent of yours; “Jus’ take it, baby, mm,” he cooed encouragingly, his thrusts deeper yet slower as he got back to it.  “Good girl.”

Even though you were so weak you could hardly grab the thin pillow under your head, you still moaned and arched your back at that.  You tried not to think too much about why you craved his approval so much, mostly because deep down, you already knew: he gave you purpose, the one thing drugs couldn’t give you.  The pills kept you happy, numb, satisfied; he made you feel like you actually might have some shred of value, even if he was the one who robbed you of your dignity, freedom, your independence of both body and mind.

It was worth it, though.  A fair trade, you thought.

“Joel,” you whimpered when his fingers dug into your arm, holding you tight while he laid on top of you; his lips and teeth trailed along your neck and shoulder, his hips grinded against your ass as he fucked you as deep as he could.  By now, it didn’t hurt when he went that deep— you’d basically built up an immunity, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still be sore when he fucked you before he left only to do it all again as soon as he came home.  His stamina was impressive at best, dangerous at worst… you might not have agreed to move in here if you knew how often he would want to get his dick wet.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “s’me, baby, m’right here…”

You wondered if he really thought you weren’t sure— you weren’t that high, but it wasn’t the most outlandish idea.  Sometimes you woke up to him already inside you, sometimes you drifted in and out of consciousness while he was using you and he didn't even slow down— sometimes he'd give your face little slaps to try to keep you awake, mumbling 'look at me, baby, look up at me with those pretty eyes'...

Maybe you dreamed those, you couldn't even be sure.  "So good," he grunted as his pace increased and he fucked you faster.  "Perfect little pussy, nice and tight for me."

You buried your face deeper in the pillow to muffle your whines, but he yanked your head back by your hair.  “Fuck!” you yelped as he pressed his lips to your ear.

“Wanna hear you,” he explained in a grunt that made shivers jump up and down your spine like lightning.  “Lemme hear how much my little whore likes it— let ‘em all hear.”

“Fuck,” you said again, closer to a sob now, “Joel, daddy, please— please, fuck, m’gonna—”

“Gonna cream for me?” he finished for you, and you shut your eyes tight as you nodded.  His free hand was kneading your ass, still decorated with a few old bruises from the last time he gave you some nice hard spanks.  “Gonna soak my dick?”

“Yeah,” you panted, “yeah— you’re gonna make me come…”

He let go of your hair, instead wrapping his arm around your neck— he didn’t use it to choke you this time, just to keep you close as he pressed himself to you.  He usually stayed fully dressed, and didn’t give you anything to cover yourself; you would steal a shirt of his from time to time, only for him to take it back to put on before he left— as if he didn’t have anything else he could wear, you knew he had more than one fucking shirt.

Maybe he just wanted to make you stay naked.  Maybe he just wanted to take the scent of you with him when he left.  Who’s to say?

“So good, so fuckin’ good,” he praised, groaning loudly as he sped up even more.  “Tell me what you want.”

That was code for tell me what I want to hear.  “Want you to come inside, daddy,” you sighed, “wan’ it all inside me, please, want you to— to fill my pussy—”

“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice deeper than ever, and a shudder tensed up your insides around him.  “Yeah— fuck, keep going.”

“Please, please,” you rambled, your own pleasure ready to burst even though there was still that edge of pain to it all, “wanna be full of your come— wanna… want you to… knock me up…”

He laughed, but then he growled a second later and fucked you more brutally than ever until you bit back a scream.  “Yeah?  Fuck, you’re such a needy slut,” he spat.  “Need my come that bad?  ‘Cause you wanna be pregnant?”

You swallowed, nodding as you pretended that wasn’t one of your biggest fears.  “Yes, daddy, please— need you, need you, fuck, I need you—”

“Come,” he ordered, “right fuckin’ now, come for me—”

He kept talking, but you stopped listening; when it hit you, it was like your muscles were too weak to do what your orgasm dictated they should— because normally, everything in you would tighten and your toes would curl and your head would fall back and it would be obvious that you were coming for him.  Instead, all you could do was lay there and let it wash over you, pangs of pleasure and pain alternating while he groaned and came with you.  He coated your walls with every pump, thrusts faltering until his forehead rested on your shoulder with a long sigh.

“Fuck,” he whispered, only indulging in a moment of rest and stillness before he pulled out and got up.  It was amazing to you how he could just shove his dick back in his jeans and zip up and it was like nothing happened— amazing, and sad.  Meanwhile, you couldn’t even get up off the bed, couldn’t even walk if you tried.  He had such an effect on you, and you were just an instinct for him— just a fill to a need, like food is to hunger or water is to thirst.  Maybe you sort of liked to be needed, but it wasn’t easy.

“Is it time yet?” you asked.

“No,” he answered quickly, firmly, and you rolled your eyes.  He never told you what time you were allowed to get your fix, usually he just told you that it wasn’t time yet.  It felt like it was never fucking time.  What was even the point of all this if he made you wait?  You never made him wait— you tried, but he made it clear your body was his and your job was just to spread your legs when he was ready.

You like to think that you’re immune to the stuff, oh yeah

Closer to the truth to say you can’t get enough

You know you’re gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to love

You were lucid enough now to actually question how and why those words were in your head; your eyes were heavy, but you kept them open to look at the radio.  “A song…” you realized aloud.

He looked over at you again.  “Huh?”

You summoned your little strength to lift yourself up— just enough to turn onto your side and slip under the sheet again.  You were cold again, even though the temperature in the room hadn’t changed.  “The radio… there was a song,” you mumbled.

He stepped up to you again.  “What song?”

You shook your head.  “Didn’t know it,” you said.  Because of course you didn’t, you barely knew anything, you were too young to remember before.  You barely even remembered last month— the pills will do that to you.

“Well, how did it go?” he asked.

Looking away, you tried to conjure it in your mind, but it was so distant.  Did he want you to hum it for him, sing or something?  Your throat was tired from screaming all that bullshit about getting pregnant— it was gonna be a pretty rough go, if you tried that.  “I… I dunno,” you mumbled.  “My brain’s all… it’s fuzzy.  I need the pills.”

He tightened his jaw.  “Are you trying to negotiate with me?” he asked, the tone of his voice making it obvious that the correct answer was no.

“I— no, I,” you stalled, “I really can’t remember, I just… maybe if you give me some—”

“God damn it,” he rolled his eyes as he started to reach into his coat pocket.  “One.  Y’hear me?  One.”

Suddenly you were full of energy, sitting up on the bed and reaching for him eagerly.  “Yeah, yeah,” you agreed, nodding fervently.  “Thanks, s’gonna help, Joel, really.”

You tried to grab the pill as soon as you saw it, but he jerked it away.  “Jesus,” he grumbled, “give me a second.”

He set it on the bedside table, taking out a gun from his belt next and using the butt to crush the pill.  You watched, enraptured, practically drooling, as he ground the pill into powder and prepared a line for you.

“Do you need—?” he began to ask as he backed away, likely about to offer a rolled up paper or something to make it easier, but you were already face-first in it, holding one nostril shut and running the other across the surface of the table.

One wasn’t much, but neither is a sip of water when you’re stranded in the desert— but it’s still incredible.  You hummed a little as you sat back on the bed, tilting your head back.  It was already hitting, and you were already feeling better than you had all day.

A one track mind, you can’t be saved

Oblivion is all you crave

If there’s some left for you, you don’t mind if you do

“You remember it now?” he asked impatiently.

“Yeah,” you sighed.  “Yeah, uh—” you cleared your throat and did your best to sing the hook, the part that repeated a thousand times— “might as well face it, you’re addicted to love.”

You opened your eyes again for his reaction, maybe hoping he might say something nice about your singing voice or thank you for remembering.  That wasn’t quite how it went.  “Shit,” Joel hissed, then again, louder: “Shit!”

“What?” you wondered, your voice sleepy and slurred as you sunk back into the bed, ready to go back to sleep— real sleep, the kind you can only get from a hit.  It wouldn’t last long, but it would still be better than anything else.

“We’ve gotta go.”

“What?!” you said again, though this time you had a lot more energy, because you heard what he said.  He was already shoving things into a bag.  “Joel, we— what?  Go where?”

“Long story, I’ll explain on the way,” he promised.  “Just… start getting your things together.”

What things? “Seriously, we can’t— I can’t—”

“Do what I fucking say,” he said sharply, stopping what he was doing to look at you intensely.  “Don’t make me tell you again: Get dressed. Get your shit. We’re going.”

~

The first day was torture.  You thought maybe he was getting sick of you, too— you weren’t very… useful.  You couldn’t even keep up with him, couldn’t follow as quickly or navigate the rocky, uneven terrain outside the QZ like he could.  You held out hope that you were going to get your daily dose soon— he only gave you that one before, never your full allowance— but as it grew darker, you realized he was going to have you skip the day since you wouldn’t be in any condition to hike once you got your fix.  He promised, though, that you could have a double dose tomorrow if you were patient.  It was still nearly impossible to wait for it, but it was a nice motivator to keep moving.

He never explained where you were going exactly, or why— just that the song you heard on the radio was code for something that he needed to handle.  In a weird way, you were flattered that he was bringing you with him, even though all you could think about was going back home and curling up in his bed.

What you expected to be the worst part of this, though, turned out to be one of the only good things about this situation: sleeping.  He brought something to roll out on the ground, and it helped, but you’d been dreading sleeping on the ground from the moment you stepped outside of Joel’s apartment.  The thing about sleeping out here, though, was that— unlike at home— he held you at night.  Sure, it wasn’t the first time you’d cuddled with Joel, but it was the first time you really noticed it— normally, he would hold you while you slept but he’d be gone before you woke up, so you’d really only be aware if you happened to wake up while he was still asleep.  Instead, now, it started from the beginning: he motioned for you to lay down with him, opening up his arm for you and letting you rest your head on his shoulder.  He held you close, promising it wouldn’t get too cold, even breathing in deeply against the top of your head.  

It took you longer to fall asleep than him, and not just because you were craving your fix; you couldn’t really wrap your brain around all of it, and every time you looked up at his sleeping face, you realized how rare it was to see him this vulnerable.

In the middle of the night, awakened by the pain of craving those pills you were waiting for you traced his features— the lines on his forehead, the slope of his nose, the salt-and-pepper stubble on his jaw.

Having a mischievous thought, your eyes glanced at the jacket rolled up under his head; the right side pocket, he’d pulled out the pill from you from there.  Is that where he’s keeping the rest of them?  You examined it, wondering if you could somehow reach into it without unrolling it or waking him up.

It definitely wouldn’t have worked, but you didn’t even get a chance to try— when your fingers brushed over the jacket, the sound of your fingers on the fabric just beside his ear woke him up.  He just stirred at first, but then he blinked his eyes open and hummed as he held you tighter.

“Can’t sleep,” you whispered, and even though you didn’t think that was good news, he smiled at you and turned on his side— pulling you into him, nuzzling his face in your neck.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he mumbled just beside your ear.

I need the fucking pills, Joel.  “I need you,” you whispered instead.

He rolled you onto your back, kissing up and down the height of your throat, humming soft praises to you.  It was so easy to give into him, like second nature: you spread your legs and let his body slot between them, hooking your ankles together behind his back and holding on with trembling hands to his broad shoulders.  “Gonna give you what you need,” he promised, and you sighed in satisfaction— you were still imagining tomorrow, when he’d give you what you really needed, but a little dopamine in the meantime would stave off the shakes at least.

He pushed up the borrowed shirt you were wearing, and pulled your panties halfway down your thighs.  A second later, his pants were shoved down and he was inside you— and yes, it stung at first, but it was also shockingly comfortable.  Not just the penetration itself, but the slow movements of his hips, the kisses on your jaw and collarbone, the way he held you… 

“So good, my good girl,” he whispered to you, making you moan shamelessly.  “Shh, not so loud— need to be quiet, okay?  Not too loud…”

Nodding and biting your lip, you tried your best, but every time he filled you made waves of relief flood your body; it was hard to keep from just saying his name, over and over, like a mantra as he took you to enlightenment.

It was mostly wordless after that, spare a few times you hissed out a yes or he mumbled a fuck, but much more was said in the silence.  The way his hand gripped your thigh, fingers digging into the softness of your skin, said don’t leave, don’t even move, you’re right where I want you.  The way his teeth nipped at your neck said I’m holding myself back, but I can only control myself so much.  The way you hid your face in his chest said I know if you look at me now, you’ll see everything.

He must’ve heard that, then, because his free hand brushed your hair back and guided your head to lay down on the jacket-pillow again— he stared down at you, and bent down to kiss away the tear on your temple.  Maybe a more gentlemanly sort of guy would actually stop and ask why you were crying, but you knew he already knew that this wasn’t a cry of pain or anguish, he knew that if he stopped you’d just whine and beg him to keep going.

So he didn’t stop, not until he’d made you fall apart to the pleasure and your walls were coated with him once again.  Even as weak as your body had become, you still found the energy to give him one more squeeze when he grunted at the end, the rough sound of his pleasure which you took a little too much pride in being responsible for.

Only then did you finally fall asleep, with him still inside you and surrounding you, your whole body going a little numb— yet you were warm, ecstasy running through your veins, thick and sweet like syrup.

~

Some things didn’t change at all: he wasn’t laying with you when you woke up, already re-packing the bag and checking his map one more time.  At least he wasn’t totally gone, like most mornings, but of course he’d never leave you out here on your own.

Another thing that didn’t change was your favorite question.  You’d probably asked almost ten times already: “Is it time yet?”

It never was— you tried to keep walking, keep following, but each step was worse than the last and your body felt completely drained.  Joel apparently didn’t understand this, but the pills didn’t really get you high anymore, not in the way they had when he was just your dealer once a week.  You needed them just to feel normal; it wasn’t for fun, you weren’t partying or anything, you just wanted the pain to stop… you just wanted to sleep.

At least you got a few hours last night, but your body could only take so much, and your brain could only survive on so little.

“Is it—” you began as you trailed behind him.

“Don’t ask again,” he ordered, still marching ahead determinedly.  “You’ll know when it’s time.”

“How will I know?” you asked, but he didn’t answer, he didn’t even look back at you over his shoulder.  He just readjusted the pack on his back and kept moving forward.

The sun was so low you couldn’t even see it past the buildings on the horizon, a tangerine haze settling over the ruins of wherever-the-fuck-you-were, and he was guiding you up a long cement spiral— a parking garage, if you were thinking clearly enough to consider what this used to be.

You were thinking clearly enough to know this wasn’t a necessary path through; this was a detour, and presumably it was where you’d settle for the night considering it had all the necessary attributes of a temporary shelter.  You liked this better than the last place— you could probably get inside one of the cars left behind, clean it out a bit, and have an especially secure (and padded) sleeping spot— but there was still one glaring flaw with this plan: it was nearly time to stop for the night and you still didn’t get your goddamn fix.  

You’d been saving your complaints in case he went back on the offer to double you up for today, but you couldn’t hold it back anymore.  Your hands were shaking— almost made you paranoid that you got infected somehow, even though you had managed to avoid any runners the past two days.

“Please, Joel, m’goin’ crazy over here,” you whimpered, clutching your arm.  “I need—”

“I don’t have any!” he finally snapped at you.  “I was out when we left.”

“No,” you denied instantly, “no— you’re lying, you had one— you gave me one.”

He sighed, his expression and tone losing their frustration and shifting instead to a sort of solemnity as his shoulders slumped.  “It was the last one.

It was like instinct: you ran at him like you really thought you could take him down.  Of course, as soon as you reached him, he held you back without even putting much effort into it while you clawed and screeched and and said every horrible thing you could think of.  “Fuck, Joel!  Fucking fuck you!  I hate you!” you screamed.  

“You wouldn’t have come with me if I told you,” he offered, as if that were a defense.

“No fucking shit!” you yelped, trying to writhe your way out of his grip on your wrists, but it was useless.  So you tried to kick him— and then he went from mildly irritated to properly done with your shit.  Shoving you back, he pushed you away and you tripped on a broken chunk of cement; the pain of hitting the ground was nothing— nothing compared to the aching need that crawled under your skin, nothing compared to the twist in your heart that made your eyes and nose burn.  Sniffling, you hid your face with your arm so he wouldn’t see you cry.

He knelt down in front of you, sighing like he was about to say something, but he didn’t.

“I need them, Joel, I need them,” you kept repeating weakly.  “I’m so— fuck, I can’t even think without them…”

“You can’t think with them, either,” he replied.  “They were messing with your head, kid.”

No, you were messing with my head.  You made me your slave and now I’m stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere about to go into withdrawals.

His hand came to rest on your knee, and you were too exhausted to even pull away.  “You needed to get clean— now’s as good a time as any.”

You pulled your arm down so you could glare at him.  “Now, Joel?  Cold turkey, hours from the nearest QZ, no doctors or nurses or fucking anything around— now’s as good a time as any?”

He frowned and looked away.  

“You know how much you had me on, you know I can’t just stop.”

“You’re gonna have to,” he shrugged.  “Unless you have a better plan.”

“We’ll go back—”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“We— there’s gotta be something on the way, somewhere we can go to get more—”

“There’s not,” he promised.  “You’re just gonna have to ride it out.  But it’s gonna be so much better when you get to the other side— it won’t control you anymore—”

“Will you?”

He stopped.  For a second, he actually looked sad— heartbroken, if you didn’t know any better.  After a long silence, his face straightened out again and he looked at you, just as cold and stern as usual.  “You know you can’t leave,” he said.  “Not because I’m making you stay— because you’ll die if you go alone.”

