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#not unless its a whole new group
sightofsea · 2 years
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i think its interesting when accidentally coming across a t*rf’s blog that the new point of topic amongst them is to be very vehemently anti-surrogacy
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gefiltefished · 28 days
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prokopetz · 2 months
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Code Green
A game for 3–7 players, about being where you're not supposed to be.
Last night, you were suspended in a tube of brightly coloured goo in an underground research facility, operated by an organisation whose three-letter initialism's meaning is strictly need-to-know. This morning, someone noticed your tube was empty. Nobody has determined how that happened yet, and you're not inclined to stick around until they figure it out!
Or, in other words, it's been nearly a whole week since I got that massive revision to Space Gerbils out the door, and apparently my brain has decided that's enough of a break. This thing was written start to finish in under 12 hours, so let the circumstances of its authorship guide your expectations. Special thanks go once again to Caro Asercion, whose micro-RPG Dwindle introduced me to the design space I'm fucking around with here. Go buy their stuff.
Anyway:
What You'll Need
Code Green is a tabletop RPG for one game moderator (GM) and up to six players. Each player will need a copy of the Profile Grid, below, as well as three tokens of some sort: dice, coins, beads, etc. You'll also need at least five six-sided dice (for the whole group, not per player, though it's fine if each player has their own set). If you're using dice for tokens, it's recommended that the dice you plan to roll be visually distinguishable in case they land on someone's Profile Grid.
Rolling Dice
There are two ways you'll be asked to roll dice in this game: rolling d66, and rolling a dice pool.
To roll d66, roll a six-side die twice, reading the first roll as the "tens" place and the second roll as the "ones" place, yielding a number in the range from 11 to 66. For example, if you rolled a 3 and then a 5, your result is 35. You may also be asked to flip a d66 roll; to do this, take your result and swap the digits without re-rolling. In the preceding example, if you flipped your roll of 35, your new result would be 53.
To roll a dice pool, pick up the indicated number of six-side dice, roll them, and take the highest individual result. Duplicates have no special significance. For example, if you rolled a pool of three dice and got a 2, a 4, and a 4, your result would be 4. If you would ever roll a pool of zero or fewer dice, roll two dice and take the lowest instead.
Character Creation
Each player should create their own character. There are three things about your character which are always true:
You are newly born into the world. You may know things about the world (e.g., from your programming, having read them on a computer terminal, etc.), but you haven't experienced them.
You are implausibly good at remaining inconspicuous; unless you're deliberately drawing attention or doing something which requires a dice roll, humans will almost always fail to spot you.
You are not human. You can decide what that means.
To find out what else is true about your character, roll or choose three times from the Form table, and three times from the Function table, placing your results into the correspondingly labelled slots on the Profile Grid, below, in any order you please. Your three results from each table should be different; if you elected to roll and get the same entry multiple times, flip your result, and re-roll if it's still a duplicate.
Think about what your three Form traits and three Function traits imply about your character's physical makeup, but don't set anything in stone just yet – you'll see why not in a moment.
Finally, roll a six-sided die five times, and record the results in the order in which they're received. The resulting five-digit number is the only name your character has when play begins.
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Table 1: Form (d66)
11–12. Blood 13–14. Bones 15–16. Brain 21–22. Claws 23–24. Ears 25–26. Eyes 31–32. Guts 33–34. Hands 35–36. Heart 41–42. Hair 43–44. Legs 45–46. Lungs 51–52. Nose 53–54. Skin 55–56. Tail 61–62. Teeth 63–64. Tongue 65–66. Wings
Table 2: Function (d66)
11–12. Accelerated 13–14. Autonomous 15–16. Auxiliary 21–22. Cryogenic 23–24. Cryptic 25–26. Elastic 31–32. Electric 33–34. Entropic 35–36. Invasive 41–42. Invulnerable 43–44. Kinetic 45–46. Magnetic 51–52. Phasing 53–54. Polymorphic 55–56. Projectile 61–62. Pyrogenic 63–64. Telescopic 65–66. Toxic
Playing the Game
Play proceeds in a series of scenes. In each scene, the GM will set the stage: a challenge to overcome, a peril to escape, a mystery to investigate, etc. Given the nature of your characters, most things will be mysteries to you!
Initial Token Placement
Once the stage has been set, place each of your three tokens on a different square on your Profile Grid. If you have no preference, you can roll d66 for each token and place it in the square whose marked numeric range contains the number you rolled, flipping or re-rolling your result if you get a square which already contains a token. The placement of these tokens represents your initial state when the scene opens. Depending on the nature of your character, this may be reflected by a shifting of internal focus, or by a physical transformation.
Participation
To participate in the scene, simply tell the GM what your character does; the GM will describe how the world responds, and ask what you do next. Whenever you wish – or are forced – to do something more than lurk and observe, you are obliged to make a test.
Making Tests
To make a test, first choose a pair of traits – one Form trait, and one Function trait – with which to face the challenge. For example, if your Form traits are Legs, Tail and Teeth, and your Function traits are Cryptic, Invulnerable and Phasing, you might test your Invulnerable Legs against the trouble at hand.
Next, count the number of tokens present in the rows extending from each of the chosen traits. The illustration below shows which squares would be consulted in the preceding example:
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Next, roll a dice pool containing a number of dice equal to the number of tokens present on squares extending from the chosen traits. Do not count a token twice if it's on the square where the two traits intersect (e.g., the green square in the illustration above). In the event that no tokens fall on squares extending from appropriate traits, remember that you are allowed to roll a pool of zero dice by rolling two dice and taking the lowest rather than the highest.
Finally, compare your result to the following table:
1–3. Less than human. Whatever you'd intended to try still happens, but it cannot overcome human opposition (or adversity which would challenge a typical human), and any lasting effects are transitory and easily explained away. 4–5. Mostly human. Your effort can contend with human opposition (or circumstances which would challenge a competent human), and its lasting effects make it obvious that someone (or something) has been interfering with matters. 6. More than human. Your effort easily brushes aside any human opposition, and its lasting effects are impossible to rationalise as anything other than the intervention of inhuman forces.
Without Applicable Traits
In the event that you're forced to make a test and no possible pairing of your traits is applicable, you don't get to roll anything, not even with a pool of zero dice; simply resolve the outcome as though you'd rolled a result of 1–3. Other characters may attempt to preserve you from this fate by assisting you, in which case you roll one die per assisting friend; see below for more details.
Assistance
If you wish to assist another character in making a test, consult your own Profile Grid, considering only those squares which contain tokens. Only the specific pairs of traits represented by the squares on which your tokens fall are eligible for assistance; for example, if one of your tokens falls on the intersection of Cryptic and Teeth, you may assist with Cryptic Teeth, but not any other pair of traits involving Cryptic or Teeth unless those squares also have tokens on them.
If you're able to identify an eligible pair of traits that seems applicable to the test at hand, explain how you're using it to help, and hand the player making the test one extra die. Any number of characters may assist on a given test.
Providing assistance neither requires nor permits your character to adapt (see below) – it needs to be your own test for that!
Adapting
After resolving a test, your character adapts, shifting focus or form to reflect what they've learned. Take one token of your choice from your character sheet, and move it to a different square which doesn't already contain one. You can move any token you wish, but it must end up on a different square than the one it started on unless no valid destinations are available. Adapting is not optional, and must be carried out after every test.
Suffering Strain
If whatever you're making a test against is particularly strenuous or dangerous, you might suffer strain as a consequence. Strain will often be incurred on a result of 1–3, and rarely on a result of 4–5; only the most foolhardy efforts will incur strain even on a result of 6!
To incur strain, roll d66, and place a small X on the square on your Profile Grid whose indicated numeric range contains the number you rolled. If there's a token on that square, immediately move it to an empty square of your choice, unless fewer than three unmarked squares now remain; in that case, simply remove the token entirely.
For the remainder of the scene, tokens may not be moved to any marked square. In addition, if you suffer further strain, and the square indicated by your d66 roll is already marked, your character is incapacitated, and may not participate in tests at all until they recover.
All strain is cleared – and any discarded tokens restored – at the end of each scene. Incapacitated characters also recover at this time.
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ageingfangirl2 · 5 months
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You Have A Guest! Mihawk (OPLA)
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Shanks shows up uninvited to Mihawk's home and is surprised to find you, and even more surprised when he finds out the two of you are engaged. What did Mihawk do to deserve his peace being shattered? Mihawk x Reader (Female)
You were tidying up the kitchen after bringing in vegetables from the patch outside when three loud knocks make you jump. You pop your head out of the kitchen door and stare down the hallway towards the front door, not expecting any guests unless Mihawk had forgotten to tell you. You shake your head, your fiancé didn't forget anything, but then who was at the door? This island wasn't easy to get to and not many people knew its location.
You walk towards the front door brushing imaginary creases out of your dress, because even if the person on the other side was bad you always wanted to look your best.
You open the door and smile, 'Hi, who--'
'You're not Mihawk,' a tall red-haired man says cutting you off, staring at you as if you were something to be gawked at, eyes lingering a little too long on your chest which made you uncomfortable.
Another man, this one had grey hair slaps the red-haired man across the back of the head, 'manners captain, apologies miss,' he flashes you a smile.
You nod, 'Err thank you, now who are you guys?'
The red-haired man rubs his head before reaching out his one hand which you shake, 'I'm Shanks and this is my crew. Now who are you, pretty lady?'
'I'm y/n, Mihawk is my fiancé,' you answer.
'fiancé!' the group of men shout in unison, shock written across their faces.
MIHAWK
Soft knocks at my office door draw my attention away from the tedious documents on my desk, the knocks could only belong to one person, and I needed someone to put me in a better mood right now.
'Come in darling,' I call out.
The door opens and my stunning fiancé walks in, wearing the new dress I'd gotten them. My whole aesthetic was dark, but y/n looked beautiful in white, the angel to my devil. I motion them to come towards me.
They approach my side and the scent of their light floral perfume calms me down, as I slip an arm around their waist pulling them even closer.
y/n runs their fingers through my hair, 'I hate seeing you stressed, so I might not have the best news for you.'
I blink at them and smile, 'You could never stress me out, darling. What's the news?'
y/n sighs, 'You have a guest downstairs.'
'...impossible...' I reply, racking my mind but coming up blank.
'They said their name was Shanks, and his crew is also with him--'
'...FUCK!...' I curse loudly.
y/n gasps not used to hearing me curse, wiggles out of my grip, crouches down so our eyes meet, and gently reaches out a hand to touch my cheek, 'Are you okay?'
I take their hand and bring it to my lips, kissing each knuckle, 'sorry for scaring you darling, I wasn't expecting him to show up. Did he say anything to you?'
y/n bites their lip, 'he stared a little too long at my chest but a nice man called Benn hit him. Are they your friends?'
I managed to keep my anger under control, wanting to kill Shanks for making my fiancé uncomfortable but felt a little better knowing Benn was more mature than his captain. I snort at the notion of calling Shanks and his crew my friends, acquaintances at best, I could only just about tolerate the man while he liked to annoy me.
y/n clears their throat, 'Mihawk baby say something.'
I snap out of my thoughts, 'Sorry, again, I'll make it up to you later. They just stress me out whenever they come around.'
y/n pouts and puffs out their chest, 'Now you've got me to back you up. I might be small and nice to everyone, but I'm not scared to put a pirate or two in their place.'
My smile turns into a smirk, 'that's my girl. I guess we better go and be hosts.'
y/n had their scary moments and had made grown men cry when we were out together, I kind of wanted the smug satisfaction of watching Shanks and his crew cower before her. The years of being a teacher had shaped y/n into a force to be reckoned with.
TIMESKIP
It hadn't taken long for Shanks to make a mess, and having joked about y/n being a sweetheart and too good for me, when y/n snapped I genuinely saw fear on his face because like me y/n could be calm but their words cut deep.
As we sat around eating, Shanks sitting as far away from y/n as possible and avoiding all eye contact, I kissed the top of y/n's head which was leaning against my chest. They look up at me with a warm drunken expression pausing their conversation with Lucky about food.
'I love you darling,' I whisper, just loud enough for them to hear over the chatter.
They blush, 'I love you more Mihawk.'
I didn't want anyone knowing about y/n and me, and Benn told me on behalf of Shanks they would keep our secret because it was nice to have a quiet captain for once. I'd be happier once they left so I could go back to my peaceful life with y/n. The next time they showed up we wouldn't answer the door.
