#to all the people who have drawn it: i love you

[frannyzooey]

Down the Hall

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Tags: Explicit, age gap because you know what I'm about (Frankie is your mom’s boyfriend, he is in his 40s, you are in your mid-20s)

A/N: Yea….so this is dedicated to @intheorangebedroom who inspired this entire idea and to @whatsnewalycat whose beautiful brain and writing inspired me as well. Thank you to @astroboots for cheering me on, to @bageldaddy for the super in depth beta and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed by "does this hit" worries — your minds are golden and I am so happy you support this utter filth. Ily ❤️

He thought that dating someone his own age would ground him, steady him. Not that he ever paid much attention to the age of the women he dated, but he thought with someone who had their own shit figured out, he might be inspired to do the same. 

Unmoored and unattached since he joined the army in his twenties, he was pushing forty now and craved some kind of routine. Living alone gave him too much time for thinking, too many hours spent inside his own head. He knew that living like that for too long could lead to bad decisions and thought he might hold himself to a higher standard when he saw how they held themselves to one. 

He met her at a bar – the most cliche of meeting places, but for good reason. She was out with friends after work and from the start, he was attracted to the way she smiled with her whole mouth. Everything about her seemed sensuous and fun, so inviting that he found himself drawn in and when he asked if he could take the seat next to her, he matched her smile with one of his own. 

When she invited him home that night, he buried himself deep while feasting on that generous mouth. 

He stayed that night, and then one night became twice a week, became three – and before he knew it, his lease was up on his apartment and he moved in. It was nice to come home to someone after work. To know that someone was there, wondering how his day went. To have a warm body curled up next to him in bed. 

She was so independent, so driven. A corporate job that required her to dress in slippery blouses and pretty skirts with heels; the same he loved to strip from her when she came home all stressed out the way she did sometimes. And she had a kid – a daughter – already in college somewhere on the east coast, but that didn’t bother him. Dating in his forties meant people already had their own histories, and he was no exception. 

Sometimes after she fell asleep and he had time alone to think, he still felt something that itched beneath his skin. Something that pulled at him from within, something that remained unsettled. He told himself that it was just an adjustment period after so many years of being unattached, and shoved those feelings deep down inside of him, determined to ignore them until he taught himself a new way to live. 

Her breathing deep and steady beside him, he told himself that she was good for him. 

That was what counted.

He was all for it when she told him her daughter was coming home to stay the summer between semesters. He liked the idea of having another person in the house – another distraction, another responsibility to take him out of his own head. 

He worked odd hours, and during his off days, Frankie took up the task of preparing her daughter’s old room. Light pink walls, a creamy bedspread dotted with delicate flowers: his mind supplied an automatic image of the little girl that lined the hallway in frames. He knew she was older than that now, but the way her mom talked about her, he couldn’t help imagining a little kid. 

Tasked with picking her up from the airport the day she arrived, he had just stepped out of the shower when he heard the doorbell. Frowning, he tugged a shirt over his damp curls, and opened the door.

Jesus Christ. Speechless, he stared at the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. 

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you apologized, tugging a heavy bag higher up on your shoulder. “I got in early and thought an Uber would be faster.”

He stood there for a moment, just staring, his mouth slightly parted in confusion. And then he saw it: the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lush mouth. The resemblance stamped across your delicate features.

“I couldn’t find my key.” You stood there, looking uneasy on your own doorstep. “You must be Frankie. Or is it Francisco? My mom said you’d be here. It’s nice to meet you.”

At the rounded sound of his full name coming from your mouth, his gaze snapped back to meet your eyes while you hung there, clearly waiting for him to say something. His body was slow to catch up with his brain, the little girl his mind supplied was gone, replaced by the vision that stood in front of him. Still young and fresh-faced, but grown nonetheless and so, so fucking beautiful. 

When you gestured towards the house behind him, he finally shook himself from the initial shock.

“Shit,” he apologized, stepping back out of your way. “Yea, it’s Frankie. Nice to meet you.” You gave him a half smile, and when you stepped inside, he reached for your bag. “Here, let me grab that.”

His hand dragging through his curls, he stood in the entryway and watched you make yourself at home: your shoes immediately kicked off on the doormat, your jacket hung neatly next to his own like it had always belonged there. 

“Do you know when my mom gets home?”

He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the length of your legs underneath the hem of your shorts. “Uh, she said probably around six? That’s when she usually gets home.”

You nodded, holding your hand out for your bag and for a split second, he wondered if he should bring it upstairs for you. It would be the polite thing to do, but the idea of entering your room now felt like overstepping. You weren’t a kid, you didn’t need him like that. The boundaries had suddenly blurred and shifted, and he whisked away the image of you settling into your bedroom just as fast as it popped into his head. 

When you grabbed the bag from him, he felt relief. 

It was easy to avoid you for the afternoon while you got settled. Instead, he mowed the lawn, prepared dinner, all the while with his ears attuned to the sound of you walking around above him. He felt on edge, anxious. The excitement he thought he would feel with someone else in the house had turned into unease. 

He made himself an outsider, even more so when your mom came home. Not wanting to intrude on your time together, he stayed in the kitchen to cook dinner for the two of you and delivered it to the living room, placing your plates on the coffee table. 

“Thank you, baby, that’s so nice.” Your mother scooted forward, tilting her chin up towards him in a silent request for a kiss. 

Granting it to her, he felt her familiar hold slip around the back of his neck to keep him in place for a moment, keenly aware of the way you were right there. For a split second while his lips were still on hers, he glanced up at you and it was clear that he caught you watching by the way you hastily looked away the second he met your eyes. 

He fucked her hard that night, his hand over her mouth so you wouldn’t hear. 

She was gone in the morning when he made his way downstairs, and he was pleasantly surprised to find coffee already in the pot. 

“I made extra,” you said, from your perch on the chair at the table. Sleep shorts high on your thighs, an oversized tee shirt covering your top half. The way it engulfed you made you look younger than you were. 

He looked away, busying himself with pouring a cup. 

“I drink a lot, so I made a lot,” you explained with shy self-deprecation. 

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, sitting down at the table. “Got any plans for today? Or for the summer, I guess?” 

Wading the tentative waters of getting to know someone, he watched your fingers play with the edge of the paper. 

“Just relax for a bit, I think? Catch up with some old friends? No plan really. I just didn’t want to hang out on a deserted campus.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.” 

And so began the morning routine you would both share for the next few weeks. Hesitant and quiet around each other in the beginning, sliding into something normal fairly fast. Your mother was early to rise and early to bed, but he had never been and neither were you. 

He joined you in the late morning at the kitchen table, the curve of your soft cheek highlighted in the slant of light through the window. On the couch at night, a different kind of illumination from the light of the TV, yet hitting your cheek just the same. Your things scattered around the living room, your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, your clothes mixed with his in the wash. 

Your proximity was what he blamed for the constant thoughts he had about you. 

Every morning he admired how rumpled you looked, how sleepy and soft and inviting. It was endearing, but soon other thoughts edged out the more innocent ones: thoughts about your legs wrapped around his waist, your slender fingers wrapped around something other than a coffee cup. 

The want he felt for you pooled in various places inside him: his brain, his chest, between his thighs. It spilled down the shower drain and spilled hot across his stomach. 

It flooded your mother’s mouth, and she was none the wiser.

Afterwards, she tucked her face into the meat of his shoulder, pressing a kiss against the skin there. Sated and content, she curled herself around him. “Let’s do something this weekend together. Actually make use of that pool we have for once.”