“I know,” you admitted, only able to whisper because speaking any louder would make your voice break with a sob.  “I know, Joel, I know— m’fuckin’ useless, I know—”

“Shh, hey,” he reached forward, hesitantly stroking your arm through the material of his own shirt that you were wearing.  “That’s not what I mean.  I just can’t let that happen to you— you have to stay here.  Just for the night.”

As if tomorrow you’d be free— but tomorrow would be the same, tomorrow might be even worse depending on how bad the withdrawals got.  Tomorrow wouldn’t give you some magical way to get home, or to get your fix, or to trust him again after that monumental lie.

Still, you both knew that you had no choice tonight: you were here now and he was all you had.

You didn’t even sleep for a second.  The two of you hunkered down in a rotted Land Rover just because, well, it felt like the fanciest option and the seats were in better condition than most; he held you all night, rubbing your back and trying his best to soothe you as the pain grew and grew.  You cried into his chest— you wanted to hate him, but the way he held you was the only thing that didn’t feel like pure agony right now.  You wanted to blame him, but you subconsciously associated him with the cure; some part of you was convinced he was the cure.

“Hurts,” you choked out, as if this was some new information for either of you; it was like everything inside you was sharp, your toes were curling inside your boots and your brain felt like it was swelling up and pressing against the inside of your skull.  “Hurts, Joel…”

“I know, I know,” he soothed, letting you grip as tight as you could onto his arm.  “It gets better— it’s gonna stop hurting soon.”

"I think I'm dying," you announced, "am I dying?"

"No, baby," he sighed, "you're not.  You'll be fine."

“I think I’m gonna die,” you sobbed anyways.  “I can’t— I can’t do this… I just want it to stop…”

“I know,” he said again.  That was the meat of it, really: you kept telling him how bad it hurt and he kept telling you he knew.  But you couldn’t imagine how he could understand pain like this.

It was quiet for a long time, probably hours.  You’d stopped crying— you felt empty of all tears, of all words or thoughts— and just tried to breathe as slowly as you could.  Your heart wanted to race even as you sat perfectly still, curled up in his lap, and it scared the shit out of you; so you were doing everything you could to try to get your heart rate down, taking long breaths and saying nothing and keeping your eyes shut as you rested your tear-stained face on his shirt.

His own breathing was the only other sound in the car— you could hear his heartbeat, too, with your ear on his chest, and you tried to get your own to match it.  It was steady and strong, not weak and unpredictable like yours; it was fitting, really.

It almost startled you when he spoke; it made your heart pick up again, slightly, but you didn’t react otherwise.  “I couldn’t give you anymore, sweetheart,” he whispered, petting your head softly.  “I know you fucking hate me, I know what I did to you for this long… you know it’s almost been a year?  Since you first ran out of rations and offered yourself instead, can you believe that?”

You were too weak to answer— he probably thought you were asleep, he only got to talking this much when at least one of you was asleep.

“I never felt good about it,” he admitted, “but I was able to let it go for a while.  Having you was worth it.  I felt like fuckin’ shit keeping you hooked on that crap but I couldn’t lose you— I knew if I stopped, you’d leave.  What I didn’t realize was I was gonna lose you to the drugs if I didn’t get you clean.  You were too fucked up, baby, you were barely there… this was the only way, m’so sorry, but this was the only way— couldn’t lose you, darlin’, I couldn’t lose you…”

He was holding your limp body so tight, so close, burying his face in your neck; you’d never really seen him like this, he had his moments but he was generally pretty aloof.  You wished you had the strength to tell him: I was never gonna leave you, Joel.  I was never strong enough for that.

~

You watched the sunrise, through the filthy back window of the car and between the cement levels of the dilapidated garage.  Then you watched Joel sleep, and felt a different pain than the shudders of withdrawals that you’d almost gotten used to by now: the pain of loving someone, and having no fucking idea how to survive it.  You were still angry with him for what he’d done, and why he did it, but you knew you were going to tolerate it all— and not just because you had to.  You needed him now, for much more than just survival.

The shakes hit again, and though you held your fist tight to fight it, the movement still woke him.  He opened just one eye first, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the expression on his face.

“Drink some more water,” he encouraged you— and you were perfectly capable of handling that task yourself, but he still unscrewed the canteen he’d brought and held it to your lips, tilting it forward slightly for you.  With his guidance, you drank a bit more than you usually would have, which was probably a good thing.  “How are you feeling?” he asked when he let you stop.

“Better,” you admitted.  “I didn’t think it would ever get better but… yeah, better.”

“It might come and go for a while,” he warned you, “but we won’t start moving again until you’re ready.”

You nodded, rubbing your own arm as you noticed a slight chill inside the car.  Your legs were still draped over his lap, and he wrapped an arm around them.  “M’ready,” you decided.  “Just… might need a break—”

“Yeah, of course,” he offered; you’d never seen him so effusive, if that was the right word.  He could certainly be gentle, it wasn’t the first time you’d seen that side, but that was usually little physical things like petting your head or cleaning you off with a rag or something.  Not words: not promising, in a not-so-obvious way, that he would do anything to take care of you now.  That he cared more about keeping you safe than getting to where he needed to go.

Still, you didn’t want to abuse his mercy.  It didn’t take you too long to get everything together and head out, setting down a new path that he’d actually explained to you somewhat in advance: past that big tree there, between the two grey buildings, and East for a while…

For most of the morning you were silent— he led, you followed, walking along the uneven ground and avoiding anything that looked like it might be connected to the larger network of infection.

It must’ve been about an hour before you finally found the courage to say something.  “I don’t hate you,” you blurted out.

He looked over your shoulder at you, an unreadable expression on his weathered face.

“Just wanted you to know that,” you explained.

He nodded, turning back forward, and you kept moving.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller hbo x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller dark fic

[pedgito]

Hi, this is a newly renovated masterlist to head into 2024 with! All of my old fics (eddie related) can be found here. My guidelines can be found here. This is all strictly Pedro-verse related fics and each fic linked will contain a short summary and word count. If you enjoy these fics, please consider a reblog, it's always appreciated! xo

FOR THE WORK (10k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Using your neighbors address for deliveries doesn’t seem like the worst idea until you find yourself with a world of dilemmas and a burgeoning crush on the single dad who lives there. [Pre-Outbreak]

PATROLS (17k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: A story of how things began, where they ended up, and where they might go. A collection of patrols over the course of several months is forcing you closer to Joel than you ever imagined, tense circumstances leading to hasty decisions and one bad choice after the next. [Set Post S1]

SOFT & SWEET (5k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Based around Work Song by Hozier. A comfort fic with lots of angst and fluffy goodness. Content Warnings: mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it’s just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

MEET ME IN THE WOODS (Finished Series) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Taking a much needed vacation for the holiday, you aren't aware your cabin has been double-booked until you're face to face with the other guest the night you arrive, left with a big decision to make and the possibility of a month with a man you know nothing about. But, through communication and isolation, you learn that you and him might not be that different after all. Consumed by your shared loneliness, you find company in the unlikeliest of place—a stranger named Joel, in the middle of the woods. [No Outbreak] (6 chapters)

MET THE DEVIL LAST NIGHT (6k words) — (AU) Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

18+ Demon!Joel, Virgin!Reader, this was little plot lol.

THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR RIDING (3k words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Joel doesn't like gifts, you gift him new boots.

HANDSOME, DIRTY, RICH (12k words) — BFD!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

The rich father of your bestfriend, Sarah — Joel Miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided.

MILLER'S GIRL (Finished Series) — (AU) Professor!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: A sudden infatuation with your professor yields strange, unnerving results and Joel Miller, in his first semester at a new job finds himself in an unlikely position with a student that hides their intentions behind innocence.

UNDER YOUR SKIN (7.5k+ words) — Javier Pena x Fem!Reader

Summary: A new place, a new job, and new problems arise soon thereafter. Javier manages to weasel his way under your skin in more ways than one. The first—stealing your designated parking spot.

REQUEST (untitled) (2.6k+ words) — Javier Pena x Fem!Reader

Request was hurt/comfort, feelings freed after near death experience. Content Warnings:  mostly sfw, arguments over commitment/relationships, mention of violence (bombing), descriptions of minor injuries and emotional distress, just lots and lots of angst

IT'S A DATE (2.5k words) — Javier Pena x Fem!Reader

Your boyfriend delivers the worst news possible on what should be a day filled with love. Luckily your coworker is there in wait, not allowing a perfectly good dinner reservation to go to waste.

Ezra (Prospect)

untitled sex pollen fic (6.5k words)

Lucien Flores

BLESSING IN DISGUISE (5k words)

Summary: you’re his best-friend’s daughter and he’s at a party he can’t be bothered to care about, luckily you’re the one thing that catches his attention.

LAST UPDATED: 02.20.2024

#joel miller x reader #javier pena x reader #joel miller #javier pena #joel miller smut #javier pena smut #masterlist*

[railingsofsorrow]

do you need me?

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: the one where emily's death takes a toll on you. based on the prompt “don't come over, I can handle it.” from this prompt list.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 3.5K

warnings/content: mentions of skipping meals; grief; mourning the loss of a friend; jemily (implied); blood; non-graphic descriptions of violence; character death (mentioned/not the MCs); addiction; intoxication; survivor's guilt; crying; unhealthy coping mechanisms; this is... heavy, be aware.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! I wish that we all have an amazing 2024. here's the blurb you voted for. hurt/comfort at its best <3

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

would you like to enter my taglist?

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❝ it did not kill me and it did not make me stronger. it simply was and always will be scorched upon my heart. ❞

— d.j

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You don't know who took Emily's death the hardest. Pain is not something that can be measured or compared, people deal with it in different ways. Some are quieter in their grieving, others are loud. And although each one of your teammates knows how to compartmentalize their feelings, there was a fog in their eyes, a heaviness in their shoulders more than usual. Things you could relate well after all that has happened. You wish you didn't. You wished all of that was just a strange and far-off memory.

JJ was different — you noticed it during one of your night outs.

Penelope had forced everyone to hang out after a case, to relax. It had been a few months after what happened to Emily and the team was still... sore. Rightfully so.

Hotch and Rossi left earlier, leaving you, Derek, Spencer, Penelope and JJ at the bar. The only ones who weren't intoxicated were you and Spencer. You were pretty sure the conversation Penelope and Derek were having in their own little world was not PG-13, anyway.

“Do you think she's alright?”

Spencer asked, casting a look towards JJ. It's been half an hour she was nursing a glass of water — you had purposely brought her this one since she'd lost count of her shots —, staring at it with her stare unfocused.

“She will be.” You had said and when he told you he was leaving, you asked if he wanted a ride home. You hadn't drank anything but orange juice. He refused it, hugged you and, before he left, he demanded that you'd let him know once you got home.

You ended up being JJ's designated driver that night.

It was when you first saw a crack through the mask she had put on. Emily and JJ shared a deep bond. You knew their friendship wasn't just friendship, even before Emily had revealed to you that she had feelings for the blonde a while back. When Emily was gone, you saw how JJ took it hard. Not that everyone else didn't as well, but the love from each person in the team carried for Emily was different from the love JJ had for her.

Between the gibberish she was mumbling in the passenger seat of your car, she let escape a faint “I miss her”. Her voice cracked and your heart ached.

“D’ you think...” She muttered as you were helping her into her bed. “D'you think she miss— a hiccup — misses us?”

You refrained from saying that dead people cannot miss anything. Instead, you waited for her to fall asleep, placed a cup of water and aspirin on her bedside table before leaving her apartment.

She pretended nothing happened in the next day and you did the same.

You thought JJ had it worst, until Spencer showed up at your door at 3 a.m craving for something he hadn't touched in three years.

Again, pain is not comparable. One does not hurts more than another; people deal with their hardships in life differently, even if they have gone through the same life-changing event.

Some let it show, others just know how to hide it better. You no longer knew if you were the former or the latter through the eyes of your friends.

The current case you were working on had rendered you mentally exhausted. A victim had been taken hostage and for two days you tried to negotiate with the unsub, but to no avail. You almost had it. Almost. When you thought you had succeeded in releasing the woman, she was shot right in front of you.

She died in your arms and there was nothing that you could have done to prevent.

Or was there?

There was nothing that you could have done. You have heard that before. Countless of times. People tried to inject that into your head as a way to make you feel better. And they have their best intentions, you do not doubt it. But it was no use if you couldn't bring yourself to believe these words.

This was just one of those days, when you didn't know how to cope with that overbearing sadness that crippled your mind.

There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have—

“Hey.”

You flinched, startled at the voice. As you came back to reality, Spencer turned up in front of you.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” His face twitched into a grimace.

You cleared your throat, placing your stuff in your bag. You were so distracted that you didn't realise you had been holding the bloodied shirt you were wearing in the morning; you shoved it inside carelessly. I'm gonna burn it.

“You didn't,” you said. “What's up? I thought you had left already.”

Spencer leaned on the door, fingers playing with the strap of his satchel as he waited for you to leave the room. He followed you to the corridor, an unspoken silence that said a million things. His fidgety hands weren't just mindlessly stimming, he was nervous.

Everyone else seemed to have left, meaning the bullpen was fairly empty. You wondered how long you stayed frozen reminiscing as the minutes went by.

“I was waiting for you.” He responded as soon as the elevator doors closed.

You turned to him with widened eyes. “Why? I'm sorry I kept you waiting—”

Spencer quickly waved you off, “It's alright.” He gave you a soft smile. The one you felt warm inside. “I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

Oh.

“Of course I am.” You replied and you really hoped the tight smile you gave him was convincing enough for him to not question further. You weren't sure if you'd be able to not crumble down completely if he asked again.

“Are you sure?”

Damn, Spencer.

Yes, everything is good. I just need to get home, take a shower and have a good night sleep without interruptions.

Everything is good.

You don't know how many times you repeated that until he walked alongside you to the parking lot.

Arriving home was all that you needed to let your armour aside. God you were so tired. You didn't even reach your bedroom before the tears came like a waterfall. Falling into your couch, with no strength to stand, you finally stopped fighting against the sadness and let it lead you for the time being.

It's hard trying to be strong all the time, isn't it? Not admitting you need someone to be there for you because you only know how to be there for people. You tell them it's going to be okay. You let them be vulnerable. You say it's okay to not be okay.

Why can't you treat yourself the same way you treat the people around you?

You count every raindrop falling down your window, it helps you focus on reality. It was grounding and a few minutes later you have stopped sobbing your heart out.

It was raining hard outside. When you open the window, the cold slips right in and you stay there, enjoying the wind pushing your hair back.

You dial a familiar number tonight. And you don't hang up after two rings. You think about doing it in the fourth, but the person picks up, apologizing before they say hello.

It actually makes your lips twitch slightly. You don't smile, but you feel like doing it after crying so hard.

“Spencer.” You say through the phone interrupting his incessant apologies for taking too long to answer, your brows creasing after you hear how strange your voice is. “You don't have to apologize. I was the one who called you at one a.m. Why are you even awake?”

“I was reading. Lost track of time. I— have you been crying?” Well, shit. Too much for thinking he wouldn't notice through the phone.

“Why do you ask?” You ask rather pathetically. Why did you call him? Why did you bother Spencer at one a.m when he could be sleeping? You should feel sorry for yourself. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called—”

“I was thinking about you.”

Your breath hitches. You close the window and sit back on the floor and you feel like crying again, you don't know why. Maybe it's his voice. Maybe it's the fact that he makes you feel everything that you're allowed to feel.

He takes your silence as his cue to continue. “I know how much you love thunderstorms so I...” he trails off as if he's uncertain about what he will say. “I remembered you.”

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Spencer could take pride in saying he knew you better than anyone else.

He recognised the sound of your voice was different when your were excited about a particular topic and when you were discussing a case at work. He knew you brushed your hair behind your ear when you felt shy, but the same action could happen when you were uncomfortable. It heavily depended on the situation.

He was aware of your odd behaviour by the way you kept on touching your index finger throughout the day. The week, actually. Spencer could tell you were bothered by something, he could tell you were deeply upset. You skipped breakfast and you never had lunch with them. Not that past week.

And judging by the dark circles around your eyes, you weren't sleeping well either.

He saw himself in you a month back.

See, Spencer was the kind of person who didn't like being vulnerable around anyone. If anything, he mastered the act of not communicating his feelings, he just expected them to disappear, which didn't happen but he was getting better at understanding that.

After Emily's passing, the only one he opened up to was you. And it was the hardest and best choice he ever made. You made him feel seen. It was so easy to talk to you about anything that he didn't notice until a few days ago that you were a very good listener. Not that he didn't notice that before, no, it was not that. But you just listened. You comforted. You held.

Spencer was really concerned about your coping mechanisms, because he knew he didn't have the most healthy ways of dealing with things. He hoped you were better than him. He hoped you didn't let it build up until you were suffocating.

So when you called him, he wasn't lying when he said he was thinking of you. His lie laid on the reading part, he was trying to fall asleep but his concern was keeping him up.

I'm here for you too. He wanted to say. Please, let me be here for you.

“I know how much you love thunderstorms so I...” He sat down on the bed, shifting until he found a comfortable position. “I remembered you.” This is what he started with.

Your ragged breathing through the line cut off his rational thinking. So you have been crying.

He called your name softly.

“Hi. I'm here.” You say, forcing out an exhale.

