#oh also the first time I read this my brain immediately went to the ''does this couch make me look dead'' scene in Beetlejuice

[lowkeyremi]

jjk men and aftercare ft. Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Toji, and Geto.

a/n: I saw something like this awhile ago and forgot to write abt it but here I am now babyyyy (there is already a part 2 in progress bc i wanna do 10 characters lmaoo) also not proofread bc im tired :P

cw: really suggestive, established relationships, how they are after sex basically :)

Gojo Satoru

When you two first started hitting third base Gojo was all about himself and about how he felt. When you had cleaned yourself up and prepared for bed that night Satoru finally realized something was wrong.

"What's wrong, babe? I thought you liked it??" He asks, worried about his performance in bed. Your silence prompts him to try and figure out what he had done wrong, and honestly he couldn't even think of anything.

"Pleaseeee tell me. I won't know if you don't say anything." Those invasive thoughts that tell you, "you don't matter to him." start to attack your brain once again. He's way out of your league you start to think.

"Aftercare. You didn't even offer to help me clean up, Satoru." Saying it out loud makes you sound kind of petty in your opinion but it does matter.

"OH. Shit baby I'm so so so so sorry!!!!! I- It's just-" He cuts himself off and tries to reword his sentence, "Well, back then I.. I was sleeping around so my pleasure was the only thing that mattered to me. It's different.. you know? Dating. I'm still working out everything. I won't forget next time I promise."

He'd been telling the truth because from then on he always went all out with aftercare. He would run you a bath with your favorite salts and oils, he'd make you your favorite snacks, he'd even cuddle you afterwards until you fell asleep. (rich boyfriend privileges)

Choso Kamo

He'd been waiting so long to finally sleep with you for the first time so he had done all his research prior to the day. He was looking at your dilated pupils, messy hair, and the cum that sat on your stomach.

"Okay so, according to the article I read, I should run you a hot bath, yeah?" He asks nervously.

A small smile braces your lips. In all honesty you probably should have expected this much from Choso. He wants to make sure everything is perfect.

"You looked up aftercare???" You sit up on the bed and a back cramp decides to hit right then and there. As soon as he hears your groan he sprints the the kitchen, only to return with a heat pad.

"Heat pad for cramps?" He's truly nervous, and eager to please you, the love of his life.

"Thank you, Cho. I'll take you up on that bath."

"Of course, I'll get in with you if that's okay." The smile on your face is enough of an answer.

Nanami Kento

YOU ARE WINNING!!!!

Massages, baths, homemade snacks, you name and he'll do it for you. In his mind it's the least he can do for you, because you treat him so well and give him that pretty pussy he loves so much.

"Right here?" He's currently working those skilled fingers into your tight muscles after bending you every which way.

"Ohhh... yes right there, baby. Hurts so muchhhh." You whine and moan at the same time. At this point you two have already bathed and he's made sure to moisturize your body leaving you clean and refreshed.

He seemed to notice the way you limped and asked if you need anything. The sex was good really, but you didn't want to tell him that folding you in half wasn't the best idea. Oh, but he's persistent would not leave you alone until you told him what was wrong.

Once you told him he had immediately sat you down, picked up your favorite lotion and started to work out the kinks in your body.

"I'm so sorry, again." He mumbles quietly.

"Stop apologizing, Kento. These things happen. At least I know to stretch before hand next time." His face softens at your giggles and he presses a small kiss to your thigh.

"Oh do not get me started." A smile creeps up his face, while blush slowly spreads across yours.

Toji Fushiguro

BOOOOOO no aftercare. well maybe not much at least.

Has not properly cared for a woman since his late wife but he realizes if he wants you to stay he'll have to fix that.

At first he would throw a wet rag at you and give a simple, "here clean up." When he got out the shower he was genuinely confused why you were no longer at his apartment.

As soon as you picked up he could tell you were pissed, "What do you want, Fushiguro."

He's a little shocked, did not expect that from you, "I'm your boyfriend so it's Toji and not Fushiguro. The hell is your problem??"

The silence is so loud. For a second he thought you'd hung up on him. "Hello??"

"I'm giving you some time to think about that dumbass question and figure out why I'm mad at you." He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes too. He's lucky you can't see it.

"Ugh, I don't have time to play the damn guessing game. You're always mad about the little things.. what is it?" He's running through anything he could have possibly done wrong recently.

"Toji, you threw a fucking wet washcloth at me and told me to clean myself up. I'm your girlfriend, not one of your one night stands!" There it is, and the bad part is he doesn't even see what's wrong with that. (at first)

"I don't even give them something to clean up with, I just leave. But damn if you want me to get all fancy and shit I'll try." He scratches his head and begins to wonder why women are so hard to please.

Let me tell you he's no Nanami, but it's getting better. Still falls asleep afterward most times tho :/

Geto Suguru

You do it yourself for the most part, and here's why.

He's over here washing you up in the tub and he can't stop staring at your soapy titties and it just leads to more sex.

It's never just aftercare with him. He's always chasing more. Like that time you asked him to massage your legs after you two had finished fucking in the tub.

"Yeah shit why not? Lotion or oil??" He asks looking through your products.

"Uhhh lotion's fine." You'd grabbed your phone to see if your mother left you a voicemail which she did. She talked about how you need to pick up the phone or at least text her your alive if you're not gonna pick up. You were NOT going to pick up earlier though. Suguru likes to tease and you learned that the hard way when he was eating you out while you were discussing group bonding dinner ideas with your boss over the phone.

Anyway, he made his way to the bed with your lotion and all things went to hell. It was slow at first, nothing too sensual, then of course he had to slip a finger in your pussy and you sat there and stared.

"We are not doing this, we just got out of the bath." You were so serious, but so was he. (you were also aroused so)

"Another bath never hurt anybody, 'fraid of a little water baby??"

(such an annoying whore)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #choso #choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento x reader #nanami kento x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #geto suguru #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader

[ineffable-suffering]

Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 1: The Story of Job

I'm absolutely not the first one to talk about this on here and I probably shan't be the last either. Alas, here's my take on why all of the minisodes in Season 2 should be enjoyed with great care – and taken with a grain of angelic salt.

I'm gonna split this into 3 parts, aka the three minisodes we are shown, since I tend to get a bit waffley in my posts and want to still be able to include all the little details. Once I've written them, I'll link Part 2 & Part 3 here as well!

Alright, let's get into it under the cut of doom.

Episode 2 opens with the Story of Job. Right off the bat, I noticed that it sort of looks like an old film playing. At first I didn't read that much into it, but once we see the cut-away to Aziraphale at the bookshop, currently reading that part of the Bible (presumably), I immediately thought: "Oh! It's because it's his memory. He's remembering how it went down and therefore it plays like a figurative film in his head."

This, I then came to realize, is a very crucial difference to all the flashbacks of S1, which were exclusively told and narrated by God. May her intensions be as ineffable as they are: She did tell us all of these stories from an objective outsider's point of view. Now, however, it's Aziraphale who's re-telling those stories to us from memory.

And if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that a memory is something entirely different to an objective narration of a story. Just think about how you yourself remember things. Especially things that happened years, maybe even decades (or, in an angel's case, millenia) ago. What is it, that you really remember? Can you know for sure, that a conversation was held with those exact words? Are you 100% certain that the clothes someone wore weren't different? Had it really been snowing or would that make very little sense given what you're remembering happened in May? And did it even happen in May? Or does that just happen to be your favourite month, the current weather, your preferred style of clothing and what it was that you would imagine someone would have said to you?

What I'm trying to say is: The further away it is that something happened, the more your brain has to fill in the gaps. This is why, for example, your parents will remember the family summer holiday entirely different when you ask them about it 20 years later.

"No, it was Sarah who puked on the car ride home!" "Nonsense, Sarah never puked as a child. Bobby had that gone-off pizza, he's the one that was sick the whole ride long!"

We've all been there. Bobby made it out alive. Don't buy gas station pizza.

Alright, back to the plot: Naturally, Aziraphale is not actually human, so it is a pure assumption on my part that the way his memory works is similar to ours. However, the whole topic of "memory" is actually quite a recurring one on Good Omens.

Crowley seems to have lost his in the Fall, yet somehow managed to get most of it back. Not all of it, though, he clearly has some major gaps ("You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat!"). Beelzebub helps Gabriel store all his memories in their little fly container before they get wiped entirely too, by the Metatron and/or Saraqael. Crowley and Aziraphale (and possibly Jimbriel) perform a miracle together that makes everyone in Heaven and Hell forget who Garbiel is or what he looks like. And we know that the Book of Life apparently has the ability to completely erase someone from existence – ergo also erasing them from everyone's memory and making it is as though the person had never been in them at all.

So, clearly, angels and demons being able to remember, forget, reconstruct and, if you're the Metadork, wipe memories, is very much canon. Apart from that very last one, it does make them quite human-like in a way. We too can forget or (wrongfully and incompletely) reconstruct memories, due to things like trauma, illness or simply a lot of time having passed.

So, just like Crowley remembers going into battle but doesn't remember Furfur being there, or just like Jimbriel has entierly forgotten who he is but still remembers the tune and lyrics to Buddy Holly's song Everyday, and just like archangel Michael was miraculously made to forget Gabriel and yet says "Don't I know you?" when seeing him again – just like that, Aziraphale's memories of the story of Job, the story of wee Morag and the story of the magic show in 1941, might not actually be the whole truth.

So, time to look at where the furniture isn't.

Now, it could very well be that the costume designers of S2 thought: "Fuck it, let's go crazy" – but given that this show has a track record of meticulously making sure to stick to accurate and cohesive character design, doesn't it strike you as odd that Crowley would go from this look at the Flood in Mesopotamia, 3004 BC:

... to the (very iconic, don't get me wrong) Bildad the Shuhuite drip in 2500 BC:

... back to this at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 33 AD:

I mean ... I mean– come on, that seems like a bit of a far stretch, even for someone as enthusiastically experimental with fashion as Crowley.

And it's not just that: Where did the sunglasses come from, all of a sudden? And why do they look like some sort of obscure, ancient optometrist's device? It's a known historical fact that the Romans were the ones to have invented sunglasses, somewhere around 50-ish AD. Which actually matches perfectly with when Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in Rome 8 years after the crucifixion (51 AD).

So, where do the weird spectacles come from, over 2000 years too early? Maybe from Aziraphale's brain filling in some gaps? Hasn't Crowley always worn those ridiculous sunglasses? Was it Rome? Or Golgotha? Wessex? Oh, blimey, what does it matter!

And it's not just Crowley: Aziraphale's own clothes, as well as the other angels', seem to be very different from the rather plain linen we see him wear before and after the story of Job.

They're laced with golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The remind almost of the clothes angels are depicted wearing in biblical and historical drawings. Ornate and decadent. Not at all like we see Aziraphale in the other flashbacks of S1.

Even Bildad the Shuhite's hair within the minisode keeps changing, going from all pouffy and voluminous to rather deflated and straight-looking:

The costume department either had to fix up two seperate wigs or manually straighten out the volume of the one again to give it a more sleek look. I'm not a professional in this field, but if there's anything I've learned from watching hours of behind-the-scenes material of movies and shows, it's that very little about costume, character, prop and set design is purely coincidental.

You know what it could be, though? An accurate representation of how memories aren't linear, historically correct and objective representations of a certain event, but rather an ever-changing, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions and exaggerations.

More specifically: Aziraphale's impression, emotions and exaggerations.

Like "remembering" Crowley with sunglasses because he's been wearing them for so long.

Like "remembering" himself wearing more luxurious, angelic clothes because that's how he thinks of the difference between Heaven and Hell.

Like "remembering" the permit as a ridiculously long scroll that folded out over an entire valley.

Like "remembering" Job's children to be weirdly sassy in an almost Aziraphale-esque way (Enon: "Don't be silly!") for the fact that Job would have probably taught them to be more humble and obedient in the presence of a literal angel.

Like "remembering" eating an entire fucking Ox after having just one bite of it while Crowley watched him lustfully, sipping on his wine.

Like "remembering" Crowley calling him 'angel', despite them having barely known each other back then.

There's a reason why the flashbacks in S2 seem so much more alive, quirky and, at many points, confusing and all over the place. Because they're not objective stories being told by a third party. They're Aziraphale's. So much of his own thoughts and feelings at the time get projected onto them because that's simply how memory works!

It's subjective. It's unrealiable.

It's not that I'm calling Aziraphale a liar. He's no more a liar than your parents are, mixing up Sarah and Bobby. Or you, remembering snow instead of sunshine. Memories aren't lies. They can simply be faulty, focus on things that you thought were more important and leaving out or changing things that weren't, to you.