A barbecue. She’d been talking about having one for a while. 

“We’ve been working so hard. I feel like I barely even see you, honey.” 

Something akin to guilt tugged at him, thinking of the shifts he had been picking up in an effort to avoid you. Your eyes, your smile, your stupid sleep shorts.

He hummed his agreement and she kissed him in thanks, her breaths eventually evening out as she fell asleep. 

Frankie lay awake, the image of your closed bedroom door stuck in his mind. 

–

“Jesus Christ,” you murmured as you watched Frankie climb out of the pool. 

Broad, bare shoulders, tanned swathes of skin, cute little dimples just above his ass. Water ran down over his tanned skin, the thin material of his swim shorts stuck to his ass and when he turned around to grab a towel off a nearby chair, you were glad for your sunglasses.

Fuck me. 

The material of his shorts molded to every inch of his thick cock, the shape clearly outlined. Oblivious, he ran the towel over his curls, over his shoulders and arms, down his torso – and when his hand gingerly pulled the material away from his crotch, you memorized the swirl of dark hair that surrounded his navel and led down.  

“Can you help me with the grill, honey?”

Your mom’s voice pulled your attention away from him. 

Her boyfriend, you reminded yourself. Frankie was her boyfriend.

“Yea,” he called back, chucking his towel on the chair. “Be right there. Let me put a shirt on.”

The shirt he shrugged over his head was the same one you folded that morning. The material was threadbare and super soft, the muscles of his back shifting underneath the thin fabric as he sauntered over to the grill. You knew the way it felt in your hands, and at the thought of his body heat through the material, you pressed your thighs together. 

The afternoon sun bathed you in warmth, but it was nothing compared to the heat that pooled inside your bottoms as you continued to watch him from your recline by the pool. His brown curls glinted in the sun, his throat bobbing with a swallow when your mother brought him a beer. 

When his eyes flashed over to you, you finally looked away. 

You saw those deep, doleful brown eyes in your sleep. 

You felt them on you all the time: in the dark living room during family movie time, your mother curled up against his side. In the kitchen after dinner, when you loaded the dishwasher while he put away the food. In the mornings, when you pretended to read the paper while he snuck hooded peeks at you and drank you in. 

Startled by his handsomeness from the very first time you laid eyes on him, your crush only grew with every passing day spent in his company. He was so thoughtful, so attentive and kind, but it was something else buried within his gaze that drew you in. 

A barely restrained want that shone clear on his face every time he looked at you. A need simmering under the surface, you saw the way he fought it. 

You thought about him constantly: imagined him crowding you against the counter in the kitchen, saw him pulling back the shower curtain to join you, pretended your fingers were his in your bed at night. 

Born out of your own need, you pushed him. Played with the limits of his self control, desperate for him to make a move. No action overt enough to be blatant, the way he stared at you made you feel confident, bold. The want pouring off his skin when you hung around him was obvious and thick, filling the space between the two of you until he inevitably excused himself. 

When it’s time to eat, you take a seat next to him on the bench, your thigh pressed hot against his. You waited for him to pull away, but he never did and the intimate sensation of the hair on his leg brushing against your own smoother skin made it hard to eat, though you missed it when he got up. 

Your mother, one margarita too many and giggly and loose, pulled him into a dance under the stars that had just begun to come out. He humored her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close, smiling at every murmured secret she slipped into his ear. 

You watched the scene unfold right in front of you with a fond, humoring expression, and his eyes kept finding yours, flashing in the darkness. 

You pretended nonchalance, but the entire time, you wanted. 

He took her to bed while you cleaned up the kitchen. 

You knew he fucked her – you heard it sometimes. They tried to be quiet for your sake but sometimes a whimper would slip down the hall, the deep reverberation of a groan in the dark. 

Climbing into bed that night, your mind lingered on the image of his wet swim trunks. The dark swirl of hair, the heft in the outline. 

You wondered what he fucked like with a cock like that. 

–

“Something’s going on in the Arizona market,” your mom explained, tossing items into her suitcase. A silk blouse spilled over the side, and you tucked it back in with the rest. “I’ll be gone through Thursday, maybe Friday? Hopefully not the weekend, but I’ll let you know.”

“Do you need a ride to the airport?” 

Smiling at you, she stepped forward and cupped your cheek with her hand for a moment. “That’s sweet, honey, but I’m good. Frankie’s got it.”

Apprehension swirled with anticipation, the joint feelings settled low in your gut. You’d been alone with him before, but never for this long. Never truly alone, for days on end. 

The man himself poked his head around the corner of the doorway, the width of his shoulders filling out the frame. He glanced at you, and then his watch. “You about ready, baby?” 

She bustled around the room, tossing things here and there onto the bed and he looked at you again, a slight frown pulling between his brows. 

His expression gave something akin to frustration, and for a split second, you thought it was because of the time your mom was taking. When you felt his dark eyes drop down the length of your body involuntarily and then back up again, you turned away with a small smile, knowing it to be something else. 

–

For the first couple days, he stayed away from the house as much as he could. Kept his distance until he ran out of errands, until he drove down the same stretch of road too many times. He didn’t trust himself to be alone with you, and he hated himself for it. 

Self loathing creeped in every time he thought about the way his jeans tightened even thinking of you alone in the house. His girlfriend’s fucking daughter, half his age. The whole thing was fucked up. 

And yet, he couldn’t stop. 

He felt bad, thinking of you suddenly being all alone after spending so much time with people around, but he told himself that you probably loved having the space to yourself. 

He came in the shower that morning to the thought of your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, and he was unable to look you in the eye when he saw you in the kitchen afterward. Your hopeful expression lingered in his mind all day as he stretched out the hours. 

The sky turned from light blue to dark, and he finally caved. He couldn’t stay away forever. 

The house was quiet when he walked in, tossing his keys on the entryway table. He crept around, looking for any sign of your presence, until he heard the shower running upstairs. Light spilled down the staircase, and heading into the kitchen, he tried to push down the thoughts running rampant in his head. 

He drank a glass of water, listening. 

The shower turning off (your naked body, damp and warm), your footsteps padding down the hall (that smooth skin, hidden under your towel), your bedroom door shutting (the towel dropping onto your floor). 

He stayed downstairs, turning the TV on to distract himself, the air in the house charged with a magnetic pull from your room. He waited until there had been nothing but silence for the better part of a half hour, then dared to venture upstairs. 

He’d just say goodnight, that’s all. Just so you knew you weren’t alone. 

His knuckles rapped against your door, and he pushed it open when he heard you say come in. 

“Hey,” you greeted him, slight surprise on your face. Stretched out in bed, the inviting cloud of your comforter was plush underneath your body. You paused the movie you were watching, and sat up on your elbows. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days.”

“Yea,” he replied, leaning against the frame of your door. His eyes followed a slow path up your bare legs. 

“Work been crazy or something?” you asked.

“Something like that, yea,” he answered. His hand stayed on the knob of your door, an anchor that kept him from crossing a line. “I actually just stopped by to say goodnight. I’m gonna turn in.”

“Already?” you teased. “It’s pretty early, isn’t it? Aren’t you gonna live it up while my mom is gone?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve lived it up enough. I’m an old man, remember? We don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Forty-five is hardly an old man,” you scolded with a smile. “You wanna watch a movie instead?”

You patted the bed next to you, and his face sobered. You didn’t see it, instead reaching for the lotion on your bedside table to work some into your hands and the image of you jerking his cock with that same lotion flashed across his mind. He frowned. 

“In here?” 