“Talk to me.” He pleads.

He hears a faint sniffle, “I'm here, Spencer.”

No, you're not. You're far away.

“I'm here too. You know that right?”

“It's been a hard week.” You admit through your shaky voice. “I just needed to hear your voice.” You cut him off quickly. “I know that I saw you a few hours ago, but I—”

“Do you need me?” He was the one who cut you off this time. He couldn't bear you explaining the reason you called. You could call him as many times as you wanted. Every five minutes, every second. He wanted to tell you he missed you when your shift was over for the day even if he spent the entire day by your side, and that you never ever could bother him because he cherished your company. He wanted you close. And he just wanted you to be okay now.

“... It's one a.m, Spence.” There is some shifting through the line, sounds like you were moving around. “I— I can handle it. It's fine.”

“Do you need me?” He repeats, shuffling out of his room to the living room. He couldn't care less that it was one a.m. He found his coat hanged and didn't wait for your answer to put it on. Really, Spencer should have done it sooner.

He's half way on tying his left shoe when you breath out in resignation. Your voice much closer to his ear as if you were telling him a secret you should be ashamed of. “Yes. Yes, I need you.”

He let out a hum, standing up to grab his car keys and sprinted out of his home to go to yours.

“I'll be there in ten.”

You lived twenty minutes away from him, but he'd make in ten. He wanted to see you. More than anything, he wanted to tell you everything that you hadn't heard when you were too busy comforting people instead of yourself.

He stops short before knocking on your door, deciding on sending you a text to let you know he was there so you wouldn't be startled at the noise. He didn't get to click send as the door was yanked open. Your bloodshot eyes and swollen lips are the first thing he sees.

“Hi.” He says, slipping his phone into his pocket. As soon as he did that, your arms envelope his shoulders which caused him to let out a sound of surprise, but he quickly recover and wraps his own arms around you, squeezing your shaky body against his. “Hi.” He utters into the croak of your neck, his hand trailing up and down on your back gently. “I'm wet because of the rain,” he apologises halfheartedly. “Sorry.”

The laugh he hears through your sobs might just have made his day.

He was cold immediately after you slips out of his arms. You pull him inside your place and shut the door, claiming you would be back with a towel despite his protests that he didn't need it.

Spencer lost count of how many times he visited your place. He knew every corner of your apartment, every place you left books that you keep losing when you didn't found them on the shelves, every painting and drawing you had on the walls. The ones he happily convinced you to put on because you made them and they were beautiful, you just didn't believe it.

The two of you spent long hours on your couch, either reading a book and saying your favourite quotes out loud or just watching bad movies and TV shows to pass the time.

He'd ramble on and on about the inconsistencies of any plot and you'd engage in his refutations until you'd disagree and some bantering ensued.

“Here.” Spencer turns around to see you offering a towel for him to dry off. The middle of your forehead furrows slightly, he feels the need to smooth it out himself but he refrains from doing so. “It's dangerous to drive when the weather it's like this. I'm sorry that I made you come all the way here for nothing.”

“Nothing?” He shakes his head as if it's the most absurd thing you've ever said. “You're not nothing.” He accepts the towel and what he recognizes is a jumper of his he must have forgotten a while ago.

When he's completely dry, he walks to the kitchen where you had ventured off to make some tea.

Two mugs are placed on the kitchen counter, the smell of camomile slowly filling the room. You are lost in your thoughts again, mixing the honey in your tea with a spoon for forty-three minutes, your gaze unfocused. Lost.

His fingerstips trails down your wrist to your hand, proceeding to take one of your hands in his, thumb running across your palm. “Can you please look at me?” He requests softly, head tilting until you have no choice but to meet his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It” are a lot of things. But he doesn't know if you feel comfortable enough to talk about all of them tonight. He'll just follow your lead and respect your time.

“I don't want you to see me like this.”

He feels your fingers tighten around his hand and he squeezes back as a form of reassurance.

“Like what?” He can't help but ask. Vulnerable? Human?

“Weak.”

“You could never be weak in my eyes.”

This time, he does smooth down the frown between your brows with his thumb, surprised that you don't reject his touch but welcome it by leaning into his hand.

Neither of you drink the tea. Instead, you move back to the living room, settling down on your couch. You end up cuddling, which wasn't strange because you have done it many times before. Now it just feels more intimate. His hold never strayed from yours. This time, he listened. He comforted. And he held you.

“I'm used to blood, we see it all the time.” you carry on, speaking directly to his chest as he looks down at you. “But I... My hands. There was just so much of it and I couldn't, I couldn't save her.” Your fingers play with the straps of his jumper to distract yourself.

There was nothing that you could have done.

“She knows you did everything you could.” Spencer reassures. He was well aware that you weren't just talking about the victim that you had lost today. “Wherever she is right now...” He lifts a hand to cup your face stroking your cheek with the utmost care in the world. “She knows.”

Your bloodshot eyes study him carefully, searching for any indication that could make you not trust anything he just said. He knew how hard it was to believe that you had no fault in the loss of a friend. Maybe if we had gotten there sooner... Maybe if we had figured everything out sooner...

A little bird told him once that you can't dwell on the past for long or else you'll be stuck in it. And those words — your words — helped on his healing process. He hoped he did the same to you now.

You were laying on his chest, one of your hands positioned right where his heart laid as your other arm involved his middle. His arm wrapped around you as his fingers were trailing up and down your back in the way he knew calmed you down. Spencer felt the most rested he hasn't felt in months and he wasn't even sleeping.

“Tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable.”

He shook his head in response, finding that statement completely absurd because it was not possible for you to make him feel uncomfortable. He's not a fan of PDA, but he found that he didn't mind it with you. So he lowered down on the couch, moving your body with his to be more comfortable, lips grazing your temple in a soft kiss.

“You're not.” He says brushing your hair away from your neck. Your eyes were shut and he could feel your breathing evening out. “Try to sleep a little.” He let out in a whisper to not disturb your peacefulness. He knew you needed it.

“Don't go.” You croak out, tucking your nose in the croak of his neck, breathing into him.

The corner of his lips quirk up. “I'll be here when you wake up.” He promises as thunder rolled outside. Fluttering his eyes shut when you have finally dozed off, he ignores the warnings in his head about sleeping on the couch and how bad it is for one's neck.

No, he could deal with that tomorrow. For now, he would just hold you.

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❝ all I know of strength, I have learnt from breaking. ❞

— sahiba

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taglist: @lilyviolets

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #reader insert #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid angst

[lemurzsquad]

Hand Sanitizer

Pairing: Sakusa x gn!reader (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation)

Summary: You and Sakusa hate each other with a passion, and it's almost always a disagreement over hand sanitizer. So when you leave to wash your hands and don't come back, Sakusa learns why exactly you avoid using it so adamantly.

A/N: Okay so this fic. Hooooo boy. This fic. I've been wanting to write it for a while and finally have. It started as a "Reasons why I'm pretty sure Sakusa would hate me irl" and turned into this.

So I have a skin condition known as aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (or AWP), which affects my hands when they come in contact with water, which is what this fic is about. I never hear about this condition anywhere, and it's very lonely sometimes, and there's no real treatment for it (from what I've seen). So this is essentially a vent where I take my skin condition seriously for once instead of just making water allergy jokes to cope lol

(More info about AWP here)

Word count: 3898

cw: skin condition (non-graphic descriptions and discussion) (AWP - please read above), hurt/comfort, angst, crying, enemies to friends...?, emotionally constipated apologies from Sakusa, hand sanitizer is evil /j, vent, not proofread because I just wanted to get this done and posted to do literally anything else, (please lmk if I should tag anything else)

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, and everything written here is purely from my own experiences and observations. If you would like to learn more, please do your own research; this is not designed to be informative. It's purely for myself and for awareness.)

You and Sakusa had never gotten along.

You were certain you knew when it started, having been completely oblivious of one another up until that point.

It was when you were both first years in high school, and there happened to be a lizard in the classroom. You, upon seeing it, immediately proceeded to pick it up and ask the teacher to let you put it outside, to which they agreed.

You came back to the classroom, dusting off your hands, when a curly-haired boy took it upon himself to comment, “Go use some hand sanitizer, would you?”

You squinted at him, partly confused as to why he was talking to you and how you had never noticed he sat there before. “No thanks,” you answered, “I'd rather just wash my hands.”

“I don't think just washing your hands would be enough,” he rebutted with a sharp look behind his bangs. “You probably don't even know how to properly wash your hands.”

“Well, too bad! I'm not using hand sanitizer!” You were starting to get annoyed, crossing your arms.

Somehow, that seemed to make him even more disgusted, possibly at the thought that you were spreading whatever it was on your hands onto your clothes now, too.

The two of you threw jabs back and forth until the teacher separated you, which you were both happy to oblige. The animosity between you never seemed to quite dissipate even as the year went on and you became second years. You almost felt bad for the misunderstanding, knowing it was entirely your own fault, but how were you supposed to explain to this random kid that you couldn't use hand sanitizer even if you wanted to? At least, in your head you couldn't.

At some point, you and Sakusa became something of enemies within your class—renowned ones, at that. People would often ask the both of you why you hated each other so much, but your answers were vague at best.

“He's just so pretentious,” you said once.

“They're just so obstinate,” he said once.

And thus, an impasse stretched between you. You hadn't even learned his name until months after your first encounter, too bitter to really care.

Despite the efforts you both went through to avoid being within the presence of the other, you somehow still ended up nearby. Maybe it was your teachers attempting to make you get along—maybe it was the universe laughing in your face.

Throughout that entire time, you still faithfully avoided hand sanitizer like the plague. The one time the nearest bathroom was out of order for a little while and you couldn't wash your hands, you used as little of the accursed substance as you could. Whatever microscopically thin layer that coated your hands there was, you shook it off almost violently, simultaneously disgusted by the feeling of something on your skin and afraid of what it might do.

The disapproving look Sakusa gave you when he saw that was palpable.

At some point, you hated each other mostly out of principle. You'd both kept it up this long—it would be weird to suddenly just let it go since your flimsy justifications seemed enough until now. To admit that you were being unreasonable would be worse than getting along, you separately reasoned.

So when you were paired up for a project, you couldn't help but grimace. Sakusa was the first to go up to the teacher about it.

“I can't work with them,” you heard him say. For once, you agreed with him.

The teacher, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave, saying, “In life, you don't get to pick who you work with. Sometimes you'll have to try to put aside your differences to get your work done.”

It sounded stupid to you, like some half-hearted excuse so they wouldn't have to rearrange seating or partners. But it's not like you had any place to argue, so you resigned to just sucking it up.

Instead of working together, you both divvied up tasks as quickly as possible and did what you assigned yourselves—separately.

All was going well; you ignored each other and worked on the project silently. Despite other groups discussing their plans and the room being filled with chatter, your share corner was dead silent save the sound of pen on paper.

Which didn't last long when suddenly the tip of your pen snapped off. The now open ink tube spilled onto your hands, and when you tried to minimize the damage, it only got worse. By the time you dropped the pen onto your open notebook, raising your hands in surrender, they were absolutely coated in black splotches. A sense of defeat washed over you as you watched your words get covered and your paper stained in ebony.

Taking a moment to glance at your already ruined hands, you just resigned to picking up the pen and throwing it out. It was your favorite pen, which was unfortunate. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself.

Sakusa had noticed you flailing about your desk, silently judging you for the clumsy mess you made when you should have just thrown out the pen the second it broke to avoid the noir crime scene that now covered you and your area. He scowled knowing you would now have to redo whatever you had written for the project.

It was nearing the end of school, the class you were currently in being the final one of the day. You approached the teacher's table and asked if you could go wash your hands. They checked the clock to see about twenty minutes left before replying, “Make it quick.”

You walked past Sakusa's desk on your way to the door. He made the snide remark, “You could get the ink off really well with hand sanitizer.”

It took everything in you not to snap back at him, but you just hurried past, careful not to touch anything on the way out.

Sakusa knew he would never understand you. From the moment you met, you stubbornly refused what seemed to be basic courses of action. Touch something dirty? Use hand sanitizer. Eating? Wash your hands before and after to keep from touching anything.

The couple of times he had seen you wash your hands, it was very brief, and you seemed to avoid using the air dryer, opting for paper towels that were arguably undoing whatever progress you made in washing your hands.

At the same time, you avoided any task that would require you to touch dust or water. You always asked to sweep or clean windows, so much so that everyone just ended up giving you those tasks to get you to stop asking. If you did get something on your hands, you immediately wiped or shook it off, seemingly disgusted. You would even briefly run it under water just to dry it on your clothes so they weren't wet. It seemed there were things worse than water if you were willing to rinse them off.

But it was still that one avoidance that came between you: the hand sanitizer. It was practically the same as water, and it dried quickly. Even if it was comparable to washing your hands, it was still much more convenient in most scenarios. Yet you continued to adamantly refuse to ever use it. At some point you declared, “I would rather die,” when he had tried to squeeze some on your hand, earning him his wrist grabbed and pushed away. 

He just didn't understand.

So when he found you sobbing in front of the stairs, opening your hands and clenching them closed into loose fists repeatedly, he was beyond confused.

You hadn't come back to class after leaving to wash the remnants of your broken pen, so the teacher decided it was your project partner, Sakusa, who should find you and return the belongings you left behind. He went over to your open notebook that remained just where you left it and noted the handful of words that were still visible. 

Sakusa folded the cover over, enclosing the now dried puddle of ink. The remainder of your things he scooped into his arms, leaving the room once the halls had cleared a significant amount. As much as he wanted to just leave your things and go to volleyball practice, he figured it would end poorly.

Plus, what could possibly have kept you out of class for so long that you would have left everything behind? There was no way it had taken that long to get most of the ink off of your skin, so either you had just skipped the last bit of school or something happened. Since you hadn't taken your wallet with you with your IDs (he checked your bag when he put the notebook back inside, sure that it was completely dry), he reasoned it was probably the latter.

“Tsk.” They would have been able to get it off with hand sanitizer, he thought, brows furrowed. This is such a waste of time.

Sakusa wandered through the halls when he didn't find you by the bathrooms. He was starting to think it was a lost cause trying to return your bag; he even had to text his cousin to tell him why he would be late. It wasn't until he got to a particularly empty hallway did he hear something.

Quietly, in a dark alcove with a set of stairs leading up, a figure was huddled against a wall. Their tears were soft but anguished, stifled because it was in the environment of school. Sakusa had tried to ignore them until he realized it was you.

You held your palms up just past your knees that were pressed against your chest. You opened and closed your hands, a fresh cascade of tears painting your cheeks as you choked back a sob. You pressed—with more pressure than could have been painful—your thumb into the center of your other palm, nails digging into the back of your hand. You set your closed eyes on your knees with the hope that it might stop the water that leaked from them.

Sakusa, with great caution, approached your hunched figure. He didn't want to, he really didn't. You were the person he probably hated the most at his school, but somehow he knew he'd seem like an awful person if he didn't at least give your belongings to you directly—he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of another thing to hold over his head.

And yet those thoughts went to the back of his mind when he crouched down in front of you. His mask and curly hair obscured his focused expression as he tried to study your current state. The moment you seemed to hear him there, you held your breath and repressed your already quiet cries.

When Sakusa got close, you buried yourself further in to hide your face behind your knees and clenched your hands even more.

He frowned and something in his chest tightened. His brows furrowed deeper over his eyes and he huffed. He saw your nails digging into the skin on the backs of your hands.

“That's going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.” It came out more biting than he had meant it, but he was being serious.

It was then that you could no longer hold back your sobs, almost choking on your own tears. The grip you had of your hands softened and unlinked; instead, you lightly shook them apart from each other. Sakusa had to take a moment to process, but it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them. 

He just wanted to get you to stop crying so he could give you your bag. As much as he hated the gesture, he asked, “What's wrong with your hands?”

You curled your lips in to bite down on them, fighting back hiccups. With your eyes tightly screwed shut, you upturned your palms.

The sight alone made Sakusa's eyebrows fly up in shock. 

He didn't mean to, but he grabbed your wrist to get a better look. Ignoring the ink stains that faintly persisted, there were pale, patchy splotches in the center of your palm and on the side edges of your fingers; there were even some tiny pale rings on the periphery of the bigger splotches. But underneath that, the skin seemed as if it had soaked in water for hours or maybe even days. Not only were there dozens of deep crevice lines trailing from the tips of all of your fingers to their bases but the lines on your palms were more prominent, surrounded by profound, dense wrinkles that spanned the entire surface.

His eyes darted around your hand for a few moments just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. It looked unnatural—it looked painful. And when he met your gaze, he saw unidentifiable emotions flash across it. Was it shame? Regret? He couldn't be sure aside from the blood that seemed to drain from your face.

You tried to pull your hand away, but Sakusa wouldn't let go. His eyes never left yours, searching for some kind of answer. When he couldn't find it there, he asked, “What happened?” It was soft, calm, and even, enough to make you tear up a little again.

The second time you tugged, he released your wrist. You pushed your thumb into your palm again, looking away. Hiding your hands away in the space between your stomach and where your legs were still tucked against your torso, you sniffled a few times and tried to even out your breathing.

“I-It's normal… it just h-happens when I-I touch water…” You stuttered and mumbled between hiccups.

“That is not normal,” Sakusa said a little too quickly and curtly, realizing it probably would have made it seem like he was berating you.

With another sniffle, you said, “It's a– it's a skin condition.” You started to scratch your palms partly out of stress and partly out of the persistent stinging. “It reacts to water i-if I touch it for too long.”