The real challenge in all of this, is trying to filter through Aziraphale's stories to see what it actually is they're telling us. Where it is that the furniture isn't. And I think in this case, that's 6 main things (eff you, God, I know you like sevens, but I don't care):

God and Satan (still) talk to each other We see that Aziraphale is quite surprised when Muriel mentions that the whole Job thing is God's bet with Satan. But clearly, despite having made him and the rest fall, God still converses with Her number one traitor about whether or not the humans simply love Her because she gives them nice things or because they truly believe in Her.

God and Satan (and Heaven and Hell) can and do collaborate with each other when they feel like it So much for choosing sides, huh? Truthfully, this is not the first time this is shown to us, but still. It's another piece of evidence on the growing pile.

Aziraphale understands the World and humans way better than any of the other angels "Well, you see ... Citis is 58 ..."

Aziraphale, despite having troubles voicing it, absolutely disagrees and even condemns God's plan of destroying Job's children (and goats and camels and––)

Aziraphale is willing to lie and thwart the will of God Also not the first time we're being shown this but again, piiiile of evidence.

Angels don't automatically Fall simply by doing the above To me, this is one of the most important take aways. It's already hinted in S1 as well that 'Falling' seems to have been a one time even back when the first war broke out in Heaven. And I actually believe that ever since then, no other angels have Fallen again. Aziraphale is the best example for this. He has gone against God's plan numerous times and even lied to her very face (voice?) about it. And yet, nothing ever happened to him. Why exactly that is the case remains a topic for another meta (that I might or might not be working on already, teehee).

Alright, that concludes this first look at the Job minisode! If there's anything I missed, feel free to share it with me. I'll try and add Part 2 (the story of wee Morag) and Part 3 (the magic show of 1941) soon.

Update: Part 2 and Part 3 have officially been written, you can find it them right here:

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

Hugs and kisses, (God)!

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #story of job #job minisode #good omens analysis #aziraphale is a storyteller #but not a very accurate one #my own meta

[scekrex]

Found another one hidden behind the cobwebs of my mind :D This time a prompt though, a smutty prompt 😏

Cowboy hat rule but Adam's exterminator mask. Reader being genuinely curious what it looks like inside and how does he see with it on his head, just putting it on while Adam was taking a shower or smth and looked in the mirror, thinking that it looked quite fucking awesome on him. He didn't realise though that Adam got out of shower and now was staring at him, dick absolutely hard seeing his husband wearing his mask that he goes to kill demons in and decides that since he wanted to wear his mask so badly, he's going to fuck him in it. Mask rule instead of the hat rule. Wear the mask, ride the masked man 🤠

Yeeehaw, might try that rule with ya 🤠😏

Ayo that a promise babes? Might take you up on that xoxo also Adam wasn't riding reader here but he made up for it

In Desire We Trust

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, anal sex, blowjobs, slapping, insulting (kinda?) unprotected & unprepared sex

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam had been in the bathroom for quite a while now, he had locked the door about half an hour ago with the info, that he was going to take a quick shower.

And ever since he had left his exterminator mask on the little coffee table in your living room your fingers were tickling to touch it, to put it on and figure out how it worked, because how the fuck did it work? You had been denying yourself that bit of information for far too long so you simply reached out and grabbed it. It looked… interesting. It was dark inside, but you couldn't spot any wires, that was for sure.

With curiosity rushing through your body you stepped over to the full body mirror that was hanging on the wall and put the mask on, eager to find out how the first man was able to see through this thing at all. Once the mask sat on your head comfortably, it immediately mimicked your facial expressions. Holy fuck was that thing accurate. You watched how every little movement was on display on the mask’s digital face and you were absolutely mesmerized by it.

Too caught up by how amazing this thing was, you didn't notice Adam leaving the bathroom. The first man was as naked as he had been back in Eden and the sight of you wearing his mask made him pop an instant boner because holy fucking shit, that thing looked absolutely glorious on you, it was something he wasn't used to at all, but that made it even better. The towel that had hung over his shoulder was dropped as he stepped up behind you.

A small surprised yelp escaped you as his naked arms wrapped around your body, his hands pressed against your chest to bring your back flush against his own chest. His hard dick was grinding firmly against your ass as one hand moved up to your neck. It forced you to tilt your head upwards. Through the mirror in front of you you glanced up at him, the mask mimicking your expression perfectly. “Fuck you look good wearing that mask,” he murmured as he watched your body react in the mirror, no need to look down at you when the mirror showed your body so fucking perfectly. You hummed at that, a wicked grin appeared on the LED screen. “Of course I fucking do,” you cockily responded, your ass moved in synch with his dick which drew pretty sounding gasps from the tall man behind you. “Wanna bend you over, grab you by the horns ‘n’ fuck you,” his voice was dripping from lust and the twitch that went through his dick only underlined his words. You liked that thought, very much so.

“Then fucking do it, coward.”

Oh and Adam was on it in an instant, the hand around your throat tightened a little as his other hand slid inside your pants to wrap around your dick, a moan fell from your lips as your eyes fell shut in pleasure and your body started to chase the friction Adam was providing. You had given the first man a challenge and Adam was no one to chicken out or back down, especially when it came to fucking your brains out. “You never fucking learn it, babes,” he purred in sheer delight at your reaction, a sharp grin on his lips as he watched the expression on the mask change. Your mouth was slightly agape, your eyes still closed and your eyebrows were raised. “Always so fucking cocky only to moan my name like the fucking whore you are moments later,” the hand that was stroking your dick slowed down before he withdrew his hand entirely from your erection. A shudder ran through your body.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here so that you can see how fucking godly you look while I fuck your brains out,” he hummed in your ear and you watched his eyes which were focused on your lips. Oh dear lord how you wanted to hold him accountable to his words, how you wanted nothing more than for him to fuck you braindead. The hand that had been stroking your dick grabbed a hold of one of the horns that were attached to the mask and while the thing would definitely need some deep cleaning later, Adam couldn't bring himself to care in the slightest at that moment, he was too focused on your body's reaction to his own. He firmly pulled the horn backwards which resulted in the back of the mask hitting his chest harshly, the brunette didn't seem to mind though given the chuckle he let out as a comment to the whimper that fell from your lips at the sudden movement. “Y’know I might get you your own,” his finger tapped the horn as if he was actually thinking about it. But before you could comment or even react to that the LED face of the mask mirrored your surprised expression as Adam yanked your pants down, your underwear was quick to follow. “Color?” the first man asked to check in on you - a thing you had talked about at the beginning of your relationship, right after figuring out each other's kinks. Consent was key and therefore consent was fucking hot. “Green,” you breathed out heavily as you kicked off your shoes and stepped out of the fabric that had been covering your lower body half just moments ago, leaving you in nothing but a band shirt you had stolen from Adam years ago. Your hands reached for the hem of the shirt in order to remove it but Adam stopped you, the hand on the horn catched both of your wrists easily and held them high above your head to prevent you from undressing yourself fully. “You stay like that. Only wearing my fucking shit,” oh and how he loved that thought, how he was able to drown in it even, you only dressed in things that belonged to him and him alone, just like you did. “Possessive, aren't we?” you teased the taller man behind you and earned yourself a squeeze on your throat for that comment, it had still been worth it. “Oh you fucking know it,” he simply responded.

His hand that had been wrapped around your throat the entire time finally let go and you inhaled deeply, dear god, how sweet air could taste. Instead he placed his large palm on your shoulder and forced you to bend over, your hands braced against the mirror to steady your body as soon as Adam released them and the LED face of the mask started to glitch a little with how many emotions were on your face. Adam noticed and decided spontaneously to find out how big the glitches could get. The free hand slapped your ass firmly, causing you to yelp in pain. Through the mirror you saw a hint of concern appear in his eyes and you were quick to assure him you were okay by grinding your naked ass against his erection.

While your own was painfully hard and arched for attention, you had learned to be patient, at least sometimes. He applied a little pressure onto your shoulder, “Stay.” A nod from you seemed to be enough confirmation for now because both of his hands grabbed your ass cheeks and spread them. He appeared eager today because there was neither preparation physically nor magically as you felt the tip of his dick brush against your hole, a shudder went through your body and a whimper fell from your lips. “Fuck, Adam,” you moaned as the LED face that the man was seeing displayed lust, nothing but pure lust that was underlined by glitches, “I can fucking take it.”

And that had seemed to be what he had wanted to hear because once the words had crossed your lips, he was slowly pushing his hips forwards, burying himself inside of you. A devine moan fell from Adam's lips at the sight and he couldn't help but stare. At you wearing his mask, at him sliding inside of you, spreading your insides in the nicest way possible. “Fucking right,” you growled through clenched teeth with a smirk on your lips, “Moan for me, bitch.” Adam hasn't expected such a comment from you and couldn't help it when his head fell backwards and another holy moan fell from his soft, tempting lips. Oh fuck, the things your words did to him.

A whine of your name escaped him and his hands moved from your ass to the horns of his mask, he pulled on them harshly, clearly filled with excitement, lust and loss of control. Within a blink your back was pressed flush against his chest again as his dick finally bottomed out inside of you, a delightful hum was what Adam got in return. You were biting your lip to keep yourself as quiet as possible, the first man clearly didn't like it, “Stop that fucking shit and moan for me you whore.” You couldn't stop the bitchy reply, “Yeah well if you'd fuck me properly I would be screaming your name already.” Adam stopped in his tracks for a second and looked at you perplexed through the mirror. Fuck. Had you overstepped? Had it been too much?

But then his grip shifted yet again, one hand found its spot on your hip bone, his grip hard enough to leave bruises while the other came up to your throat yet again. He leaned down a little, his chin now resting on the mask's horns as he spoke, “You bratty little fucker better shut your fucking mouth.” And without a warning his hips started to move, not softly like he would have done if you had just shut up, no, his pace was bruising, hard and rough yet quick at the same time. It physically knocked the air out of your lungs and when the first dick to ever be created finally found your sweet spot and penetrated it again and again and again, you knew you were done for, you knew you lost the fight for dominance, not that there had ever been a serious competition. “Adam,” you moaned as your hands reached behind you, grabbing his hips hard and digging your nails into his skin to keep him close. “Fuck-” your eyes fell shut and your head fell back against his solid chest. Fuck was truly the only proper word to describe how you felt. “Adam please,” you whined because despite being needy and despite having a painfully hard erection, you knew better than to simply touch yourself. You had already been playing with fire earlier and you really wanted to cum, so you weren't willing to take yet another risk. “Fucking touch me already,” you begged the first man and Adam truly never could get enough of you begging for him, no matter what it was about. But you begging for his hand to pleasure you was surely one of the things he liked the most. “Be fucking patient and I'll blow you,” he snarled as his balls slapped against your ass again, again, again.

The thought of Adam's lips around your dick made you feel lightheaded - well to be honest the entire situation made you feel lightheaded, especially with the mask covering your face. It wasn't exactly hard to breathe underneath it, quite the opposite actually, yet it felt like there wasn't enough air to pump through your body to keep up with what was happening. “C’mon babes, say it,” he underlined his words with an extra harsh thrust. You gasped in surprise as you gripped his hips even harder, your knees started to weaken and your legs were trembling as you watched him through the mirror. His eyes looked hazy, clouded by lust and love for you and only you, the expression on his face was fucked out and the mask was showing you that your expression was quite similar to his.

“Adam-” “No. Fucking say it,” his eyes darkened a little and oh how you loved it when they did that during sex, your hips thrusted up into nothing, desperately seeking friction. “For fucks sake,” you cussed at him, “I’m not calling you Dickmaster.” The annoyance was visible on the LED face and Adam's lips stretched into a wide, toothy grin, “You just fucking did,” his voice dropped an octave as he continued, “And you're gonna be my good fucking boy and do it again. Seriously this time.” And oh that voice of his shattered every little bit of pride you had stored up inside of you and you felt your knees giving out underneath you. Adam's arm was quick to wrap around you, to prevent you from falling. “Fucking admit it.” “Dickmaster,” you whispered as you tried to control your breathing a little, it was hellish hot underneath that fucking mask and your few was fogged so you barely saw anything. However you felt Adam's body react to your words - well to your word rather. “One more time, speak the fuck up, I want those bitches next door to know who's fucking your brains out.” Your grip on Adam's hips tightened yet again to keep you up on your legs even though that wasn't really necessary considering that he was holding you up, but the little stutter of his hips it earned you made it worth it. “Fucking Dickmaster,” you cried out as his dick hit your prostate extra hard.