You shrugged, laying back down. “I mean, I’m already all set up in here…”

You left the offer hanging, and even though he knew - he fucking knew he shouldn’t - he found himself nodding. 

You looked surprised at his answer for a split second, and then pleased. 

“Let me go get changed.”

He walked down the hall towards his room, scolding himself the entire time. Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t go back into that fucking room. Don’t think about how smooth her skin is and how much you want to kiss her.  Don’t think about how her sheets smell like her, don’t think about how much you want to lick her cunt. 

The thoughts ran on a loop as he peeled off his work clothes. 

They echoed in his head as he pulled on his sweats. 

They followed him out of his bedroom and all the way down the hall, stopping at your doorway.

You turned your head, looking at him expectantly, looking so fucking lush and innocent, so eager to have him join you. 

He swallowed hard, mouth watering and left his guilt in the hallway, joining you in bed.

–

Pretending to ignore the heavy blanket of tension pulsing between your bodies, you kept your eyes fixed on the screen. 

Stretched out next to you, he kept a respectable distance, but you felt the heat that poured off of his skin. He looked so large in your bed, so much like a man. His long limbs splayed out over your girlish comforter, his masculine scent filled the space and when he crossed his arms, you admired the way the hem of his sleeve stretched around his bicep. 

Lightheaded and trembling with a heady want that ached between your thighs, you made it through the whole movie – until the room descended into darkness, until the credits rolled and the screen went black  

Until it was just the two of you sitting side by side in the dark. 

The sheets rustled when you rolled onto your side to face him. 

“What did you think?” you asked quietly. 

He looked down at you from his slouch on the bed, and your fingers twitched with the need to smooth away the crease that rested permanently between his brows. You would think he was mad if not for his eyes: those always look conflicted more than anything. Constant turmoil, roiling deep within the dark depths. 

Not answering, he stared down at you for a long moment before shrugging. 

“Okay, I guess. Well, have a good night.”

He then started to slide off the bed. 

Disappointment flooded your chest, the tension that you’d been feeling for the last two hours releasing restlessly through your limbs. Already making plans to get your vibrator from your side table to use while burying your face into the sheets he was just sitting on, he stilled. 

Your eyes fixed on his broad back, you could almost see the decision being made and he quickly turned before he could convince himself to stop. 

Bending down, he kissed you. 

It was consuming. The brush of his mustache, the taste of his mouth, the weight of his solid body as he pushed you into the bedding, draping it over yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth to slide against your own, and he swallowed the soft sound that caught in the back of your throat. Pushing himself into the cradle between your thighs, he forced them open wider as he deepened the kiss, and his dry, calloused hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt, wrapping around your hip. 

You knew you should push him away, but your hands only dragged him closer, grabbing everything you could touch: the slip of his curls, the curve of his whiskered jaw, the rounds of his broad shoulders. You dug your fingertips into his sides as he ground his hips against yours and your knees hitched higher around his torso. 

His hand wrapped around the top of your shin, pushing down to hold you in place.  

“Jesus,” he breathed into your mouth between kisses, his fingers tightening in their hold before sliding down to touch everything he can: the meat of your hips, his big hand cupping your ass with a greedy squeeze. Need rolled off of him in waves, his touch betraying just how long he had thought about this and his mouth shifted down to devour the long line of your neck, tasting the sweet hollow of your throat. 

Your pulse beat fast under his tongue, speeding up when he let out a groan against the sensitive skin. 

“Take – take this off–” he sat back on his ankles, his hands fumbling with your shirt.

As soon as you pulled it over your head, his mouth latched onto your nipple. His tongue swirled around it, sliding over the peaked bud with a suck. His beard scraped across your sensitive skin, leaving a wet path that glistened over the plane of your chest as he dragged his mouth to your other breast and his heavy hand reached down to cup you wholly over your sleep shorts. 

His fingers dug into the dip of your entrance and the heel of his hand ground hard against your clit. 

“I can’t stop thinking about this pussy,” he confessed. His fingers rubbed harder, and he groaned hot against your skin. “I can already feel how soaked she is for me. How much she wants it.”

You nodded with a whimper, rolling your hips into his touch. “God yes. Please.”

He pulled back just enough to stare down at your face, his pitch black eyes sliding over your features to settle on your open mouth. “Tell me you want this. Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Yes. Please, please,” you begged.

“It’s gonna be a lot, baby.” He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue, his hand working, working, working. “She’s gonna need to be wet to take what I need her to take.”

A fresh wave of arousal washed through you, and your sleep shorts clung to your center with every grind of his palm. His thick fingers nudged the fabric to the side, exploring. 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, releasing a heavy breath. “Fuck.” 

His eyes fluttered shut with a frown as his touch slid through your soaked seam and kissing you again, he timed the slide of his tongue with the slick stretch of two fingers. 

Your thighs opened wider around his waist, a whine crawling out of your throat when he pushed them deeper and when he started a smooth, audible stroke, you started to ride his hand. 

You’d been watching his fingers for months: wrapped around the steering wheel in the car, loosely cradling the neck of a beer bottle, drumming against his thigh when he watched TV sometimes. You’d imagined them tucked inside you so many times, buried in your mouth or your cunt, and as he worked a third one in, you let out a filthy moan. 

“I gotta work it open, baby,” he soothed, pulling your earlobe between his lips. “It’ll be okay. I know you can take it.”

His hips started to follow the rhythmic roll of his hand and when he seemed satisfied with how much you could take, he slid his fingers out, reaching to tear his shirt off over his head. When he pushed his fingers into his mouth for a moment, his lips wrapping around his knuckles as he sucked your taste off the thick digits, his hooded eyes took in the way you scrambled to take your sleep shorts off. 

Following your lead, he dumped everything onto the floor beside your bed, and it felt like heaven when you felt his bare skin against the inside of your thighs. So broad, so firm and strong, his body pressed you into the mattress and you felt the hot, pulsing heft of his cock pushing against your cunt. You clenched at the teasing sensation of what was to come, and reached down to grasp him, but his hand caught yours and pushed it into the bedding above your head. 

“Let me do it. I wanna watch your face when I put it in,” he confessed, resting his weight on top of you as he reached down with his other hand to guide himself in. 

Sticky slick smeared between the both of you, and when the tip of his cock forced you to bloom around him, his eyes fixed on your face. Greedily, he devoured the sight of your mouth dropping open, a tiny tiny frown appearing between your brows and he thickened inside you, pushing forward.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “It’s so much.” So much more than you ever thought it would be, even with all the months spent imagining it. 

He bottomed out and the air froze in your lungs, your cunt stuffed fuller than it’s ever been. 

“Shhh,” he soothed, staying in place to let you adjust. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re so fucking tight, baby. So tight.”

Squirming underneath him, you hitched your knees higher around his torso and he rocked his hips to slide halfway out before grinding back in with a weighted push. He gave you a minute: a tense minute, a minute thick and full of wanting, a minute where all you could focus on was the stretch of his cock and the heated bulk of his body and the firmness of his chest pressed against yours. 

He brushed his lips against yours, and gently rolled his hips. 

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about this? About fucking you, in this bed?” His voice deep and breathless, it sounded overwhelmingly intimate breathed against your cheek. 

You shook your head. 

“I thought I was the only one,” you admitted. “I used to think – oh fuck – I used to think about you coming down the hallway in the night. Crawling into my bed and fucking me just like this. Just like I can hear you fuck her.”

“You listen to me fuck her?” His hips rocked forward a little faster, picking up pace. 