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scremogirl · 5 months
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☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ✧✰☀︎︎
𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧
Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader
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Mentions of blood! Mentions of Death! Mentions of mutilation! Mentions of Murder, GN! Reader, NReader/Diolouge uses a lot of black colloquialisms/AAVE *slightlyyyy black coded but only for the speaking bits. NO APPERANCE MENTIONED!* READ THE NOTE AT THE END PLZ! (●’◡’●)ノ Part 2 here Part 3 here
Halloween.
The day where people grasp the fact that the summer's over and the seasons have finally changed. Corny decorations on front porches, masks in windows to scare unaware customers, and people dressed as slutty cartoon characters.
You loved the last one. You’ve always worked hard on your costumes; from a small cameo in the school yearbook to entering contests and pageants. You loved fashion, everything about it. The different fabrics, colors, patterns; you cherished it all. So, it’s no wonder that’s what you’ve chosen as your destined career path. You somehow managed to get into the third most prestigious fashion school. I say third because the first one you applied for, was full of egotistical French exchange students who do nothing but compare their lives at home to their lives in America. The second… well, you don’t want to talk about it. Regardless, you’re so grateful your talents have been recognized.
That leads us to now. At the biggest fright fest of the year. Your professor decided that if everyone got at least a 95% or above on the unit test, he’d take the whole class on a field trip to the annual Freak do Shek Carnival. A free trip and creating a new costume? You’ve never studied harder in your life. You spent days working on your costume; hoping to win the annual costume contest.
“Breaking news! The killer know as the “Mask Maker” is still on the loose and is currently suspected to be in the Witchwood area. It is recommended for all residents to stay indoors travel in groups-,”
Your heart sinks.
No, no, no! Why does it have to be now? Why here? The area you lived in was one of the safest in the city! Police patrolled regularly, security systems were available to all, and most people have been traveling in groups these days. So, why? You look at your friend, Malika, who no doubt received the same alert as you did, judging by her face.
“Well what the hell are we supposed to do now!?” She yells in frustration. You all have arrived at the festival and the bus has already taken its leave. Unless you call an Uber, there’s no way out; but then again, with a killer on the loose, no person would be dumb enough to let any stranger in their car. You tell your teacher your concerns, but does he listen? No.
“We’ll be fine,” , “just travel in groups,” , and “make sure you check in with everyone at least every 15 minutes,” is all he says to shake your worries. Great job by the way. With that, he goes ahead with another one of the chaperones, probably on their way to get drunk on cheap beer and look at young girls. Pig.
“I know I ain’t stayin for damn sure,” you chuckle at Malikas abrasiveness and nod your head in agreement.
“Who’s gonna pick us up though? We all came here on a bus and no Lift driver is stupid enough to let strangers in at this time,” you both sigh and end up agreeing that she’d call her boyfriend to come get you. The only downside is he lives in the next county. That means 3 whole hours plus some that you two have to try and rid your paranoia.
“How ‘bout we go check out the costume display for the upcoming show? Maybe scope out some the competition?”
“You know what Malika, that sounds like a great idea,” she holds out her arm and you take it , laughing your way down the hay covered dirt path wearily dodging scare actors. Unbeknownst to you the glowing eyes of one of the masks are filled with anything but fake intent.
“Hey, Mal? Is he on the way yet?” You two have already viewed the display, concrete knowing you’re gonna knock everyone at the park. So you decided that maybe a little sightseeing wouldn’t be that bad.
“Ugh! He said he’s on his way but knowing him, that means he just got in the shower,” with a deep sigh she puts her phone back in her pocket.
“Look,” she continues
“ How about we go get something to eat and enjoy what we can. I mean, we did wait all year for this,” you’re a little hesitant but you end up caving; fried oreos do sound good right now.
The walk to the concession stands is filled with jump scares from actors, Jack, o lanterns illuminating your path and the laughter of children and adults a like. The environment reminds you of why you came here in the first place, maybe there is nothing to be worried about.
Oof!
“Oh I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” to wrapped up in the scenery and nostalgia, you failed to notice one of the actors scrambling by. You hear the muffled laughter of Malika and try your best not to strangle her to cover up your embarrassment. Fortunately , it was just the water that spilled on them; Unfortunately, your oreos lay spread eagle on the ground. However, even with a soaked costume and powdered sugar all over their boots, they remain in character. Only giving you a tilt of the head, a grunt, and tightening their grip on their axe. The eyes that lay behind the papier-mâché mask boar deep into your soul, the white contacts holding something deep and dark. The feeling of guilt is slowly washed away and replaced with anxiousness. Man, they're getting employee of the month. Still, you feel bad so you grab the napkins from your back pocket and gently wipe their mask, some of the fake blood coming off along with the water. Hmm, these effects are off the chain too.
As you clean them up you can’t help but to think that they’ll join the costume contest, definitely giving you a run for your money. You're snapped out of your thoughts when Malika pulls you along the road, whining about how upset she is because she didn’t get to snag one of your Oreos. Making your leave, you look over your shoulder one last time, only to find those same white eyes trailing your figure.
My god, you're even more beautiful up close.
“Personally, if that happened to me I’d kill myself,” once again, your friends laughter snapped you outta your own mind. You just giggle and brush it off.
“Shut up! It’s not like I did it on purpose! Besides he was kinda fine not gon’ hold you,”
“I know right! the way he titled his, had a tear running down my leg not gon’ lie,”
“Girl… don’t you gotta man? Like… on his way here?”
“Shhhh don’t ruin the fantasy,”
Two hours have officially passed, the same old texts between Malika and her boyfriend, this time however he was actually in the car. She had pressed him to turn on his location for safety, you could never be too sure now can you? He should’ve been here by now but with how crowded the festival is getting, you can’t blame him. Thankfully, the contest is just about to start! Going against your better judgment, you and Malika thought that being apart for about 15-20 mins wouldn’t hurt. She’ll be waiting in the audience while you go change anyways.
Rushing to the changing rooms you fail to notice another contestant coming towards you just as fast. For the second time this night you managed to bump into someone.
“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean I-,”
“Watch where you’re going bitch! Y’know how long it took me to make this thing?” You look to the left and then to the right trying to figure out who the fuck they think they’re talking too.
“Look I didn’t mean it, I’m sorr-,”
“Yea yea whatever, just stay outta my way next time. Besides, it’s not like you're gonna win this thing anyways,” just before you were about to give them a piece of your mind, the manager stepped in and separated you two. Jeez now this is gonna take even longer than you expected. You thought it was only fair to let Malika know shoot her a quick text. “No worries, babe! Gill's location says he’s here already so Imma grab us a quick bite to eat before I look for him and we head to you. See ya soonnn❤︎︎!!!”
Good; that buys you just enough time. After getting changed and checking your reflection for the hundredth time, you step out feeling as confident as ever. Just as you exit the stall, you hear the worst blood curdling scream of your entire life. You look over to your right and see that asshole from early and that guy with the really nice axe murder costume. Your eyes have to be deceiving you! One of their legs is completely severed, blood dripping from the stub left behind. Slash marks, deep and crooked, adorn their arms and remaining leg. They Look as if their limbs could snap off at the slightest breeze. They cry and groan as they reach out to you. Following their eyes the crazed murder shifts his eyes to you. Their weapon of choice freezing in their hands mid swing. Their victim continues to moan in pain and crawl away, begging and pleading for someone to save them. But…you just laugh.
“I see what you're trynna do here, and it ain’t workin’. Your costume is good but it isn’t better than mine. Assholes,” the last part is mumbled under your breath as you walk away. Even though you presented yourself in this prideful manner, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that bubbles inside you. You tried really hard this year, let’s just hope that everyone else thinks you did too.
CHOP
Finally. Holding up the severed head he smiles, crooked and eerie. The bitch wouldn’t stop screaming, but at least he gets to see the look of fear in their face forever.
“Hey! What the hell’re you doing!?” hm? Turning around he sees the manager from earlier, standing before him with wide eyes filled with shock and anger. He can’t have his plans be ruined by a little slip up! He didn’t mean to act so impulsive but he couldn’t help. Nobody talks to you like that; not if he had something to do about it. Swinging his weapon of choice up on his shoulder, he’s about to take a step before he’s interrupted.
“Didn't I tell you guys to keep all spare props in bags because of the fake blood?! It gets everywhere and I’m the one who has to clean it up!” They shoved him to the side before grabbing a large trash bag from the cart they lugged behind them; simultaneously grabbing a mop and bucket. Continue to grumble about how “they don’t get paid enough for this” and “all the newbies are irresponsible”. But hey, free disposal.
“Sh, sh it’s okay; it was never your fault,” you tried comforting her but to no luck. All she can see is red as the burning hot tears streaming from her eyes ruin the makeup she spent so long on
“Okay?! It’s not okay (Y/N)! He said he was stuck in traffic all the while he was toungin’ down some bitch in a slutty cat costume. Very unoriginal btw!” You try to keep your giggle in for her sake. You kept trying to tell her this idiot wasn’t any good for years but nooo “the dick was too good to let go,” and apparently, someone else thought so too. Her weeping continues before she builds up the courage to speak again.
“All I wanna do is go home; fuck this competition,” you smile seeing her personality shine through her sadness just a little.
“Yea, fuck this competition,”sure you’re sad about to being able to participate this year, but with your best friend in distress and a serial killer on the loose, you can’t help but to think that maybe you could wait until next year. Ordering the Uber, you suggest that before it gets here, you should check in with your teacher first. Of course you don’t have his number and you're sure your other classmates are not worried about their phones unless they’re snapping pics and recording for their stories . You send them a quick text to your classes group chat and look for the exit.
“He really is a dick, you don’t need him,”
“Yea, I know. Besides, maybe that axe guy will take care of him for me,” she giggles but you don’t find it funny at all.
“What?”
“Yea, I saw him outta the corner of my eye when I walked in on he who shall not be named about to fuck that other girl,” she rolls her eyes and continues walking but you remain stationary.
“You gotta be joking,“ she turns around and gives you a quizzical look so you continue further.
“He and another dickhead I bumped into put on this whole show to get me to drop outta the contest. Lost limbs, fake blood and everything. I don’t know what his problem is, but he needs to leave me the fuck alone before I get the manager, on some Karen shit”
“Now that I think about it, he has been high-tailing us ever since we’ve got here,” she freezes before looking at you dead on. She wipes away the tear stains and brushes her nose against her sleeve before scanning the area.
“You don’t think it’s Kee-,”
“No! Don’t. It’s not him. It couldn’t be,” she holds up her hands in defense before pulling you along to get the hell up outta here. It goes dead silent, tension filling the air. It couldn't be him! It’s just some rando whos jealous of your skill! But…your mind was just playing tricks on you. That feeling of paranoia started to rise again and the flashbacks felt like they were hitting you in waves. She saw this and decided to speak up before it got worse.
“Hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I really didn’t mean to-,” this time it’s your turn to cut her off. You offer her a light smile and hold her hand in yours before squeezing.
“It’s alright. Besides, who needs men anyways. You’re all I need,” she gives you an even brighter one, her usual self returning, before squeezing just as hard, laying her head on your shoulder while you walk.
“Yea, fuck men,” you two laugh in sync before changing the conversation to what you’ll do when you get home; maybe a Horror movie marathon and some junk food will cheer you up. Who cares, the night has just begun for you and there’s no way anything was gonna ruin it.
Watching you walk away a gloved hand slams into a tree. Dammit! You won’t get away so easily. You’re his. Nobody else’s. He’ll make sure of it. Starting with her.
Hello everyone!!!! Hope you enjoyed the first part of my Halloween special. I’m breaking this down into 3 parts because I’m afraid people will think it’s too long if I put the whole thing on tumblr. I will be making an Ao3 and the whole fic will be posted without any split up. When it’s created and up I’ll let you know. Hope you enjoyed Loves!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎.
-Love, Sosa❤️
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mochinomnoms · 5 months
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Hi hi friend,
If it is not too much trouble I would like to make a request for your event? I think I would like Floyd with prompt 14- “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!”
They/them for Yuu is fine with me, I was thinking romantic? Where maybe it's obvious to everyone but Yuu how requited their feelings are.
I've really liked reading your writing and hope you continue to have fun doing it (♡°▽°♡)
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floyd leech x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, mutual pining [wc} – 3,659 prompt 14: “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!” note - hahahahahhahahahahaha i did not mean to write so much but i went a little buckwild and i think floyd deserves to be allowed to be soft sometimes a floral inconvenience
Lavender roses - Introduced in 1900, lavender roses represent love at first sight. They’re often given to someone to convey that the giver was immediately smitten and fell in love. 