Your hands came up to rip the mask off your head but once again the first man stopped you in your tracks, “The mask stays fucking on, babes.” A whine of his name was your answer to his demand and for a second his mind seemed to clear up because the grip on your wrists loosened and his eyes met yours in the mirror. “Color?” Oh how you adored it when he asked for consent and checked on you while also fucking you senseless, because while is face looked concerned, his thrusts didn't slow down in the slightest. “Green.” And with that he pushed your hands away from the mask.

“Gonna fucking paint your insides,” he mumbled once his attention had been shifted back to what you were doing. “Fuck, please-” you wanted that, wanted him to mark you up and paint you in white liquid. His hand still didn't move to touch you, not even when he groaned that he was close and you just took it. He had promised you a blowjob after all and you weren't gonna miss out on that.

And then he buried himself deep down inside of you, his nails dug into your hips as his orgasm knocked the air out of his lungs and his energy drained rapidly. He fucked the sticky liquid as deep in as physically possible, your name on his lips as he covered your insides in his cum.

Once his breathing slowed down again and the clouds that had covered his eyes lifted, he pulled out, grinning at your whine at the emptiness you were met with. “Adam,” you begged with need in your eyes, the emotion strong enough to make Adam's mask glitch, more extreme than it had been before and then the yellow LED face disappeared and Adam was met with a blank screen as he spun you around in his arms to face you.

Adam pushed you backwards until your back was pressed against cold glass, you let out a hiss at the unpleasant feeling as cum streamed down your legs. But Adam didn't care. He dropped to his knees within a heartbeat and without giving you the slightest bit of a warning, his mouth opened and his soft lips wrapped around your angry red erection.

The first man was quick to remove the mask from your head and toss it aside, that was a problem for later.

Oh what a relief the heat of Adam's mouth was, you knew it wouldn't take you long, that there was no chance you could last and still you grabbed a fistful of Adam's hair and fucked his throat harshly. The sin of lust had taken over your body completely and everything you did was because your body screamed at you to do it. But Adam let you. He let you fuck his throat, for fucks sake he moaned around your dick in the most delicious way possible, sending vibrations through your body. And that was all you needed. That simple little stimulation sent you over the edge and you couldn't bring your body to pull out of his mouth or give him a warning at least. A loud, throaty moan of his name erupted from your lips and your head hit against the cold glass behind you as you came down Adam's throat.

And he swallowed it all, of fucking course he did. Show off. He made sure your dick was all clean when he got up and whipped his mouth with the back of his hand, a proud grin on his lips. “Now that's my good boy,” he hummed, sounding just as proud as he looked, before leaning down and catching your lips in a much softer kiss. It tasted bitter and salty, your cum still on his tongue. His tongue that had just entered your mouth. Yet you moaned into the kiss, pushed yourself away from the mirror and against his hot body.

“Looks like you showered for nothing,” and while you tried to sound disappointed, Adam caught onto what you were implying immediately. “Mhm, seems like we have to take one together, can't fucking leave you all messy, babes.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[purpleberiii]

"Sinners with a little sinner in MBCC"

☆Prompt: You are the youngest sinner in MBCC (about the age of 5-6). How would the characters treat you?

☆Warnings: None

☆Includes: Zoya, Anne, Nightingale (I know she's not a sinner), Chelsea, Caberent, Bai Yi.

ZOYA

Zoya's first impression of you was that you were smol and tiny but she felt you were strong.

Despite her scary nature, she was extremely gentle with you. Always carrying you around on her shoulders.

Zoya plays fight with you. She would throw light punches and when you throw a punch, she would dramatically fall to the ground saying you win.

Some nights, you would climb up on Zoya's lap and snuggle against her chest and fall asleep, soon after, she would as well, holding you close to her body.

ANNE

Anne absolutely adores you. Your chubby cheeks makes you look like a baby in her arms.

Anne loves having you around whenever she takes care of others. She'd dress you in a little nurse outfit and give you small tasks like wetting a cloth and bringing it to her, throwing away unnecessary papers and stuff like that.

Anne also loves braiding your hair in her free time as well as reading books to you. She'd have you in her lap and a book opened up while she reads.

Eventually, you'd fall asleep, leaving her to tuck you in. Kissing you forehead and bidding goodnight is also a must.

NIGHTINGALE

You were the only sinner nightingale liked because you weren't constantly hogging all of chief's attention to you. Instead, you'd sit there and listen to her rant about her obsession with the chief even though your tiny brain can't comprehend any she says.

You followed her around like a puppy, whenever she has a task, she always made sure to bring you. If she sees one of the employees harassing you, immediately she will report them.

Nightingale loves feeding you. She loves watching the way your chubby cheeks worked to chew your food and while she remained calm on the outside, she was literally squealing on the inside.

Whenever you're feeling cold, expect her to wrap you up in her coat and place her hat on your head, she does literally everything to make you feel warm.

CHELSEA

Chelsea spoils you. Literally with anything. She gives you new clothes every week, and even have the best shampoos brought in for you.

She made sure your cell was as clean as anything, even going long lengths to make sure your cell is designed however you deemed fit.

Chelsea had her tailor made matching outfits for you and her on occasions, for the chief as well, so you'd all look like a big family.

You're the only person she trusts with sitri and sometimes she even finds you sleeping on the big cat. She won't wake you, she'll take pictures.

CABERNET

You were scared of Cabernet no joke. The things she tell others had you thinking about it. "Will she really eat my soul?"

Once Cabernet realised this, she tried to be more gentle and loving around you and slowly, you warmed up to her.

Because of her wealth, Cabernet always bought expensive toys and books for you, also clothing.

There was always rivalry between her and Chelsea to see who you'd like more but in the end you choose them both, saying that you couldn't pick.

Cabernet always carried you around attached to her hip. Her favourite thing to do for you was to cook and believe it or not, she was a really good cook. She always looked forward to hearing your praises about the food.

She even went against the chief's orders and snuck a tiny bit of non alcoholic wine for you which made you all energetic.

BAI YI (OH MY WIFE)

Bai yi was your idol. You wanted to be like her when you grew up and you made sure she knew it. She was always so carefree and relaxed, making you think that she didn't have anything to worry about.

Bai yi was the one who'd go against all the rules for you, just so you could be happy. She has a weakness for you and everyone knew it.

She would take you on motorcycle rides at night, driving at a slower pace than normal. She bought you food and took you to a nice spot where you two sat down and admired the stars.

Eventually, she left with you sleeping peacefully in her arms, your head resting on your chest while her usually opened jacket was closed so that you fit snuggly in it.

When she returned to MBCC past curfew and while she being scolded by Nightingale, she would turn around and show them the position you were in and immediately they all would shut up. She never woke you up, she wanted you to sleep on her chest all night and you didn't mind as you fell asleep listening to her heartbeat.

A/n: you can clearly see who's my favourite from there. I might do another part with teenager reader.

#bai yi #zoya #anne #chelsea #nightingale #ptn #path to nowhere chelsea #path to nowhere zoya #path to nowhere nightingale #path to nowhere anne #path to nowhere #path to nowhere ladies

[mbappeslover]

écoute chérie // kylian mbappé | part two.

kylian mbappé x f! reader.

saw this edit on tiktok by strkvoid!!! they edited mbappé to écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer and… i fell in love. the song is sooo mbappé.

y/n got the job as kylian’s personal assistant. his previous assistant fired for unknown reasons. y/n had heard about kylian mbappé and his terrible attitude. she wasn’t excited to work with him. but, turns out.. he’s actually not that bad.

read part one first.

read finale.

“and then, he says he’ll call me in the morning. like what?”

y/n got home later that night and the first thing she did was call her friend to tell her of the events that went down.

“y/n, relax. i don’t know why you’re thinking so hard when it’s crystal clear.” y/n friend says.

“what’s crystal clear?” y/n asks.

y/n hears a deep sigh over the phone.

“you are such a idiot. it’s clear that he likes you, y/n! he’s interested in you.”

“but, i am his personal assistant. that can’t happen, he can’t be interested in me. do you want me to lose my job? i know i don’t.” y/n whines.

“i don’t know about you, but no regular boss does that to someone he only sees as a worker. an assistant… i’m just saying, if i were in your position, i’d be thinking of things to do when i become a wag.”

“shut up! i am not going to be a wag, i cannot stand you. plus, he literally hates me.” y/n rebuttals.

“again y/n, let’s use our brains. didn’t he say he had a reason. he was flirting with you and you think it’s nothing! you better go to his house tomorrow to find the answer.”

“okay, mom. you better be right about this.” y/n accepts in defeat because her friend is making a great point.

“mhm. i’m so tired, go to sleep y/n.”

“goodnight.” y/n says before hanging up.

you wake up to your phone ringing. it’s 8am.

‘who’s calling me at this time.’ you think to yourself.

still halfway asleep, you answer groggily.

“hello, who’s this?”

“waouh, j'ai mal. pourquoi mon numéro n'est pas enregistré? (wow, i am hurt. why is my number not saved?)”

fuck.

hearing the voice of the caller, you fully wake up immediately.

“no, no, kylian. i do have your number saved, i just, you just woke me up and i was still asleep, so i, i just answered the phone without lookin-“

“relax, i’m just joking. bonjour, y/n.”

even if it was way too early, kylian’s voice being the first thing you heard after waking up; it had to be the best thing ever.

“bonjour kylian, comment vas-tu? quelque chose est arrivé? (hello kylian, how are you? did something happen?)” you greet him back.

“no, nothing happened. i told you i would call you in the morning. i wanted to inform you that i decided to take a day off. so, you also have a day off.” he says.

“oh okay, is that all?” you ask.

“yes, that’s all. i’m outside of your building, get dressed and come down.”

you immediately sit up, removing the sheet off of yourself.

“what?! how are you? why are you…? you know what. didn’t you say today was my day off?” you question, confused.

“who said you’d be working? just come downstairs.” he says before hanging up the phone.

you calmly set your phone aside, before picking up a pillow, holding it up to your face and screaming in frustration.

you didn’t know what you were expecting, it sure as hell wasn’t that.

you hop in the shower and get dressed, wearing a black crop top, with black oversized cargo pants and panda nike dunks. you do a quick hairstyle and no-makeup makeup look before rushing downstairs.

it was a bit chilly in paris today, and you forgot to grab your coat before leaving the house.

you got downstairs but didn’t see the usual all-black van with extra dark tinted windows. it’s the car most celebrities drive in.

‘i thought he said he was outside…?’ you wonder, the wind making you shiver a bit.

you were about to pull out your phone to call him, when a red ferrari 488 pista pulls into the driveway.

the windows were tinted so you couldn’t tell who it was.

till the driver stepped out the car.

it was kylian. and, kylian looked so good.

he was wearing black airforce ones, cargo pants that cuffed at the ankles, a black shirt, with a light brown leather jacket.

you saw him outside of his practice uniform, it was usually athletic clothing, like a nike tech.

but, this?

he was all dressed up, and looked so nice.

“hello, y/n. over here! i knew you’d take a little while so i decided to get us something hot to drink in the meantime.” he said waving.

you walk up to kylian.

“this is yours? you’re so fancy.” you say in a teasing tone, running your index finger along the shiny exterior.

“yeah and rich.” he says confidently. he had his elbow propped up against the car door.

“whatever, you’re just kylian the crybaby in my eyes.” you scoff jokingly.

“don’t get too comfortable, miss y/l/n. i’m still your boss.” he says in a warning tone, of course, joking.

“you’re right. i don’t wanna go back to getting mean mugged all day for no reason.” you say, leaning against the car, crossing your arms.

“you know, you still have to explain to me why i deserved that.” you continue.

kylian just looks at you, up and down.

“where’s your coat? didn’t you know it’d be a bit chilly today? you look like you’re freezing.” he asks.

“is it that noticeable? i thought i was hiding the fact that i’m cold pretty well.” y/n says, a little disappointed.

kylian’s pov:

“is it that noticeable? i thought i was hiding the fact that i’m cold pretty well.”

there she goes with the unintentional pouting again, she just doesn’t know how cute she is.

on top of that, she had the nerve to dress so simple yet look so stunning.

he began to take off his jacket.

“what are you doing?” the woman in front of him questions.

“what does it look like i’m doing, cher?” he says trying to hand over the jacket to her.

y/n looked at the jacket, then looked at kylian.

‘please don’t be difficult.’ he hopes to himself

“i’m not wearing it.” y/n says before turning around, making her way the the passenger side.

he follows behind.

“yes, you are. you’re going to wear it.”

she reached to open the door, kylian quickly maneuvered in front and opened it for her.