“I can’t help it,” you whined. “The sounds – the sounds you make. I wanted to make you make them. I wanted to be the reason.”

His fingers pushed through the hold of your own, locking your hands together above your head and he dug his knees into the bed for leverage. Your breasts shifted underneath him, bouncing lightly as he fucked into you harder and his eyes dropped down to watch. “You are, baby. You are. I think about you all the time.”

Building steadily underneath him, your head pushed back into the bedding and his mouth found your throat, his teeth scraping against the tender skin. His hips never stopping their filling grind, you pushed your fingers through his curls and when he bit down with a suck, a slurred yes slipped out of your outstretched throat. 

You imagined your mom seeing it, asking you if you went on a date with someone. 

His strokes got harder, harsher, his hips snapping against yours and digging your fingers into the soft globes of his ass, you forced him deeper. When you clenched around his thick length, he looked down at you, wrecked and desperate. 

“I wish I tasted you,” he groaned. “Next time, okay?”

You frantically nodded, unable to focus on anything but the bright, shining edge of your release. 

He could see it, feel it in the squeeze of your soaked cunt and his vision blurred around the edges, his own want building at the base of his spine. 

“You gonna come?”

You are. The sounds he’s making above you and the way he feels inside you and the scent and need rolling off his skin and those fucking pitch black eyes that have been in your dreams for months – 

Slick dripped down the curve of your ass, your hips locking up underneath him and when you came with a silent cry, he groaned deep and loud, fucking you right through it. 

“Tell me I can fucking come inside you. Say it,” he pleaded, fingers gripped on your chin to hold your gaze on his. His words punctuated by the snap of his hips, you nod your head. 

“Do it,” you whined.

Your fingers threaded through his curls, it’s the tug that you give that does it. Coming harder than he had in his fucking life, he filled your tight cunt with thick ropes of his spend. Endless, smeared over the shaft of his thick cock as he continued to pump into you because he couldn’t stop, slipping out to drip onto the delicate sheets below. 

“Christ,” he groaned, his jaw clenched as the veins in his neck strained above you, his hips stuttering. Slowing them into a languid roll against your own, his softening cock was still a thick, filling weight inside and when he looked down at you, you recognized the guilt that already flooded the brown depths. 

You stared right back, holding him tight. 

“Stay,” you murmured, holding him in place when he started to roll off of you. 

You wanted to remember this. The hot press of his skin against yours, tacky and slick with sweat. The warm gust of his breath over your lips, the rapid beat of his pulse under his flushed neck. The wild curls that stuck damply along his hairline, the brush of his fingers as he tenderly thumbed at the curve of your jaw. 

He swallowed and you could see the war in his eyes, something you recognized as being there from the start. His hand curled over the crown of your head, and you pressed a kiss to his throat. 

“You can’t –” he started, eyes fluttering shut at the press of your mouth. “You can’t tell your mom about this, okay. We can’t say anything.”

We. You reveled in the sound of the word, your head nodding underneath him. A secret to share. Something for the two of you alone. 

“I won’t,” you promised. “Just don’t leave, okay?”

You felt small and vulnerable asking, and when he looked down at you, a glimpse of the girl he imagined on that very first day tugged at his memory. Not the age he pictured of course, but the way you needed him. 

The way he wanted you to need him all along. 

His face nuzzled yours, his nose sliding across your cheek. A kiss pressed against the soft, youthful curve of your cheek that he had admired for months, he nodded with your sweet taste still lingering on his tongue. 

“I won’t, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader

[meowmeowriley]

I need more trans Ghost.

I need more variation on trans Ghost.

It's all top surgery and T, which is great, let me tell you, but that's not all we are. There's so many flavors of trans.

I want Ghost who never needed top surgery. Between working out, T, and having small tits to begin with, it was never an issue.

I want Ghost with huge tits, who never got rid of them because they were never the issue, so the second his tac vest is off those bitches are all anyone can focus on.

Ghost who never took T, and went through vocal coaching instead, because he has higher testosterone than a lot of other AFAB people do anyway, and can pitch his voice deeper. So when he relaxes his voice is surprisingly high.

Ghost, who had phalloplasty, and had to go back and have the damn thing reduced because, like a lot of trans men experience, that thing grew and now it's just ridiculous and unwieldy.

Ghost, who had phalloplasty, but kept his vaginal opening so now he's got the best of both worlds. (Honestly most surprised I haven't seen this one, like at all)

I'm seeing more trans Ghost, and I love it, but I want more, you know? Because if I feel left out, I know there's so many other trans or NB people who also feel left out.

This isn't to say that anyone's representation of a trans Ghost is wrong or bad, I've seen a lot of different types of top surgery, and topic surgery scars drawn and described, and it's absolutely wonderful.

What I'm saying is if you want it, you should write it, draw it, request it. Because someone else is probably looking for that kind of representation too.

And does it have to end at Ghost? No! Trans them all! More trans representation in TF141!

#ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #call of duty #modern warfare #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #trans!ghost #transgender #fanfic #ao3

[liveontelevision]

Hi! im in love with your Lucifer fics. You newest one has me gripped and i cant wait for the next part.

You got me brainstorming more Lucifer fics ideas

I was thinking of one where the reader has been helping/supporting Charlie at the Hotel and is almost like a mother/parental figure to her, and when Lucifer arrives he acts cold/mean no matter how much she tries to be polite. But then he warm up to her after see how much the reader really cares about Charlie and then he finally realises hes in love with her.

♡

Thank you! I literally could write about him for hours (kinda have already) and I really liked this prompt, so here's just a lil' something for ya, anon ♡

Honey | Lucifer x Reader

No smut, just some cute fluff here-

♡♡♡

As soon as you arrived in Hell, your eyes were drawn to the drab-looking hotel just up the hill. And you flew to it like a moth to a TV screen. That being said, you've known Charlie and the other residents for as long as you've been dead. They've all seen you at your worst, having to be the unlucky few to explain your death. Although, Charlie's comfort really made the whole being dead thing much more palatable. During this time, while she's supported you, you've seen her through thick and thin as well. Pretty soon, you became an important part of her life, offering a more parental influence when she needed one. You didn't really die at an old age, but a lot went on in your lifetime to give you the maturity to comfort people that way and you were always happy to do it.

Considering your skill set, some of the residents went to you in the same fashion. A little task you took to, just to help out, was fixing up some articles of clothing for people. It was a great mindless task for you to do, considering Alastor wasn't a fan of having phones and TVs in the hotel. So you simply sat, humming a little tune as you fixed up something from Angel's wardrobe.

Your trance was broken, seeing a pair of slender legs in front of you. Following them up, you finally meet eyes with a nervous-looking Charlie. She's fidgeting with her fingers, still trying to find the courage to say whatever she came to you for.

"You need something, hun? You can talk to me, c'mere." With a sweet voice, you patted the cushion on the couch next to you and kept on working. She let out a heavy breath you didn't realize she was holding.

"Soooo... my dad is coming to visit and I - uh.." she still struggled to find her words. Considering you've barely been outside the hotel, you really didn't question how big of a deal Lucifer was. But to see Charlie getting flustered about a little visit from her own father did make you feel uneasy.

"I guess - I don't know, I'm just nervous, is all! It's not that big a deal, I mean, he's my dad, but also.. he's... my dad..?" You nodded your head.

"Seems like a big deal. He's the king of Hell, so it makes sense that you're nervous. Can I help with anything?" Acknowledging her feelings and making sure to keep your tone smooth, you finally set aside the mini skirt you were fixing up to face her.