You’d decided to attend a karaoke event the Mostro Lounge was hosting to introduce the new spring menu. It was meant to be a nice, relaxing hangout with your friends from Heartslaybul as you listened to your friends attempt to show off their mediocre singing skills. 
Ace was in an especially good mood, happy to tease you as you waved happily at Floyd, who’d returned your affections. 
“Oi, oi, oiiiiiii, Prefect? When you gonna say something? Kinda tired of dealing with you puking petals every—OW!”
You snorted as Deuce smacked Ace upside the head, muttering about him being an asshole. 
“Leave them alone Ace, unless you want to be collared for harassing a member of the student body?” Riddle reprimanded, giving Ace a harsh glare as he turned to you instead. 
“You can ignore him, Prefect, you don’t have to say anything to that good-for-nothing merman! I’m sure you could do much better anyways.”
You chuckled, enjoying the soft banter between the group. It was particularly nice seeing Riddle interact more casually with his peers, even if you weren’t able to convince him to sing with you. 
“Are you sure you do want to go up with me?” You pouted leaning in close to the red-headed housewarden. “I’ll even let you pick the song—”
“Out of the question.”
You sighed, resting against the plush cushions of the booth while Ace and Deuce bicker about which song would be better for a duet. This was nice. 
It was nice, up until Floyd decided to take part in the festivities. Somehow he’d snuck behind you and Riddle, snatching up your friend with a gleeful cackle as he screeched. 
“FLOYD! PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT—”
“Nah, it’s fine Goldfishie, I need ya for just a sec!”
Floyd placed Riddle in a seat, front and center at the stage, as he climbed up. The cool blue spotlight suited Floyd’s features as he grinned. 
Picking up the mic from its stand, Floyd announced, “Alright! This song is for my favorite little fishie in the whole entire school, so you all better enjoy it!”
You expected him to start singing a silly pop song, one with high energy and beats. Or one that became a meme on Magicam last week, something about flamingos and turning pink. 
Instead, the upbeat, suave tunes of a familiar song started playing. A familiar love song. 
“Is…is this ABBA?”
“Who?” Cater asked, recording the scene with a stifling giggle as Riddle turned redder and redder in embarrassment (and most likely rage) as Floyd continued to serenade him. 
“This is ‘Lay Your Love’ by BABA, a classic from the 80s—”
“No it’s called ABBA back home—wait, WHY IS FLOYD SINGING A LOVE SONG TO RIDDLE!?”
Your screech startled the surrounding tables, drawing attention that you were too jealous to focus on. Floyd made eye contact with you, hearing your yelling. Continuing to sing—quite nicely you’d hate to admit—the eel mer winked and smirked, drawing an ire that you didn’t know you had. 
“What the hell? Floyd!” With the vindication of a scorned lover, you stomped to the stage and swiped the microphone from Floyd’s hands. 
“Floyd, what are you doing?” you spoke into the mic, glaring daggers at the tall beanpole of an eel turned man, who looked unbothered at your angry presence.
Floyd took the mic back and answered, “I’m trying to win my mate back—DON’T GO WASTING—”
“What mate?” You yanked the mic back while Floyd followed suit, though this time you kept both hands on. It became a tugging match as you both tried speaking into the mic before the other took it back. 
“Goldfishie.” You could hear Riddle scream at that. 
“Riddle’s not your mate! I’m your mate—” You snapped your mouth shut, the mic feedback and your last words echoing through the lounge, mocking you. 
Floyd had a large, smug grin on his face, his sharp teeth gleaming under the bright lights of the stage. You were now very aware of the packed lounge, and of the students spectating. 
The mic was slowly pulled back to Floyd, who gleefully asked “Oh~ Say that again?”
“Nuh-uh.” 
You shook your head furiously, trying to pull back in order to run off and curl into a hole from embarrassment. Floyd’s grip on the mic and your hands tightened, preventing your escape. 
“That’s fiiine,” Floyd pulled out a small device from his pocket, lightly tapping it on the mic. “I have it riiiight ‘ere.” 
Suddenly, a recording of your voice looped into the mic: 
“I’m your mate—I’m your mate—I’m your mate—”
He recorded it. 
“Oh my god…” You looked at Floyd in horror, who was still grinning ear to ear, like a cat that got the mouse. 
“HehehehehehahahAHAHA!” Floyd’s giggle turned into a cackle as he launched at you, mic and recorder abandoned on the floor. Between the ear-splitting squeal of the mic hitting the ground and a 6’2” man tackling you, there was little time for you to defend yourself as your lips clashed, teeth clattering against one another from the brute force.
His long arms wrapped themselves tightly around your waist, dipping you down dramatically as he broke your kiss to instead leave wet kisses on your cheeks, nose, forehead, and every other piece of skin not covered by clothes. 
Ace and Cater’s cackles could be heard amongst the now growing laughter, whistles, and jeers of the crowd. You think you could even make out someone yelling at your two to get a room. 
“—off the stage! Get off the stage, both of you!” 
Ah, it was Azul. Who was stomping over the shoo you both off the stage, giving Floyd a particularly harsh whack on the head with his staff. 
“Ow, fuck that hurt!” Floyd whined, scooping you up with his left hand and cradling you to his chest. “Cool it Azul, don’t harsh my vibe—”
“I don’t care! Go make out in your room! This is a lounge not a brothel!”
“Fiiiiiine,” Floyd adjusted his grip to instead throw you over his shoulder, amused by how limp you’d gone in his grasp. “Come on Shrimpy! I got something fun in mind~”
His sentence and teasing tone made you flush, images of you and him in bed flashing through your mind. 
“W-wait, Floyd, what are we gonna do?”
“You’ll see, ahahahehe!” Floyd’s giggled echoed through the hallway as he quickened his pace. It was only a few minutes before you realized that you two had made it to the dormitory halls. 
Floyd kicked open his door, the hinges squeaking from the force. He marched over to his bed, grabbing at your waist to no doubt throw you on it before pausing. 
“Oh yeah.” Like a sudden realization hitting him, Floyd grabbed the corner of his bedsheets and shook them, clothing, books, and crumbs no doubtedly flying off. 
Once satisfied, Floyd hummed and once again grabbed your waist, this time committing to throwing you on the bed, which bounced under you. 
“AaaAaaAAAah—FLOYD!” You yelped, face turning redder as Floyd caged you to the bed. He looked at you with a hungry expression, licking his lips at the sight of you. 
“Wait-wait Floyd, gimme a sec—” you stammered, crawling backwards until your back hit the headboard. “—this is all very very sudden, I—wait!”
Floyd crawled after you, trapping you with his long arms, leaning down until his lips were lingering over yours. You shut your eyes in anticipation, waiting for his hands to grab at your clothes and tear them off. 
A soft, tender meeting of the lips. Floyd pressed his mouth against yours, swiping his tongue into your mouth, to which you returned with flustered confusion. The kiss was with such gentleness that you had to open your eyes to confirm that it was indeed Floyd kissing you. 
Olive and yellow eyes were closed, a blissful smile on his lips as he broke your kiss, instead pressing almost chaste pecks to your cheeks, down, your neck, and over your shirt where your heart was beating away. 
Floyd pressed his right ear to your chest, listening to the increasingly rapid pounding against your rib cage. His arms moved from trapping you against the bed to trapping you against his body, wrapping around your back and tightening while his lanky legs tangled between yours. 
You weren’t sure what to do with your own hands, once he had settled laying on you. Hesitantly, you reached to lace them through his hair, pushing the strands back to get a better view of his peaceful face. Admittedly, seeing Floyd in such a state, blissful and sweet, was beautiful. 
His smile grew slightly as you combed through his hair, nuzzling his nose into your chest. Into your heart really. 
“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Floyd opened his yellow eye, gleaming at you in amusement. “I just wanted to cuddle, did ya have somethin’ else in mind? Haha!”
He moved to prop up his chin, smirking at you as he teased, “Didn’t think ya had sucha dirty mind, if you wanna ‘do it’, all you had to do was ask—”
You shoved his face back into your chest looking away in embarrassment, feeling his giggles vibrate through you. 
“Shut up, ugh!” You pouted, grumbling, “You set me up! Ugh! How’d you even know that would work?”
“I heard you.”
“Huh?”
“Talkin’ to Lil Goldfishie,” Floyd moved so that instead of laying on top of you, he was curled into your side with his head nestled at the crook of your neck. “When you got the flower sickness.” 
You looked at him with shock. That conversation with Riddle happened nearly three months ago in between classes. 
Specifically, it happened a few weeks after winter break, when you were catching up Riddle to your “adventure” in Scarabia, after which small lavender roses started blooming along your freckles, their thorns scratching your skin.
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“And then, he launched us waaaaaay into the desert!” You animatedly waved your arms around as you recounted your fiasco over winter break. “We were trapped, but then Kalim used his unique magic to fill a dry riverbed with water and then!”
Riddle raised a brow at you as you began gigging with a soft blush. “Jade and Floyd had to turn into their merforms, so me and Kalim had to hold on to his back, but when I wrapped my arms around his chest, and he held my hand to steady me! ”
Your friend rolled his eyes as you started to silently squealed in your seat, sighing.
“Are you going to finish? I have better things to do than listen to you babble about Floyd of all people. Honestly,” Riddle huffed, “I don’t understand what you see in that riffraff!”
“He’s not a riffraff!” You quipped, frowning as you crossed your arms. “He’s actually really sweet if you give him the time of day, Floyd just likes being able to have fun with others you know!”
“Even then, his mood swings don’t terrify you? He gets rather violent sometimes.” Riddle took a sip of his tea as you shook your head. 
“No, I mean if you just go with the flow it’s fine, plus that just makes him more exciting to be around! Plus we’ve been getting closer ever since Azul’s overblot…”
You smiled softly as you looked down at your lap, fondness growing in your heart like blooms on a warm spring day. 
“He can actually be quite sweet, once you get to know him…you just have to give him a chance.”
The two of you remained quiet, the only coming from the distant chatter of other students in the more populated areas of the guest lounge.
“I’m safe to assume then that he is the reason you’ve started sprouting the roses?”
Your soft pink blush deepened as you nodded, picking at the small flower that began blooming on your cheek. 
“Yeah…”
“When will you confess, then?” You looked at Riddle in shock, who seemed confused at your distress. “What? It’s obvious that you have strong feelings for him, and even I notice how especially clingy he is around you.”
You shook your head, stuttering, “Well, yeah but that’s—”
“I’ve even heard him refer to you by name, he only does that with Jade and Azul you know?”
“You don’t understand Riddle.” You tried to interject, growing more flustered by the second. “I don’t think I could—”
Riddle continued, “As much as I disapprove, it does seem that you two genuinely bring out the best in each other, he does seem softer when you’re around—”
“Oh my—Riddle, stop—”
“—And you’ve gotten more outspoken, I remember how shy you were—”
“I’m begging you—”
“—Besides, according to the Queen of Heart’s rule number 478, any romantic feelings must be confessed approximately 12 days upon their discovery or the individual in question obligated to deny—”
“I said stop, Riddle!” You yelled at the top of your lungs before choking on rather large bouquet of lavender roses. Leaves and petals fluttered all around you as you continued to let out rough coughs, phlegm and saliva making a mess. 
Your yell startled the red-head so much that he simply started at you with a red face and thinned lips, too shocked to properly yell back at you for raising your voice indoors. 
Instead, he carefully placed his tea cup on the table between you two, folded his hands in his lap, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. You on the other hand, peaked around the dividers separating your nook from the rest of the lounge. 
Ace and Deuce looked over in concern as you continued to cough out more roses, walking over before you shook your head and gave them a thumbs up before shooing them away and turning back to Riddle. 
“...sorry Riddle.” You whispered, looking at him nervously. “I didn’t mean to yell, don’t be mad?”
“It’s…fine.” He replied with a strained voice, taking a final inhale before opening his eyes again and making eye contact. “You shouldn’t have yelled, and I shouldn’t have pushed.”
Riddle sighed, relaxing into the soft lounge chair. Though he would deny when asked, the chair that he helped you pick for the guest room was is favorite spot to sit in, as it surprising comfortable. 
“May I ask why you refused? It’s quite obvious to anyone that you care for him immensely, for some forsaken reason, and I would even say it’s quite mutual.”