His eyebrows knitted in concern. “Was that from washing your hands then?”

You gave a small nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I couldn't get the ink off and ended up w-washing them for too long…”

“You could have just used hand sanitizer,” he said genuinely. For the moment, he almost forgot he was supposed to hate you, more focused on being worried than anything.

Your answer was your head shaking rather fervently. “No, I can't.” You lowered to set your forehead against your knees again. “Well, actually, I don't know. I-It just scares me and I don't want to r-risk any more pain than I already have. I haven't h-had good experiences with it…”

“What did hand sanitizer ever do to you?” It came out snarkier than Sakusa had meant. He slowly lowered himself to sit with his legs crossed in front of you, your bag still next to him.

You let out a heavy breath. “I was a dumb kid in elementary,” you started. “I had an obsession with scented hand sanitizer for probably a few months. I used it multiple times a day, and even though I don't know for sure if it's related, my hands got worse after that year I think. Only after that did I finally go to the doctor to get it diagnosed after my mom did a ton of research. I agreed to avoid hand sanitizer from then on. I just don't want to risk being in more pain…”

You both went silent.

“Oh…” It was all that left Sakusa's lips. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. All of the times he had berated you for not using hand sanitizer and all of his snide, rude, annoyed remarks resurfaced in his conscience. He felt terrible. He felt bad. Someone was hurting and all he did was throw lighter fluid on their problems—for months—and it seemed there was finally a spark to set it all ablaze. The thought that he started it all made it worse.

“Stop with whatever weird look you have on your face.” You squinted at him and his downturned, scrunched face. You'd calmed down enough to be making quips, it would appear. “It's not like I can do anything about it.” You shrugged, half-hearted.

He searched your face again for any sign of emotion aside from blank resignation, but he couldn't find anything. “Is there no treatment?”

You shrunk down further into your huddle, not vocally answering, but the answer was still clear.

Something about the whole situation made his heart hurt; it made him upset, he realized. “So what, you just have to avoid water?”

The nod of your head to the side looked pathetic as you avoided his eyes. After several seconds of silence, you said, “I used to love swimming. It's not like I can't, it's just… it hurts and it makes me feel gross. I don't even like the beach anymore because if I go in the water and get my hands wet, there's no real place to dry them off.” You laughed humorlessly. “It's stupid. You'd think I would get more used to it and get over it as I got older, but it just made me more upset. Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with a condition that's rare and isn't really bad enough for people to care enough to find a treatment? At least, it feels that way…

“I know it's awful, but I sometimes wonder, ‘Why didn't I get stuck with something worse? Then I might have a way to treat it. Then people might care.’”

You glanced up to judge Sakusa's reaction, instantly regretting spilling your feelings and questioning why you did. Tears threatened to flood over again and spill from your eyes. You felt helpless; not only from your condition but also from being stared down by the person you were certain despised you more than anyone. You were giving him more ammo to be disgusted and to detest you, too.

But you couldn't find his face. His ebony bangs hung down like a curtain and his mask further obscured your view, his downturned line of sight completely blocked out.

When the silence was beginning to crawl around on your skin and became almost deafening, you took in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before breathing out a tiny apology. “Sorry… you don't wanna hear about this…”

“No.”

“...No? No… what?”

“No…” 

Sakusa was struggling to get out the right words. How does he say sorry to you in a way that you might actually believe? How does he tell you that you're allowed to be upset, that you can talk about it? How does he make you understand that it's okay?

And how is he supposed to get you to believe it when it's coming from him?

His voice sounded almost angry but not at you—it was for you. “You can be upset,” he said between gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight fists. “No one deserves to have to live everyday avoiding something so common just to not be in pain. And no one deserves to have some jerk constantly making light of it even if they don't know.”

The way your eyes widened and water dripped down your cheeks in sudden streams said it all. “Oh…” was all you could muster before you completely broke down. No one you had ever told about your condition had seemed to fully grasp how much you were hurting inside, how every day was a struggle to avoid reminding yourself of how awful your hands were, how even looking at your own hands sometimes made you ashamed and loathing of yourself. It was a constant reminder that there would always be something wrong with you; you would always be broken, and there was no way to fix it.

Sakusa let you cry with the renewed emotional rush. He remained firmly planted where he sat, not moving an inch. He was not going anywhere.

And he didn't, even as your sobbing slowed to quiet sniffles and wiping mostly dried tears. It took a while before you finally muttered, “Thank you… No one's ever said that to me before…”

“Well, they should.” His words were curt but lacked any sharpness to them.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, he turned them away from you. Hesitantly, he uttered, “Look, I can't promise you that we'll get along, but I can assure you I'll try not to bother you anymore. No more stupid hand sanitizer comments anymore, either.” It was the only peace offering he could make for a chance to pave a path towards making amends.

You let out a breath through your nose that was close to a laugh before hiccuping, “Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we'll work on our group project together.”

“Don't push it,” he answered, quickly and humorlessly. It only made you laugh, although he couldn't comprehend why.

“It's getting late,” Sakusa tried to divert. “You should head home.”

You reached for your phone, and the little numbers on the screen confirmed his statement. Suddenly, a flash of panic crossed your face. “I don't have my bag,” you state frantically, “or any of my stuff.”

It was then that Sakusa held up the original object of his search for you, gently lowering it to the ground. “The teacher told me to bring it to you since you never came back.”

Relief washed over you in a calming rush, and you finally seemed to relax. You pulled your knees away from your chest and sat with your legs crossed. Confirming that everything was in your bag, an immensely relieved sigh left your lips in a gust.

“Thank you.” Your gaze was earnest, trying to convey just how much you meant your words to make sure it sunk in.

Sakusa just grumbled, “Whatever.” He was back to his usual self despite how he stumbled embarrassingly when he got up and realized his legs had gone numb. He reluctantly offered up his hand to help you stand, but you only looked at it for a moment, mouth pressed into a line, before you got to your feet on your own.

He pretended he hadn't tried to assist you, instead pivoting on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets with a slouched posture. Without another word exchanged, you both headed towards the school's entrance.

The air fell into a comfortable quiet until then. When you did reach the entrance, however, you both stopped in your tracks. You turned to Sakusa, giving him a soft smile and a small wave, and headed down the street. Only when you turned the corner, out of sight, did he head back towards the volleyball gym. He was so horribly beyond late that it was almost laughable.

But he didn't care, knowing it meant someone was there in that very moment for you when you needed it most. So what if he also started to mend whatever nonexistent relationship was there in the process? What mattered was that someone told you that it was okay.

And Sakusa was okay with that. Being late to practice wasn't nearly as pressing as his long overdue apologies. What could be more important than that?

Do not copy and/or repost!! Any likes or reblogs are appreciated, though! (c) 2024 LemurzSquad

#haikyuu #haikyu!! #haikyuu!! #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa x gn!reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #hq sakusa #lemurz writing #hurt/comfort #angst #enemies to friends trope #skin condition #writing #fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #hand sanitizer #platonic or romantic

[prof-peach]

You've mentioned that you are dyslexic and I was hoping you might be willing to answer some questions? No pressure if it's too personal though.

I'm trying to revamp my blog* and make sure it is accessible to as many people as possible. I have already figured out contrast for colorblind individuals, but moving on to the font has been a nightmare. I know comic sans was designed for people with dyslexia, but my old literary magazine teacher is in my head telling me I can't use it. Are there any other fonts that make reading easier for you personally? Or just other things I could do to the text (size, color, boldness, ect.) that would make it more accessible for you?

*not the blog I'm sending this ask from

Sure, though don’t know how much help I’ll be!

Colour choices are very helpful, dark mode literally saves my life on a number of websites, a lighter text on a darker background often helps me focus up. I find a larger font is better too, more because when I’m reading my eyes will jump around irrationally between words to do so.

Most people will apparently go from A, to B, to C, ect ect. In order?? Sounds wild to me haha

I tend to go from A to E, to C, back to A, to B if I’m lucky. Takes me a while to get through big chunks of text. A lot of how I adapt involves a physical item on my end. A card, a pencil, a piece of paper, something to separate the line of text I’m on to stay on that one point.

I am not educated in terms of what others go through, this is just my issues, and I won’t lie, there’s defo a little tism and adhd in the mix, it’s a hot pot of distractions haha!

So bigger text makes lingering on one word easier, least from where I’m standing.

Breaking things up into more manageable chunks is handy, formatting helps, big paragraphs (which even I am guilty of writing) are hard to get through in one sitting. I gotta highlight where I got to, get up and come back to it sometimes. Or if I’m in a rush read it like 4 times for the information to go in and stick around. Even then I’ll forget stuff.

As for comic sans. I personally loathe it with a burning passion. It’s a combination of art eye that hates how it looks, growing up with teachers using it “for legibility” but not realising it’s like…a child font. It bugs me so much. What’s worse is I live with a really talented graphic designer, who makes all his fonts himself more often than not, and so his hatred for it only fuels mine haha!

‘Helvetica Neue’ is designed for ease of reading, used in public transport particularly in new york subway systems, it’s whole thing was to be glanced at and quickly be legible. So try that one? Might be easier on the eye.

Sorry I don’t have better advice, I can only say what I do to work around it, but it might help a little? I’m sure people can message you or chime in on how they adapt and cope with dyslexia.

#ooc #blog help

[turtle-bun]

“This iteration of the Turtles and this iteration of the Turtles wouldn’t get along cuz of this!” “These two iterations wouldn’t get along because of that!”

FUCK YOU THEY ARE ALL BEST FRIENDS THAT SUPPORT EACH OTHER CUZ I SAY SO!!

(Please note I wrote this BEFORE watching Mutant Mayhem which is why they aren’t in it. I just forgot to post it lol 😅)

Rise!Leo: You all are so stern and serious. I feel like I should start being more stern and serious. Should I?

BatmanVs!Leo: Please don’t, it’ll be hell on your already waning mental health. /hj

Bayverse!Leo: I feel we need at least one funny Leo to break up the collective seriousness of the rest of us.

87 Leo: I thought me and my brothers counted as the “funny” version of all of us?

12 Leo: You guys are more of a “silly” version of us…sillier? Like the concept of turtles being ninjas is already silly as it is. Which there is nothing wrong with that, just that your cartoon logic is just very hard to keep up with sometimes.

87 Leo: That’s understandable.

Mirage Leo: I’m just jealous that you all get to be in color. Black and white gets so boring once you learn there’s color!

07 Leo: But your universe does have this cool graphic design to it that I’M very jealous of.

03 Leo: Of course, you fucking would be you dramatic edgelord. /j

07 Leo: I know the fucking EMO of the group did not just call me an edgelord! /j

Rise!Leo: Omg we love an E-girl!

12 Leo: *wheeze of laughter*

---

87 Raph: I just don’t think it’s fair that you guys get to be tall, is all! It’s discrimination! /hj

12 Raph: Practically working against your own kind! /j

Rise!Raph: *snorts* I don’t think that’s a bodily function we can control you guys!

Bayverse!Raph: It was a conscious decision on my end.

Rise!Raph: *chokes with laughter*

87 Raph: You goddamn bastard! /j

Bayverse!Raph: Cope and seeth my dude.

07 Raph: Now look, 87 I know it’s very difficult, especially for you, but we gotta be the bigger person here.

87 Raph: I will kick your goddamn ass, kid!

03 Raph: Well, good for you in being the bigger person. I will continue to be small and petty my entire life!

*Collective snorting laughter from all Raphs*

87 Raph: No, no, wait! You are not allowed to be funnier than me!

03 Raph: Tough break, shorty, I have to have SOMETHING other than punching shit.

87 Raph: Take up knitting! I don’t care! Just keep away from my bit! That’s like my entire personality! /hj

03 Raph: See you joke about that but I am fucking GREAT at knitting!

Bayverse!Raph: Amen to that! I ain’t spend half my damn life in the Hashi and NOT be able to knit a fucking epic scarf!

---

07 Donnie: Are you saying I worked a 9 to 5 job FOR NOTHING!

BatmanVs!Donnie: I honestly did not think that embezzling funds from rich corporate assholes plus the Shredder and his Foot Clan was an actual option we had!

12 Donnie: I am actually so mad that I did not think of that!

Rise!Donnie: Honestly, I didn’t think of it until like a few years back because our dad is still, somehow, getting royalties from his Lou Jitsu movie days. But I also have expensive taste in equipment and needed a little pocket change.

03 Donnie: I could have actually bought a Play Station when it came out instead of having to fix up the broken one Mikey found in the dump!

87 Donnie: I’m just now realizing how much stuff we had to make from scratch just because we couldn’t afford it.

Rise!Donnie: That’s true. But like also you guys still made a bunch of cool stuff with JUST junk you found! That’s amazing!

Bayverse!Donnie: Thanks but we could have made even cooler stuff if we had your type of funding. I mean, look at this shit! *excitingly pointing at Rise!Donnie’s battle shell*

Rise!Donnie: Please understand that YOU have made holo-screen, intercom, wrist watches, that connect to your motherboard home computer. All of which you MADE WITH JUNK! How is that not amazing?!

07 Donnie: Amazing for you probably. But if I were to do that shit myself I wouldn’t sleep for a week!

BatmanVs!Donnie: I second that! One sugar daddy please!

Rise!Donnie: *wheeze of laughter*

---

03 Mikey: I still can't believe you met freaking BATMAN! Like holy shit dude!

12 Mikey: *sobbing* I’m so jealous! I’m forever jealous!

BatmanVs!Mikey: Yeah, it was pretty cool. But YOU (03 Mikey) met the entire Justice Force! And became a member! Your legacy was so awesome Silver Sentry’s grandson took up your name!

03 Mikey: Yeah but you road in the BATMOBILE and got to press all the buttons!

Bayverse!Mikey: *sulking on the floor* LIFE ISN’T FAIR AND I HATE IT HERE!

Rise!Mikey: *pouting* I never get to meet my heroes! And when I do they turn out to be insane!

12 Mikey: Bro same! Chris Brandford was just a giant jerk!

87 Mikey: Bugman was pretty cool, though maybe a little weird. Still, he was no Justice Force or Batman!

07 Mikey: *whining* I just want the life you have! Why does god ALWAYS have favorites?!

Ronin!Mikey: *dramatic sigh of jealousy* He truly does.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2003 #bayverse tmnt #batman vs teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 07 #tmnt 87 #the last ronin

[catgirl-catboy]

"I dont support it in real life!"

Then why write about it? If for coping purposes, why post it online for others (especially actual predators) to see and consume? Then why portray those things in a positive light instead of condemning them?And you're seriously going to tell me that just because as an adult you want to see a fictional minor (that mind you, is usually designed to resemble an actual child) depicted in sexual situations doesn't mean you don't share that same view concerning children in real life? You find fictional minors attractive but not real ones? Why does the line between finding someone who is (and usually also looks like) a child sexually attractive get drawn at whether the child is real or not? I'm not calling anyone pedophiles, but if the shoe fits... And also no, I am not talking about 18 y/os finding 17 y/os attractive. Use your brain. Creating content of underaged characters is still questionable regardless of age, however.

Then why write about it? Because I want to. Why I want to is a very personal question.

If for coping purposes, why post it online for others (especially actual predators) to see and consume?

To get feedback of my writing, which is a social activity! If your logic is that a predator might enjoy something, then there's no ethical way to create.

And you're seriously going to tell me that just because as an adult you want to see a fictional minor (that mind you, is usually designed to resemble an actual child) depicted in sexual situations doesn't mean you don't share that same view concerning children in real life?

I don't read smut. I barely write smut. This is an unfounded assumption. Also, that is using the slippery slope fallacy. There are many things in fiction I write about that I don't condone in real life, such as murder, abuse, graphic bodily harm, and child endangerment.

The assumption that people condone shit they read and write about is kind of weird to me, mate.

You find fictional minors attractive but not real ones?

Yes, even though I've only had a handful of underage fictional crushes since I've turned 18. (Miu Iruma, currently.)

In 90% of cases, teenaged fictional characters look, are voiced by, and act like adults. The narrative treats them as adults. If a character's age isn't directly relevant to the plot, why care about it?

Why does the line between finding someone who is (and usually also looks like) a child sexually attractive get drawn at whether the child is real or not?

A very good question! The answer is because a real child is harmed, while a fictional one isn't. Paedophilia isn't bad due to the fact its gross (and I do find it gross.), its bad because someone gets hurt!

The only time fictional characters get hurt, is when we authors/readers IMAGINE them getting hurt. All harm done is imaginary.

Furthermore, I really dislike you using 'looks like a child' here. Thats body shaming, since there is a large portion of adults that happen to look like children. A lot of disabled people are also infantilized for similar reasons. Looks have nothing to do with the morality of an act.

Creating content of underaged characters is still questionable regardless of age, however.

Here are my ao3 warnings. My ao3 is SHSL_Angstlord if you'd like to make sure I'm not lying. When you accuse someone of being a predator, the burden of proof is on you to provide actual evidence.

#askholes #proship #anti anti #fandomless post #pro ship #proshipper

[lazystar]

Play Like a Gangster

Lee Felix x Fem!Reader 

University AU, Bad Boy!Felix Other idols mentioned: Other SKZ members, ITZY, Lily of NMIXX, Soobin of TXT Warnings: Alcohol consumption, use of unhealthy coping skills, negative self-image on reader’s part, Felix being a slight ass, Miscommunication!!! ANGST!!! Comfort tho is there! Word Count: 5K+ (~5400?)