"Oh! Um - I was wondering if you could bake something for everyone! Niffty's making cookies, but I think dad might enjoy something a little more.." You both thought back on the disturbing display of desserts Niffty had made for everyone in the past, it sent a chill down your spine. You nodded your head fast, taking a hold of her hands.

“Yeah, I'd love to! I'll make sure it's something your dad would like, too! How's that sound?" You absolutely loved to bake, and doing it for other people always made it even better. There was some pressure on you, considering who you were catering to, but remembering that this is for Charlie, kept any nerves at bay. Charlie, who just happened to be shedding a tear or two of relief, gave you a hug that would've snapped you in two if it had gone on any longer. You were used to those at this point.

The day went by fast, Charlie preparing and stressing over little decisions for her dad's visit. You got the OK to bake an apple pie. A specialty you would make when you were alive, you went all out. You'd always make the dough from scratch, soak the apples in a homemade cinnamon butter, and somehow managed to spiffy it up to a commercial extent. You were batting off Pentious and Niffy as best you could until he arrived.

You saw a side of Charlie during that visit that you haven't really seen before. She was nervous, sure, but it was clear she felt so defeated. Each little quip on sinners being hopeless or how Charlie shouldn't even bother in this "whole redemption deal" made you understand her paranoia more and more.

As Charlie introduced each of the staff and residents, Lucifer got distracted by the still steaming pie sitting on the table in front of everyone. He definitely wasn't the only one whose mouth was watering just by staring at it, but he was the one who bit the bullet, taking the first piece. 

"And this is -" a loud hum of satisfaction interrupted Charlie's introduction to Sir Pentious, who looked deflated at the change in topic.

"Charlie! Good golly - This is great!" With another bite and hum, you watched his eyes flutter shut for a moment. A little boost of confidence immediately making you giddy.

"Oh! Well, that's good! Because this is our other guest! She made it herself -" Charlie took a hold of your shoulders and dragged you to face Lucifer. You could feel the nervous tremble coming from her hands. You looked up at her for a moment and smiled, placing a hand over top of hers. It really did seem to calm her nerves. And for some reason, he didn't seem to like that. 

"Well - I'll eat anything with apples since they're obviously my favorite. It’s not that special." He tossed the half-finished plate back onto the table and wiped his hands clean. He ignored you.

"U-Uhm.. yeah, that's - that's everyone, I guess!" Charlie stammered, not expecting him to turn such a cold shoulder to you. He spent his time examining you. Considering he didn't even care enough to learn your name at that moment, he sure was taking his time looking you up and down.

"Well then!" He clasped his hands together after finally tearing his eyes off you. "How about a little tour?" He suggested, clearly not invested in the other sinners now. Charlie looked down at you and you nodded, starting to clean up some little things around you. It was a nervous habit you had, but it helped to keep your hands busy and your mind off the insulting interaction you just had to endure.

Charlie took Vaggie's hand and went on to give the tour. Once they were out of sight around the corner, you slumped your shoulders letting out a groan.

"Short king's givin' you the cold shoulder, huh?" Angel leaned on the back of the couch, crossing one leg over the other.

"Right? Okay, glad I'm not the only one who noticed that. Is something wrong with the pie..?" Looking over to Sir Pentious, who was licking the already empty pie tin clean, he quickly shook his head.

"Maybe's got a thing for ya." Angel teased, jabbing you with his elbow. You rolled your eyes, finally taking the pie tin from Pentious.

"He didn't even get my name, I'm sure that's not it. Whatever.. " you grumbled, taking any dishes you could to the kitchen to keep your mind from exploring that option.

The extermination day battle was here. You followed the armies who attacked the hoards of exorcists when they finally arrived. As the battle went on, you hated to admit it, you found yourself in awe watching Lucifer kick Adam's ass. The sight of his wings and the little V thing - and obviously his immense power, somehow managed to make you blush as you were attacking angels. Definitely a new sensation for you, with the bloodlust muddling your other senses, but it was easy to forget about it once the new hotel was renovated and everyone was finally settled in.

As everything went back to normal, you went back to helping Charlie with anything you could, drinking at the bar with everyone and generally things went back to the way they were. There was only one difference. Lucifer made the decision to stay at the hotel. It was commendable for sure, his change of heart to support Charlie through this change, but it only left you feeling conscious about everything you'd do when he was around. The underlying crush didn't help much. Or Angel's teasing about said crush.

You really did try, when you'd pass him the hallway, you'd always send him your most sincere smile. Or when you spotted him reading or working on anything, you'd try and spark any kind of conversation or ask if he needed help. He never needed help. He was always too busy to chat. You honestly couldn't remember a time he looked you in the eyes before. You bit your tongue. No need to worry Charlie, or anyone really, about some feud you possibly made up in your mind.

It was especially important to you to not stress Charlie right now. Starting the hotel back up was a big task alone, but the loss of Sir Pentious weighed on everyone. And Charlie took full blame for it. A late night, where she most likely stayed up to try and find any kind of hope for redemption, any speck of proof to bring sinners in, she found herself burnt out. Approaching the memorial for Pentious, you stood beside Charlie. You found her visiting it every now and then, and when you did, you knew she needed a check in. And you were right. Without a word, Charlie suddenly clung to you. She went on about how it was all her fault. How he was gone because of her. How nothing seems to be working and she's terrified that it's all for nothing.

It took a while for her to calm down, but you would never leave her like this. By now, the two of you had fallen to the ground, sitting on your knees.

"Charlie, you are doing your absolute best. It's okay to cry, you know that. Think of everything you've done for everyone else, I mean - Pen would've never sacrificed himself if it wasn't for his friends." You brushed a tear from her still wet and puffy eyes. "You did that. You gave him something worth dying for." It was a hard truth, but you hoped it was enough for her. She's done more for you than she'd ever know, and you'd do anything to give it back. You didn't realize, but before approaching Charlie, Lucifer was pacing a nearby corridor, battling the decision to go up to her himself. He hadn't said much to her since extermination day, and he had always been nervous about saying something wrong, making things worse. Before he had the chance to muster up the courage, you had swooped in. It confused him. He should've been jealous or hurt, that he wasn't able to calm her down himself. That you beat him to the punch. But he didn't really feel that way, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. Was it admiration? Sitting in the shadows until he assured Charlie was taken care of, he went back up to his workshop, flustered for a number of reasons.

There was one moment, where things started to look good. It was a regular night at the bar, you, Angel and Husk had gotten on the topic of your lives, looking at the positives which was a rarity. Charlie and Lucifer were nearby, Charlie enthralled in the discussions of what Earth was like.

"My homelife? It wasn't anything fancy, but.. um.. - oh I had a farm, actually! I ran it with my parents, it was.. nice." You hold onto your arms, a bittersweet smile on your face. With a light bulb going off in Charlie's head, she nudged you with her elbow.

"You didn't happen to have any birds or chickens or ducks - did you?" She hummed. She noticed the wedge between you and her dad, and it hurt her just as much as it hurt you. She's little miss "everyone should get along", of course, this hurt her. You didn't notice, but Lucifer peaked up at you for a split second before distracting himself by swaying the drink in his glass.

"Oh..? Oh! Yeah! Yes, actually! We raised a few ducklings that a neighbor gave us - we got them as eggs, so we got to see them grow up and everything!" Going on, telling a story about how you snuck one into your room to keep it as a pet, only to be scolded for it. You had the whole group in the palm of your hand. Including Lucifer. You met his eyes for just a moment, the twinkle in them immediately drawing you in. With a quick smile, he became flustered. He scoffed, pushing himself away from the bar and leaving. As much as that should've infuriated you, seeing those eyes and the growing redness across the apple of his cheeks felt like a win.