You avoided eye contact as he resumes sipping from his tea, a lemon tea with 2 sugar cubes for his post meal tea. 
“Yeah…that’s what the other first-years say too. Even Jade’s been dropping hints on mer courtship gifts.”
“Then? What’s stopping you? 
A pregnant pause was in the air as you open and closed your mouth, attempting to figure out what it was that scared you. 
“What if…he gets bored?” 
Riddle furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned in, barely able to hear you. 
“What if he what?” He sighed, a bit irritated. “Speak up Prefect, I know you can, you just did earlier.”
You groaned out, “What if he gets bored with me? I’m fun and interesting now, yeah!”
Your friend watched, and you began pacing around the room, holding his head in his hand as he watched and listened to you vent. 
“I’m just a silly little magicless human that got transported from another world! Big whoop! What happens when that novelty wears off? You've heard him, he only likes to do things that are fun and interesting to him, but I won’t always be fun and interesting, eventually he’ll get used to me and get bored.”
You turned to look at Riddle with a teary-eyed, but firm look. “He’s get bored and leave me. I can’t handle that! So I just won’t be with him. In fact, I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for him!”
Your voice began to crack as you stated your final sentence, snapping your mouth shut before you got begun crying. Riddle stood up and walked over to grasp your shoulders, looking at you with an understanding smile. 
“The sort of person that would abandon a lover simply because they’re bored never deserved one in the first place.” 
Riddle hummed in agreement as you sqeaked out a ‘really?’, giving you a soft pat on your shoulder. 
“Of course, I can’t say I don’t understand your hesitance, Floyd is…Floyd, after all. However, he is not my friend, you are. If you choose to forfeit your right to confess, then so be it.”
You smiled as he dragged you back to your seats, giggling as he continued, “I personally would say it’s no lost on your part, he’s not exactly the most prime candidate for your life partner should you be stuck here in Twisted Wonderland, may I suggest one of the many more suitable providers?”
“Pfft-like who? You?” you cackled as Riddle looked at you in mild horror. 
“Oh dear, of course not! I admire you as a friend, but I have much stricter standards for a partner.” He snapped his fingers in revelation. “Perhaps Ace or Deuce, you are rather close to them—”
“Ewwwww, pass. They’re like annoying brothers!” 
Riddle snorted before covering it up with a cough. “True. Trey?”
“If you’re just going to suggest your dorm members, maybe we should switch the conversation to something else.”
“Well I think my dorm produces only the best and most gentlemanly mages of all of NRC, so excuse me if I’m simply trying to give you the best options!” 
You and Riddle shared some laughter, a flash of teal catching the corner of your eye. But you saw nothing, so instead you focused back on Riddle as he began recounting his own winter break activities.
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You remained quiet as you processed your thoughts, finding the lilac ceiling to be particularly interesting. 
Floyd also stayed quiet, still curled into your side as he breathed in your scent. You’re sure that with all of the flowers you’d started coughing up in the last few minutes, you smelled strongly of the lavender roses. 
“You know…I was gettin’ real mad when you wouldn’t confess to me.” Floyd whined, propping his head up with his hand to look at you and your pink face. 
“I thought it would be nice to get a cute confession out of my little shrimp,” He pinched your nose and forced you to look at him. “It be real fun! Like those cringy romcoms landfolk like so much!”
You replied, nasally due to your pinched nose, “Wait, is that why Jade was telling me about mer courting methods?”
“Haha! Yeah, I was hopin’ that you’d bring me a pretty seashell or somethin’ cute so Icould make fun of ya for later.”
You let out an indigent huff, smacking Floyd’s hand away as he laughed. 
“Really? So what made you change your mind?”
“Hearing ya talk to Goldfishie. It pissed me off that you’d think I’d toss you out like humans at sea with their trash.”
Floyd’s tone changed, looking  visibly annoyed as he continued. 
“Mers mate for life, and I wouldn’t choose someone I’d get bored with.” He sat up as his mood continued to sour. “It pissed me off, and it hurt, that my Little Shrimpy would think about me like that.”
“Oh, Floyd,” you sat up with him, guilt seeping in your bones as you looked at his angry face. Though, with the small tears forming in his eyes, Floyd looked more frustrated than anything. 
“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think—it didn’t occur to me that you felt the same—”
“Well I do, and it’s not fair to me that you wouldn’t even give me a chance.” The way Floyd said that so matter of factly made you snap your mouth shut again, looking down at your lap instead. 
“I’m…sorry, Floyd. I wish I could make it up to you—”
Floyd interrupted, moody demeanor brightening suddenly. “No worries, I got just the solution!”
Crawling over back to you so that your back met the headboard again, Floyd grinned maliciously at your curled form. 
“Say it.”
“Huh?”
“Say it. Those three little words.” Floyd held up three fingers to emphasize his point. “The ones that will make all those little flower go right away, the ones you need to say to me.”
You stiffened, leaning away from Floyd as he leaned in. “I don’t know if I can—”
“Say it, Y/N.” The use of your name startled your attention back to his face. He looked unusually serious, peering his heterochromic eyes into your own. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve mistaken him for his twin. 
You whispered, prolonging the inevitable, “What happened to Shrimpy?”
“Shrimpy was Shrimpy, but now your Y/N. And Y/N is Y/N…”
The two of you shared a smile as the distance between you two continued to close. You couldn’t remember what was so pressing earlier, why you were so anxious when the yellow eye of the man in front of you produced nothing but adoration from your heart. 
“Please…” From the uncharacteristic soft murmur to the eyes darting down to your lips and back to your eyes, Floyd drew you back in with a hypnotic ease that only the most alluring of mythical creatures could even hope to imitate. 
The two of you leaned in as you placed a hand on his chest, his own left hand coming to cradle your own. 
You craned your head back to hover your lips under his, uttering the words you swore to never let leave your mouth. 
“I-I…love you, Floyd Leech.”
A single lavender rose grew between your palms, as two longing hearts met as one.
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clitfisto · 23 days
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i think the common issue that creates boring dnd player characters is like. the fixation on backstory over character conflict. like if you think abt the typical "heres my super cool guy with a super cool design and a dark tragic backstory they dont want to talk about theyre so tortured and mysterious" its like. sure that might be an interesting secondary character for an animated series but thats not what this is.
like 1. nobody is going to see that cool design unless you painted a mini so youre just gonna be that guy who spends 5 minutes of session 1 describing your outfit; 2. none of the other players want to spend ages trying to interrogate backstory out of someone who seems like they dont want to share, they want to find a fight and flex their awesome build, so unless your dm pulls your 15 page backstory document into the main quest its all gonna be irrelevant anyway; and 3. trauma does not an interesting character make! not unless you can roleplay the effects of that trauma in a compelling manner!
imo its a wayyyy better method to come up with a Fucked Up Kinda Guy, complete with quirks and flaws and affectations and sure maybe a voice if thats your vibe, they dont need to be special or unique just fucking engaging to play beside, and THEN reverse engineer the backstory based on what would make someone be like that and usually its something fucked up and traumatic anyway bc thats how existing works. like dont get me wrong theres definitely merit to establishing your place in the setting but like. in taz balance absolutely no part of their written backstories did as much for the early group dynamic as "magnus rushes in" and "taako is good out here"
^ actually new different point based on that. if you show up with a blank slate guy then play off against the other characters! if you have a whole guy do it anyway! if someone is playing it safe then play impulsive or vice versa, if someone else has the same highest stat as you then get weirdly competitive, if someone plays dubious morals then be the ethical voice calling them out on it, there is no reason for your party to always be in agreement and if they are then disagree! be a dick about it! stories thrive on conflict so fucking make some, just please for the love of god do Anything that makes them behave differently than you with an ability
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hii can i pretty please request the 141 + the other guys (könig, alejandro, graves, whatever lol) w/ a reader who just kinda repeats the phrases or last could words they say? kinda like a parrot lmao
i'm autistic and it's one of the things i do 💀
Cod Boys
Headcanons
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couldnt think of a gif to add, so heres a tiger.
I have a lot of Echolalia (repeating noises or words you hear) too, so same. I added Horangi too, cuz I love that guy and there isn’t anything about him in the x reader tags.
John Price
Price honestly finds it endearing, he thinks its cute that you repeat things he says, especially if you weren’t British and were to copy his accent. I could imagine him growing so used to it he doesn’t even realize you do it anymore.
He wouldn’t be annoyed by it either as its just part of who you are, and he’s just happy you feel safe letting yourself verbally stim around him. He also finds its fun to know what media you’ve been watching, or if you’ve been paying attention to what he’s said.
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
Gaz would just find it quirky, he might even find it charming in a way. He knows its not something where you choose who or what you repeat, but he still likes that its him you repeat stuff from.
You both end up walking around and repeating the same things, you because you repeat stuff because that’s just how you are, and Gaz because he’s been around you long along to start to develop the same habit, but only when it comes to you.
Simon “Ghost” Riley
He is also autistic, but where you copy noises or words, he’s the silent staring kind. He doesn’t speak a lot as we know, so he’s a little surprised the first time you repeat what he says, especially when you don’t even seem to realize you’re doing it.
Ghost ends up developing Echolalia as well, but only copies stuff you say or things like animal noises, and only when it’s the two of you alone together as he masks around other people.
John “Soap” MacTavish
Soap loves it when you copy or repeat stuff he says or noises he makes, it finds it cute and special as its something just so you, at least in your group. He would never look down on you for it either, as its not something you can really control.
He has tried to make you repeat the dumbest stuff and there’s no stopping him, and if he succeeds, he just starts snickering. Soap laughing is what makes you realize you must have said something funny, which only makes him laugh even more.
Alejandro Vargas
Alejandro starts calling you bird or parrot as a nickname, especially if you are the type to copy animal noises. He finds it funny when you mimic Spanish words if you aren’t a native Spanish speaker.
He’s honestly impressed with how well you can say stuff in Spanish if it isn’t a language you speak. It just becomes a thing he finds comfort in, since it means your there, alive, and well. So if you were to go quiet for longer periods of time, he might worry a bit.
Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra
Rudy doesn’t speak as much as everyone else, so he finds it a little endearing that you repeat the stuff he says as it means you were at least subconsciously paying attention to him and what he said.
I could imagine Rudy liking to just sit together in mostly silence, so when he does speak there’s pretty much a 100% chance you’ll mimic whatever he said, which he finds nice as it helps him feel some kind of normalcy, since you are there with him.
Phillip Graves
He would think you were mocking him in the beginning, until he realizes it’s something you do with everybody and you might not even realize you are doing it unless someone points it out. He never says anything about it, since its just part of who you are.
Graves will rip someone a new asshole if they were rude to you about it though, he may be an ass to most people, but you are one of his so he watches out for you. He doesn’t show it but he cares, in his own way.
König
König doesn’t speak a whole lot outside of missions, so you’d most likely copy him during missions or similar. This ends up with you two repeating copy over and over, over the comms. It becomes almost a little game, which helps put you both at ease during stressful times.
If you copy his German hed find is sweet, as it helps him feel a little more at ease since he’s most likely far away from his home country. So even if you don’t speak German, it helps him come out of his shell a little.
Kim "Horangi" Hong-Jin
Horangi would think you were making fun or him or mocking him, but seeing as you just do it as regularly as you do and don’t realize he doesn’t pick a fight like he might have, if anybody else did it.
He ends up growing to like that you do it, and he will throw hands with anyone who tries to make you uncomfortable about it or insults you for it. He starts speaking more Korean around you, just wanting you to repeat words in his mother tongue even if you don’t understand it.
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heartfullofleeches · 1 year
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Clown Doll Reader with a few different Yans (Lab Monster, Murder Clowns, Crime Boss, Bodyguard and Co-Host)
"Introducing the new Cloudy Acres Talking Clown Doll! Equipped with over a hundred phrases - this extra soft, extra cuddly plush will be all yours for ages of fun, friendship, and when you're in need of a big hug. Cherry scented!"
Lab Monster
The recording pauses. Beady eyes swift to anger center on the doll held in spindly limbs, a medium for the entity's rage found in the stitched smile. Its dripping jowls nuzzle and nip at the soft fabric skin; slinder talons yanking the toy's plastic cord.
"Are you having a good day? Mine's spectacular, cause I'm with you!"
The creature croons, raising its pitch to match the toy's bubbly air. "Youuu." It sinks its face into the doll's plush body, chirping and cooing with glee. Its coarse tongue tears at the doll's mouth stitching at it drags the slippery muscle back up to its lips, screwing into the fabric. The onlookers immediately look away, turning to face each other.