“i’m going to make sure you won’t have to touch any door when with me.” he says to her, he didn’t realize how close they were to each other.

y/n’s pov:

he always does this. these small moments where they’re saying so much, yet so little.

her heart was beating, fast. abnormally fast.

after an intense stare down, y/n complies.

“fine, give me your stinky jacket.”

“stinky? you’re childish. i could never stink and you know that.” kylian says smirking as y/n slides on the jacket.

“he swears he’s all that and a bag of chips.” mumbles to herself.

“huh, what was that?” he says.

“nothing, what’s the plan for today?” you question, entering the car, kylian made sure you were properly seated, before closing the door for her and jogging to the driver’s seat.

“put your seatbelt on and here, this is for you. i got you some ginger-lemon tea. it tastes amazing.” he says pointing to the cup holder.

you thank him as he starts the car.

you sip on the tea, as you look out the window. you still didn’t know what the plan was today, but, obviously you weren’t gonna ask anymore questions because he wasn’t going to answer anyway.

it’s quiet, extremely quiet. but, it isn’t awkward, it’s quite nice.

why does the world suddenly slow down when i’m with my boss?

it’s ten minutes into the drive and kylian break the silence.

“earlier, you asked me what’s the plan. today’s plan is i’m taking you shopping.”

you choke on your drink.

“no.” you say after clearing your throat.

“no?” kylian questions, taking his eye off the road for a second to analyze your face.

“but, why?”

“why? just because.” kylian answers.

“you’re lying.” you shoot at him.

“yes, i am.” he shoots back.

kylian’s pov:

“what’s your deal?” she questions him.

“i can’t treat my assistant out to some shopping?” he says.

obviously, this isn’t normal. but, he likes y/n. he’s accepted that.

he still feels bad about the way he treated her.

he wants her.

“you’re not fooling anyone. i see right through you, mr. mbappé.” she scoffs.

“it’s kylian.” he replies, smirking.

they spent most of the day together at an extremely fancy mall in the heart of paris. places where only the elite shop: athletes, models, actors. so, the two didn’t need any security or had to worry about running into fans and paparazzi. it was just the two of them.

or at least they thought.

it was around 12 o’clock when they finished going through every store.

kylian bought y/n too many things.

when they first made it there, y/n refused to even set her eyes on anything in the shops because they were insanely expensive.

“we aren’t leaving here till you buy at least three items, please, i wanna do this for you. buy whatever you please.” kylian says to y/n.

y/n sighs before accepting it, she was grateful but she didn’t wanna use his money.

a few stores later, she lets kylian purchase exactly three things for her: christian louboutin so kate red bottoms, jacquemus asymmetric draped midi dress, and the chanel classic double flap bag.

the whole time kylian couldn’t keep her eyes off of her. he felt so happy, seeing y/n wear his leather jacket and him paying for anything that grabbed her attention.

they were making their way back to the car. kylian holding the bags.

“11.9K, not bad.” kylian says humorously.

“stop it, i will literally turn us back around and go return everything.” y/n says, still feeling a little bad for letting him spend that much.

he laughs.

“seriously, thank you, kylian. i’ll make sure to work over time to pay you back.” y/n says observing his face. if y/n had to choose her favorite part of kylian, it’d probably be his eyes. they were beautiful. big and clear. or his personality, he said so much, even when saying little. he had amazing comedic timing.

“pay me back? i offered to do this for you. i wanted to do it. i don’t expect to receive anything back.”

okay. she couldn’t deny it anymore. since day one, y/n was attracted to kylian. no doubt. he’s smart, he’s talented, he’s strong minded, with a strong heart. he’s an inspiration.

she smiled big, opening her arms to engulf kylian into a hug.

it obviously took him by surprise as he stumbled back. but, tried his best to hug her back with the bags in his hands.

they hug for a lengthy time. taking in each other’s warmth, shuffling from side to side. kylian smelled amazing, like a smoky, deep aroma.

y/n backed up, still at a close proximity with both hands on his shoulders.

“thank you, a million times. are you hungry? let’s go to your house. i’ll make you something very good to eat. c’mon.” you say, intertwining your hands with kylian’s sorta dragging him to the car.

you felt like you were in primary school again, having a stupid little crush and being all excited over it.

you two arrived to his penthouse. even if you were here the day before, you were still amazed at the beauty of his apartment.

you handed kylian back his coat, thanking him once more for letting you hold onto it this morning.

“i’ll set these down over here for you.” kylian says, referring to the shopping bag.

you hummed in response. making your way to the kitchen. looking through the fridge and cabinets to see what you’d be able to make.

kylian made his way to the kitchen island and took a seat there, watching you.

you turn around, “how does oven baked chicken and rice sound?”

“good. is there any way i can help?” he asks.

“mmm… no. just sit there and look pretty.”

“you think i’m pretty?”

“go to your room, kylian.”

“you said it, can’t take it back.”

“leave the kitchen, right now. go watch tv or something. the food won’t take long.” you say, shoo-ing him away. he laughs before getting up, plopping himself on the couch and turning on some tv.

he’s always laughing, loud and goofy.

you like it.

it was now 1 o’clock.

the food was ready. this time, two plates and two empty glass cups were set on the island.

“kylian, the food is ready, come eat!” you call out.

he gets up immediately and makes his way to to kitchen.

you see him approach with wide eyes, each second he gets closer, he gets even more amazed at the food.

“you don’t know how hungry i was, smelling the food didn’t help me much either. seeing it up close, is even better. how can you cook so well? i could kiss you right now.” he says enthusiastically, sitting down on the stool chair.

what did he say???

“ok, kiss me, what’s stopping you?” you chuckle, you were joking, but, serious. there was some seriousness in that sentence.

kylian looked up from the food fast, you could tell by his expression he wasn’t expecting you to say that.

“i’m just kidding. oh my gosh. you look like you were about to catch a heart attack, kissing me wouldn’t be that bad, you know.” you say playfully.

“anyways, what would you like to drink? water or orange juice. those are literally the only drinks you have in your fridge.” you ask, changing the subject.

“water would be fine, thank you.” you pour water into the two glass cups. you put the water back into the fridge and make your way around the island to sit next to kylian.

you two eat, sometimes occasionally staring at one another, and laughing when eye contact is made.

again, it’s nice.

you set your utensil down, sipping on some of the water before starting conversation.

“oh yeah, you told me you’d tell me why you treated me that way. i feel like now is the perfect time.”

he looks up, chewing the remaining food—wiping his mouth with some paper before sighing.

“yea i did tell you i would, it’s a long story but i’ll shorten it for you.”

it’s quiet, he looks to be deep in his thoughts. he looks hurt?

he begins, “i had a personal assistant before you. i got along with him very well. i thought we were buddies, we hung out like friends. multiple articles began coming out, stuff like ‘people close to young football prodigy reveals his terrible attitude and large ego.’ my manager and i thought it was just press doing their thing for some clicks and views. till more personal information of mine began to spread.”

he stops, sighing hard again.

“i just don’t know what i did for him to do that… we found out it was my assistant spreading rumors about me. things that were untrue, he got paid to fabricate stories. it really ruined my reputation. and it messed with me, i thought i had a genuine friendship with the guy.”

you pat and rub kylian on the back.

“oh, kylian. i’m so sorry.”

he looks you in the eye.

“no, y/n. i’m sorry. when i got the news of me getting a new personal assistant, i didn’t like the idea of it at all. i didn’t wanna have to deal with something like that again. so to make sure history wouldn’t repeat itself, i was awful to you. to see if you’d ‘rat me out’ to those gossip blogs. and i feel terrible, because you’re so sweet.”

you take his hands into yours.

“i forgive you.” you say, smiling sweetly at the man next to you.

he smiled, radiantly.

“thank you, y/n.”

“no problem, now, if you’re done, let me put your dish in the sink and go sit on the couch. i’ll cheer you up.” y/n says, gently removing her hand from kylian’s while getting up.

he listens, making his way to the couch.

kylian’s pov:

‘she’s perfect. she’s the one for me and she just doesn’t know it yet. i don’t care if she’s my personal assistant, i don’t want to be her friend. i want her.’ kylian thinks to himself while sitting on the couch. the only thing making noise is his mind and the water running as y/n clean the dishes.

y/n’s so patient and polite with him. he wants to build a healthy relationship with her.

his mind was making so much noise that he didn’t register that the girl on his mind, was seated next to him. staring at him.

“are you alright, mbappé?”

“hm? yes, yes i’m fine, y/l/n. so, how are you gonna cheer me up?” he responds.

“i’m gonna put on the dress you got for me, for you.”

‘i have got to be the luckiest man on earth.’ he thinks.

he’s rendered speechless. he didn’t know what to say so he just nods.

he watches y/n grab the bag and make her way to the bathroom.

for some reason, he’s nervous.

‘you’re acting like a virgin right now, loosen up.

you bastard, i am not acting like a virgin.

you sure are.

no i’m not. i am kylian mbappé. virgin who-‘ he says arguing with his consciousness.

he sees her walk out the bathroom.

y/n is the most beautiful person kylian has ever set his eyes on.

he sees she’s shy, kinda reserved as she walks towards him with a small smile on her lips.

“so, do you like it?

‘what sort of question is that?’ he wonders.

“do i like it, y/n? i love it. it hugs you in all the right places.”

he sees her blush.

“you’re cute, y/n. behind all that fiesta girl act you put up, you’re a little sweetheart.” he says, trying to get her to blush more.

it works as her smile beams.

he quickly grabs the remote, going on youtube and typing in a song.

he clicks on the video and the song begins, lyrics filling up the room.

‘j’ai pas fait semblant, j’te jure.’

he makes eye contact with her, smirking.

“it’s our song.” y/n says.

“yes, our song. come here, let’s dance. you look gorgeous.” he says, getting up.

they slowly close in on each other, shy giggles being shared. soft touches being placed.

‘partir, venir, mourir, courir.’

kylian has his hands wrapped around y/n’s waist, y/n’s arm around kylian’s neck. they weren’t making eye contact, but, they were pressed up against each other. in a tight hug as they swayed to the beat.

‘je te dirai que je t’aime.’

kylian lifts his face from the curve in your neck.

“you smell so good.” he whispers in your ear.

a feeling in your stomach began to tumble in at the breathlessness of his voice.

at that time, nothing mattered to the neither of you. forgetting that kylian’s your boss and you’re his personal assistant.

you look at him.

eyes connecting, like always.

“mhm?” you say, looking back into his eyes.

“oui.”

you two just look into each other’s eyes, then at each other’s lips, before the eyes again. their song playing in the back.

at the same time, you two lean in.

‘tais toi, écoute chérie. j’ai pas le temps.’

your lips meet.

one word to describe it: euphoric.

it was intense, but, soft and short. like the feelings they started growing for each other in such a short time.

they pulled back at once, they’re always connected, in sync with each other.

‘courir, partir, venir, mourir.’

kylian is the first to dive back into the kiss with more passion. y/n reciprocated it back. it’s like craving a sweet caramel candy, knowing you shouldn’t eat it because of cavities.

it feels so right, though.

his hands went lower, lightly gripping your bottom before caressing it.

“wait, kylian.” you say backing up from the kiss.

“is everything ok?” he asks concerned, backing up from you to give you space.

“c'était parfait. (it was perfect.)” you answer.

“but, this isn’t right. i’m your personal assistant, kylian.” you continue.

“so? i don’t care about that, obviously. i know this is a drastic change, but i want there to be an us. i’ve been attracted to you since the day i saw you in the psg office. i really wish we could’ve met under better circumstances, but, i still wanna get to know you. we can move at your pace.” he explains, getting closer to you, placing his hand around your waist again.

y/n thinks about it.

‘écoute chérie, c’est maintenant.’

she looks into the eyes of the boy who’s on her mind, all the time.

“i do have a tiny crush on you, sir. we’ll work this out, right?”