Since the hotel was newer, and word hadn't gotten out about Pentious's redemption yet, it was still vacant beside you, Angel, and occasionally Cherry Bomb. That gave the whole group a lot of time to enjoy the large space in the meantime.

Certain nights, Alastor would play the large, golden, piano that Lucifer had so generously created. This led to Charlie singing along to whatever he was playing, of course, and when Lucifer was in a good mood - or drunk - he would even pitch in. He'd sit atop the piano, his legs crossed, as he hiked the matching golden fiddle to his shoulder and played along. It was truly a sight to see. His skills were unmatched, but it still seemed to melt into the rest of the contributions. It was as if he invented the damn thing (He did).

This sort of became a tradition, when everyone was in a good mood and Alastor wasn't getting on Lucifer's nerves too much, everyone would join in, singing and dancing. It was rare, but Damn was it fun when it did happen. One of these nights, Alastor started off with a song that you knew, and had actually introduced to Charlie. She gasped as soon as she recognized the tune, pulling you close by both your hands to sing along. You had as good of a voice as anyone did, in a musical rendition of Hell, but you mainly stuck to harmonizing little things with Charlie. Swinging around with each other, until you were dizzy and laughing, you noticed that the room seemed a little empty.

Lucifer was seated where he usually was, on his phone. His fiddle was placed carefully at his side, and he was scrolling through his goddamn phone. 

"Don't feel like joining us, Your Highness?" You kept to titles since it was obvious he wasn't warmed up to you just yet. Even after living with you for a month or so.

"Mm. Don't know the song. It's not my cup of tea, just can't seem to get into it." He says bluntly, never looking up to you.

“Oh, come on! Just play along, it’s just for fun!” You slurred your words a bit, whatever you had been sipping throughout the night causing, what you would call, an outburst.

“Hm! Well, I’m not exactly here for your entertainment, am I? God forbid a sinner doesn't have fun in their eternal punishment.” The room went silent. You felt so defeated. You've been trying since the day you met him to try and at least get on good terms with him, but it seemed like he would even prefer a night with Alastor over you. Things like this never bugged you much, you tried so hard to not let it bug you, but when Charlie looked over to you, with those worried eyes, it was hard to keep back the bottled-up disappointment.

With a little sniffle and a quick wipe of your eyes with your sleeve, you start heading back up the newly decorated grand staircase, without a word to anyone.

"Heyyy - Dad..! I think you maybe.. might've... I don't know - hurt her feelings..? Would you wanna - " Charlie carefully approached her father, who immediately lit up and placed his device down when she spoke. "Could you talk to her? Maybe just check up on her..?" She was speaking barely above a whisper.

“You have to apologize. Um.. sir.” Vaggie finally blurted out. His smile was nervous, his eye twitching a bit at the concept. Taking in a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a sad little laugh.

"Well, uh.. I don't know, Kiddo, maybe she's just tired." He muttered, obviously hesitant at the idea.

"Sounds like the king can't handle a little damsel in distress to me. Would you like me to comfort her, my dear?" Alastor was quick to chime in from the piano bench, offering a sympathetic smile to Charlie. Why did the concept of that make Lucifer’s blood boil?

"Oh fuck you, bambi, I can handle it." With a quick hop off of the piano top, he almost stormed up the stairs to find you. Definitely not what Charlie was hoping to motivate him, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew Alastor had his reasoning for that. She mouthed a little thank you to him, once Lucifer turned his back.

You were ecstatic to learn that Charlie worked an extensive library into the hotel. Walking into its large double doors, you almost struggled to see the back of the room with how full it was. You had a little corner you claimed as your own, leaving one of your blankets draped on the little loveseat there, and setting aside a pile of books you were still working through. It was a great place to calm yourself down after what had just happened.

Hearing heels click against the tile, you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket as you pulled your legs up to your chest. 

"I'm fine Charlie, it's fine.. I just need a second, go back to the lobby." You shooed off the figure with one hand, wiping your face with the other.

"Ahha- Nope! Try again -" with a nervous chuckle, Lucifer greeted you with an awkward wave. Interrupting the silence by clearing his throat, he gestured to the seat next to you. With a quick nod, finally snapping out of your surprised state, you shifted your position to sit beside him. It wasn't exactly a two-person couch. Not for two people who might hate each other, at least. I mean it was a loveseat. He struggled to keep his distance, leaving your legs barely brushing together.

"Soooo.. you, uh- like.. reading..?" He asked after a long silence. You were mainly confused by his words, but simply nodded in response.

“Yeah it's - I-I love it in here.. There wasn’t anything like this on Earth, so this is nice." You managed to speak out, between sniffles. He agreed with a little hum, fidgeting with the ring on his finger.

“Glad you like it. It's uhh - just happens to be my personal collection.” He puffed out his chest, looking at his clawed nails with a little smirk on his face. He had no idea why he thought that would help, but it actually did a bit. when he looked your direction, you were slack-jawed in awe. The sight made him turn a bit red in the cheeks, quickly looking away, he patted the top of his legs to fill the silence.

“That's really cool! I guess it makes sense - considering you're older than the dawn of time- but, still. Thank you, I suppose. For letting me - I mean - us use it.” You rambled on for a moment your words became quieter the more you gushed.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” He asked between laughter. You made him laugh. You hoped he didn't see the sparkle in your eyes at the notion. You stalled, lost in thought, before quickly shaking your head.

The two of you sat there for a moment, the awkward silence sitting a little more comfortably than before. Finally, Lucifer let out a sigh of defeat. 

"It’s my fault, right?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh, uh.. I guess so, but.. I mean, I'm kind of drunk so it might be something with that - but I'm fine, I swear." You waved your hands in an attempt to soothe the serious discussion. But Lucifer knew better than anyone what someone holding their true intentions back looks like.

"You're really good for Charlie. I.. I wish I could take care of her. Like you do." He admitted. It surprised you for a moment. Was that why he's been so cold to you? Was there some form of jealousy in there? Or was he really concerned that you would replace him in some fashion?

"C'mon, you're just saying that to make me feel better. I saw you on extermination day, none of this would even be here without that little pep talk, you’ve done more for her than you know, I think. Charlie.. she loves you." The words made him perk up a little. Maybe even a king needs reassurance sometimes.

"Oh- Um.. I guess she does, huh..?" You could hear his smile. The two of you sat in silence for a moment. You didn't even realize you had the smallest smile on your own face. But he did. With another nervous laugh, he hesitates before planting a hand on your leg, just above your knee. No time like the present, you suppose.

"I’m sorry. I really am. For.. everything. You're actually amazing. I-I mean it.." Without a response from you yet, he lets his gentle touch linger a moment longer. You leaned in towards him, the smile on your face turning sly.

"Yeah? You think so? I almost thought you hated me." You were teasing him. He's been so cold to you this whole time, you just had to take advantage of the moment. He turns a bit red, covering his mouth with his free hand as he clears his throat into his fist.

"Of course I don't.." He muttered.

"Soo, would you say you like me?" You drew out your words, walking your fingers up his arm.

"W-What? How - " He clamped his hand over his mouth before desperately trying to rationalize his thoughts, " Of course I do! I just said you're great with Charlie and I -ahh.. I love Charlie, so I like - " He coughs up his words, " - I liked your pie, that you made! And you have a good voice, too, and your little duck story was cute, so - " God bless this man's tendency to overshare when he's nervous. The alcohol definitely gave you the little boost of confidence you needed to question him like this, but you would be lying if you said you didn't notice his reactions to you whenever you weren't paying attention. Or whenever he thought you weren't paying attention. It finally dawned on you that some of those glares might have had some other motivations.