Obligatory Note: please show your support by giving my work a simple reblog :) this is how tumblr’s algorithm operates and is an easy way to show support to your favorite writers on this site! a “hey this is so good” comment also works :) Thanks!

Your first day of year four of university had finally arrived. The hot August air weighed you down like a blanket of humidity, your thighs chafing as they rubbed against one another at the hemline of your denim shorts. You had chosen your classic first day of fall semester fit, a logo tee from the bookstore, and a pair of shorts along with your Converse. Comfortable, easy to fish out of your still packed suitcase, and cute. 

Fishing your schedule from your student portal app on your phone, you found your first lecture of the day. To your horror and dismay it was a gen ed course you had been dreading, Statistics 101 with Professor Park. You abhorred math more than anything and even more so when you threw in the Greek alphabet. You huffed and walked faster to the lecture hall to get a good seat, and when you arrived you guessed every other student had the same idea because the only seat left was one in the middle of the hall next to an intimidating looking boy with a sharp jawline, silver earrings and dusty blue hair. He looked the complete opposite of you. He was in all black, black tee shirt, long black cargo pants decorated with chains, and black converse. The shoe choice was the only identical fashion choice you both had made. 

“You gonna keep analyzing my outfit like this shit is project runway or are you going to sit down?” His deep Australian accent cut you out of your thoughts. 

“Oh sorry! Ummm I’m sorry — I already said that didn’t I? Anyways I’m Y/N nice to meet ya…” You stuck a hand out to him after setting out your notebook and laptop.

“You are far too cheerful for a 10 AM math lecture. Anyways the name’s Felix, before you ask I’m a senior graphic design major this is just a gen ed for me.” He seemed to notice you deflate as he answered your icebreakers before you could ask. He let out an almost placating gruff laugh after his introduction.

“I’m a senior as well, music marketing major so as much as I wish this wasn’t a required gen ed for me it sadly is. I fucking HATE math!” You sighed as the professor walked into the room. You didn’t notice Felix smile at your extroverted behavior. He knew he was about to become your friend, not by his own accord but he knew that he was now the familiar face in your Monday-Wednesday-Friday morning hour of hell. The professor droned on about the usual syllabus week materials and you began doodling some new logo ideas for your friends’ music group on your notebook paper. Your dissociation was cut off by the professor clearing his throat with an announcement. 

“Okay everyone! This lecture has 100 students, and unfortunately for me the department requires us to have you all complete a semester long project going over a trend of choice through data analytics. So you all will be working with the person sitting directly to your right! No, don't go switching seats, I see you in the back row!” You laughed as your classmates groaned around you at the news of being involuntarily being partnered up. You looked to your right where Felix was already looking your way with a raised brow and a smirk gracing his freckled face. 

“Please tell me you won’t be as high energy all semester” Your new statistics partner sighed almost defeatedly. “Now hand me your phone so I can put my number in it so we can work on this shit or whatever.” You laughed at his statement and handed your phone over to him. 

“Felix, just for the record,  I’m gonna change your contact to Grumpy Pants if you keep acting like this.” You stated as you looked at him through your peripheral vision as he texted himself from your phone. 

“Okay Bubbles.” He chuckled, handing your phone back to you. He had simply texted himself a ‘Hey :) – Bubbles’ making an involuntary grin stretch across your face as you turned to look at him.

“Bubbles?” 

“Powerpuff Girls? Did you grow up uncultured?” He raised a brow at your lack of knowledge of the cartoon. 

“I was only allowed to watch educational stuff as a kid.” 

“It shows.” 

“HEY!” You playfully punched his arm and flipped him off as a deep chuckle emanated from him. This was going to be an entertaining semester for sure.

The semester rolled along, like a slow cross country train ride. Throughout it you and Felix grew closer, much to the chagrin of your friends Lia and Yeji who had said the boy was “bad news”. You didn’t understand how they could judge him without knowing him like you did, how could anyone with such a beautiful smile be “bad news”. Sure he had some bad habits like sneaking a flask into the library for your study sessions, but could you blame him? Statistics would drive anyone to drink unless they were a math wizard like Pythagoras or Einstein. 

“Y/N are you texting him again?” Yeji groaned as she flitted about styling your hair for the party she insisted you attend with her and the other girls from the music group she and Lia were in. It was at the Sigma Kappa Zeta fraternity and you knew Felix was a brother of the frat, so regardless of your girls you always had an in. This though, was a secret from your dear friends as they had prejudged Felix and you didn’t want them to suddenly change their minds so they had an excuse to party.

“Yeah we have that project remember? Plus he was showing me this funny video from that one guy I like on instagram.” You fibbed. This seemed to satisfy her as you two finished getting ready for the ride to the frat house. Lia met you two in front of the dorm and your ride was outside just as you left. You were in for a good night, you could feel it in your bones.

Unfortunately for you, your bones were wrong. The stench of alcohol, weed, and body odor hit your nose like a freight train, you had lost your friends upon entering and Felix was nowhere to be found. One of his frat brothers, Hyunjin had saddled up to you as you made your way to the kitchen for a drink. 

“You’re Felix’s girl right?”He asked as he poured you a vodka and cola...very heavy on the vodka. Concerningly so actually You made a mental note to never ask him to bartend for you again, lest you want a new liver by twenty-five. 

“Oh no we’re just friends, we have a Stats class together, 101 with Professor Park.” You replied sipping on your drink and grimacing at the overly pungent taste of the cheap liquor in it. 

“Oh duh you’re Bubbles then! He always talks about how obnoxious you can be, he asked me once how anyone can be so… I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t-don’t listen to me,disregard anything I just said! I'm wasted.” Unfortunately for the panicking dark haired boy, you were not wasted. You were far too sober for this. Obnoxious? You? You were used to being sometimes a bit too extraverted for some peoples’ tastes but obnoxious? That stung. 

“Heh. No worries Hyunjin, I'll see you around.” With that the boy left. You stayed in the kitchen as your body went into autopilot, you downed your drink then snatched the vodka bottle up before wandering through the crowd to the back porch to find a corner to hide in. You didn’t know why you chose to chase the bile like feeling in your chest down with alcohol. You didn’t usually cope with your emotions in this manner. You were level headed, a marketing student, someone who dabbled with psychology courses for fun, someone who was the advice giver to her friends. Not someone who chose to use unhealthy coping mechanisms. But here you were bottle in hand walking to the porch to sip away the pain. 

“Y/N? Bubbles? What are you doing?” The Aussie you had been searching for before had somehow found you. His voice was riddled with concern, laughable amounts of it in your mind. How could a friend find you obnoxious but then act so caring? Friend, the word now made you almost nauseous. Fuck friends, fuck Felix, you thought. All you wanted was to be numb and alone. 

“Trying to not be obnoxious or something I don’t fucking know.” You grumbled taking a long swig of the liquor from the bottle. You didn’t even grimace this time as the taste had grown too familiar to you. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Who upset you? Why the fuck are you chugging vodka like water? Who hurt you? I’ll kick their ass!” He barraged you with questions as he tried to slip down to sit beside you and take the bottle out of your hands. You fought back and held the bottle close to you, eventually he gave up seeing that you clearly were unwilling to let go of your vice. He was worried and he just wanted to see what was wrong. An uncomfortable silence filled the space between you two for a moment, until you cleared your throat and turned toward him with an unsettlingly dark look in your eyes.

“Felix, tell me why one of your frat brothers told me not even like twenty minutes ago that you found me obnoxious. Apparently you’re always talking about it. Fuck, the girls were right I should’ve just stayed your project partner and not your friend.” You hissed out and tried to stand, but the large amount of booze in your system made you stumble and nearly fall over like an unstable desk ornament.

“You’re not about to walk away from me in your condition in the middle of this conversation Y/N.”

“Fine then I’ll— I’ll fucking crawl away just leave me alone and find my friends for me. My actual friends who like me and don’t tell their friends I’m fucking obnoxious, too much, too loud, too happy, too bubbly, too ugh whatever you told your friends I’m too much of. Just. Leave. Me. The. FUCK. Alone.” The bite in your words made Felix physically flinch. He had never seen you so angry, especially not at him. You were usually so kind and uplifting to those you met. Not so, so aggressive. It hurt him to see your Y/E/C eyes, all tearful and rage filled. The beautiful eyes he was so used to seeing filled with unbridled happiness. 

“Okay, I’ll-I’ll go. Please just promise me one day you’ll allow me the chance to explain myself to you.” He pleaded, his head hung low, tears filling his own gaze. You have a noncommittal affirmation and he went off finding Yeji and Lia. While you clung to your knees with cries wracking your body, Felix was facing the wrath of the music group you knew as your best friends. 

Yeji, Lia, Ryujin, Chaeryeong, and the newest addition Yuna all glowered at him from the couch as he explained you had gotten mad at him over a mistaken confession he had made when you two had just met. He had not experienced such unbridled happiness from one person before you stepped into his world and he was unsure how to feel. He had chosen his usual method of brisk dismissal and annoyance when discussing you to the frat members those weeks ago. But over the course of the past month or so you had wormed your way into his heart and he had grown fond of your random animal facts, boisterous laughter, and bright sun rivaling smiles. 

“Lee, you fucked up and she was correct in saying we warned her about you. Remember you broke our other friend, Heejin’s heart? You lead her on. You’re not about to do that to our Y/N. She’s our angel, and you sir are some demon for hurting her now. We’ll let you try to make it up to her but I swear to all that is holy if you don’t, you’re fucking dead.” Yeji’s voice carried over the bass that was shaking the house, her voice shook Felix to his very core. “Don’t expect any help from us, ITZY protects our friends, and Y/N is our best friend. Girls go get our baby. I know she needs you right now, I’ll call the uber. Lee Felix you go fess up to Chan and the boys that you fucked up.” She gave Felix a dismissal with her hand and collected you along with the girls in a tight hug. She had her own plan, she was going to recruit her other friend Lily and their mutual friend Soobin into a “Get Y/N over Felix” plan. She had detested the Australian for leading her friend Heejin on the previous fall. She hadn’t known though that it was honestly just an unrequited crush on Heejin’s part and that the Aussie and the other girl had made up. She was so focused on playing the role of mother to her friends she forgot sometimes to look past the details of the story as it was on the page, she didn’t read between the lines. What she witnessed had to be the truth, right?

The days after the party felt like you were in limbo, you had emailed your professors that you had a family emergency and would be out for the subsequent week. Thankfully they all were accommodating and gave you the materials to study in your absence. Felix hadn’t called or texted regarding your project which soon would be having its mid semester check on your progress. You had done your share and emailed him your part so he could work off of your work, you had practically done all you could to avoid him. But now it felt like you were doing too much, caring too much about someone who you had misjudged as someone who was more caring than their hard outer shell. You had read between the lines of who he was a bit too deeply, you had looked to find some sort of positive in someone who had portrayed himself as harsh and cold. Maybe he was just that, cold, uncaring, harsh, a liar. Yeah that’s what he was, a liar, an expert one at that.

You were lounging in your misery of stuffed animals and rewatches of Legally Blonde as Yeji, the girls, and your newer friend Lily barged into your room. 

“Go away girls, leave me to my misery and Elle Woods’ slaying the courtroom!” You groaned out into your pillow.

“Bitch if you don’t get your ass up! You have a date, no don’t give me that face you need some socialization.” Yeji pulled you out of bed and shoved you into the shower before you could protest. Two hours later your hair and makeup were done, you were dressed in a nice cropped sweater, jeans, and boots and shoved out the door to your demise date.

At the campus coffee shop with your favorite iced chai latte in hand sat Soobin. He was a fellow music marketing student and student musician you’d met through the girls. He was someone you’d known in passing, an acquaintance, not someone you expected yourself on a blind date with. But here you were, laughing at his jokes, cooing over photos of his pet hedgehog Odi and enjoying yourself in his company. It felt like getting to know an old friend from years gone by, not like a first date. But you knew in your heart feelings were unlikely to develop. You felt too platonic, too friendly, not flirty, flushed, not like a swarm of butterflies resided in your stomach. You didn’t feel like you did when Felix would offer to rest his jacket across your shoulders when the cold air conditioning of the library would kick on. 

As you sat on your couch talking with Yeji you came to the realization of why it hurt so bad to find out Felix has shit talked you. You liked Felix. His freckles, his smile that would take over his whole face, his blunt sarcastic sense of humor, his playful jabs, his affectionate teasing, you adored it all. 

“Yeji, don’t tell the others please but… I realize why I was so messed up over what happened at Sig Kap.”

“You liked him didn’t you?” She saw your eyes well up with tears as your head fell in what you could only describe as shame. 

“Not just like, I think I fell for him.” She only gave her best sullen smile as she walked across the living room to engulf you in a hug as tears fell like a torrential storm down your cheeks. She softly assured you that you would move on, like you always did when you fought the overwhelming urge to sink into your bed and not get out for days due to the weight of the world crushing your soul. You were strong, but love seemed to fight like a heavyweight champ, hitting you with blows left and right. Chaeryeong walked out of her room as the sound of a broken croak of tearful lament came from you. 

“Y/N baby girl what happened? Did he say something wrong again?” The other girl sat on your left and wrapped her arms around you effectively making you the saddest sandwich ever seen.

“Yeji… I think I really love Felix. I think that’s why I’m so hurt, I owe him a chance to explain himself to me. He looked like bad news but he was the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. I’ve had time to think about it all and I can’t just shut him out, it hurts worse than it helps.” Yeji froze, her comforting hand that had been rubbing your arm ceased, her heart tightened with a sense of urgency. You loved the man that effectively shattered one of her friend’s hearts. You deserved to know what he was like. You NEEDED to know. Before you let him back in, before he broke you more. 

“Y/N did I ever explain why I don’t like Felix?” You shook your head as it rested on her shoulder, her comforting hand resumed rubbing your arm in an almost motherly way. “Remember Heejin? My friend from my hip hop class? They used to talk, like last year. He was like how he was with you, romantic, kind, and sweet. But one day he just drops this bomb. He only saw her as a friend, he lead her on for like ever, they almost made out at the date party SKZ hosted last winter. She was messed up over it for a long time. I don’t want him hurting you more. Also Soobin really liked your date. Did you have a good time?” Her explanation stunned you that you didn’t even register the topic change. Felix was a player. You always picked the wrong guys. You had fallen for an act, a ploy to probably get into your pants and be left in the dust. That’s probably all it was. You shook your head from your spiral of misery and looked over at your friend as she playfully nudged you to encourage you to discuss the date she masterfully put together.

“Soobin was sweet, and really cute! But it felt more like a friendship than a potential relationship. I didn’t really see it going anywhere. On the bright side I think he’s going to make a great friend.” You sighed and sunk more into the couch. The overwhelming urge to cry came over you once again as Chaeryeong and Yeji hugged you tighter and cuddled you. They gently played with your hair and cooed comforting words to you trying to ease the stabbing pain in your chest.

Meanwhile at the SKZ house Chan was consoling a devastated Felix. Weeks had passed and the only word from you he would receive was an email with your slides from your project and some notes on the materials. You had gone from the girl he would destroy a city for to a stranger. It hurt him beyond words, your playful teasing and bubbly affirmations were ripped from his life so abruptly it was like his organs had been ripped out. 

“Chan I fucking love her, I didn’t realize until I lost her. Her friends only see me as a player because of the whole Heejin thing. I wish Heejin just explained that we’re cool now so I have a chance at winning my Bubbles back.” Chan nodded solemnly. 

“I know Lix, I hope she lets you explain soon I hate seeing you like this.”

Jisung overheard the conversation and had an idea, he walked over, bending down he whispered it to Chan with an expression that just screamed that he was some kind of love genius. “Han, that is so stupid it might just work.” Chan called a meeting for the five other house residents to join them at the couches. Operation Y/Nlix was in motion.

As night fell you sat in bed once again sadly watching Legally Blonde. You were about ready to recite the perm monologue as a loud thud of something hitting your window startled you. Going over to gaze out you couldn’t believe your eyes. Out on your apartment complex lawn stood all eight SKZ house residents holding up signs reading Y/N please hear Felix out! We beg! Felix held up his own sign, I know I’m an ass, just one chance please. Once they noticed you were looking at them Changbin cued up a speaker and I Want You Back by the Jackson 5 began blaring out for the whole neighborhood to hear. The girls all piled into your room and gave you the affirmative to go talk to him. You raced down the stairs to run over to the dancing and singing men. 

“Fine! Five Minutes.”

“Y/N uh shit I didn’t think this would work. Okay so I had been having a rough day just after we met and I couldn’t understand how someone could have so much energy and be just so positive all of the time. Your adorable ways of finding some good in everything honestly scared me. That’s why I’d ranted about you. I’m sorry.” He clutched your hands and had tears swelling up in his brown eyes, you gave him a nod and a small sad smile. 

“That doesn’t explain why you never told me about the Heejin situation. Ya know considering I have several mutual friends with her.” 

“Heejin and I talked things out in the spring, she liked me more than I liked her. We discussed how it was a whole misunderstanding.” He paused at your raised brow and doubtful expression. “I’m being serious, it was really a one sided crush and her being genuinely hurt. I understand that finding out someone you liked not liking you back really sucks and how she felt led on. I apologized and we’re cool now, she and I aren’t friends but we’re not enemies either.”