"I still don't see the reason we enable it so much. It's speech recognition has improved greatly, but this attachment to this television host could be a crutch in the future."
"Its hostility levels have greatly decreased since this introduction to the outside world. We only have one caretaker out on medical leave now rather than four in a body bag."
"True, but I still think we should cut these ties eventually."
"We really shouldn't have this discussion on free dress day. I can clearly see the signed shirt you're wearing."
Murder Clowns
The group of technicolor fiends crowd around their leader with their own mini idols in arms as said ringling pulls the string on their doll and holds it in the air.
"Smile!"
Cheers and hollers rivaling crowds twenty times their number break out within the group; the screams of those beside them as infectionous as the little clown's happy jingle and rebounding off each other. One of the clown's holding the truck driver at the back corner of the vehicle lightly smacks the back of his head - tears flowing anew.
"That means you too."
-
Crime Boss
The tired store clerk rubs sleep from their eyes as they look up at the imposing figure. "Please- we haven't unloaded the shipment of those dolls yes. I'm sure you're child can wait until tomorrow morning..."
The boss nods at their on hand lackey. Without hesitation, they pull the gun from their holster and point it at his face. "I'm sure others can wait, but I have a meeting at dawn and I'd like to take what's mine before those greasy brats damage the whole stock so if you would be so kind - hand over the fucking keys."
Bodyguard and Co-Host
"Dont look so down. Lemme kiss everything better! Mwah, mwah."
Your bodyguard pushes the doll out of their face, swallowing the urge to your co-star in their puckered lips no matter how hard it fights to the surface. Mini you's were strapped to them everywhere the eye could see. From their hoodie pockets to their arms and atop their head - your co-star happily showed off their collect and used them to tease your poor guard.
"Look at this one. Limited edition, and they glow in the dark. Not supposed to come out unless next year! Such a cutie aren't they?"
"I don't care. Leave me alone." Your bodyguard pushes past your co-star who juggles the plushies and uses their body as a cushion before they hit the ground. Your guard speed walks away, glancing around every corner with each turn. Alone in your dressing room, they pull a doll from their pocket and tug its wire.
"I love you!"
They flush, smiling from ear to ear.
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WIBTA For Snitching On My Brother?
tl;dr at the end, the submissions a bit long. sorry if this sounds like stupid teen drama, but i needed outside opinions. (tw for mentions of attempted suicide)
so for a bit of context here, me (14nb) and my brother (14m) both have Parental RestrictionsTM on our phones. In my opinion they are way more severe than they need to be. i am not allowed to have any social media at all, my mother barely tolerates discord. I cannot text anyone who is not my direct sibling or parent from 9pm at night to noon the next day and i cant use any "nonessential" apps during that time frame too. my brother has the same restrictions on his phone, but he has safari removed because my mother said he was playing "random internet games". however, he has found ways around this and ways around the app restrictions. i know how he does it. i really dont have any intention of telling our mother, its none of my business and i honestly dont care that much.
I recently moved to a new school. My brother and i were homeschooled prior to this during covid. And it was fine. We went to a homeschool co-op twice a week. A year ago we were both enrolled in Local Community College as dual enrollment students. A semester into that i was Not Vibing Well and ended up having a breakdown and getting a therapist. I would talk to her directly about this but i havent been able to see her in weeks due to scheduling conflicts. The workload seemed too much to me, there was no longer a distinction between School and Home. i felt like i was constantly on the clock, and i barely saw my friends. In addition to other factors at my co-op, I got very lonely. At that time the limits on my phone were 9pm-3pm (it was later edited to 9am to noon) . I cant remember exactly what happened, but i asked my mother to at least change the communication limits so that i could talk to my friends during the day. She said no, stating that I Do Not Need to Communicate With Friends During The School Day. i do not have a real “school day” i am at home basically 5/7 days of the week. And normal kids see their friends every day at school. The argument got dropped then.
Fast forward half a year, i felt increasingly lonely, out of place, bothersome, etc, at my co-op and have decided to try going to Local Public Highschool. This meant leaving my best friend (14f)  whom i love dearly (for the purposes of this post i will call her Z). Z is one of my favorite people in the whole world, we got platonically married, I lovingly refer to her as “my wife”, and i would genuinely die for her. She got a phone over the summer which means we have a better way to communicate, replacing discord as the primary communication system. Also at that time one of my best online friends fucked up their discord account somehow and the whole online group moved to text. there's about four of them? J, Other J, B, and L (ages vary from 12-16). I believe only B is directly relevant to this story but the others are worth mentioning. Additional context (tw for mentions of suicide from now on), all of those four are varyingly suicidal. B has attempted before, at least twice I believe. out of the group i am probably the most mentally stable.
School starts! I am already feeling a bit lonely due to leaving Z but we stay positive. I wake up for school at like 530 and check my phone at like 6:45. Woohoo a message from B! It was sent at 4 am. This is concerning. There is a glitch that i can use in order to view texts for between half a second and four seconds, it depends, and i use it. B’s message reads “Bye”. theres no fucking reason that they would be texting me goodbye at 4am in the morning unless they were going to kill themselves. I cannot properly view or respond to that text until noon, so eight hours. I wait to know if my friend is ok for eight hours, and at noon i check my phone again. In that time i’ve received messages from the groupchat. J, Other J, and L all received “bye” texts from B at around the same time period. After a few messages, we know B is ok, i dmed them privately and they responded both in ims and the gc. So they are ok. But i had to wait for eight hours to know that. Later that day i asked my mom if she had considered my proposal (i asked her a day or two before if she would at least turn off communication limits because it is also rather embarrassing to be honest to have to tell other people that oh i cant respond to your message right now, sorry my mom has limits on my phone :D. In addition i get anxious when i send a message that im nervous abt and it doesnt get responded to for hours so i hate leaving messages for longer than two hours). Once again, she said no. it goes against her Views As A Parent for me to have “unrestricted access” to my phone. She offered to add only Z to the list of people i can contact during the limits. This is better than nothing but Z texts more in the groupchat than she does in private messages so it wouldn’t work that well. We argued, it didnt work out, i got pissed off and we both went to bed. i very strongly feel that for like my mental health i need to be able to communicate with my friends better than i can at the moment. And i dont want to wake up to a message from a friend, have it be the last one they ever send, and not be able to respond for hours. 
Heres where the part where i could be an asshole comes in. (so sorry that that was really long i didnt know what parts would be needed as context and what were not so i just typed everything i think might be relevant). This isnt something that i am very strongly considering, as i truly dont want to fuck up my relationship with my brother and i love him a lot. I just want opinions on whether it would like be going too far i guess. I am considering offering a trade. I tell my mother how my brother has found ways around his limits, and she turns off the communication limits on my phone. WIBTA if i did that?
TL;DR: would i be the asshole if i snitched on how my brother got around some restrictions in exchange for me being able to communicate with my friends?
What are these acronyms?
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Hey, you!
Yeah, you!
Do you crave more ✨canon queer stories✨ in your fandom experience? Are you begging for more major character representation that you don’t have to headcanon for yourself?
Then have I got the kickstarter for you!
The Tin Can Bros (a comedy trio and makers of live theatre, digital sketches, webseries, you name it! You might know them from all the work they’ve done with Starkid—founding Tin Can Brothers Joey and Brian played Ron and Quirrell in A Very Potter Musical) are launching a brand new season of projects, most of which contain QUEER MAJOR CHARACTERS AND THEMES. These guys have got gays, they’ve got lesbians, they’ve got trans and gnc characters, they’ve got wholesome first love and Hannigram levels of fucked-up toxicity. It’s a whole cornucopia!! They’re planning to produce work in Los Angeles, NYC, London, Edinburgh, and Adelaide, but there will be digital tickets so you can watch where ever you are!
We’ve got:
-Two Rocky Horror-style concerts of the cult-hit, spy-movie parody musical Spies Are Forever. Gay protagonist who will sear himself into your heart! Seriously, his relationship with fellow spy Owen will emotionally destroy you for at least seven years.
-A concert of the developing musical This Could Be on Broadway, which follows a group of high school kids putting on a production of The Matrix: The Musical (not a show in real life) in their theatre department. A bunch of the central kids are canonically some flavor of queer, and there’s a central, very sweet lesbian romance that includes a trans character. She’s played trans actress Esther Fallick, who also worked with TCB as a consultant to make the character and show as authentic as possible. Seriously, if you want to see a trans teen thriving in their own skin, this is the show for you.
-An Edinburgh Fringe Fest production of The Solve It Squad Returns, a Scooby-Doo parody that follows the parodic versions of the Scooby Gang when they reunite as fucked-up adults to finally confront the almost-twenty-years-past traumatic murder of their dog Cluebert. I promise it’s funnier than it sounds. Esther, the Velma-esque super genius, is gender non-conforming and identifies with they/them pronouns. They also have a girlfriend WITH a boyfriend!
-A workshop reading of the QUEER SCI-FI TELEVISION COMEDY PILOT Intelligent Life. Unlike the other projects I’ve mentioned, this one is new to the TCB fans, but will follow a pair of ex-boyfriends forced to survive together in an extra-terrestrial colony. From the sound of it, there will be plenty of queer supporting characters as well. This frankly sounds like it could be tumblr’s dream show, and it’d be great to support its development.
-The Great Debate—a live comedy game show where comedians debate silly things. While this obviously won’t have narrative gay rep like the other projects, it will showcase gay talent (at the very least, Tin Can Brother Corey will participate in every show) and may include debates involving queer topics.
-Gross Prophets, in which three wannabe gurus/cult leaders lead a seminar on the path to enlightenment. This is a completely new stage musical so I honestly don’t know if it will contain any queer characters or themes. But the TCB queer track record is pretty good!
Guys, I’m so genuinely so excited by this season. But all this awesome queer art won’t happen unless we get their kickstarter funded. And they need our help! So let’s get fundraising!!
TLDR; Comedy group Tin Can Bros are attempting to fund a season positively filled with queer stories and characters, and they need help! If you want to support the creation of queer theatre and the development of queer TV, consider checking them out and giving to the kickstarter!
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fanonical · 9 months
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Don’t take this as someone hitting [X] for Doubt but why are people saying Gwen Stacy is canonically trans?
I’m not really a comic book enthusiast nor a marvel fan but I enjoy the Spider-verse movies and I love hidden/blink-and-you’ll-miss-it/iykyk representation in media as much as the next guy but I what did I miss in the second movie that led to this conclusion?
so first of all, Gwen has a trans flag hanging in her bedroom that says “PROTECT TRANS KIDS”. people are saying, well she could be an ally etc but are forgetting this isn’t like, a real person’s bedroom, it’s the bedroom of a fictional character where everything is placed there as a commentary on what type of person she is. in this case, it’s pretty clear to me she’s saying she is a trans kid. her dad even has the trans flag stitched into his uniform - i’ve never heard of a cop doing that unless they have a trans kid, and again, i think that’s pretty clearly what we’re supposed to take from that. finally, Gwen’s entire world and design is defined by the colours of the trans flag. if you pay attention to her outlines, backgrounds, the colour grading of the scenes she’s on, it is clearly and specifically the trans pride colours. sure, it’s also her costume’s colours, but with the trans pride flags it’s pretty obvious what we’re supposed to read these colours as, if anything it implies that’s why she chose those colours for her suit. finally, the Spider-Woman “coming out” and “returning home” sequences specifically are defined by these colour palettes. when Gwen explains being torn between being “just a normal girl” and the new moral panic in the news to her father, when she finally opens up about the decisions she made to kept who she was secret from him, the entire scene very obviously bleeds into the entire trans flag. Gwen’s hair, normally a dyed blonde & pink, is the trans flag, vibrant and passionate — truly who she really is.
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it’s not even really that subtle? its really obvious especially if you watch the scene with this in mind, it literally bleeds in like water colours into the scene.
there’s also just plenty of other details. her narrative is one pretty identical to the experience of a trans girl coming out. her dad, normally loving and caring, is awful and hateful about just one thing — who she is, who she has been this whole time, who she’s hiding from him. and when she finally is forced to come out, he insists on this hatred. and she has to run away. to a group of people just like her, where she can crash on the couch of a punk instead of going back to her dad. but with time, he comes to accept her. he changes - it’s no coincidence that this is the scene with the trans flag watercolours.
also she shares a shoesize with Hobie lol
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readychilledwine · 3 months
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From This Day Until Our Last
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Summary - what do you buy the male who says he has everything he could ever want? Lyria has an answer, but her answer comes with a cost she's more than happy to pay
Warnings - smut, love making
A/n - The end of Azriel and Lyria is here unless I decide to come back to them for some random spice. 💙 where one Vanserra door closes, another opens, though. I'm staring at you, Lollipop lovers. 👀
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Lyria and Azriel moved to doors of the townhouse, waving goodbye to everyone as they left the solstice party.