“yes, we will.” kylian says, landing his lips onto y/n’s.

a/n (author’s note):

y’all the clutch for this was insaneee, i was so motivated thanks to the kindness i received from dropping écoute chérie part one. i hopeeee y’all enjoy this, it was so fun to write. it’s not completely revised as of rn so if u see any mistakes, it should be fixed in short time. as the saying goes… it’s calm before the storm. ecouté chérie part three is on the way! thank u for reading <333

#kylian mbappe fic #football #k. mbappe #kylian #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #mbappe imagine #world cup #mbappe x reader #mbappe psg #mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappé #kylian imagines #kylian x reader #football imagine

[littleeggrock]

feeling insane in the brain about Arcane again why do i keep rewatching episodes when I know I'm gonna fixate on everything again lmfao

BUT ANYWAYS episode 8? rewatched it for the jinx and singed scene because that still freaks me the fuck out its horrible i love it but paying attention to the bits with Vi and Caitlyn? when they're discussing stuff in Cait's room, when Vi's recalling how Powder and her used to be, she specifically says "I didn't want her to start crying and wake my parents up, so I'd pretend to chase my own monsters away "

and while I could be reading this ABSOLUTELY wrong why did she say my parents specifically? Are they not biological sisters? or does Vi subconsciously not view "Powder" as her sister anymore, after seeing her break down when meeting Caitlyn.

the latter seems unlikely considering Vi's actions in episode nine, so I'll stick with my first case. I mean it would make sense, provide a deeper bond with vi beyond blood if she was indeed adopted, or taken in off the streets. it would also explain why powder was less affected seeing their parents dead on the bridge, maybe she never really formed a solid connection with them, and knew that this would really hurt Vi.

or I could again just be reading way too far into this like I always tend to do, could have just been an unimportant choice in words on the writer's part, and Powder just wasn't processing everything that went down on the bridge because she was a literal child at the time

also a little parallel I noticed, when Vi is recruiting Jayce to help her take down Silco, she states that "when we got out of the undercity you were the first person Caitlyn looked for" and my brain immediately went "hm solid reasoning but even still that seems like an oddly specific thing to judge character off of" and then I remembered that "oh my god, when vi got out of prison the first person she looked for was Powder, she's using her own experience to base her judgment of him" and while I feel that is kind of obvious already it took me a few rewatches to catch that lmao

anyways gonna tag @flunkett cus i want ur thoughts on this

#Arcane #jinx arcane #powder arcane #jinx #vi arcane #arcane violet #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #jayce talis #jayce arcane

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 46

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

habits of my heart by tusslee

Keith swallowed nervously, afraid to ask what it was Lance wanted, but his mouth was ahead of his brain, “What do you want then?” “You. All the time. In every sense. It’s insane.” Lance said with a laugh that sounded a little manic. “I want to hold your hand and shit. I want to just be near you, like some love-sick girl, but I think that’s what I am. I think I fucking love you, holy shit.”

no bc i need yall to understand how batshit insane i went when reading this specific piece of dialgue in-story the first time. im pretty sure i actually gasped out loud. the easy immediate and pained you oh i did not recover for a long ass time

2. falling by tusslee

Lance was also not entirely the idiot everyone thought him to be. Oblivious in some aspects, yes. Naïve to an extent, also yes. But Lance knew a little bit of the psychology behind dreams and how they were basically your subconscious projecting your fears, or whatever. Okay so he didn’t know the exact details, but he knew enough to piece together why his fear of falling was quickly becoming the main focus of his dreams night after night. And of course like everything else that went wrong in Lance’s life, it was Keith’s fault.

I LOVE ME SOME GAY METAPHORS ‼️‼️‼️ like i wonder why you are afraid of falling lance!! and i wonder what is going to soothe that fear!! hm!!! what mystery!!! what intrigue!! HM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

3. curing space blues by tusslee

The weightlessness of zero gravity doesn’t apply to feelings, Lance learns.

i'll read homesick lance and awkward but determined to help keith a thousand times in a thousand different ways idc. it never ever gets old. bc it's just so true that is what happened is it not. this is them

4. wherever you will go by tusslee

“I want to be someone you count on and come to when you’re upset. I want to be important to you, Lance, because you’re really important to me.” Silence stretched between them when Keith lost the nerve to continue. He kept his eyes on their hands, noticed the color contrast between them and wondered if it’d look so profound if it was more than just their fingers twined together.

first of all. lance calling keith red and keith calling lance pretty. send tweet. second of all. choked up by his own difficulty expressing emotions but so deeply loving that he tries anyway keith makes me actually sob with my real tears every single time. without fail. keith i love you keith you are so everything keith you do all that you do with everything you have to give

5. Guy That I'd Kinda be Into by spirkylurkey

Lotor thinks Lance is cute. So does Keith. They're all in a floating space-castle together. This is going to be a problem. i miss the good old days!! when messy dumb comedic gay love triangles were abundant!! they were so much fun!! and so for you i present a messy dumb comedic gay love triangle. i also miss the animatic that used to exist with the song from the title. old voltron you were a mess and a half and i miss you truly

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#nobody can say anything about the spam author bc i managed to put a different in the end so there #you are allowed to give me shit for being late tho #that one is on me i am chronically late as a person #also i do FRF five weeks at a time so every five weeks i have to set aside a couple hours to write them. and that was today and also yikes! #anyways. #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #pre klance #pining keith #pining lance #pining klance #langst #klangst #fluff and humour #fic rec #fic rec friday #longpost

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

I'm so close to killing the owner of Tumblr. I made a long ass post and I saved it and it didn't go through and I'm trying to contain my anger

Anyways the ask was about Michael having big older sibling reader (they were quiet, calm and kind) and then they died in any way I think is fit and reader was Michael's only hope and happiness and then years later Michael gets taken by the entity and finds reader like the spirit or something.

I think this is very interesting why not.

Dbd! Michael x older sibling! Reader.

Everyone knew who Michael Myers was obviously. But they never exactly knew who his oldest sibling was.

News spread that The Shape had killed everyone in his family except for one of his siblings. Some believed that they got burned to death by Michael although there wasn't any use or evidence of smoke or soot. Some believed they got buried underground but no signs of pre buried dirt or body in the ground. And the most popular belief was they were alive and working with michael as an accomplice.

But you and Michael know better than anyone that none of those are true. You don't help him. In fact he hates it when you try to. Changing your last name was the best thing you've done after that incident years ago.

You work to support both you and Michael. Especially Michael since he suddenly forgets the meaning of self care when you're not around you're the reason why he's always in great shape.

You don't mind your brother's unusual hobby. Maybe you were becoming like him too or maybe you know he couldn't control it and you had no problem with that. But either one doesn't change sibling love Michael has for you, it is as big as the huge pile of bodies he killed in the past. (it's alot)

Both of you weren't that different. You both were quiet and calm. But he definitely wasn't kind at all.

It isn't hard to read Michael when you've basically been looking and reading him when he was born. And he hates it but you know he actually really doesn't. But all of those weren't that important compared to as of right now.

Michael stood near at the crashed blaring alarming car with a body too shaped like yours, drowned in blood. Although a big fire was next to it with his trusty knife clutched in his hand so tightly it looked like it was going to shatter to pieces. He was overwhelmed with emotions. He composed himself and just went to take a closer look, he couldn't just assume it was you in the car crash who coincidentally crashed in front of him. Even though the car also looked identical to yours..

He's just going to check because his curiosity is scratching at his head like untrimmed cat's nails. And when his violent brain realises its not you he'll go back home and watch you as you cook for each other's food as usual.

....

This isn't right.

Why does this person look like you?

He was frozen in place for the first time in his life he felt as if he couldn't do anything. You were always helping and aiding him no? You were the opposite of him, he just destroyed and killed. What was he going to do now? Healing wasn't his kind of thing oh fuck what is he going to do?

Soon the sound of siren and people shouting caught his attention. He was confused and anxious and did the only thing he knew what to do when he did. Kill.

The police and firemen stopped in their tracks slowly realising who they were seeing. They immediately got ready to attack the man. Damn Michael... Must've killed the poor person there.

But they only had a few seconds to comprehend wha was happening. One of them were.. On the ground? And an excruciating pain as more bodies make awful squelching noises as ones body feels more and more heavier.

Michael he... Must get home now. You must be waiting for him as the food is getting cold.

Weird. He was already home. That was quick. But where are you? You're supposed to be sitting in a chair as the dim light above you revealing what you have cooked and telling him "oh Michael you're back, I was waiting for you for so long. Your food is getting cold..!" where the fuck were you?

He stood still for a few more minutes he wasn't even sure if he was thinking.

And then the TV next to him turned on. The words coming out of the reporters words made him want to strangle her to death right then and there.

"as of right now multiple police officers are gathering here as it was claimed that The Boogie man had taken the life of Y/N L/N who was driving an....."

L/n... That was the fake name you legally used. it had to be a coincidence. But why was he feeling so... Sad? Sad? He was feeling sad? Instead of anger or bloodlust he was feeling sad?

Michael didn't like this feeling at all. You were always there to tell him what to do other than kill when he was feeling all kinds of emotions but you weren't here to tell him what to do now. So he had no choice but to kill. It wasn't even Halloween yet but damn the feeling was strong..

No one had known why but September 19 1979 was when Michael Myers had unpredictably struck and became one of the biggest killing spree by Michael yet.

It was later revealed that the person who died in the car crash was surprisingly related to Michael Myers. This new information had now led people to believe that Michael's sibling was indeed an accomplice for him but he no longer found them useful and therefore murdered them and went mad.

Michael wanted to display every single one of these air headed piece of shit's guts in their family's homes. But he was too busy dealing with the new unsettling emptiness inside the home you both lived in. He may go kill again. And again. And again. Just so he doesn't have to hear the annoying agitating skin crawling quietness that made the blood flowing through his ears audible.

It had been a few years. Maybe 3 or 6 he doesn't know. But one thing Michael does know is that he's now a complete mess. It was pretty obvious, his mask dirtied and scratched. His clothes were messy and untidy, his knife was rusty and had dried blood on it.

Now it was October 19. 19th being the day you died and his birth day and month. His Halloween was ruined when he was younger and now you died on his goddamn birth day. God how more unlucky can he be.

Now he was chasing after laurie yet again. But then his vision turned black and it felt as if he dropped to the ground but was somehow laying on his back.

And he opened his eyes and saw peculiar people...

It was a few minutes of a man with a ghost like mask talking his ass off to Michael who wasn't even listening and thinking about how he was so close to getting laurie (I know that ghostface didn't exist before Michael but I don't play dbd and I don't know much about it. </3)

Untill he said something along the lines of- "oh and there's this creepy, quiet but cute ghost named Y/n L/n."

Michael's neck snapped to look at what he thinks is called ghostface, Michael asked himself if he heard that right.

This caught the attention of ghostface as well as the others.

"oh, someone caught your eye I see? I mean I guess it makes sense. They're creepy and quiet like you." ghostface teased.

Michael stood up next to ghostface. Indicating that he wants to know where this person is, now.

"woah, calm down dude! You just heard of them. To be honest I didn't think you were gonna be like this, I thought you wouldn't c-"

Ghostface word's were cut short by The Shape strangling him. Ghostface was struggling to talk, panic visible in his body language. This alerted most of the killers.

"okay, I'll tell you!" and with that Michael had dropped the poor man. And had silently forced ghostface to lead the way.

"that bitch crazy..." Freddy the burnt man whispered to Frank the one with a neck tattoo and a smiley face drawn on his mask who only nodded hoping the blue suited man didn't hear them.

20 minutes later deep into the woods, ghostface has thought of talking to Michael more about the person who seemed to have completely captivated Michael.

"so about the person..." he starts and the man next to him doesn't react. Ghostface takes it as a sign to keep talking about them.

"they don't really talk much but they're kind and all that, but every October 19 and 31st they get all sad and moody and goes somewhere secluded. They once said something about their brother."

And with that Michael starts power walking to the direction they were heading and ghostface yells at him to calm down.

Michael didn't even need to hear your voice or see your face to confirm it was really you on the river nearby.

Here's a lovely clift hanger since I think my vocabulary is slipping off and I have to gain my rich words again. And I think this was going too long omg.

#og michael myers #michael myers x you #rz michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers #slasher x reader #dead by daylight #dbd killer #dbd michael myers #siblings #dead by daylight michael myers

[miametropolis]

My condolences for the containment breach I get how having thousands of ppl say the same joke over and over in the notes of your genuine analysis post can get annoying 😭 😭😭😭 I’m extremely down to hear more about the differences between the ninth and tenth doctors if you have any other insights you want to share though!!! I’ve been turning your post over and over in my brain like a rotisserie chicken ever since I read it it’s so good

omg thank you for your condolences...it really is the containment breach of all time...let me think!! I have a MAJOR tenth doctor video essay I may or may not make so here are the cliff notes:

-To begin. Anne Carson wrote that to live beyond the end of your myth is a perilous thing.

-in many ways, the 10th Doctor is cursed from his inception b/c he is born at the end of the Doctor and Rose's romantic arc (from a certain point of view) AND YET he is born sheerly out of love for her / to love her

-(we all know the fanon--or is it canon?--idea that Ten's face was subconciously selected to be one that Rose would like, and he's gone for her from the beginning...hello, The Christmas Invasion.)