You knew when to reel it in, but considering his hand was still on your leg, he moved it up a bit even, you assumed he was okay with the teasing. Maybe even enjoying it. Delicately drawing your fingers across his jaw, to his chin, you pulled his gaze to meet yours. You could feel his hand tense at every little touch.

"You have really nice eyes, Luci-" He audibly gulped, tugging at his bowtie. "You’ve been avoiding looking at me for months.. I wish you'd look at me more." You almost pouted, your fingers still lingering under his chin. With the slightest movement, he followed your hand towards your face. He took his hand off your thigh for a moment, only for you to take a hold of it and place it on your back. He was the one who pulled you closer at this point.

“Y-you can't just say things like that.. it’s embarrassing..” He muttered, trying his best to not close the gap between your bodies. 

“Embarrassing? I’m not embarrassed, your highness. Are you? Do I.. make you nervous? Hmm?” You placed your hands just above his knees, leaning closer through your chest. Sucking in his lips, he did his best to stay silent, knowing he’d dig his own grave no matter how he answered.

“I just think you’re so pretty, Luci, I can't help myself.” Before he could properly react, you leaned in close enough for him to feel your breath against his ear. Damn, what did you drink? You could feel his hand on your back clenching, either to bring you closer or just out of sheer nerves. With a little hum against his ear, he let out the quietest whimper. It apparently took both of you by surprise, you leaned back to get a look at his face with wide eyes. Meeting his eyes this time sent you both into a blushing, nervous state.

With a deep breath, you cupped his face after brushing some of his golden locks back into place, then gave him the lightest kiss on his lips. You didn't even linger long enough for him to return it, and he was clearly distraught by it. You unwrapped yourself from your blanket, giving a dumbstruck Lucifer another quick peck on his forehead, before standing.

“I’m going back downstairs. Take your time, Hun!” You called out so sweetly as if you hadn't just left him a heated mess. 

Finally returning to the lobby, you walked with your chest puffed out, beckoning for another drink from Husk.

"Did.. did Dad check in on you? Are you okay?" Charlie carefully approached you, and was immediately disarmed by your grin.

"Yup! I feel much better now. He apologized and we had a little.. Discussion. Thanks, hun." You said sweetly, taking a sip of the drink Husk slid into your hand. Angel gave you a dirty glare, and after meeting his eyes you quickly looked away.

"Well great! Where is he? Maybe we can pick back up where we left off!" Charlie clasped her hands together enthusiastically.

"Here! I-I'm here! Great idea, honey, let's keep playing!" He tripped over himself, rushing into the room and hoping nobody saw him re-fastening his tie. Sending him another quick smile, his face clearly hadn't cooled from the past events. He nearly dropped his fiddle, but as soon as he prepared he picked up the same song that was left unfinished moments before.

♡♡♡

I wanted to get through some asks, but I'm still working on Suffer, no worries, my friends

!Taglist!

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer hazbin #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel fan #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer

[satyricplotter]

pairing: dick grayson x reader

word count: 3.2k (i think?)

warnings: rape mention (as per dick's canon)

notes: i keep thinking of applying one of my favourite manga/manhwa tropes with dick specifically, because it works so well, but i don't particularly care to put in the work of setting up that it'd take for it to land as well as it could. maybe later. as it is, i'll give you the quick rundown because i spent two days writing it lol

something ugly about you has made you undeserving of romance. you have spent your entire life puzzling out what it is and how to fix it. nothing much is special about you: the matter’s far from isolation, or becoming any particular sort of pariah. perhaps that'd be easier to explain. no. people leave you alone, your friends cherish you, your family loves you. it is not that you have not known affection, but that you have and so when you crash against the wall that horrible first time, it hurts all the more.

nothing changes after that. there is always a limit to where your interest can reach, unnamed but palpable. a line you cannot cross. it seems to you as if the entire world has reached a silent consensus during a meeting to which your attendance was not required and your input unnecessary. why would it be? this is not about you. after all, your ability to love has not become impaired. you like people. you’ve fallen in love. but who has ever loved you back?

this one facet of life has been closed off to you entirely, and you’ve been chased away from all attempts to form a romantic bond with unspoken threats of shame and implications of disgust. (a bit much of a display just for the offense of being little old you. you come to regard the matter so as you grow older and start curating some self-respect. it still stings as badly as scrubbing your skin raw under hot water, but not all the loathing is directed inward nowadays.)

regardless, you’ve learnt that you are undesirable, and nothing you can say or do will change that. you must be content with the other shapes that love can take. nothing that you want matters whatsoever.

you meet dick grayson one summer evening under exceedingly normal circumstances. you do not know about heroes or rogues, no batmans or nightwings. the person that crosses the threshold is none other than dick grayson, the handsome young man. suspicion does not cross anybody’s mind, and if it does, it comes only a good couple of thoughts after his darling smile and shapely thighs.

obviously you like him immediately. what’s not to like? he’s gorgeous.

you react to him with the tense wariness of someone hardened by years of useless crushes. trying to avoid him. trying to be normal when you invariably cannot. it’s fine. it’ll be fine.

you still crush on him.

it’s inevitable, at this point. he’s too pretty, too smart, too kind not to draw you in. every interaction comes a rush of exhilarating fear. at times, you manage to subdue yourself into normalcy, hang out with him with as much naturalness as you can muster. but then he does something particularly attractive and you’re back in square one, shoulders drawn together and so short with him he probably gets emotional whiplash. it’s as exhausting for you as it must be for him, and he still reacts to it with grace. it doesn’t help.

through your concerted efforts to be normal, or at least appear as much, you and dick become friends. not great friends, mind you, but good enough that you start hanging out on your own without any of your mutual friends present. and you only spend about three hours total pondering the meaning behind the phrasing of his texts. that’s gotta be some form of progress, right?

he sits at a little table away from the window, and beams when you arrive. coffee’s on him and conversation’s on you. you’ve got more in common than you first thought, but you go back and forth between imagining it must be fate and squashing down delusion, telling yourself you’re blowing it out of proportion.

at one point in time, a beautiful, sultry-looking woman approaches the table.

this sucks, you think, glancing away from dick’s bland mask of politeness. all of it is hopeless and it still sucks.

you and dick tense immediately, like you both know what’s coming. sure as ever, the woman smiles and asks for his number. you look away politely, sip at your drink. the proximity makes it useless to pretend you’re not eavesdropping (though it can hardly be called that when she came to your table), but you take care not to make any faces that’d give away the little storm brewing in your stomach.

you think about running off to the bathroom, get as far as shifting on your seat when dick shoots you a troubled look. the woman’s been at it for a little more than is appropriate. a minute or so more of insistence and she’ll be stretching the boundaries of her own dignity too far. you look away with pressed lips and move your hands under the table.

your alarm beeps.

“oh, shit, dude,” you gasp, hoping to land somewhere in the ballpark of realism. “It’s almost seven. we’ve got to go, or else we’re gonna miss the movie.”

dick gives the woman his apologies and swiftly runs out of the café with you hot on his heels. on the way to the movie theatre, you wanna ask the million questions running through your head—why’d he reject her? didn’t he like her? did he not think she was pretty? who is pretty for him? what’s his taste in partners? is he seeing someone?—but you know it’s a futile endeavor. what will you even get out of that? it’s clear dick didn’t enjoy the interaction either. you make small talk about something else, trying to draw his attention away from whatever conflicted feelings he’s moored in right now. just because you like him doesn’t mean you can’t be a good friend to him.

it’s a short walk. soon enough, he’s all smiles again. in the line for the popcorn stand, another two girls come up to him, this time much younger than you two. he’s nicer with them than he was before, but he rejects them all unequivocally.