Rhys and Cassian were smirking at her, excited to hear about the present she had waiting for Azriel. Feyre smiled knowingly, the only one besides Eris and Lucien who knew what was waiting in Azriel's cabin.
He used his shadows to take them to the cabin faster, secretly excited and anxious to see what was waiting. "I need you to hide out in our room for a little bit while I get it ready," Lyria whispered as he backed her into the doorway. His mouth hovering above hers. "15 minutes tops. I promise."
Azriel stood, and nodded. He went instantly, following her request and not noticing the bags and boxes sitting on the counter.
Lyria went to work, pulling out the box from the fridge. She thanked Feyre in her mind for covering for her tonight regarding why she was late, and for secretly rerouting her mate's missions to his group of spies.
She pulled out the cake she had purchased for him, placing it on the pretty craved crystal plate, and smiled. Rhys had told her which bakery made it and convinced the owners to teach Lyria how to bake it for this one-time special purpose.
It was absolutely perfect. Cherries sat in swirled dark chocolate on milk chocolate frosting. On a chocolate cake with cherries baked inside and a middle cherry filling. To Azriel, there was never enough chocolate in the world. This cake was his absolute favorite due to its "complexity and layers," he had tried explaining to her one night as he was validating eating the whole thing within a 12 hour period.
She moved to the bag closest to her, grabbing the Autumn Court whiskey he had been hoping to try, but had not had the chance to. Knowing he would be very excited after having watched his jealous reaction to Rhysand and Cassian receiving a bottle from her as well. She centered it on the table, along with the gift Eris and Lucien had asked her to give him in private from all her brothers. A dagger and spidersilk gloves.
She took a few stilling breaths, whispering goodbye to the last few moments of her life as a technically unattached female.
There was no running after this, no way put that wouldn't destroy both of them. She had no doubts, though. She had never loved anyone else this deeply and unconditionally. She had never wanted anyone else this badly. She had never wanted anything the way she wanted to be his.
A shadow weaved into her hair before resting against her cheek. "Tell your daddy he can come out." She straightened herself and her dress. Instantly chewing on her lip out of nerves and her hands came in front of her, thumbs circling around each other in a dance.
Azriel paused when he came back to the little kitchen and dining room. "Lyria, what is this?" His voice broke a little, his eyes starting to water.
"Can you come sit down please?"
Azriel sat across from her, holding his hands out to take hers. "I love you," she stated simply. "And I can't imagine a world where I'm not yours."
She had a speech planned, but as she stared into his eyes, those spell binding emerald and golden eyes, everything went out of her mind. She had seen Azriel vulnerable, but the softness in his face, the joy in his eyes, the way he was already fighting tears, this was new to her. "I had this whole beautiful thing planned, and I can't remember what I honestly wanted to say."
Azriel laughed, his eyes sparkling. "You don't need to say anything, I can feel it everyday. You never close the bond. I can sit here, though while you think of your speech."
His eyes were glimmering with excitement and mischief. Lyria handed him the letter from Eris, then the package containing a dagger identical to all the ones she had made for her brothers as a teen, and those indestructible gloves.
The dagger had been a gift her father suggested as a joke to her. He had not realized his young daughter would find a way to get 7 illyrian steel daggers made. Now, an 8th one sat in a red and gold package, paid for by her 5 remaining brothers to ensure their newest sibling would also have the same dagger.
Azriel took the letter, "if you truly love me you'd open that whiskey your brothers won't stop raving about." His tone was playful as he used Truth-teller to open the letter.
As he read the fine lettering, Lyria opened the bottle of whiskey. It smelled like home. Like cloves, apples, and cinnamon. His shadows brought her his favorite glass and she poured it. They then brought her a knife as she turned to hand her mate the beverage. "Impatient little creatures," she whispered softly, allowing one to nuzzle into her hair and on her cheek.
Azriel didn't respond, his eyes were locked in on the letter, his expression unreadable. "Can you hand me the box, baby?" He finally asked, his throat tight.
Lyria handed it to him, her hands slightly shaking. "Did he tell you what it is?"
Azriel shook his head. "No, just that you made sure all of your brothers had one, so Eris and Lucien wanted to ensure I had one too." Azriel gently pulled the satin red ribbons, freeing the top of the box and opening it.
He pulled the dagger out, immediately knowing the weight of it was something much more familiar to him than it would have been an Autumn court male. "And how, little fox, did you get illyrian steel?"
Lyria looked down. "I um… there's one Illyrian blacksmith in the Autumn Court. He is close to the border of Winter, and I tracked him down when I was 16, and gave him a lot of money and tada?"
He watched as she rocked back on her feet, her lip tucked between her teeth. "Dangerous." He said simply before unsheathing the dagger. He whistled softly, admiring the ornately carved metal, it was almost too pretty to use with its dancing razor sharp leaves and dark brown leather hilt. The blade was made of mainly illyrian steel, but she had asked the blacksmith an almost impossible task.
She had asked him to marry the steel with Autumn Court's tradition of working gold into blades. "You never intended for them to use these?"
She nodded. "It was meant to be a beautiful thing. To remind them of home, of what we've all been fighting against, what we still fight for." Their mother, Azriel realized slowly. "Eris displays his in his office with a portrait of mother and I. Lucien keeps his at side, normally tucked near his heart. My other brothers keep theirs in their rooms in their night stands."
Azriel looked at her. "Lucien keeps a small portrait of you Feyre painted in a locket by his heart as well." She nodded. "They worship the ground you walk on." Azriel finished the letter in silence, now feeling those smooth but heavy gloves and sipping the whiskey with a small smile etched into his face.
Lyria took out the smaller box she had hidden, the one from her mother and Helion and slid it over to him. "You aren't supposed to open this infront of me."
Azriel held the small box, knowing immediately what was inside. He had flown to Helion a few weeks ago, asking the male for Lyria's hand, and then to her mother that day he also appeared from the shadows, watching as she spun threads And asking her the same.
He knew inside was a ring containing a large centered stone starlight colored stone. It was surrounded by Autumn's beloved moss gemstones and black diamonds, set in Day Court rose gold.
It had cost him a year of salary, but having her mother and true father check and approve the ring was too important to Azriel to pass up.
"I do not see a reason as to why I couldn't. It is your solstice gift after all." He began to open it. Removing the black velvet box from the container and opening it quickly with a smile before setting it in front of her. "It appears we had similar intentions, Lyria." He opened the box with one hand, staring at her.
Silence fell between the two of them. Comfortable heart warming silence as they unknowingly confirmed to each other they were on the same page. "Did.. Did you still want me to serve you cake?" Lyria's voice broke as her tears welled up. "We can wait."
Azriel shook his head, standing to slide the ring on her finger. "I see no point in us waiting for a wedding to be mated. Do you want me to do this properly?"
She shook her head, holding her left hand out. There was no need for long-winded speeches. For words of love to pass between them, there was no need to beg nor validate why they were doing this.
In this moment, all those things were dancing through the bond, serenading both of them in comfort, joy, and unconditional love and devotion.
Azriel put the ring on her finger, pulling her close to him and tilting her face. "I love you." The statement was final. There was no arguments to be had, pretty words to dress it to be more than it needed to be.
“I love you too,” she whispered back.
Azriel couldn't resist anymore, his hands trembling as he kissed her deeply and then rested his forehead on hers. “Cut the cake.”
He watched her like a hawk as those hands, those lovely hands, that started all of this cut into his favorite cake. He has been mesmerized by her pretty dress, the way her hair was curled and loose, the light makeup. Now, though, lust and longing fueled him. He didn't need a damn cake to solidify and accept that bond with her.
Not when his favorite treat was hidden between her pretty thighs.
She placed the slice in front of him, covering the rest and waited. He watched as she bit her lip and played with her hair. The normal signs of her nervousness coming into play.
They had sex countless times, sometimes multiple times throughout a day, never leaving her or his bed unless the need for food called. But it had never been sex like this. Sex that sealed them together forever. Sex that made her his, and he hers. He ate the cake, watching her again as she did the few dishes they had made.
He finished it in record time, going to her without grabbing the plate and standing behind her.
Lyria was a neat freak, while his mind had already begun to zero in on her, hers was locking on the dish behind them. She turned to grab it, gasping as a scarred hand gripped her by the back of her neck, turning her and pulling her into a deep kiss.
There was nothing gentle about what Azriel had in mind. He lifted her, carrying her to his room with those legs wrapped around his waist and laid them on the bed. Shadows were immediately on her, brushing her neck, her cleavage, into her dress.
Lyria thought she was on fire. The bond was screaming so loudly in her chest she could hardly breathe, and when she did, all she could breathe was him, all she could feel was him.
Azriel pulled away, flipping her over and unlacing the corset back of her dress. Every teasing brush of his rough fingers caused her to shiver. When he finished pulling that last piece loose, he pulled her up by her arms, growling as the beautiful dress fell down her body into a pool.
She had worn nothing below it, her bare body now exposed to him completely. “I've been thinking about how much better that'd look on the floor all damn night.” He pushed her down by her back, wasting zero time kicking her legs apart and removing his own clothing.
While his mind had locked on rough punishing sex, his heart ached for something else. For more. Azriel picked her back up gently again, turning her and tilting her head to place gentle kisses on her lips.
He felt every ounce of tension leaving her, melting down the bond completely as she relaxed into him. He laid them back down, pulling away. “Get on the pillows, princess.”
Lyria felt heat pooling in her core. She pushed her body back, resting against his silky sheets and felt her legs just dropping apart for him. Azriel growled in response, leaning in to kiss her neck. His hand immediately went to her soaking core, running along the length of it before barely brushing her clit. “Gonna worship you,” he murmured into her skin. “Love you so good you forget every moment of pain.”
Lyria gasped, her hips grinding against his hand, breaking every rule they had. “Take what you want baby,” Azriel kissed into her skin. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” the bond forced her to say. “Mother above, I just want you. Every second of every day I want you.” Azriel pushed two wet fingers in, curving them as he moved to kiss her deeply.
“Then you will have me, from this day forward until our last.” He began pulling her apart, using his fingers to open her up gently. “You know we have family breakfast tomorrow right?” She shook her head, focusing on the pleasure of him stretching her as he teased her. “We will skip it then.”
“Stop. Teasing,” Azriel pulled back surprised, keeping his fingers in time and rhythm with her hips movements as she chased her high. Lyria had growled. Growled at him.
He didn't know if it was the frenzy, or the anticipation she must have felt for weeks planning this, but it had Azriel desperate for her. He pulled his fingers out, taking them and running them along his aching cock. “I can't wait, princess.”
Azriel lined up and slid home, both of them going completely silent as the bond began to shimmer and dance, glittering from silver to gold.
Her legs were instantly around his trim waist, hands shooting to his upper arms and she began to whimper below him, begging him to move.
Azriel gave a gentle teasing thrust, then began.
He made sure each movement was deep and hard, hitting those spots that had her eyes rolling back and mouth hanging open as she moaned and cried in pleasure below him. “Feels so good,” she mumbled. “So so good.”
Every drag was delicious, filling her completely and knocking any second of doubt she had from her mind. Her legs squeezed his waist tighter, nails digging into his arm as he lifted her hips allowing him deeper into her. “Love you so much, Azriel.”
He went down to her immediately, kissing her deeply as he continued to make love to her. Her hands went to his back, brushing his wings accidentally. They were moaning in time, the tension building between them at the same rate. “Right there, angel,” he whispered into her neck. She nodded in return, eagerly moaning his name into his ear.
It took a few more moments, a few more deep well placed thrusts and she came, walls milking him. She cried his name, nails running down his back. He followed her over the edge, releasing into her and biting into her neck to try to hid the whimpers tearing at his throat at how heavenly and tight she felt.
He held her tight as they came down, head buried in her neck. “I love you,” he whispered. Then repeated it again. And again. And again. His hands laced into her red hair, scratching her scalp. “I love you.”