-all that said, by the time The Parting of the Ways occurs, Rose and Nine have completed a full narrative arc:

-Nine whisked Rose away from the life of boredom and sheltered drudgery she experienced on the estate; she brought life back into the eyes of a hardened war veteran/The Last of the Time Lords

-more importantly, they complete a kind of mutualistic ultimate sacrifice (in a Shakesperian sense?) wherein Rose 'becomes' the Doctor by absorbing the literal heart of the TARDIS (we don't have time to get into that) and erasing the Daleks into dust, finishing the last of the Time War AND saving the Doctor's life

-he immediately returns the favor, absorbing the energy that's destroying her with a kiss (let it be known--the ONLY kiss between the Doctor and Rose Tyler proper--neither Tentoo or Cassandra really count imo), returning her to humanity, life, and safety

-all that said, Nine dies both saving AND being saved by Rose in a kind of unrivaled (?) parity between Doctor and companion. it's perfect synthesis.

-THEN 10 is born. uh-oh.

It is here that I would like to quote Michael Kinnucan's fabulous essay 'The Gods Show Up' on Greek tragedies:

The tragic hero is complete. You can call him unhappy (miserable, utterly broken) even before he is dead. For an instant he is something like divine. And then he dies, because there’s nothing left to do. The center of every tragedy is the image of a human being who has already died but keeps talking, someone whose face is a mask.

I think one of the most fascinating 10 v. 9 moments is that one scene that got cut where Rose says "I miss him." and the Doctor replies "Me too."

As many people in the notes of that original post point out (god help me) 10 is ALSO born IMMEDIATELY into heartbreak--whatever vestigal version of Nine lives inside him died with the despair of losing Rose

-TEN is the man that went sauntering away. perhaps that's part of why Ten is so terrified of/resentful towards regeneration. I think he's lived precisely the worst cost of it.

-The notion of 'talking after death' and 'wearing a face that's a mask' is a existentialist take on regeneration itself--ten EPITOMIZES this tragic hero archetype, esp. after Doomsday (literally! Doomsday!!)

-during his life, I wonder if Nine already considers himself lost in a sense? He's lived past the Time War, past the destruction of everything, and he's also the first NuWho Doctor. HIS ability to indulge in love (even in mortality, given his short lifespan) is different.

-TEN on the other hand has that INCREDIBLY frightening (for him) confrontation with Sarah Jane in School Reunion--knitting him back into canon continuum of Doctor Who, stitching him to the myth of The Doctor that has to live on and on and on in perpetuity--and seems VERY haunted by (im)mortality

-How much time does Ten spend running from Jack? A human being who CAN follow him to the end of time? Ten can't decide if he wants to be mortal or immortal, human or Time Lord. Think of the way he acts with Martha, with Wilf, with Donna. He is totally frozen inside of the space of his seasons. He has time paralysis (fatal, for a Time Lord)

-he is the first doctor that we see reallllly try to stave off regeneration

-That's why there's a certain frantic escapism to his adventures with Rose in S2--he knows, more than she does, that they are hurtling toward's disaster.

-he can't love Rose in a consumate way, even if he wanted to (he wants to) b/c he's trapped inside of his myth. he's like sisyphus. or that guy getting his liver ripped out by the eagle. Nine and Rose are lines that can cross. Ten and Rose are parallel lines. if they touch, the universe dissolves. hence why the narrative/God/Russel T. Davies had to lock her away in another universe

anways!

Ten once canonically carved a statue of Rose by hand with every inch of her body absolutely perfect, from memory, and I think that's crazy

#timepetals meta #timepetals #doctor who #doctor who meta #nuwho #rose tyler #tenrose #10th doctor #tenth doctor #the doctor #ninth doctor #9th doctor #ninerose #hope this is fun for you op!!! i also turn them around in my head like rotisserie chicken #or the very real dolls i had of them as a child that i brought to sleepaway camp and talked to #if you couldn't tell that i was that sort of person

[stevethehairington]

so, i saw the tweet below (obviously creds to @/kvrtzwcrld, your brain is huge for this!!) yesterday night

and i have not stopped thinking about it since, so, naturally, i took to the keyboard about it:

at first, the letters come from steve — as in, it is steve that is the one who hands them over to max. it’s summer, so there’s no school, and max is still in physical therapy. some of her sessions (most of them, really) conflict with her mom’s work schedule, susan having to leave for her shifts at just about the same time max has to leave for her appointments. naturally, steve offers to help out by giving max a ride to her sessions when susan can’t.

max knows that sometimes, steve will chat with her mom if susan has a few minutes to spare before she has to run and max is taking a little bit longer than usual to finish getting ready and come out.

so when max slides into the passenger seat and steve holds out a card for her to take, telling her “oh, by the way, your mom wanted me to give this to you. she had to leave before you came out so she couldn’t give it to you herself.” she probably does think it’s genuinely from her mom at first.

only, then she opens it and that is not her mother’s handwriting. she’s kind of disappointed by that, just a little, and she probably wouldn’t admit that, but she’s also used to it, so the sting doesn’t last for very long. not to mention, her curiosity to see what it actually says is too great.

she reads through the letter, and almost immediately she thinks that it’s steve who wrote it for her.

she doesn’t say anything to him about it at first. just holds onto the letter, tells him “oh, that was nice of my mom”, and lets him think that he got away with it.

and after that, it keeps happening. the letters keep coming. every time she gets into the car with steve, he has a new one to give her. max never actually sees her mom hand off any of these letters to steve, either, so she’s fully convinced it’s him. not to mention, all of the “you’re going to have a great day”s and the “you can do it”s and the other, various, generally peppy remarks just totally scream steve.

she wants to know for sure though. so she comes up with a plan.

one day she gets ready for her session super early, like at least half an hour before steve’s set to show up. she hides out in her room, so her mom doesn’t know, and she waits there until she hears steve’s car roll up. her mom calls her name and tells her steve is here. max calls back that she’s almost ready, she’ll be out in a minute. she listens for her mom after that, and when she doesn’t hear her, max thinks she went outside to talk to steve.

max sneaks out of her bedroom as quietly as possible and tiptoes over to the window. she crouches down low and peeks out from behind the corner of the curtain. and there steve’s beemer sits, in the patch of dirt they jokingly call their “driveway”, but it isn’t max’s mother who is leaning up against his car.

it’s eddie munson.

(eddie munson, who max never really gave a second thought before spring of ’86. eddie munson who was just “that munson boy, always up to no good”.

until he wasn’t.

until suddenly they’re on the same team. until they’re working together to save each other’s lives. until they end up three hospital rooms down from each other, broken, bruised, busted, bitten.

but on the mend. recovering.

and then it’s neither one of them being able to sleep, too afraid of the nightmares that plague their minds, the horrors that are burned into the backs of their eyelids, there every time they close their eyes. they find solace in each other, sitting together at the rickety old picnic table between their trailers. talking about skateboarding and dnd. about heavy metal and kate bush. about anything that isn’t gates and monsters and hiveminds and hellscapes.

(but they do talk about that, too, sometimes. when some nights are bad and some nights are worse and the only way to make it better is to face it head on. but they help each other feel safe. they help each other feel understood.)

they chase each other’s ghosts away. they remind each other that they are not alone.

it’s an unlikely friendship, not something max ever could have seen coming. but eddie is good. eddie is great. he doesn’t treat her like a kid, doesn’t handle her with care, like she’s something fragile and delicate that could break from one strong gust of wind. he’s one of the only ones who looks at her and just sees max.

he does take care of her, but she takes care of him too. it’s — he’s family. the brother she never had. the brother she always wanted.)

eddie’s got one arm resting against the window of steve’s car where it’s rolled down, and he and steve are talking. laughing. smiling together. steve says something then, and eddie straightens up and fishes for something in his jacket pocket.

and then, right there in plain sight, max watches eddie pull out a small little envelope and hand it over to steve. he says something to steve and points at the envelope in his hand, expression firm. then he spares a quick look towards max’s trailer, and max ducks down quick so she isn’t caught out.

after a second, two, three, she chances a glance out the window again. she watches as eddie taps his palm against the frame of steve’s window, letting it linger for a moment before he lifts his hand up and off and into a wave instead. then he turns on his heel and heads back to his trailer. he looks back twice.

max waits a minute, so it isn’t obvious that she was waiting by the door, then she grabs her bag and heads outside. when she slides into the passenger seat, steve holds out a card — the very same one she just saw eddie give him.

when max opens it, it’s exactly what she expected — the same handwriting, the same spiffy, upbeat encouragements, the same lopsided little smiley face at the top.

it’s signed love you, mom xx at the bottom, just the way it always is.

but max knows now.

when fall rolls around and school starts back up, eddie takes over steve’s job as max’s chauffeur. he and max are going to the same place, after all.

(eddie had been disappointed when they hadn’t simply waved away the last of those finals he missed and granted him his diploma anyways. they’d been strict about the rules. no exceptions. they did, however, offer him an alternative arrangement. rather than redoing his entire senior year again, they came up with an arrangement in which he only had to cover the content from the last few weeks he’d missed and sit for the final exams, and then, assuming things went well, he’d be walking out of hawkins high with his diploma firmly in hand. they even told him he’d be able to walk with the graduating class of ’87 if he wanted.)

now that it’s eddie carting her around, max fully expects the cards to stop. there’s no steve for eddie to hide behind anymore, and max thinks that even though he’s under the impression that she’s none the wiser, he might feel too exposed nonetheless.

but they don’t stop.

every morning, like clockwork, max hops into the front seat of eddie’s van, and eddie hands her a card, tells her, “from your mom.” (he even tries to tug on the end of one of her braids once after he hands it over, and max, who’d had a very bad night and is feeling far too sentimental over a god damn card, lets him.)

it comes to a head, as most things do, in the wheeler basement.

despite max’s steadfast refusal to join in on their silly little game, she still tags along to the party’s hellfire meetings. she likes hanging out in the basement with el, and with robin and nancy and steve if they’re there too. she’d never ever tell them, but she also likes hanging out with the boys too. likes watching them get so into their game that they almost knock over their goofy chalices of mountain dew. likes listening to them all shout over one another when they’re trying to make a decision on what their party’s next move should be. they’re her friends. her people. and, call her a softie, but she just likes being around them. all of them.

it's the end of their latest session, and eddie’s just finished cleaning up — gathering up all his little figurines, carefully stowing away all of his campaign notes, helping steve pile up the empty cans of dew and grease stained pizza plates for the garbage.

“hey, red,” eddie calls, catching max’s attention. he pulls the trash bag from steve’s hands, ignoring his protests, and hoists it up, giving it a shake. the crushed cans clink together inside. “be a doll and take this out, will ya?”

steve tries to take it back from eddie, to tell him he can do it himself, it’s fine, max doesn’t need to help. but max likes helping. she likes doing dumb, annoying, mundane things like taking out the trash. she appreciates steve’s concern, knows he means well, that he’s just trying to make it easy for her since she’s still recovering (even half a year later), but she can do it. she wants to do it.

so she clambers to her feet and crosses the room to take the trash bag from eddie.

“sure thing, mom,” she says, looking right at eddie, and it sort of just slips out. the nickname. mom. she’s never called him that before. no one has.

eddie’s eyebrows fly up.

the rest of the party erupts into confusion because why are you calling eddie mom? that’s steve’s nickname, remember?

and, well, maybe that’s true. but steve’s not the one pretending to write max letters from her mom. steve’s not the one scribbling down the words of encouragement that max never knew she needed to hear so badly. steve’s not the one signing the cards love you, mom xx.

eddie is.

max meets eddie’s eyes, turns her look pointed.

she can see the second it clicks in eddie’s brain. she knows. his easy, relaxed stature tenses. his eyes swim with worry — like he’s nervous, unsure. like he doesn’t know how max is going to react to this. like he thinks maybe she’ll be pissed at him.

but she’s not. she’s not at all. those letters — they mean more to max than she could ever express.

max can’t put it into words — wouldn’t want to in front of all of these people, anyways — so she just lets her mouth curve up. gives him one of her rare smiles.

she watches the tension drain from his shoulders, watches as his own lips twitch up, a slow blossom into something sunny and warm. something just for her. he gives her a nod. then says, “thanks, kid.”

max nods back.

and that’s that.

even though the kids keep calling steve mom, from that moment on, max saves that one for eddie.

it never does get explained to the rest of the party, but that’s okay. they laugh about it in their letters.

because, oh yeah, those still keep coming.

and max sends her own back, too.

love you, mom xx

love you, max xx

#eddie munson #max mayfield #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie and max sibling supremacy!!!! #edde and max are SO IMPORTANT TO ME!!! #mack writes #macks ficlets

[bultaoreunheyyy]

Bubble Bath

Title: Bubble Bath

Word Count: 2252

Summary: Jimin and Taehyung get caught in the rain. They take a bath together.