“Mkay I’ll take your word for it for now, you have some work to do to earn my trust back but I’m willing to give you a second chance.” His lanky arms engulfed you and he began rocking you side to side his laugh and smile warmed your heart once again. You knew he would have you falling for him all over again, and the thought didn’t scare you like it used to. It didn’t terrify you, it filled you with hope that your happy ending may actually exist this time around. 

The cool autumnal air began to make you shiver as the seasons changed, the semester’s end was closing in as the days flew by. The warmth of summer’s end was something you yearned for as you pulled your jacket closer to your body, your steps increased in speed as you made your way to the cafe you had met Soobin at previously. He had asked you on another date, one you had thought would be another friendly hang out. What you didn’t seem to realize was that your cheerful disposition had enamored the tall, bespectacled boy. He saw you as a radiant, angelic, hilarious, and of course beautiful girl. Someone whose mission it was to make those around her always happy. His analysis of you wasn’t incorrect by any means, however you were not reciprocative of his feelings. 

To you Soobin was sweet and adorable. His catlike smile, cute laugh, and goofy personality made you feel like he was someone you could be comfortable around. His energy was fairly similar to yours in a way that made you feel like you’d met yourself but as a boy. This made catching feelings for him a challenge for you, so alas Soobin’s crush on you was unrequited. Today, he was going to confess, so he had asked you to join him for coffee.

“Oh Soobin you didn’t have to buy my coffee for me!” You admonished as you sat across from him at the campus coffee shop. The pastel wall decor seemed to give you an angelic glow as he shyly smiled at you. 

“Of course I did angel! I invited you here after all! Now I have something I need to tell you.” You nodded and took a sip of the caramel flavored latte he had picked for you. You let out a soft sigh at the warm feeling it put in your chest after the cold air had frozen your bones during your walk. “Y/N, I-I like you um a lot. You’re beautiful, kind, funny, a wonderful listener, a genuinely wonderful person. I was wondering if I could get the chance to take you on an actual date?” His warm eyes reflected his desire for an affirmation that you reciprocated his emotions. 

“Oh wow Soobin I. I don’t know what to say. You are a wonderful guy, I genuinely do like your friendship a lot! You are someone I like being around. But, I just don’t see you the same way, I’m sorry.” You hung your head down apologetically and looked over to him to make sure he was okay. He nodded and gave you a half smile showing his dimples. You reached across the table for his hands and took them in yours. “I hope we can still be friends! I really like being your friend!” He smiled and nodded at that. You two stood and the tall boy wrapped you in a warm embrace. 

“I would love to still be your friend Y/Nnie you are so sweet.”

Meanwhile outside the cafe stood Felix, his dark attire reflecting the darkness that poured into his heart. He saw the way your face nuzzled into the taller male’s chest and how the pair of you seemed to clutch the other’s clothing to get closer. Who was the boy in the glasses? Why were you hugging him like that? Why did he get to hold you? Why were you smiling up at him like that? Why wasn’t it him? 

Felix’s inner turmoil began to swell as he watched the exchange, he couldn’t tear his eyes away as you and the taller boy interacted so happily. As you pulled away from Soobin your eyes locked with the brooding male’s through the cafe glass. Your eyes widened in surprise as the Australian visibly sighed and began to walk away, his head held low. You quickly excused yourself and bolted after the boy calling his name. 

“Felix! FELIX! WAIT!” His steps only seemed to grow faster as he marched away. Panic began to creep into your mind as you picked up the pace. You grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to a halt via his jacket. His eyes grew steely as he looked at you. 

“Did you just ditch your new boyfriend for me? Not a good look Y/N.” He grumbled as he tried to peel your grip off of him.

“Boyfriend? Huh? Felix, that's Soobin. Ya know? He’s a friend of the girls?” You tilted your head in confusion and scoffed lightly at his conclusion.

“You two looked awfully close. That’s all I’m saying Y/N.” His hair shook and his eyes grew cold and harsh as he cocked his head toward you.

“You almost always never call me by my first name what’s going on with you?” Your eyes grew pleading and you began to wring your hands anxiously as you silently begged for an explanation.

“Y/N, you offered me a very public second chance, then not even a week later I am seeing you acting like another man’s girlfriend. I thought I made it clear to you-” He cut himself off, shaking his head and scuffing the toe of his black combat boot against the ground. He let out a heavy sorrow filled sigh and slowly began to walk away. “Forget it. I’m happy for you, I’ll see you in stats.” Before he could step away your hands caught his wrist and you tugged him toward you. 

“Made what clear to me Felix? You’re jumping to conclusions like it’s an Olympic sport here! I’m confused.” You looked at him, your eyes swimming with hurt and confusion. With Felix everything felt one step forward, five steps back. You never seemed to move past the hurt you both felt from the party incident.

“Y/N don’t. Don’t do this.” His voice was barely a murmur.

“Do what Felix?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what Felix don’t play games with me.” Your voice grew laced with agitation and annoyance. He wasn’t like this what was going on? Who was this aggravated almost gangster like boy you knew as your friend? Why was he sad yet angry? 

“Please don’t make me admit how fucking in love with you I am.” With that you grabbed his face and pulled him into a heavy tear soaked kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck as one of his hands found its home holding your waist and the other cupped your cheek. Your lips danced against one another as soft giggles and smiles made the kiss grow more playful. 

“You didn’t think I loved you too Grumpy Pants?” You teased as he sneakily tried to grope your butt with his hand. “Aye paws off the goods mister!” You laughed. 

“Well I clearly wasn’t thinking correctly seeing as you basically just swept me off my feet Bubbles.” He poked your cheek and wrapped his arms around you swaying you side to side gently. The cold autumnal air made you shiver slightly. 

“Y/N! Glad to see you found your person!” Soobin cut into your moment as he called from the cafe doorway. Your cheeks grew flushed as you hid your face into Felix’s neck. The boy just laughed and gave Soobin a nod as an acknowledgment. The next thing you knew your phone in your pocket began buzzing like a swarm of bees as your friends were all informed by the tall dark haired male of what happened. Felix encouraged you to check the texts. The only one that jumped out was Heejin on instagram wishing you well, she said she was happy that you as a mutual friend of hers found happiness. She also said she wanted you and Felix to find happiness together. It was sweet and you sent along your thanks.

The rest of the messages were just congratulatory ones from the SKZ boys and ITZY girls. As well as some teasing from both groups to not make them uncles and aunts any time soon. A smile graced your lips and you tilted your head as to give Felix another chaste kiss. 

“My place or yours baby?” You whispered into his ear. 

“For what angel?” He smirked thinking you were implying a rendezvous.

“Snuggles, video games, avoiding our project, and some snacking! What else?” You laughed as you saw a blush creep across his cheeks. “Oh you pervert! You wanted to hook up? At least ask me to be your girlfriend and buy me dinner first!” You bopped his shoulder and acted all scandalized which made Felix grow even more red faced and he sputtered out apologies mixed with deflections as to not make a scene. 

“Baby! Baby! Okay let’s go get dinner and I’ll get you some flowers and ask you the right way!” 

“Hmph. Fine!”

“Bubbles?”

“Yeah Grumpy Pants?”

“I love you!”

“I love you too! Now come on!!!! I want a penguin plushie and my flowers! Did you know penguins propose with rocks?”

“Your lack of good TV as a kid is showing.”

“HEY!” You both bursted into laughter, ear-to-ear grins stretched across your faces as you looked into one another’s eyes with pure adoration.

All was well, except for the fact that the two of you still had to do math work and not get distracted by your infatuation with the other. But, that’s tomorrow’s problem now isn’t it?

#stray kids x reader #lazystarwrites #skz fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #idiots to lovers #y/n gurl he loves you #kpop x reader #please reblog

[bellybiologist]

TLDR: Verzi Need Money. Here Link for Helping Fill Money Bar with Money Juice. -Ko-fi -Commission form (Open again! Note the price increase!) -Patreon -Paypal.me

Okay! Verzi need money. So! Here's this.

This shitty meter here is just for a bit of transparency (Graphic design is NOT my passion), cuz people like to know where there money is going. This will fill up as with funds from my patreon (money I got this month is already there!), from commissions, and from any tips/extras given by kind souls in passing, and I need to hit these marks EVERY month for like… a year. (This is after fees and such of course, cuz god forbid we don't pay the middle-men their dues.)

I will update this thing as time passes so ya'll will know where I'm at. Reblogging/Sharing is welcome, encouraged, and greatly appreciated!

A bit of info for each section under the Readmore:

-Rent and Bills: The Most Important thing to Keep Verzi Kickin'! I pay half my apartment's now $1368 rent PLUS the utilities, which range from 100~200 bucks, splitting with my aunt who works 2 jobs to make sure she pays her half. Since my mom passed away from Pancreatic cancer in 2021, this has been rough since it used to be split 3 ways.

-Dental Costs: The face bone doctors want my money after drilling holes and pulling out the insides!! My face actually feels BETTER so i'm not as mad as I COULD be about this, but this needs to be paid for the next 12 months. (And they want MORE money to do a cleaning and I almost laughed. Like, no buddy you ain't getting 750 out of me when I don't even have a refrigerator.(See Below))

-Big Purchase+Credit Card bills: It wont pay off ALL my credit card debt, but it keeps me from falling behind. Since the passing of Michael and Fred (my microwave and refrigerator respectively) I need to make some big purchases so my kitchen functions. Michael has been successfully replaced by Mikaela, and we are still looking for Fred's replacement. Ms. Frida, the chest freezer who is literally older than I am (I am 33!!) and STILL functions is holding down the fort while we look for a refrigerator. We can live without a fridge thanks to her constant service, allowing us to keep frozens. Also, like, literally on the 30th of July, Monty the Monitor must've succumbed to heatstroke so i had to buy one of THOSE too for my computer setup. I will name all my appliances to cope.

-Extra+Taxes: Once we get here, I'm in the clear for the month's expenses! However!! Taxes are due in October. I DO NOT know how much that will be, and since the whole Covid relief thing that lessened business taxes ended last year, I MAY be paying for quite a bit!! Anything past this point will be prepping for Taxes AND forming a buffer for More Happenings (God forbid).

===== Rewards??? Rewards!! =====

I considered a Drive like other kink artists in these circles, but I don't like drives for several reasons and those reasons are why I've never done one in the past. Despite that, I STILL want to do something that at least feels like a reward or incentive for people keeping me Alive™, so I'm going to do some simple doodles/sketches, and possibly try to stream those doodles in my discord!

Every 100 bucks past the "Rent and Bills Paid" section (meaning at 900 dollars and onward), I will do a RANDOM drawing from any requests/suggestions from the pool made by people who threw some cash monies my way!

Suggestions can be sent in through Ko-fi messages, Paypal notes accompanying payments/donations/tips, and a Patreon-only post (they are always giving me money, so patrons have access by default!). Commissioners who send in the form can ALSO suggest something for the pool if they like! (there's a question on the form for it) Now, like all requests, it's ultimately up to my discretion on whether or not I will draw something, but I will still try to keep it random and let it be a roll of the dice (or a RNG app).

There is no minimum requirement either! So people throwing only $1 at me, buying only one Ko-fi, or dropping anything bigger are free to offer a suggestion. But please limit requests/suggestions to one entry per person.

Now, as to what these will and can be:

-It will be a simple lined sketch with one color or flat colors. Depends on how many need doing, how I'm feeling when I draw it and how complicated it is.

-It can be up to 2 characters, but they may be less refined compared to a single character one. They can be the same character in 2 different states, or 2 different characters interacting with each other.

-No private requests please! It will have to be something that can be publicly posted and that you're fine with being perceived by others.

-In terms of kinks/sizes/etc, it will be something that you'd normally see on this blog or for my work! Mileage may vary, but more extreme stuff that I'd normally avoid may be glossed over when I'm constructing the pools.

-Unlike commissions, these will not go through a WIP stage/be modified after the fact! They end up how they end up. If you wanna be nitpicky, please use this opportunity to order a full commission!

-You're allowed to suggest OCs as long as it's yours or its owner has given permission to draw them in the context I am known to put boys in!

#Help a sista out #verzi's art

[hero-israel]

In defense of anti-Israel people, it doesn't seem the fairest to consider any of their political art to be antisemitic for showing the Star of David in a negative light (such as censoring, breaking, being stabbed, etc) when that *is* the only symbol for the State (save for stripes, which I've seen represented too but less). How else are they supposed to criticize it visually? You can only use Netanyahu as a strawman so many times. The institutional and historical issues are more extensive than him or anyone like him. The recent branding with the Star of David of a Palestinian by an Israeli cop (assuming that's true, which looks like it as far as I can tell) shows the symbol can be used for evil. We should maybe make some exceptions to what we might otherwise consider antisemitic. I'm reminded of a graphic novel I read called "Dictatorship: It's Easier Than You Think", which mostly sarcastically criticized and compared various historical regimes. I felt it was a little too biased in a lot of ways, but it made one point I find relevant here. It said that populist ideologies create symbols that represent large swathes of marginalized people so if you criticize that ideology you can be framed for being prejudiced. It talked about how the communist/Soviet symbol was hammer and sickle, representing workers, so if you opposed communism/Soviet Union/etc., they could just say you were classist. (I personally have more sympathy for communism/Soviet Union so I somewhat disagree but I believe you said you're more anti-communist than I am so this might be more agreeable to you). To pull this back to my main point, maybe it isn't fair to have a historically violent nation be able to always have the ability to attribute criticism of it to one of the world's oldest bigotries? Don't get me wrong, I am a Zionist and I do think there's value in Israel asserting itself as Jewish and representing Jews. Enough Jews get associated with Israel by antisemites when they have no affiliation with it or even oppose it, so there's not much real value in trying to separate. And I do believe criticism of Israel and Zionism crosses over into antisemitism more than critics would like to admit. But I'm just making a point about iconography here. I half-wish that Israel went with one of the earlier flag designs of the Menorah or Lion so iconography could be more clear-cut. But maybe it shouldn't be.

A few thoughts on this:

The menorah would be functionally identical to the Magen David in terms of potentially causing confusion / inspiring hate from critique. The lion just isn't as good, though YMMV

It isn't hard for cartoonists to caricature political leaders like Netanyahu, it is in fact their job, if you can call it that.

if someone can draw a Magen David, they can draw it in blue and put in the stripes to remove all doubt that they mean the modern political entity and not the human ethnic group / religion

I don't recall seeing as much specifically blood- and killing-oriented imagery around Muslim crescents. The flag of Pakistan has the crescent on it, people making a cartoon criticizing Pakistan would hopefully not leap to showing the crescent as a knife beheading someone

All things are not equal and the political artists just have to cope with that and work a little harder. It does make a difference that Jews are a persecuted, frequently-genocided group controlling such a tiny land area. If the hammer-and-sickle was only used as the flag symbol of North Korea, which was the only Korean country, and most ethnic Koreans lived there after having been wiped out everywhere else, maybe people would have to be more careful with how they negatively portrayed that symbol.

to reiterate point 1 - it is good that artists and activists should be expected to work hard to avoid bigotry in their critiques

#zionism #anti-zionism #israel #judaism #antisemitism #jumblr

[omegaremix]

Cath-, 2013.

My friend Catherine and I were two weeks away from meeting up for the first time in six years. For a good nine months, conversations escalated. The more we spoke, the more time we needed to answer each other back. She was interested in my progress from a personal collapse, and I was interested in her health. We had a lot of parallels and things in common. Since we had our own personal setbacks and what-if scenarios, there was a lot of potential of what could and should have happened. The euphoria to meet up, pick up right where we left off, and arrive at a vital turning point in our lives was real.

Right before we met in April three years ago, she had given me several vital updates about herself. The good news was that she re-upped on graphic design courses at community college. Her discovery of David Carson took me by surprise as I was a huge fan of Raygun Magazine. I became the reason she took to blogging, and she started illustrating for personal projects. The bad news was that she was arrested for using in a coffee house parking lot. Relations with her family were very contentious, and her blog entries detailed scheming, past troubles, and sexually-explicit acts in shocking and heart-jumping detail. The balance of good and bad is always the Libra.

The more time passed, the more anticipated our next answers would be. It was sophisticated conversation, a true rarity in my world. That was what had us trading ten-page replies. What we also traded were music recommendations. We had done this before over ice cream when we first met during the last decade, and we were going to do it again. Thanks to her dealer circle, she discovered KMFDM and Skinny Puppy, so I gave her a plentiful amount of both, then congratulated her for now becoming an industrialist. She then send me her recommendations: Bikini Kill, Huggy Bear, Babes In Toyland, Heavens To Betsy, and Bratmobile.

It was expected and I was not surprised. She had a rough social life in high-school and wasn’t taught proper survival, self-esteem, or coping skills. Moreso, she had a lot of bad instances with the wrong men she had met in her life, most using and abusing her. So Catherine took to getting new skin. She definitely had her reasons. She needed some ammunition and reinforcements in Kill Rock Stars and Lookout! as the obvious de facto choices in female teeth. The music was not only a small sieve in what Catherine was about, but also part of the Omega spring shows simply because they were damn good.

These are just the few cuts I found through Catherine that would later become part of our radio show. They also are a red stamp of the era of conversations, issues, and  soul we had, and more, for the rest of that spring; things still so unreal after the fact that it still resonates with me.