Lyria pushed him up slightly, forcing him to stare into her eyes, “And I love you. From this day until our last.”
“And well beyond that,” he held his pinky to her, watching as she wrapped hers around it, sealing that promise with a small mark staining their skin.
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bloodynereid · 4 months
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Hi can I please request a Jordan x reader . Reader has power that glitch & saves Jordan. Reader hey I am lucky that I didn’t get stuck in between a wall.
Thank you.
Flying Grand Pianos - headcanons
pairing: jordan li x gn! reader
tw: cursing, mentions of uncontrolled powers, cate and sam went to prison (i'm sorry okay! they're my pookies but for this fic to work i had to do something), uh nothing much ig? unless u have a phobia of falling pianos... then maybe don't read this??
description: your powers come in handy in the weirdest situations.
a/n: hiii hopefully u enjoy this! i literally did not mean to make this as insane as it ended up being but hey i'm sick and running on like too little sleep, i hope it's still entertaining tho cause i had sm fun writing this lol. i tried to integrate everything you said into headcanons cause it felt more apt ? ig... anyways requests are open & lmk ur thoughts <3
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It was your final year at God U, somehow you had actually made it through the insanity that happened during junior year. You had even come out of the whole situation with a whole new group of friends… even if Cate and Sam sort of had to be locked away because of all the shit they did.
Thank whoever had decided to call the FBI because you had no idea how the entire situation might have turned out if Homelander showed up instead.
So life had turned back to normal towards the end of junior year, mostly because Vought was able to keep most of the situation quiet. Now you were only a step away from becoming an actual superhero… which was a strange situation to think about.
Your powers weren’t all that noteworthy but were insanely useful in battle and to get out of awkward conversations… especially since you were able to mostly control them.
You had the ability to glitch, which essentially meant you could manipulate the fabric of reality around you and mess with it (always with a limit of course, you weren’t an all-powerful magician). You mostly used it for teleportation or to mess with people, something that was always sooo worth it.
You also were kind of insanely good at dealing with actual glitches in computers, which made absolutely no sense but it did help adding to your skill set for your major.
There was probably one specific time where your powers worked in your favor in the best way possible. Over the past few years you sort of developed a tiny little miniscule (HUGE) crush on Jordan Li and now that you were actually able to call them your friend that tiny little crush grew into something way bigger.
What you weren’t aware of was that Jordan felt the same way, they always viewed you as this pretty incredible supe but never really had the chance to talk to you… until the whole The Woods situation. After that it almost made it harder for them to just ask you out on your date… because you had created such a tentative but strong friendship - something that Jordan hadn’t had since Luke. Something that they weren’t sure they would be able to walk away from again.
It was a few months into your senior year when the incident happened. It wasn’t something crazy like Homelander suddenly massacring the school instead it was an incident that belonged in the halls of a supe school… one of the new freshmen had somehow conjured up a piano in the middle of the damn sky and was unable to make it disappear.
The one problem with this piano was that it was falling... and falling really fucking fast.
You had been drinking one of your favorite drinks from Jitter Bean when you were surprised (and very concerned) to see a piano making its way towards Jordan - a very distracted Jordan who was talking, or rather yelling into their phone.
It barely took you a second to make the decision before you dropped your drink and glitched in Jordan’s direction - thank whatever all powerful force was out there for actually having it work because a moment later you reappeared next to Jordan and grabbed their arm before glitching again.
Suddenly you were standing in your room and Jordan was looking at you like an insane person before a loud crash and a whole bunch of yelling was heard outside the window.
Jordan shot a confused look before darting over to the window, only to find that a huge grand piano now stood (well not really it was sort of everywhere) where they had just been standing a moment ago.
You shot them a sheepish smile as they turned around to look at you with a dropped jaw.
“I actually can’t believe that worked, I’m lucky I didn’t accidentally get us stuck between a wall.”
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lol i have no idea what this is but i like it anyways.
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metafarers · 2 months
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I think its possible that syscourse will never end until the psychiatric system as a whole is taken down or broadly delegitimized.
There are a variety of factors that have led to the current situation. One of which starts with the broad statement among leftists that 'We believe in science'. I understand how this phrase has been a useful signal in some cases. Vaccine misinformation, flat eartherism, creationism, snake oil salesman, and other similar pseudoscience is rampant. However, I think the phrase is far gone from being a signal, to being a dogma, one that grossly overestimates the validity of anything and everything published or believed under the broad umbrella of science.
Science is a method. It is not synonymous with fact. Very few things in science have enough proof to be considered in the realm of theory, and even then, all scientific fields are in a constant state of learning, updating, and change. The current bulk of study is not useless, but it is not fact. It is a reflection of the current scientific environment, and different fields vary in how much they can be relied upon.
We can reasonably rely on physics, mathematics, and even quantum mechanics when designing new technology and architecture. The latest astronomical science has paved the way for landing on mars, touching the sun, and sending people into space again and again. All impossible without accurate celestial data and the theory of general relativity.
While hard sciences do update over time, the fact that we can quantifiably and materially use their theories in a tangible way, suggests they are more trustworthy to a layperson than not. But even then, the theories are not the same as the bulk of scientific questioning and experimentation. There is still the problem of many laypersons taking every hypothesis and speculative article in the field of hard science as fact, and this absolutely does affect the hard aspects of psychology and psychiatry.
Further more, soft sciences are NOT like hard sciences. Focusing in on psychology, its a study that has its roots in moral philosophy. While there is a lot of useful information to be found in psychological science, there aren't any theories that we can compare to something like general relativity, gravity, or thermodynamics.
The diagnoses you'll find in the DSM-5 are nothing like being diagnosed with cancer, covid, or a genetic anomaly. They are glorified hypothesis about groups of symptoms and behaviors. Are all of these diagnoses completely useless? No, not necessarily. I am not claiming that autism doesn't exist, or various symptoms or groups of symptoms don't exist. However the judgement and philosophy behind the diagnostic groupings is not objective fact. And what is deemed a symptom, or an abnormality, is largely determined by culture, there is no such thing as an objectively abnormal or ill mind, outside of brain disease and injury, which described a physical injury. If you believe you are mentally ill, I am not saying you are wrong, what I am saying is, that is a subjective experience, and someone with your same set of symptoms, may have a vastly different outlook on them.
So getting back to plurality, in a society where one is assumed to be ONE in mind and body, anything deviating from that, will be assumed to be abnormal. And what is assumed to be abnormal, must have occurred through some kind of injury, whether physical or mental trauma. The DSM has historical had many 'conditions' that simply reflected the biases of the time, like being gay or trans. Plurality is no different.
Sysmeds are so entrenched in psychology as a gospel, however, that I do not see much changing unless we challenge the field as a whole, not just plurality. And people need to accept that the label of science does not mean information is accurate, correct, or unbiased.
-Simon
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kscheibles · 7 months
Text
e la vita ch. 1
content warnings: f! reader, drug mentions, drinking, emetophobia, bisexuality (homophobes and biphobes begone I will block u so fast)
word count: 3.8k
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I didn’t want to be in Italy this summer.
That makes me sound ungrateful or something, but it’s the truth. Three months ago, I had planned to stay in Brooklyn with Claire all summer long. Hosting dinner parties, eating greasy breakfast sandwiches, dancing to old $1 records in our cramped apartment, picnicking in Prospect Park, and being totally, delusionally in love.
That was before things went south, she stopped trying and left me with more rent than I could possibly pay in the city. When Christina had first mentioned that a group of her friends was headed to Italy for the summer, I’d dismissed the possibility of going with them. Not only did I dread cohabitating with her wealthy, influencer friends who seemed to deal only in clout, I thought I’d be otherwise engaged. Weeks later, I’d gone back to her groveling, asking if I could sleep on the pull-out couch in Nina’s family villa for the summer. Luckily, the sofa was still available.
Now I sit at a wrought iron table – lease broken and all of my belongings sold to wealthy Manhattanites – in the warm yellow light of the Lombard sunset. Around me are chatty, outgoing girls, each more beautiful than the last. They gab about clubs and brands and boys. In the sea of Botox and iPhones, I cling to Christina like a life buoy. I push my tortellini around my plate to make it look like I have an interest in food, but I really don’t. I’m jet-lagged and uncomfortable. And even if that wasn’t the case, I’ve barely eaten since the breakup, relying on oat lattes and dirty water dogs to keep me alive.
“Try the pasta,” Christina jabs, “trust me, you’ll have a lot more fun this summer if you lean in.” I break the shell open with my fork revealing succulent ricotta curds and bright green spinach. The filing swims in a sauce of brown butter and fragrant tarragon but doesn’t affect me as it should. Nothing does anymore. The group’s conversation interrupts my train of thought.
“They’ve come every summer since the nineties, same as us,” says Nina, smirking at the girl to her left. “Hottest little accents you’ve ever heard, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Who is she talking about?” I whisper to Christina.
“The boys in the other house,” she says, “the one you see on your way up here.” Nina’s family’s home is at a higher altitude than the rest of the city, necessitating a laborious hike to the bottom to actually do anything while in town. I’m sure that they’d been sold on the privacy of the location, but its impracticality left me wanting. The only other villa nearby sat at the base of the lush green hills before the road disappeared into winding dirt.
Another girl chimes in, “I saw them last year at a dinner in the city. They’re cute, too,” she coos. 
“I kissed George the summer I turned fifteen,” brags Nina and the whole table breaks into oohs and aahs. I usually have a shut-up-unless-spoken-to policy at group dinners, but I know Christitna is right. If I don’t lean in then the credit card debt I’d amassed to buy my plane ticket and the back problems I'm sure to contract from sleeping on a pull-out couch for a whole summer will have been for naught. Think of it as an acting exercise, I tell myself, a performance of the girl who is totally not hung up on her ex and excited for a fun summer with her friends. 
“I’m sorry,” I interrupt, “who are these guys?”
“They’re in a band,” says Nina.
“Like a real one?” I ask. Years of living in New York have taught me that all bands are not, in fact, real ones. Nina laughs.
“You’re funny,” she muses, “yes, a real one. They’re like famous. We’ll go over eventually, they throw the best parties you can find around here. Get real drugs, too. Not just liters upon liters of Aperol, not that I mind that either.”
With my question sufficiently answered, I return quietly to my pasta, cutting each shell into impossibly smaller pieces until it’s rabbit food that will glide down my throat and do the hard job of nourishing me without any work on my part.
After dinner, I tuck into the pull-out couch in the villa’s spacious living room. The lack of A/C and the balmy summer air make it impossible to enjoy the luxurious wool blankets Nina’s family no doubt splurged on. I allow myself to eavesdrop on the elated sounds coming from upstairs: women confiding in each other, commiserating about their troubles, and shrieking excitedly at each other's successes.
I first try to doze off at 10:15, hoping that an early night will be exactly what I need and I’ll wake up refreshed and on Italian time. After an hour of staring at the popcorn ceilings and trying to suppress my crippling fear of missing out, I’ve tired my mind out enough to begin slipping toward sleep. I have fewer and fewer thoughts until I’m jolted by a hip-hop bassline. It resonates through the trundle bed and rebounds off my ribs, cozying itself into my heart. As I begin to come to, I recognize the chords of a house track that used to play at the girl bar Claire and I frequented in Green Point. The melody is warm and familiar and undeniably annoying. How loud must the music be for it to affect me so acutely even as I’m a few kilometers away from them? 
I decide I’m pissed – and yes I decided. I’m freshly single, broke, jet-lagged, and fucking pissed at those entitled rich assholes. I slide my sandals on and head out down the hill in my sleep clothes.
-
I step outside onto the winding dirt road that leads the way to the boys’ home. The night is dark, lit by stars much brighter than I’m used to seeing in Brooklyn. I tilt my head back to look at them, trying to identify the big dipper. After a few seconds, I’m dizzy. I shake myself and trudge ahead, almost lulled into submission by the constant chirping of cicadas and the sweet fragrance of orange blossom that wafts off the bushes. 
With each step I take towards the boys’ villa (what were their names again? Nina said one was called George), the music, electronic and fast-paced, becomes louder. 
When I first knock on the faded wood door, I’m quite sure no one has heard me. I stand outside for a few minutes, contemplating whether I should knock again or cut my losses and return up the hill. I decide I may as well disrupt their party as some kind of karmic retribution for keeping me awake even as I’m exhausted from a transatlantic flight. I raise my fist and rap harshly at the door. A moment later, it flies open, revealing a curly-haired boy. Well, not boy, I decide as I inspect his features – lines decorate his forehead, and gray peeks out at me from within a ringlet that hangs over his eyes. He gives me a once over and can immediately tell I’m not here for the party. 