Sickie: Taehyung (cold/snz)

Caretaker: Jimin

A/N: this started as a drabble (which I usually consider that 100-1000 words idk about y'all) but when I went to edit it I just added more instead of editing so now it's just an unedited short fic? also sorryyy for the sudden and possibly annoying influx of posts but I have to get all of this out of my brain. but if you read it and like it umm let me know? maybe? if you want?

They smell the rain before it comes, a pleasant, earthy scent just as the breeze starts to pick up around them. 

Jimin shivers and wraps his arms around himself, smiling fondly when he looks over and sees the state of Taehyung’s hair, tousled by the wind and sticking up in all directions. 

“What?” Taehyung asks when he feels Jimin’s eyes on him. He frowns when he feels the first raindrop fall, hitting him right on the tip of his nose, and Jimin looks up at the sky.

“Oh, great. We didn’t bring an umbrella.” He shivers again. “Let’s run!”

And with that, Jimin takes off running, leaving Taehyung standing for a moment before his brain processes the words and he dashes off after his soulmate. 

By the time he catches up with Jimin, the rain is coming down hard, a sudden downpour that drenches them both in a matter of minutes. They quickly duck under a large oak tree, huddling together against the trunk, and listen to the slap of raindrops on pavement as they shake water from their hair and attempt to dry their faces with wet sleeves.

“Doesn’t look like it will let up soon,” Jimin says right before he sneezes, a shiver running up his spine afterward.

Immediately, Taehyung is wrapping an arm around the shorter man and hugging him against his chest, one hand coming up to cup Jimin’s cheek. 

“We have to get you home and dried off before you catch a cold,” he frets, wiping a drop of water from Jimin’s brow with his thumb. “You’re shivering.” 

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“You’re wet too.”

Taehyung ignores him, shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it over Jimin’s head like a hood. He waits until Jimin grabs the sleeves and holds them under his chin, and then he hooks his arm through Jimin’s elbow and drags him back out into the downpour.

They run the rest of the way home. As soon as they’re inside, Jimin shucks off his shoes and tosses the jacket onto the floor next to them. They’re both soaked, but Taehyung’s jacket had done a decent job of protecting his head and hair from getting wet beyond the initial few minutes of being caught in the rain.

Taehyung, however, has enough water dripping off of him to create his own mini-lake right in the middle of the entryway. 

“Agh,” he complains as he shivers and stands in place with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. “I’m so cold!” He drags the back of his hand under his nose with a liquidly sniffle and then wrenches forward with a booming sneeze.

It’s the kind of sneeze that sounds…wet. Jimin does his best to keep himself from cringing visibly. There’s an instant worry that comes along with it, though, because Taehyung looks absolutely miserable, cheeks and nose pink from the cold as he stands there shivering hard, sniffling and dripping water everywhere. 

“I’m going to go run us a hot bath,” Jimin says, chewing on his bottom lip as he regards Taehyung, his concern growing. “Strip and leave your clothes here, we can wash everything later.” 

Jimin sheds his own clothes quickly, adding them in a pile with the jacket, and makes his way into the bathroom to fill the tub with hot water. He hears Taehyung sneeze again, somehow louder than the first, and he sighs and begins to rummage around in the cabinet under the sink. They have a variety of soaps and lotions and bubble baths down there, and he finds the one he’s looking for in the very back.

Taehyung announces his arrival into the bathroom with a third sneeze and a whiny groan. He uses his hand to wipe his nose again and Jimin adds a little extra bubble bath to the water. Once the tub is full, he turns off the faucet and sets their towels and washcloths within reach, then turns to Taehyung and holds out a hand. 

Taehyung hasn’t stopped sniffling or shivering. His bare skin is prickled with goosebumps and he’s shaking hard, teeth chattering.   

“What’s that smell?” He asks as they step into the tub together.

Jimin looks over at the counter and squints at the bottle. “Uh, spearmint and eucalyptus.” 

“It’s making my nose run,” Taehyung replies, sniffling thickly. He’s blinking like he’s got something irritating his eyes, distracted by it, and Jimn has to tug him down to sit in the bath. 

“No, you’re fine with his scent,” Jimin reminds him. “We use it all the time when you’re…sniffly.” 

“I’m not sniffly,” Taehyung grumbles, muscles tense as he wraps his arms around his knees and tries to stop shivering. 

Jimin raises an eyebrow but does not comment. He sinks deeper into the water and lets out a sigh of relief at the instant warmth it brings.

“Sorry I forgot the umbrella,” Taehyung says after a moment. “Are you warming up?”

“I’m fine, Tae. How are you?”

“I’m…I…” Taehyung’s mouth falls open and his eyebrows draw together in the middle. His nostrils flare and Jimin grabs a dry washcloth and shoves it into his hand that’s now hovering in front of his face. 

“Cover up if you’re going to sneeze. I don’t want your germs getting everywhere.”  

“G-germs? It’s…It's just the bubbles,” Taehyung says defensively, his breath hitching unevenly. “It’s the– the scent–” He sneezes, twice in a row, aiming them both into the washcloth. The sound echoes loudly in the bathroom and the movement of his body lurching forward makes the water in the tub slosh around.  

“And you were worried about me catching a cold.”

“I didn’t catch a cold! I have a sensitive nose,” Taehyung pouts.

“Mm hmm.” Jimin taps Taehyung’s nose with the tip of his finger. “You sure do, my love.” 

Taehyung shudders and sucks in a breath. Jimin quickly reaches out and grabs his shoulder to steady him, but after a couple of uncertain seconds he exhales again without sneezing like Jimin had expected. Instead, he scrubs at his nose with the washcloth and then settles between Jimin’s legs, leaning back against his chest with a sigh that sounds far too congested for Jimin’s liking. 

“I’m still cold, Minnie,” he whines with another shiver and a series of rapid sniffles. 

“I know, love. Your skin is freezing.” Jimin rubs his hands up and down Taehyung’s arms. “Slide down a little farther and get under the water more,” he tells Taehyung, guiding him to recline more. He takes the washcloth from Taehyung’s hand and holds it to Taehyung’s nose for him. “Blow your nose.”

Taehyung lets both of his hands drop under the water, and they settle on Jimin’s thighs. He blows his nose half-heartedly into the washcloth and then shakes his head back and forth a couple of times. 

“Feels like the rain got into my ears, too,” he complains, tilting his head to one side, then the other. 

“You poor thing,” Jimin says. “Here, let me wash your hair for you,” he offers, already cupping water in his hands to wet Taehyung’s already wet hair with warm water. When he lathers up shampoo between his palms, Taehyung sniffles and brings a hand out of the water to rub at his nose. 

“I don’t like how stuffy you’re sounding right now,” he says and he gently works the shampoo through Taehyung’s hair. “How could you give me your jacket when it was raining so hard? Now you’ve probably gotten yourself sick, and you haven’t stopped shivering since we got home, and–”

A long, wet, irritated sniffle interrupts him. 

Jimin sighs.

He cranes his neck and peers at Taehyung’s face. There’s a bit of bubble bath on the end of Taehyung’s nose where he’d rubbed it, and Jimin giggles. 

His smile quickly fades, however, when he sees that Taehyung is gearing up for a sneeze.

“Wait– hold on a sec,” he says quickly. “Let me at least rinse your hair fir– oh!” He keeps a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder while he sneezes once, twice, three times, each one louder than the one before. 

Jimin sighs. “Nevermind.”

Taehyung spends the rest of the bath sniffling and rubbing at his nose. Jimin makes quick work of rinsing his hair and then washing them both up, then drains the tub and gets out to dry himself off. He goes to fetch them some warm clothes, quickly dressing himself before carrying Taehyung’s clothes back to the bathroom. 

When he gets back, Taehyung has his towel wrapped around his waist, but his hair is dripping everywhere and he’s still shivering. 

“Dry your hair,” Jimin says, handing Taehyung a second towel. “I’m going to go make some tea.” 

“You don’t like tea,” Taehyung responds, confused. He sounds even more congested now that they’re drying off. 

“It’s not for me,” Jimin replies with a small smile. “Just dry your hair and get dressed.” 

Jimin is just pouring hot water into a mug when he hears footsteps shuffling into the kitchen behind him. He turns around to see Taehyung, dressed in pajama pants and a hoodie, hair still damp and nose still drippy. 

“The bath was supposed to warm us up,” Jimin says with a frown when he sees a shiver run through Taehyung. He’s in just a t-shirt and sweatpants himself, and now that the heat is on he feels back to normal. “Are you still cold?”

“Well I've been feeling cold all day, so…” Taehyung trails off, looking sheepish, and Jimin gasps. 

“What do you mean you’ve been feeling cold all–” 

Taehyung cuts him off, his interrupting sneeze tossing him forward violently, and he stumbles a few steps forward until he’s standing right in front of Jimin.

“Love,” Jimin says, reaching up to push Taehyung’s damp hair back from his face. “That didn’t sound very good.” 

Taehyung rubs the bridge of his very red nose and sniffles sadly, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Here,” Jimin hands him the mug of tea. “Take this into the living room. I’ll grab a couple of blankets and we can cuddle, okay?” 

“Okay,” Taehyung says, but then he quickly holds the mug out until Jimin takes it back. He sneezes again, a drawn out, congested sound, his body tensing like he’s attempting to contain it.

“Oh, Tae,” Jimin says. “It sounds like you’ve actually caught a cold.”

“I don’t wanna have a cold,” Taehyung mumbles. 

“I know, love.” Jimin sighs. “Go sit and get comfy.” 

He lets Jimin kiss him on the cheek and then takes the tea back and shuffles out to the living room, cradling the mug to his chest.

By the time Jimin gathers up a few blankets, plus a box of tissues and a bottle of cold medicine, Taehyung is curled up on the couch sipping his tea. 

Jimin covers him with blankets and arranges everything else on the coffee table, not missing the way Taehyung silently glares at the medicine. He’s still shivering lightly, though the tea seems to be helping a little, and when Jimin sits next to him he lets his head fall on Jimin’s shoulder.

“You could try blowing your nose?” Jimin suggests after listening to Taehyung sniffle for a couple of minutes. He ducks his head to meet Taehyung’s gaze. “Sounding kinda sniffly, there, love.” 

Taehyung rubs a finger back and forth under his nose. He flushes under the scrutiny, the redness on his cheeks matching his reddening nostrils. 

“Sorry,” he says, scrunching up his nose. “I’m just trying not to sneeze.” 

“I can hear that,” Jimin notes. “But,” he counters, “wouldn’t it be better out than in?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer. He takes a long drink of his tea, finishing it off, and then lets Jimin take the mug from him and set it on the coffee table. He grabs the box of tissues while he’s leaning forward and settles back with them in his lap for easy access, smiling when Taehyung rests his head back on his shoulder, still scrubbing at his nose and sniffling.

“Just do it and get it over with, sneezy,” Jimin teases. 

“Hmph.” Taehyung burrows closer, burying his face against Jimin’s neck. Jimin can tell he’s sleepy now by the way he’s getting clingier, and he pats the top of his head fondly. 

“Are you all warmed up now, at least? Do you want to try to sleep? I’ll cuddle you.” 

Taehyung nods, his nose dragging up and down Jimin’s neck. A moment later, when Jimin feels a series of puffs of air across his collarbone, he grabs a tissue from the box in his lap and tuck it into Taehyung’s hand. Taehyung, to his credit, lifts his face away from Jimin’s neck and gets the tissue up to his nose just in time for the impending sneeze to come. 

The only problem is that it isn’t just one sneeze. 

It’s several sneezes, angry at being held back, fighting to escape in the most explosive way possible, and one tissue isn’t nearly enough of a barrier for the messy result. 

Jimin closes his eyes and waits for it to be over.

“I’m so sorry,” Taehyung gasps when he’s done sneezing, out of breath. He pulls what must be ten tissues out of the box and starts to clean up. Jimin cracks one eye open and squints over at him, but he doesn’t have it in him to be mad when he sees how miserable his poor soulmate looks. 

“Sorry,” Taehyung apologizes again when he notices Jimin looking at him. “Um…we could go take a bubble bath?” 

#bts sickfic #sickfic #sick bts #bts snz #sick taehyung #taehyung snz #caretaker jimin #bts hurt/comfort

[peachdues]

peach oh my LAWD phanta 3 was so good 🥺. Would you consider explaining the title a little more? i read the para at the end with it and i kind of got it, but i wanted to pick your brain a little too!