Bikini Kill “New Radio”

Heavens To Betsy “Waitress Hell”

Babes In Toyland “Laugh My Head Off”

Huggy Bear “February 14”

Bratmobile “Shut Your Face”

Babes In Toyland “Bruise Violet”

Heavens To Betsy “Get Out Of My Head”

Babes In Toyland “Oh Yeah”

#omega #music #playlists #mixtapes #personal #dating #romance #riot grrrl #rock #punk #grrrl #Bikini Kill #Heavens To Betsy #Babes In Toyland #Huggy Bear #Bratmobile

[genrihgayne]

I LOVE your Pearl designs!!!!! Any headcannons for the characters of double life??

OMG THANK YOU🌸

And yes I have plenty!!!

Sorry for long delay in replies - I wanted to make a big and cool post with all of my headcanons but I procrastinated it for almost half a year💀💀

several parts it is!!

So anyway let's start with something light and what I've already put into graphic explanations(?)

I feel like I have to mention that in my case I have different parts of their clothes/bodies represent their Life at the moment. For some people it's color of their eyes, for others - hair, or some markings on skin, or some, uh, modifications(crystals, color of feathers, plants)? Idk it's minecraft skins I work with what I can

First one is our beloved dead but pretty(tm) lifeseries!Cleo

First it's a frame from my "It took me by surprise" animatic and here you could see some of my headcanons. The most obv one is vines-herbs-grass-flowers growing out of her hair. For different Life goes different type of flora. Also patches of different skins(?).

Rough reference piece from several months ago. Don't @ me I'm more comfortable at digital art

For clothing I don't think I have something unique??? But it's self-explanatory anyway

-----------

Next one is Grian

Let me be clear I don't really care for his POV of Double Life but I DID watch his POV of Limited Life so yeah

I don't think I have ever drawn him before this messege so it was my first attempt and it kinda stick with me

SO SORRY for the quality of the photo

"She's a little bit different but we still love her"

As you could see I went kinda overhead with his design. I'm sorry that The iconic Red Sweater had to go😔😔😔

He is an Avian in my headcanons but I wanted to give him something more than just wings as I see in different headcanons of different talanted artists. Claws for feet it is! Also little ear-wings just looks nice imo

When dealing with bird-like legs (or any other hybrid legs) you have to think of a good piece of clothing that would be appropriate, comfortable and that it should look nice. Idk if I managed to achieve it (tbf it's a sketch ref) but overall it looks well-put, it's easy to draw and I think it should be comfy. At least I hope so!

For his Life indicator I've chosen colors of his, uh, under-feathers?? I'm sorry I don't have the correct anatomical name for them and words in general are not my tea but I hope you all can see what I'm talking about

That design was in mind for Life Series only and I used it for post-Ep1 of Limited Life animatic but he decided to change his skin in Limited Life Ep2 and I just cope with it bc for the love of me I couldn't figure how leather jacket could work with all that

You can see clothes a little bit more here

Glasses felt like a fun accessory at the moment but in the actual animatic it gave really cool 'Anime villain' effect

So yeah. That's pretty much it for them two

There will be several parts about my other headcanons and let me know who would you like to hear about next!!

#trafficblr #life series #mcyt #double life smp #traffic smp #limited life smp #double life cleo #zombie cleo #zombie cleo fanart #double life grian #limited life grian #grian #grian fanart #Genrih talks

[finniestoncrane]

hello could you do a smut with batman unburried riddler. i love him so much

that would be awesome thanks <3

Baby Girl Driver

Batman Unburied!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 2.1k AH i am so excited to do a bu riddler for the first time on his own, and i hope i do him justice. also i'm sorry for the graphic ;-; i don't know how to make a better one and i just love hasan's lil face baby girl, you're so off-putting and irritating, and i love you more than life itself, welcome to the club bu riddler i'm sorry for the thoughts i've had about you and the things i'm about to write you into doing 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: language, fingering

For an entire week you’d been designated driver to the world’s most irritating passenger. But Barbara Gordon had sworn by Edward Nygma’s ability to assist in an investigation of this calibre, and to her credit he had been helpful. When he wasn’t being intensely annoying. Or sarcastic. Or hindering your every effort to solve this quickly. In fact, you were sure he was purposefully trying to elongate the time you’d have to spend together, likely an attempt to avoid going back to Arkham.

“Fuck. I have to pee again.”

“God, Nygma, we just stopped.”

“That was for snackies!”

“And you didn’t think to go then?”

“Well, I was using my time trying to decide what snack I was allowed within my ridiculous budget. And then you yelled at me. So I didn’t think I had time for luxuries such as pissing.”

You rolled your eyes, switching focus back to the road.

“Am I to sit back here and fucking hold it in?”

“Jesus Christ! Alright!”

Pulling over to the side of the road, you both sat in silence, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel.

“Are you gonna-”

“You have to open the door.”

“I swear to…”

Slamming your own door behind you, you made your way around the squad car to the passenger door. He had insisted on riding in the backseat. ‘Like a ride-along. Like you’re my driver.’ It was nice to know he was locked in and couldn’t run, though you knew he wouldn’t. But still, it felt almost degrading to have him locked in there. And yet oddly enough, not degrading for him, but for you. Opening his door, you tensed up at the little curtsy he offered as he scampered into the woods.

“Don’t go too far.”

“If you want to watch me piss, you can just ask! I live in an asylum, remember, it might actually make me feel like I’m at home to have someone staring at me.”

“Please just hurry up.”

"Hey, you're lucky!" He looked back and raised his eyebrows at you, lips curling up in one of his nasty, but weirdly adorable, smiles. "At least I'm not cuffed. Otherwise, you'd have to hold it for me."

"Wow, lucky for us all."

"Yeah, it's a two-hander, baby!" Finger guns aimed at you, he turned at your stoic expression with a huff and disappeared behind a bush. After a few minutes, he trudged back to the car, waiting on you to open the door.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Ooh, someone’s grumpy today!” He flashed a wide grin at you as he opened the door and plopped down on the seat. Closing it hard on him, you got back behind the wheel and peeled out onto the empty stretch of road.

“So…wanna play a game?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You are absolutely no fun whatsoever. How does your poor boyfriend cope?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Interesting.”

You waited silently for a cruel remark, or a joke, but it never came. Instead, he leaned forward, fingers poking through the holes in the barrier between front and back, speaking hurriedly.

“Oh! Down that road, turn turn turn! Now!”

“For the love of…fuck!”

The wheels slipped and spun as you made the sharp corner at way too high a speed, finally managing to get back in a straight line, breathing heavily.

“Good for the adrenal glands.”

“You couldn’t have said something a little sooner.”

“I was distracted.”

At the end of the road, there was a small building, one floor. You took the car off the road and behind some bushes, able to see the house and a section of the road you had just been on, but hidden well enough.

“Stake out time!” From the backseat, he finally piped up, annoyingly excited, opening the snacks he had demanded earlier. “You coming back here to join me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, how will I share my snacks with you.”

“I don’t want any.”

“Aw, come on! It’ll be fun, like we’re proper cops!”

“I am a proper cop.”

“Oh, yeah…right. And I’m completely sane.”

“Nygma-”

“Fine, fine. But I have a better view of the entrance from back here. Nice little gap in the trees. Would be a shame if I was too busy burying my face in to my little snackies and missed something.”

“This is a fucking nightmare.” You mumbled it to yourself, before unbuckling your seat belt and shouting. “Fine!” You exited the car, opening the back door where he patted the seat beside him with a vicious little sneer. When you were seated beside him, he thrust the little bag of food under your nose. “No thank you.”

For two hours you sat there, trying to ignore Edward Nygma’s questioning, all of it unrelated to the case you were working on. In fact, since mid-way through the first week of his assistance, he’d seemed entirely uninterested and not as invested in the work as Barbara had insisted he would be. You were beginning to think this was a huge mistake. Although, admittedly, he was fun to be around. Your usual partner was a bit more ‘by the book’ and wasn’t willing to socialise outside of the job. You barely knew anything about him other than his name and the fact that he had been married but ‘for the love of god don’t call her if I’m hurt.’

Nygma was different though. He was strangely open, although you suspected that was a ploy to learn your weaknesses, so you kept a lot in. About himself though, he was more than willing to talk, he was his favourite subject, other than riddles. And thankfully, today, he hadn’t forced any of his riddles on you, not yet at least.

And for the next hour, there was relative silence, other than the incessant crunching from Eddie eating his ‘snackies’. You watched patiently as several cars pulled up from the main road, all stopping outside of the house and waiting. Three of them were there now, and as a fourth pulled up, they all exited their vehicles.

“You watching this, Nygma?”

“Huh…oh yeah! Uh…yeah, seems about right.”

“Ok so who are they!?”

“Oh…so the one that got out of that car there, he’s the uh…leader.”

“The leader? Of what?”

“Of the thing, you know!”

“We’ve been sitting in this car for three hours. You haven’t mentioned a thing. We’ve been working on this case together for three weeks. You haven’t mentioned a leader. What is going on and why are we here?”

“Ok…promise not to get mad?”

“You fucker. You mother fucker!”

“Wait, wait! Before you get mad. I think it’s important for you to take into account that I haven’t told a single riddle today.” He looked at you with raised eyebrows, but you raised your hand and started smacking at his arm and head regardless.

“I have been driving you around for three weeks, at what point were you going to tell me that you had no idea what was going on with this case, asshole?”

“Please stop hitting me I have solved it, all the paperwork is in the trunk in a neat little folder waiting for you to hand it in and take the credit!”

“What!?”

“I’ve…done it all. I knew after like the fifth day. I didn’t think I’d have to spoon feed the answer to you. But to be fair, I have had to be very forgiving with the answers to my riddles.”

A shiver went up your spine. Pure rage. You resisted the urge to punch him, but it was only with every ounce of your being that you managed to stifle the gut reaction. But you kept slapping at him.

“Well why are we still investigating!?”

“Because!”

“Because isn’t a sentence, fuck face!”

“Because I wanted to spend more time with you!”

You hit him even harder, and he jumped back with a petulant little frown.

“Ok, that one hurt.”

“Good! What do you mean? You didn’t want to go back to your cell?”

“No…because I liked hanging out with you.”

“Oh, Edward. At least save me the embarrassment of trying to trick me into thinking this was anything but a selfish little ploy to escape.”

“I mean, I am going to escape, duh. But not yet. I’m having fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yep.”

“What do you mean by ‘fun’?”

“What the fuck do you think I mean by fucking fun?”

You leant back in the chair, head tilted horizontally, trying to understand his words, his motives. Were you going completely insane? It would be one thing to admit to enjoying spending time with him, he had nothing to gain from that. But to begin believing that he had somehow developed a little crush on you was surely a sign that you were mentally unstable. First of all, how could you believe him without knowing you were likely falling for his manipulation tactics? And second of all, if you could admit that you might believe he had a crush on you, then you might also have to face the fact that you had a little bit of a crush on him too.

There was very little time to focus on the little conundrum that was thundering through your mind, as Edward had leaned over in his seat, one arm holding his body up at the angle, the other on your cheek, fingers daring to reach into your hair. His lips, surprisingly soft and interestingly practised, stuck on yours with a pent-up passion, groaning into you. As he pulled back you moved with him before thudding back down into your seat.

“You’re nice to look at and fun to annoy. And I’m nice to look at and fun to be annoyed by, right?”

He didn’t wait for a response, he was leaning back in to you, slowly, eyes never wavering in their gaze, staring deep enough into your very soul that you were no longer sure if you’d even be bothered that he was manipulating you.

“Would it really be so bad if we enjoyed our time together?”

With his lips kissing along your jaw and neck, you managed to mumble out some words, trying to convince yourself more than anyone else that you should let go and sink into this.

“It’s morally…and ethically…mmm….reprehensible…to fraternise with…hmm…prisoners in my…care…god…”

Too late though, because your hands were already running through the hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer into you, moaning in pleasure at the little yelp he made when you bit down on his lip, tugging at it with your teeth, dragging him deeper into the kiss.

Confidently, or arrogantly, you were never sure with him and you didn’t care right now, he began unbuttoning your pants, hands slipping down under the open zipper, fingers rubbing against your folds at the front of your panties.

“Hmm…what’s soft and wet and-”

“You finish that riddle and this ends now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winked at you before sliding the fabric to the side, inserting two fingers into you and easing them around, your walls clenching at his dedicated and inquisitive strokes, trying to understand you, to learn what made you moan, what made you grip his forearms.

Pushing his tongue past your lips, he pressed the once gentle kiss into a sloppy make-out session, hungrily lapping at your tongue inside your mouth, all the finesse and restraint of a teenager at a lover’s lane, which you might as well have been, given you were currently being fingered in the back seat of a car.

The sudden realisation of what was happening had the opposite effect to what you thought it might. Instead of being shocked into action, pushing him off and reprimanding him and yourself, you begged him to make you cum, gasping for air, screaming with little to no care of who might hear.

“You’re absolutely filthy, this is a fucking amazing revelation! If I’d known I could have had you this easy, I’d have suggested we fuck at the point of first contact.”

Even at this, with his fingers inside of you, enacting a pleasure on you that you didn’t even think was possible. His digits stroking and pulsing, his thumb pressing against your clit, pressing into it and rubbing from side to side, the way you did it yourself, the way that worked for you, the way he had worked out was what might make you cum. With his lips and tongue and teeth melting into your own to the point where you weren’t sure where your mouth ended and his began. With the cacophony of pleasurable noises you were both making, the moaning, the heavy breathing, the subtle growling. The grinding and grabbing. Even with all of this, he was still managing to be a royal pain in the ass. And that alone was enough to have you cumming around his, his fingers wet with your release, bringing them up to his mouth to lick them off, never breaking eye contact as he did it.

Easing himself back into a more comfortable sitting position, you were aware in your peripheral vision that he had unzipped his own pants, cock hard and thick in his hand, stroking it a few times, quick and hard, before looking over at you.

“Don’t make me spoon feed this to you to. It’s my turn, right?”

#finnie writes #riddler #the riddler #batman #riddler imagine #the riddler imagine #fanfic #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x reader #riddler x you #edward nygma #anon #friends being friends #edward nigma #edward nashton #the riddler fanfiction #bu riddler #batman unburied riddler #batman unburied!riddler

[agearinthevastklok]

Thoughts on AotD

I like that "it's about fear" very much announces the theme of Nathan's own fears of failing and self doubt, which stem from his constant perfectionism we've seen since s1. This is really emphasises in Nathan telling everyone he doesn't know how to write the Song of Salvation and subsequently crossing 'band' off - he is filled with self doubt and fear and is unable to find safety with that. This hits especially hard when you get that "is this the wrong song?" moment that hits so sudden and so hard. I think the "come back" line also really feels full of that fear - his fear is reinforced by loneliness and abandonment and grief and it's so, so powerful when he really becomes vulnerable in that moment.

The entire funeral scene is almost unbearable it felt like way too many things to deal with all at once made 100% more painful because they were ruining the funeral. I wish the bit with Nathan had happened back at their home because I had to keep stopping it just to cope with how much second hand cringe I was getting seeing that all happen in front of all those people at the funeral.

Skwisgaar using his own name/3rd person in speech feels new?

Charles' character seems to have changed quite a bit but I'm obsessed with literally all of his scenes because they pack so much punch. From his speech at the start to his return with the fans, his cool as fuck fight, his final smile - i literally cherish them. "Those are my spiritual savours you're fucking with" knocked the breath out of me.

The character arcs are so good! Nathan's "Life might actually be precious" at the start to realising how to write the Song of Salvation at the end. Murderface putting himself out there to help Charles after being convinced he had no value at the beginning. General Crozier's entire redemption arc.

Also character relationships really do so much here. Toki and Skwisgaar's dynamic becomes far more caring and close with Toki literally looking after Skwisgaar despite still bickering. The whole band getting emotionaly upfront with Murderface about needing him and that beautiful "but you always feel it" line is so so good. Pickles knowing Nathan's order perfectly, their "see you on stage" moment, hugging Toki, being so parental, honestly doing the Most for them all. Nathan's relationship with his parents being still loving and full of supportive words. Toki getting Deaddybear back and Nathan saying "you're one hell of a motherfucker" to Edgar in that fond voice. Murderface honouring Knubbler before the song. Nathan calling the band his family. Hell, even Nathan going from despising the fans to opening his hand to them and eventually thanking them, it's so good. And, yeah, his "relationship to music" bit with the visual metaphor penis, i thought that was good too!

Character confrontations are also really good! I LOVE the bit where Skwisgaar confronts Murderface in that really intense voice- probably my fav bit of voice acting in the whole film. Also Pickles cofnronting Nathan and making him realise why he'd failed his task (with that hilarious "this is weird" commentary from Murderface).

The animation is GORGEOUS - especially in scenes focused on Murderface. There are some very heavily anime-influenced moments which are sometimes beautiful and sometimes a little jarring. Nathan also somehow suffers from some off-model moments a few times.

The artwork is also gorgeous! Backgrounds, stained glass, graphic design, so much beautiful work! Similarly to the animation, there is some very anime-esque scenery I found jarring compared to what MTL usually looks like.

The humour is really great! Knubbler falling down those stairs had me wheezing and the gong breaking is funny both times. Murderface's "like us" funniest joke in the whole movie. "That was upsetting!" made me cackle. Nathan's conversation with Salacia was also very funny but I felt that was at the price of a less dramatic character confrontation.

The amount of 'men in female roles' is so good. Mother Pickles and Sister Toki are doing so much gender for me especially because of how much Pickles just COMMITS to that. "bring mommy his scotch" "you're the absolute best mother" both excellent for my heart. Also "you are the beast daughters of the apocalypse" offers so much gender feeling.