“Can I help you?” he asks, annoyed. His accent lilts and falls over the words. All of a sudden, I feel insecure in my braless and plaid pajama-clad state. He’s beautiful – and exasperated by me. I double down on my own annoyance. 
“Would you mind turning the music down?” I ask, still cordial, “I’m staying at the house up the way and I can’t get to sleep.”
The guy in front of me purses his lips and considers me for a moment. I feel itchy and uncomfortable. He’s looking at me like he can see through my clothes, to my soft hips and painted toes and peaked nipples. 
“Let me show you around, gorgeous,” he smiles, “then maybe you won’t mind so much.” He grabs my wrist and yanks me into the party. A warmth covers me as I cross the threshold into the villa. The inside of the home smells like college: cheap weed, sweet sticky mixers, and sweat. My sandals stick slightly to the floor, reminding me that I really shouldn’t be here right now. Like the alcohol that’s been spilled on the ground is some great cosmic interference to convince me to go home and get the rest I ought to. 
Suddenly, a big hand falls on the shoulder of the boy who’s pulling me by my limbs.
“Matty!” says the man. I can make out enough to see that he’s tall and devastatingly handsome. 
“George!” the boy – Matty, I remind myself – drops my hand and fully embraces the bigger guy. “Was just showing…” he nods at me to introduce myself.
“Y/n.”
“Around,” Matty finishes. George gives me a once over.
“Did she just roll out of bed? Or get released from prison?”
“Y/n came to ask us to keep the noise down,” Matty declares with fake sincerity, “Not a partier, are ya love?”
“Under the right circumstances, I can be,” I retort. Matty and George’s eyebrows raise in amusement, faces breaking out in smiles. That sounded much more cunning in my head. Now I feel like a toy they’re playing with, winding me up to see what noises I make. It feels infantilizing. I’m uncomfortable, crawling in my skin; pride battered and desperate to go home as soon as it doesn’t look like I’m running away from a fight of my own picking. “I’d better be going actually,” I assert.
Matty puckers his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’ll show you out, princess.” It’s a sweet nickname but it tastes bitter out of his mouth. He seems to twist everything good and make it unbearable. I resent him for it. I trudge in front of Matty towards the door with steadfast focus. As I cross the threshold, I turn to meet his gaze.
“Thanks for nothing,” I say calmly. Matty breaks into a devilishly smug grin. His eyebrows tilt a little and his lips reveal a few crooked teeth at the bottom of his mouth.
“My pleasure, darlin’,” he says. I scoff and turn on my heels, leaving Matty in the dust.
The scent of freshly chopped garlic fills the kitchen as I stand in an assembly line of young women with cutting boards and chefs knives, each diligently chopping an ingredient for the bruschetta. 
In front of me is a bunch of basil, perfectly fresh and green. I gently remove the leaves from the stem and create a pile in the middle of my board. It reminds me of when I would be tasked with raking the leaves as a kid. Too distracted by my childish whims, I would create more work for myself by piling the leaves on top of each other and taking a grandiose dive into them before scooping them up into a trash bag and discarding them. Each leaf was like a piece of confetti, a celebration of the season and of youth. Now I do these things to prove to myself that I’m young and that I can still conjure up that imaginative, playful nature if I try hard enough. 
As I rock my knife back and forth over the soft leaves, Christina asks me where I was the night before. 
“I came out around eleven to invite you upstairs, but I couldn’t find you,” she says.
Embarrassed, I train my eyes to the task at hand. This is not the group to look like a tattle-tale in front of. Actually, there’s very few groups in which that would fly. My penchant for playing God and divvying out karmic consequences to everyone whose path I cross is a part of my nature I’m not particularly fond of. I’m not keen to share it, especially around people who are still making up their minds about me. Despite my steadfast beliefs and borderline-outlandish behaviors, I maintain a fervent desire to be liked. It’s pathetic. 
“I stepped out for some air,” I murmur.
“Really?” she nudges, “Because I didn’t see you on the porch.”
I turn my basil bunch 90 degrees in a flourish, beginning to chop it lengthwise. 
“Fine, I couldn’t sleep because of the music,” I spit.
“And…” Christina has always been too good at getting me to reveal my true feelings. She goads me torturously until it’s easier to say what I’m thinking than to conceal it.
“And I went to ask them to turn the music down,” I finish, “There, are you happy?”
“Very,” she smiles. 
I pick up the chopped basil, letting the pieces float through my fingers and deciding I need to chop them smaller, still. I whack at the pile haphazardly, ruining the lovely squares I meticulously crafted earlier. 
“They didn’t turn it down, if you were wondering,” I pant, “Pricks.” Christina chuckles to herself.
“No one ever does.”
The music of the club is omnipresent as I enter hand in hand with Christina. On my feet are heels too high to be comfortable, but the perfect lift to accentuate my calves. As soon as I cross the threshold, I drag Christina to the bartender, ordering two negronis. We idle by the bar for a moment and I take in my surroundings, savoring the bitter aftertaste of my drink and the waltz of the lights that flicker and cover the dancefloor with reverie. I listen to the synths and flourishes of the melody that envelop my senses. I hadn’t expected to like the music, but the DJ is spinning disco and it just feels right: the cold Italian aperitif, the funky basslines, and the tranquil nighttime air. I almost wish I’d left my phone at home. Nights like these aren’t compatible with phones anyway. The atmosphere feels like a relic of a bygone era, full of free love and intoxication. 
Nina and a friend of hers find Christina and me at the bar and run up to us with inebriated bravado. “You guys made it!” she squeals. Little does she know we were pre-gaming at the villa in anticipation of this exact moment. I couldn’t handle Nina while sober tonight, that much I was absolutely sure of. It also didn’t help that I was alone – for the first time in several years – in a romantic foreign country without the girl whom I still loved. As unhealthy as it was, alcohol made that reality hurt a bit less. Nina grabs my hands and leads Christina and me away from the bar. 
“I need to introduce you to the DJs!” Nina exclaims. I glance at Christina to communicate that no, I’m not particularly enthused at the prospect of meeting some Eurotrash guy whose head is shaved and whose torso is covered in Gucci logos. She returns the glance, silently begging me to behave. I relent.
Nina leads us around the side of the floor to some kind of dark stairwell. Rationally, I should be scared of being kidnapped but my drunken stupor inspires more carelessness than I would usually indulge in. I watch the sway of Christina’s hips and follow her like a lost puppy. Finally, we reach the top and the DJ deck is revealed. It’s shadowy and hazy. To the left is a corner booth with a straight couple making out in a way that really ought to be illegal in public. Past the lookout, laser lights flicker and sweep across the dancefloor, catching on the artificial fog and filling the air with psychedelic color. My eyes fall on the backs of two figures at the DJ booth, smoke rising above their heads. I can make out that one has headphones on and is faffing with the turntable while the other has their hands in the air and the small, flickering glow of a lit cigarette dancing around their figure. I’m dragged towards them by Nina who throws an arm around each of their necks in greeting. As soon as the one with the cig turns around, I catch his eyes.
It’s Matty. Selfish, arrogant Matty. I nod my head and flatten my mouth in a kind of recognition. The room is spinning from the alcohol and my skin is buzzing with discomfort. The bass of the music resonates in my ribs, teaching my heart how to beat. My mouth tastes salty and my knees feel weak. 
I’m running to the corner where I can see a bin. Tears prick at my eyes and my hair sticks to my sweaty forehead as I swiftly empty the contents of my stomach into the small trash can. I kneel on the rough carpet and brace myself on either side of the bin with my hands. Between heaves, I lift my head to shake my hair off the back of my neck. The cool air feels grounding, but I’m soon back with my head in the can. I feel a hand on the back of my head, wrangling my frizzy hair off of my shoulders. I gasp, looking back for the sisterly comfort of Christina’s bottomless, cerulean eyes. Instead, I find a pair of brown, honey-flecked irises: Matty’s. I’m reeling too severely to be upset or confused; I’m just grateful when he uses his free hand to sweep my damp bangs out of my face and nods at me.
“Go on,” he encourages, “better out than in.”
I bury my head in the bucket again. 
“Atta girl,” Matty coos in my ear. I can almost notice his hand rubbing circles on my back. Even when I’m quite sure I’m finished, I keep my head down for a moment savoring the last few seconds that I don’t have to look Matty in the eyes. Curse him for helping me. I wouldn’t know how to interact with him under normal circumstances, much less when he’s been nice to me – and watched me unceremoniously blow chunks into a bin.
“You feel better?” he asks. I lift my head tentatively, still scared another wave of nausea will hit me. 
“I think so, yeah,” I mumble. Matty searches my eyes for any warning sign that I’m still sick.
“Have you got a hair tie?” I instinctually fish in my jeans pocket for one, handing it to him. Slowly, he corrals my locks into a ponytail and secures it, fingers grazing the tops of my ears and making me shiver. I sit back against the wall with my legs splayed out in front of me, knees visibly carpet burnt from my previous position. Matty flops down beside me. He reaches out to touch the red, irritated skin. 
“You don’t need a doctor or something, do you?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I hiss when he applies a little pressure to my knee and shake his hands off me, “Why are you being nice to me?”
“When have I not been nice?”
“You wouldn’t turn the music down the other night,” I state. He smiles at me, eyes scrunching up until his pupils are totally obscured. 
“No one ever turns the music down,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus,” he adds, “I thought you were a buzzkill. Now I can see that’s not the case, sweetheart.”
“I can usually handle my drink better than this,” I protest, “And I’m also usually not a buzzkill.”
“I guess I don’t know anything about you, then,” he acquiesces, thinking for a moment, “Do you want to start over?”
“Sure, I’d like that,” I nod, smiling tipsily.
“So what’s caused you to be sick tonight?” Matty asks, leaning his head back against the wall. His hair is curled up in perfect ringlets and his skin glows golden even in the dim club light. He looks at me carefully, like his stare could hurt me. It could, I suppose. 
“Alcohol?” I say it like that should be obvious. His face wrinkles up again in a laugh I can vaguely identify as something that’s my fault. He looks pretty. I realize I want to make him do it again and again forever. I want to see the crinkles that grow at the sides of his eyes and the curl of his upper lip that reveals his boyishly crooked teeth.
“I figured as much. Anything in particular that drove you to drink?” I frown for a second, trying to remember. 
“My ex,” I say quietly.
“What’d he do?”
“Nothing,” I shake my head, “that’s the problem. She didn’t do anything.”
“When was that?”
“Two months ago?” My god, it’s already been two months.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs,  “that’s still fresh.” I shrug.
“It’s alright I guess. You just feel a little betrayed when someone stops trying. I thought that was the whole point of…” I trail off, gesticulating aimlessly with my hands, “love or whatever. To keep trying.”
“I get it,” he utters. 
“People stop trying with rockstars, too?” I tease. He smiles.
“How did you know that I’m a musician?”
“Well, first of all, I said rockstar–”
“Which I chose to ignore because it was sarcastic.” I roll my eyes.
“And second of all, the girls I’m staying with told me,” I finish. He nods in understanding.
“Well yeah,” he sighs pensively, “people stop trying with everybody. Even rockstars. If I’ve learnt anything in my life, it’s that giving up usually has more to do with them than it does with you.”
“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I argue.
“Nothing does. You just have to let it hurt for a while.”
We’re both quiet for a second. I catch a couple of bars of an Earth, Wind, and Fire song and hum along, content with the silence. I let my head fall onto Matty’s shoulder and he immediately turns his head to look at me.
“Oh fuck, sorry. Is this okay?” I ask, hand flying to my mouth “I know I just puked.”
“It’s okay,” he says, “I just didn’t think you would want to.”
“I want to,” I kiss his shoulder through the cotton of his white button-up shirt. He watches me the whole time as though he can’t quite compute what’s happening. Then he snaps back to his regular confident state.
“Let me know if you ever want to deal with your girlf– ex without drinking your feelings away…” he trails off, mouth meeting the crown of my head, “I’d love to show you around here sometime.”
“Okay,” I mumble, the alcohol, tiredness, and emotions beginning to get the better of me and coax me toward sleep.
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Matty grabs my hand from my lap and wraps it in his two larger ones, caressing my thumb and humming into my ear.
a/n: the next bit is written, but I am still writing the end. smut soon! x
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