(I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to this pls don’t hate me too much).

First, thank you!! Second, I love this question bc honestly, the Phanta brain rot is still real. More below the cut since I went off lol.

spoilers below.

Almost everything in Phantasmagoria is, well, a phantasmagoria — an exhibition of optical effects and illusions; a constantly shifting complex succession of things seen or imagined.

Nearly every part of the story — character interactions, perspectives, plot points — is distorted in some way, whether it be by Wisteria/alcohol, grief, or just individual stubbornness.

The Wisteria is probably the most obvious example, as it literally distorts Reader’s perceptions of both herself, her environment, and her interactions with others

I was particular with not describing the Reader physically (even beyond her clothing) past that initial scene in Part I when she goes to the Kizuki for the first time with Mitsuri. When she does describe herself, she speaks of herself as a “raving princess” and “effervescent” — but nothing truly descriptive.

Why does it matter? Contrast that with the comments Sanemi makes about how he “wouldn’t have known it was her” (which later we find out is literally true); he also tells her, point blank, she looks gaunt, and she has no reaction whatsoever — not even an internal reaction. That’s the wisteria distorting her self-image, until she finally looks in the mirror at the end of Part II and fully sees herself for the first time in a while — and realizes what it has done.

But the Wisteria distorts other things too, namely, the appeal of the club/rave life that Reader throws herself into. At first, she calls it a paradise — it’s her escape from both her heartache and from herself in general. The club then distorts her perception of others — namely, Sanemi, like when she describes him as “menacing” under the club lights, and yet the flashback that immediately follows is one of the saddest in the series — and it shows that Sanemi is hurting just as much as she is. But the wisteria distorts everything around her, so she’s only seeing what she wants to see. Yet, when the illusion starts to crack, what happens? She panics — she describes the Kizuki as too loud, too claustrophobic; the Wisteria quite literally leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

The other major example of a phantasmagoria in the story is its main theme — grief. Anyone who has been up close and personal with grief can probably attest to the way it quite literally changes how you view everything — even if that means it narrows your perception (I.e. distorts it). Both Reader and Sanemi are grieving significant losses, and those losses make them blind to the other’s suffering in return. It’s not so much miscommunication as it is two kids who were forced to bear the weight of the world way too fast.

That grief then continues to distort their reality, but not in the sense that they’re misremembering events. Everything they say happened, actually happened. Y/N was abandoned by Kyojuro and Sanemi; but she distanced herself from them first, and she also abandoned Sanemi when he needed her. Neither of the boys were there for her while her mother was sick and when she died; but they didn’t know until it was too late. Sanemi did return her feelings 100% at the train station; but he was so overwhelmed and reeling from Genya’s death that he reacted poorly. Sanemi did see Y/N that day at the crosswalk; he just didn’t recognize her. Y/N was isolated after her mother died, but Sanemi was desperately trying to find her the whole time.

Thus, everything happened exactly the way both Y/N and Sanemi said it did, but their grief prohibited them from stepping back and seeing the broader picture — so their interpretation, though objectively true, is still distorted. This translates into other things as well, such as Y/N constantly misinterpreting Sanemi’s motives and efforts to make things right between them, because otherwise, it wouldn’t square with the understanding she has of what happened and why. She thinks he’s using her for convenience; he’s actually letting her use him in any way she wants just so he can have a chance to take care of her. She accuses him of being possessive because he feels entitled to her affection, but he actually loves her (deeply), and is terrified of losing her, because she is quite literally wasting away in front of him. She says he doesn’t care about her, yet she won’t let him. He tries to talk to her about everything right after they start hooking up, yet she refuses to engage. She runs away. She’s cold, and she shuts him down harshly even when he tries to offer her bare minimum affection and care (this also is supposed to contrast with what we know as the Reader, which is that she is still very much in love with him). We also find out that Sanemi spent every other weekend taking flowers to her mother’s grave — again, shattering that illusion she’s created in her mind that he doesn’t care about her.

It’s not until they finally hash everything out in the kitchen at Tengen’s that both realize they’ve been focusing on one narrow part of a much larger picture, and that they’ve both let their grief blind themselves to one another. When Y/N finally steps back and looks at the whole instead of the part, the illusion shatters. Love is the final phantasmagoria. Y/N realizes that she’s mistakenly believed she was running away from love (and thus, Sanemi) only to realize that not only has she been running in circles, but Sanemi has been running opposite of her the whole time. They’re two sides of the same coin; they were bound to crash into one another at some point.

This is just like, a bird’s eye overview of the mind map that I drew out in my journal for Phanta, and I’m sure I’m leaving something out. If y’all have any thoughts, I’m always happy to hear them (seriously).

Thank you for the ask, and I apologize that I went off the deep end lmao.

#🍑 rambles #phantasmagoria #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader

[bylertruther]

no cause the last anón is so right. I scrapped a 50k byler fic because I actually got worried people might call me weird or a freak like they do others. I was on twitter when the whole fiasco went down and it pissed me off but if you even tried to speak there were so many accounts saying you were “speaking over minors” and calling you a predator/pedophile. So many of my moots deactivated bc of the hate- they eventually started attacking people for their ages alone saying it was weird that 20 year olds theorized and talked about byler. Literally word for word “you’re a freak if you’re 20 and read byler fics. Why are you fantasizing about two little 14 year old boys making out” if they would take a step back and think that maybe people are so interested in this relationship is bc they see their younger selves in these two characters then maybe they wouldn’t say such stupid shit. Anyway sorry for ranting I just have been fuming since that whole thing happened. I just wish they would take a step back and stop and think about why they see a kiss between two boys written and immediately shout creep.

oh no, anon! i'm so sorry to hear about your fic & your experience. i hope you feel comfortable enough to post it one day, if you still want to. 🥺 and don't ever apologize for expressing yourself!

not to be a cunt, but i am a cunt, so, ahem. from the bottom of my heart... fuck them kids. 🫶 i literally do not give a single shit about any of the ""discourse"" they inflict on us all. "speaking over minors" why are you even speaking to begin with, huh? 🤨 why are you buzzing into an adult's space and picking a fight when a) literally no one fucking asked you to, and b) you're just going to cry "waaaaah but i'm a minorrr :(" as if you're somehow the victim in this situation after they dare to defend themselves against your serious and unsupported allegations? be normal or piss the fuck off and do your homework.

and why do people take them seriously? disregarding the fact that anyone of any age can be a shipper & the awful homophobia laced in such rhetoric...

this is the internet. no one owes you shit & the wild web will never, ever cater to you. you need to curate your own space and protect yourself. this is, like.. basic shit. like, bare-fucking-bones basic shit. it's not anyone else's responsibility but your own. they taught me that in school, my parents told me that, and also i have a functioning brain that can come to that conclusion, too. people need to stop pretending like what these people are asking for—which is your silence and your shame—is reasonable. it's not. content gets tagged, there are multiple extensions to blacklist any tags you don't like, some of it gets put behind a privacy wall, block buttons exist, many websites have filtering options, and so on and so forth. there are multiple measures people can take to both find things and avoid them. and a lot of the time, content is something you have to seek out yourself. so, if you don't like it, why did you click on it? why spend any time on it when you could've just backspaced? how is your ineptitude anyone else's problem?

also, people need to stop throwing the words pedophilia, pedophile, and predator around. you're being an insensitive jackass when you do that. someone writing about two fictional characters is not abusive scum of the fucking earth. you're watering those acts down and showcasing your ignorance for the world to see when you throw their names around carelessly. a child predator does awful, sinister, repulsive things to real life people who did not deserve that. someone writing a first kiss or practice kissing fic is not anywhere near that and i'm tired of people pretending like this is an okay thing to say or even think. just shut the fuck up and stop saying those words if you don't actually understand the gravity of what they mean.

another thing: a lot of these people aren't just kids. grown folk fall for the same shitty rhetoric, too. it's all just groupthink and herd mentality. no one wants to get attacked so they just repeat the same shit without thinking about it beyond "protecting" themselves (which is senseless as well because conditional acceptance is not true acceptance, but i digress). this fandom would be in a much better place if people were willing to stand their ground and defend their friends when this stuff happens. it gets worse and worse if you just turn a blind eye to it and fall in line. we're all waking up and finally seeing the consequences of that now.

of course, this doesn't really apply to when you're getting attacked by hundreds of people. that's... just shitty and hard and demoralizing. i'm not victim-blaming, because no one wants to be on the receiving end of that and i know that you can't control what others do.

my argument is that it gets to that point because the fandom as a whole just lets it slide by never holding the right people accountable for their actions. they allow the needless bullying to happen. they allow the rhetoric to get crazier and crazier. they allow people to get fucking crucified for shit that isn't even remotely inappropriate. they reblog posts they don't believe in because they don't want to be the odd one out and get accused of something by someone with more followers than them. it's just... we, as a whole, need to support each other more and put our foot down when shit like that starts happening.

it isn't normal. it isn't okay. it hasn't ever been okay.

like... i KNOW that you KNOW that it isn't weird for them to kiss, for people to want them to kiss, or for people to make them kiss in their creations. i KNOW that you KNOW that it isn't weird for anyone of any age to enjoy a love story of any kind. we know these things. some of us just pretend like we don't online for whatever fucking reason. and i don't get it! i don't get why they would do that and willingly allow this place to become worse for it. you don't get anything good out of that.

also, a lot of those people are being trolls. they get a kick out of attacking people as a group, because that's the only time they feel brave and the only way they get attention in life. they don't think before they say things, because they don't see you as a human being—you're just pixels on a greasy screen. they use catchy social justice lingo to make what they're saying sound like something you should support, but at the end of the day, they're literally just gussying up the same right-wing shit we've been subjected to for ages. it's regressive rhetoric that's clear to see once you've allowed yourself to see it.

like, i agree with you. i do. you're absolutely, undoubtedly right in what you say, but... i just can't bring myself to argue that, because it's in response to what was a senseless attack to begin with. and we shouldn't need to defend ourselves and our communities against what isn't true.

homophobia, bullying, and trolling are irrational, illogical pursuits and i can't stand the idea of treating them with any ounce of seriousness in this context. to apologize would be to accept their absurdity and validate their accusations—accusations we know in our heart of hearts to be incorrect and baseless. and i won't ever do that! i won't give them that satisfaction and i wish others wouldn't either.

they keep doing this, because they haven't met any opposition yet, because we keep acting like we have any reason at all to feel shame for wanting stories about people like us, about something as basic and universal as love and connection. they don't care about our reasons. they don't care about our defense of ourselves. it's not ever about us. this is their cry for attention, good or bad, at our expense and they need to be starved out already.

like.. this is just unsustainable. it's mind-boggling and i remember kicking and screaming about it months ago in what felt like an empty room. and look at where we are now! we're already at the point where you can't win in any kind of way no matter what you do. you can't age them up, you can't leave them as they are, you can't ship them if you're older than eighteen, you can't write AUs, you can't write canon compliance, you can't write canon divergence, you can't make them kiss, you can't make them anything more than friends but you also can't make them not-friends, etc etc. we've officially been shoved into the "fuck it, we ball" stage, because this is a pissy fandom and you are never going to please everyone so you may as well just do whatever the fuck you want.

i sound soooooooo unbearably preachy in this response lol, but like... literally... all we have is each other! we all love byler and we're all here to have fun and find like-minded people. we can't keep acting like this in-fighting lunacy is reasonable and just a difference of opinion, or like it's based in any kind of sense at all. we know that it's okay to ship byler at any age. we know that it's okay to have fun and enjoy ourselves. these people want to make us feel bad. they want to silence us. why let them and give them that satisfaction? why is what they want more important than us and our happiness? i hate the idea of anyone ever feeling any kind of shame or fear over something as innocent as this. i hate the idea of them winning by getting into any of our heads like that. i just hate it.

now, this last bit is specifically for you, anon, but it goes for everyone else, too: please, please, please, i am holding your hand in both of mine and begging you to not let anyone take away the things that you love and bring you joy or your wonderful creations that you've put so much of yourself into. i promise you that there will always be people who will see you, understand you, and cherish what you have to offer, and they are the ones that matter most (after you of course hehe). we all have to find our people and just go crazy together and block out everything else. that's the only way to get through this without getting burnt out. 💛💙

#sorry for the mushy preachy response but you broke my heart anon! and i got mad! and also sad! #i'm tired of pretending like that shit is normal or okay or reasonable WHEN IT JUST FUCKING ISN'T! #KNOW NO SHAME MY BROTHERS IN BYLER KNOW NO SHAME 📣📣📣📣 #sigh. anyway. #asks #byler #long post