Nathans weird awkward moment during the "your role" bit is very endearing somehow and feels very similar to his sense of humour when he learned he could make a silly voice in the shower

There's some great one-off lines. "Sunshines rainbows marshmallows man" my beloved. "Good rock talk" love that. Nathan's entire realisation sequence at the end calling fans the army of the doomstar and that they're the great reuniting is just very fun final moment stuff. "It's about what we do when we fail" LOVE that as a line esp as they do in fact fail to prevent the metalocalypse and they have to pick up and regroup and try again.

Big whale god my beloved.

I really like how Nathan's voice becomes very breathy and weak compared to his usual growl. For a character who consistently has such presence and power it's such a choice to have his iconic voice be the signifier of his internal weakness. This feels especially interesting when we really see Nathan's raw physical strength when he rips himself from that metal wheel.

Seeing the retreat being destroyed scene by scene was actually very sad!!!! As well as all those Klokateers, especially after Doomstar Requiem

The character deaths hit harder this time around! Knubbler calmly sacrificing himself while Nathan desperately slammed against the barrier not wanting to see another person sacrifice themself for him, that hit hard! Edgar's sacrifice with that "my brother, my love, i'll be with you" was so heartwrenching especially after the "do it all for my brother" in Doomstar Requiem. Even Senator Stampingston has such a visually grotesque, dramatic death I enjoyed that too.

The drowning/near death moment was SO strong, however the jarring animation was particularly notable then and the "or all will die" line seemed ? weirdly unfitting given all dying anyway seemed to be the plan. I LOVE that eerily quiet way they handled nathan doing cpr for so long though

"gear in the wheel of the klok" "go into the water" those song references rock so much i love that.

probably a bad take but I sorta wish the resulting Song of Salvation had been....more??? i guess after the musical diversity of Doomstar Requiem i was expecting something completely next level. it's a good song dont get me wrong and i LOVE the lyrics! i guess i just expected some sort of 10 minute genre-mixing thing to really shake up stuff

I love the final scene I think it really tied off the series in a very strong way

Remember when this was a comedy etc etc

#metalocalypse #army of the doomstar #mtl:aotd

[girlsrawesome64]

Heyyyy saw you would like some COD matchups

I'm American, but my mother's side is Slavic. I'm white, 5'6, shoulder length brown hair. I wear glasses and have a coquette aesthetic. I'm not skinny but I'm not plus sized so idk what to call myself lol.

I'm quiet and come off and kinda weird when you don't know me (I have under developed social skills due to C-PTSD). I stay to myself, make jokes that don't even seem connected to the current interactions, have a hard time maintaining eye contact. I love space and art, I have ADHD, Bipolar, and C-PTSD. I'm extremely loyal, can see right through people's bullshit, and am extremely understanding of people's unconventional habits. When you get to know me, I'm more chaotic. Not in an "I'm so random🤪😎" way but "I have an idea, I've thought it 70% of the way through, and we will see how it goes together"

If I were in the COD universe I'd probably be a sniper. I know that's a basic answer but my reasons are due to my hypervigilence, good eye tracking, great at shooting (shoutout to Thanksgiving traditions), and preferance for overall quiet and strict environments.

My top 5 characters are Simon Riley, Nikto, Gaz, Konig (Canon, not fanon), and Krueger.

Feel free to ignore, ik that writing can be really draining!! <3

I matched you with....

KU-KU-KUH KRUUUEGER 📣📢♨️❗❓💢💯🆘

^graphic design is my passion

TYSM for the first ask :,,DD So I got carried away, gonna see if ur into it but if not give me a shout to remove any of the warning stuff/private it etc !! (this is on me lmao) dont wanna scare you off w warnings, its overall fluff but i gotta tag em correctly

W: bbgifying fictional war criminals, violence/murder(described Krueger kills hostiles, implication you have), intimidation(Krueger likes killing/is ego aggressive to hostiles/brief aggro jealousy to others), ally very wounded (brief, blood mention, theyll be ok offscreen dw), unexpected gunshot on the range(all g, it was an ally), stalker-y (lately announced presence, lies that the public german nickname 4u he uses isnt affectionate, pre-dating jealousy), vague bad mental health mention, getting triggered mention, unspecified negativeish Krueger coping mechanism, vigilance(nothing happens but ur partners wanted/tense mission), you guys shooting, long mandated proximity, brief 'is bad man?', worry, long read more, light cliffhanger + HC that you were assigned callsign 'Cere'!

(This is a delulu long 2 off, next inbox ask i get to im gonna chill & try bulletpoints instead :p)(req are closed rite now TYSM for them&lt;3 !)

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"You're assigned with Krueger? Oh, buddy." Your fellow KorTac operator eyes you with sympathy.

It was the equivalent of a teacher seating the 'troubled' kid next to the 'good, quiet' kid.

Flash back to pre-assignment: as soon as you met him you didn't need to look into any files to know he was a two-faced bitch. He was pretty socially inconspicuous if not for your watchful eye. Low-effort charisma, flattery, egotisical swagger. Heedless apathy if someone that wasn't helping him needed help. All the calm confidence in the world and he's always at least hiding some part of his face. So suspicious for a dude whose job is murder.

Krueger was 'friendly', but he wasn't the type to get invested in getting to know 'the team'. Meaning, once a blue moon when you both decide to stay in a social space together, the max of your interaction is him staring from across the room and snorting at you. A joke of yours had fell on someone's deaf ears and a solid 4 seconds later he chuckled at it. Or at you. Unclear. You'd felt his blatant gaze burning you through the hood as soon as you'd started talking. Anyway, now you both looked "weird".

Maybe it was a sniper thing? You couldn't afford to get rusty as you settled on the faction base's range; one eye closed to focus down the scope. That familar 'pchow' sound: hit. Cock, reload, hit, repeat. Hit. Hit-hit, wait what? What was supposed to be your target dents in front of you as you hear the same sound, but from along the range. Jesus christ. Someone else was practicing too. You still yourself and resume through their tampering/co-shooting. Once you've had your fill Krueger conveniently had too, revealing himself as your competitor to purr a praise at you as you passed by. "Very nice."

Anyway, that mission you two were sent on. Heavy snow, low hills and wind-swept shrubland before forest. Hostile base right in the middle in which you've been ordered to clear by any means. There was no way they'd be able to send in a team yet without getting spotted, which is where you guys came in. A sniper either side. Hit your shots; everything will be okay. Miss? There's only so many places it could've come from.

There was something beautiful in that moment in the calm before the storm. Only the crunch of snow as you settled into position, impossibly small as you painted the final dot in the break of snow back to white. Above you, an even wider sprawling landscape of almost clear blue sky with a few sparse strings of cloud. You could see the faint impression of the moon. And…another planet? Something smaller, stationary, glinting. It was possible to catch planets during the daytime, sure, but you might know that this wasn't their usual positions. You think you've just witnessed something very special.

Married to that sight was the chill of wind over your many layers, and Krueger muttering eerily calm communications in your ear via radio. It's not like sniper fire could be silent, but you had a window of opportunity with the suppressor temporarily hiding your position. You'd shoot together.

He slowly counted down like he enjoyed it. Regardless of his distracting yapping you both hit, and he shamelessly hissed praise as he eagerly loaded his next.

Cut to your report back, your half-smile fades at a joke that didn't land with your befuddled superior. Krueger snickers. This was a long-range mission. Somehow, you were standing to attention in front of them, half your sniper hood burnt up (??) and Krueger standing a little more lax next to you splattered in blood. Now- you had clutched the mission. Thanks to your half-plan in response to Krueger getting ahead of himself, in which upon your very stressed communication you both went all-in on.

You remember a moment in the scuffle in which you were pinned by the last hostile after rescuing a screaming damsel Krueger (you didn't know he hit that pitch). You half expected the knife stuck through your attackers neck to pierce you too, before Krueger threaded the needle and double-neutralized your attacker with a snap of the neck. Panting, he leant out a hand for you to take, with a tilt of his head. "Thank you, bruder." You'd worked surprisingly natural together come the highest pressure. He didn't want to die, and you wouldn't let him. But God, he gave you a headache.

To your dismay/morbid interest you were assigned as a duo together again. And again. And again. Through trial and error you got more and more used to how each-other worked on the field, to the point his more bloodlust-y spontaneous ventures seemed quite tempting. With the guidance of your planning, of course. You swear you could hear him smirk on the other side of the radio when you finally seemed just as enthusiastic as him. Others joining you on your assignments would have to scramble to keep up with the pace of your symbiosis.

When he wasn't screaming and shouting for his life from the consequences of his own actions/in combat/violently taunting his enemies with concerning egotistical aggression, it was quite peaceful. Something about being able to focus together, but apart. Beautiful landscapes to the sound of his soothing dry tone.

And so, sue you if you hung out a little more.

"Come; you're needed." He'd half-joke with a pat on your back if he saw you alone, inviting you to sit with him and Nikto. The life-or-death nature of your field didn't really breed cliques, it's just when you could pick, two other 'offputting' neurodivergents were much less exhausting (once you'd mostly figured they weren't planning to kill you). Sometimes Krueger would be trying to say something and both you and Nikto would lose focus and have a lighter episode at the same time, which could be funnily validating despite the circumstances.

Nikto's threateningly gruff, jovial energy was kind of infectious. It might just come up in conversation: your mother's heritage. Ooh, Russian? Was it Russian? Do you know a second language? Krueger participated in the conversation, but…fuck, why were you looking at Nikto like that? No, no, you should just learn German with him instead. You'll have enough time for it together when you travel for your next mission.

It was very few and far between where Krueger had given anyone a nickname. Acquaintance German speakers would give him weird looks when he called you 'asterisks/little star'- "Sternchen," with a lingering tone. He'd non-chalantly play it off when you asked, oh you know, explaining it meant star, like the callsign you got assigned. You might explain, oh no, 'Cere' is a dwarf planet.

"Oh, really?" He seemed very interested as your eyes lit up into conversation about something you seemed to like.

Upon your explanation, he thinks your callsign suited you very well. Cere: an exceptional astronomical body usually hidden to the human eye. The largest object in an asteroid belt in-between Mars and Jupiter; muddy and icy; sporting brines, carbonates and stunningly shiny cryovolcanoes. Incredibly underrated for a beautiful busy planet that screams potential life.

He still called you sternchen, ft. "Mein sternchen," that one time. He was aiming for a cutesy secret term of endearment, but 'asterisks' technically worked too. You were his 'yes, and'. Shit, was he really thinking like that? I mean, he wasn't totally shy to it. It's just most of his previous attractions were short-term and pretty baseless for a reason. Especially with co-workers that actually had an allegiance to who they were working for.

Which made it all the more natural for him to unblinkingly step over and in the pool of blood of the person you were both tasked to protect when he saw you go down. He shouted scolding concern as he rushed to help you out even though you weren't even half as hurt.

Or when you felt shit, to say the least. You were stationed together in Berlin for an unpredictably long wait for a high-priority target. A safehouse in the middle of plain sight with you guys on deck. Blend in as civillians, barely working, just…waiting to be called on. It felt like leave, except you were living with Krueger.

It was definitely a little stressful for him to be back in Germany. He didn't intially realize his unconscious unconventional coping mechanisms set you off too, until he did, and he was at your side if you ever needed something. Helping you wasn't a big deal as far as he was concerned; he didn't have the capacity for afflictive empathy to get particularly tired of it. He'd stare at you with a limited calculative look as he tried to think of what might make his (..work)partner a little better.

Oh, staring? It was a natural habit of his to unabashedly look right in the eyes of people he considered safe/close. Just outside he tried to keep his anonymity, but here he offered to also hide his face or something indoors whilst he checked himself for that habit. Wouldn't be anything new.

Neither was finding the right words to avoid misconception/upset; casually, calmly squashing any worries.

Or when he kept bouncing his leg after being in too long when he sat, and you met eyes whilst fidgeting yourself. Yeah, no-one needed to say it to know it was time to go out.

Just two solid, fit foreigners with inconsistent tan lines. Yeah, no pressure. Played it off as his American other-half visiting for the summer holiday, or something. Not that he at all minded. An older couple observing you when he used his nickname for you (it..just meant star, right?); when he put his hand on your back to guide you somewhere less dodgy; or when you both stood close like you liked him to inconspicuously mutter information. In one of those moments you thought he might be a bit too much of a natural at this.

But you couldn't exactly leave each-other; he spared the details but let you know the faces to look for. And when his description trailed off, he tried drawing instead. Uh, yeah, no offence, but you couldn't tell what that was. You tried instead for him, kind of like a police sketch artist. Regardless of whether you drew often or not, he'd walk a little closer in interest, hand on the back of your seat to look over your shoulder with an impressed noise. "You made them too handsome, sternchen. That-oh yeah, much better." He'd joke.

Art was a pretty good way to fill the time. Alongside Krueger teaching you a little German to apply it later- maybe at a till. If you wanted to buy paints or something, go crazy. Company money, right? Fashion was fun, too. Unsure if you'd ever get the opportunity again to have packed nice-nice clothes for a job. Unlike him; he was underdressed compared to you. Sometimes literally.

Whenever the sunlight beamed in through your little window at the right time of day, he'd lay in it like a cat, sleeveless/ shirtless if you were comfortable. Men. Which was of note since he couldn't exactly flash them outside, but aside from the few scars (a couple of which you remember how he got them.) he had some cool (..?) tattoos. Shame he couldn't get one from you. Not that he'd back out if you busted out the ol' stick and poke. But hey, plenty of empty space left for illustratory practice to bide the time?

Time seemed to go quicker. Krueger singing under his breath around the small flat-thing as he tried to occupy himself; laying next to you on the floor when you felt bad; routine window sunbathing; eagerly crafting an elaborate game with you via worryingly stacked things from around the place just to take aggressive turns with each-other making it break everywhere and fall. It was the human equivalent of two ping pong balls in a box. His stories being your podcast as you did art; him sitting still-ish for you and being amused by the cute bow he'd been awarded to his bicep (not that he could compare to your style); loosely giving his hands back to you behind his head so you could fidget with or hold them, whatever you want.

If you liked him back? He confidently didn't think it was just an act of care anymore from the way your gaze lingered on him- which he reciprocated. He'd speak back calmly and try to hide the twitch of a smile with a satisfied tilt back of his head.

He'd hold you like he would've done anyway if you needed him, with the added flair of lulling his head to rest against next to yours as he calmly talked your ear off before bed. Maybe as he lightly traced your cheek where his hand laid, if he felt braver.

Your shared enemies always seemed to go down harder, more violently. Other operators caught snarky comments.

You weren't quite sure how it'd all come to an official head, or not. But as far as you were concerned, with your head on his shoulder, it wasn't too bad to be assigned with Sebastian Krueger.

#cod matchup #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #sebastian krueger #cod krueger #krueger x reader #ive done priv keegs/anon 2k now krueger/anon 2k #holy crapoli #jamies next then gemini lady >:D #im nervouuuseeeee #keep readings broken omfg its fucking w my POST #64sshit

[fruitys-kin-help]

Welcome to my My Little Pony kin help blog!

Hello! You can call me Pixel or Night Peak. I use he/they and as you can guess, I am MLPkin :3

Doubles are welcome, but I mainly just kin an OC named Night Peak lol. Click read more to see exactly what I do here!

I make things for various types of MLPkin, mostly G4 and Equestria Girls since thats what I'm most familiar with. But I'm also happy to make things for G1, G2, G3, original characters, and AUs! Pretty much anything MLP related.

Unfortunately due to personal preference I will most likely not do anything for G5, but if you like G5/are somepony from G5 you're still more than welcome to interact! I have nothing against you its just that G5 as a concept makes me feel kind of sad since everypony I knew is gone. Its hard to just think of it as an AU or something to cope, for me.

Will happily do ship related things as long as its not minor x adult or incest, just because that stuff makes me very uncomfortable and the former is a trigger for me.

Please be patient when waiting for requests as I am not feeling well lately and I don't think I'm getting better any time soon. I'll get to your request as soon as possible 💖

Requests I Do:

- Pride flags color picked from your kin

- Icons

- Replycons/reply icons

- Stimboards

- Name and/or pronoun recommendations

- Username/URL recommendations

- Care kits

- Cutie mark PNGs (I'll draw and/or design your cutie mark for you! If you already have a reference pic please send it in your ask 💖)

- Screenshot edits/base edits of kinsonas and/or OCs (I can only do ponies for this one for now, sorry! If you have a specific screenshot or base you want me to edit, let me know in your request! Its preferred if you have a picture for me to reference already but if not then please give me a very detailed description 💖)

- Original art drawings of your kinsona/OC (Just you drawn in my original art style, NOT a base or screenshot edit. Please specify if you want this or an edit when you send your ask!)

- Recipes for MLP themed food/food ponies specifically might eat (Some I make but most I find online)

- Will happily post kinfessions, canon calls, and Discord server/kin blog promos as well, as long as its all MLP related 💖

Note: If you're not MLPkin or you want to request something for another character/something else, I have an icons blog @fruitypiconsq and a stim blog @fruitypiestims you can request from!

I think that's everything! If I need to add more then I will. Happy requesting!

Other credits ;; For things not made by me, anything uncredited is either by me or credited in the original post where its used

Dividers: firefly-graphics

#mlp kin #mlpkin #my little pony kin #ponykin #fictionkin #kin help #mlp #my little pony #kinblr #my stuff