“doesn’t it annoy you?” you can’t help but ask. when dick raises an elegant eyebrow, you panic and backpedal so hard you might as well have driven a truck through a storefront.

“a bit,” dick says, ignoring your rambling. you shut your mouth firmly closed when he gives you a sidelong glance, and continues, so very casually, “it’s worse when it comes from a friend rather than a stranger. so many people just try to befriend me because they’re looking for a relationship, or they want access to my body. it’s… tiring. i’m sure you can relate.”

“ah,” you say. your tongue feels numb, but you’re burning up under the weight of his gaze. “no. I don’t really get harassed like that or, um, asked out.”

“huh.” dick blinks. “really?”

“yeah,” you force out. blessedly, the attendant calls your attention. you jostle dick forward. “look, it’s our turn.”

dick orders popcorn. you get a large slushy that you’re not gonna finish. you make him pay. he complies with no question. inside the theatre, you spend all two hours and sixteen minutes of the showing in absolute silence. it is not so strange to be fixated on the movie, but you’re usually a little more chatty. under normal circumstances, you’d eagerly take the opportunity to lean closer to him, whisper something about the main character’s penchant for gummies and its relation to the degradation of the American working class. he’d glance at you and thoughtfully smile, and you’d catch a whiff of his cologne when you straightened.  for the rest of the movie, the twinkle of his eye as he forwent the film for your conversation would be all you’d think about.

such is not the case now.

you can tell when you’ve been summarily dismissed. in fact, you appreciate when people are subtle about their rejections. it’s always all the more humiliating when they feel the need to bring it out into the open, like your affections have been so blatant they must be commented on, debated.

the rest of the evening is spent convincing yourself that this is good, that this means it’ll be better for yourself going forward. you’ll be less distracted, if anything. dick’s attempts to discuss the movie with you afterwards fall flat, as the only thing you really want is to get home and stare at your ceiling.

when you’ve reached your apartment door, and are turning to enter after a hurried goodbye, dick calls your name.

“look,” he says, running a hand through his hair unsurely. “I don’t usually do this.”

oh, no. dread fills you up. he’s breaking up with you and you’re not even dating.

you swallow. “dick—”

“I like you a lot,” he interrupts. your teeth clang the way you shut up so fast. in fact, you feel a little dizzy. he continues before you can even process that first sentence. “I think you and I could be really good friends, and I’d love if we could continue seeing each other to, you know, hang out and talk. I do truly appreciate your insight. is that okay?”

you blink fast some three or four times. it must be comical, the face you’re making, because the corner of dick’s lips pulls upward despite him trying to keep a serious air.

“I thought we were already friends…?” you say, at a loss for anything else to say.

“yes!” he beams. “we are.”

“okay,” you respond, perplexed. this is so far out of left field. “um. text me when you’re home?”

“yeah.” he grins. gorgeous grin, to be sure, but why? “for sure.”

“cool.” you give him an awkward thumbs up and scurry inside.               

it is… baffling. you spend all of that night wide awake and pondering. dick must’ve misconstrued something, or either you missed a crucial step in your relationship. otherwise the end to that evening makes absolutely no sense. the only thing you can conjure up is that dick must reject a lot of people who, like he said, try to befriend him only to get with him or worse, only to fuck, and it’s not very likely most of those people stay in his life once it is clear he won’t budge on the matter. the fact that you didn’t immediately turn your back on him must’ve come to him as a pleasant surprise.

it’s sad. like, really fucking sad, actually.

that very sadness—and the memory of his handsome, bright grin—turns your outlook inside out. why do you like dick? clearly he’s got the looks and the personality, but do you really know him? what do you know of him? you make a list of things you’ve learned about him in the short time of knowing him. it’s not long.

you come to the conclusion, mortifyingly so, that you don’t, in fact, like dick grayson. that, if anything, the only thing you like is the idea of the boyfriend he could be, which is not the boyfriend that he is (you know nothing about that). it’s the social acumen inherent in bagging such a hottie, and the sparkling sexual attraction bound around it, that really prompt your crushing. it’s not dick as a person. frankly, you think, a little hysterically, could be anyone, really. didn’t even have to be dick. he was just there, the handsomest person in the room. an apt target for the voracious hunger of your heart. you’d mooned and mooned over him for ages and it turns out it wasn’t even about him.

god, you’re such an asshole.

in penance, you endeavor to actually get to know dick without the embarrassment of a crush between you. and it does, in fact, help. dick’s eager to get to know you too, now that you’ve both formally acknowledged you’re friends (such a weird practice, fresh out of kindergarten behavior, but, as you soon find out, dick is weird about plenty and not entirely well-adjusted as an adult). you go on outings together, attend one another’s events, text sporadically throughout the day. you learn which video games dick likes, you tell him which movies are your favorites. it’s fun and light and uncomplicated now that you’ve freed yourself from the constraints of romantic expectation.

not everything’s good. dick’s got bad habits, which grate on you. is it so difficult to put the stupid toilet seat down? can he not learn to chop vegetables in chunks smaller than an elephant’s baby teeth? can he, for the love of god, stop yelling at the tv during horror films?  he’s got some serious character flaws, too. you find about those a lot more slowly, but they don’t cause too much trouble.

you fight one or two times due to dick suddenly abandoning you in the middle of an outing with no regard for your safety, and his tendency to get pissy instead of saying whatever’s upsetting him upfront when he knows, you’ve warned him that you’re stupidly thoughtless about your actions at times. all those are things you wouldn’t have come to experience if you hadn’t given the man a chance to actually be a friend. it’s kind of heartening, actually, to have come so far.

sometimes your crush rears up its head in the middle of nowhere. it’s kind of hopeless by now, but you can’t help the fact that dick’s attractive. neither can he, anyway. you just watch him sometimes, the way the sun hits his eyes, lashes sweeping over his cheeks. it makes you go tongue-tied and silly, but the moment always passes. it has to pass. you struggle against it, recall every time dick has upset you or insulted you in one way or the other. some days it’s easy as buttering toast, others you can barely think around the searing heat of your desire. those are bad days for all involved.

one evening, when you’ve grown close enough you’ve begun to think about dick grayson as maybe, possibly, only-if-he-says-so-too your closest friend, he tells you about catalina.

he does it over the phone line, during your almost-nightly calls. over the months, you’ve taken up the practice of teasing him about handsome people he clearly finds attractive in a desperate bid to divert attention and train yourself for when you have to do it for real. this is not one of such cases, and as soon as you realize this, you sober up immediately.

he says it so simply. talks about it like it’s just a hazard of life. there’s a tight hardness at the edge of his voice, but other than that, he speaks like it’s normal Tuesday for him.

not so much for you.

“is it okay if I come over?” you request over the line.

for a moment, the only thing you hear is dick breathe. “yeah,” he croaks, and you’re bolting out the room immediately.

you don’t know how to react to this other than with a shaky sort of desperation. it’s been years since it happened. there’s nothing you can do about it now. there’s something big he’s leaving out, which you notice but don’t point out. a big lump forms on your throat as he speaks. dick tells you when you arrive that the woman is behind bars for an unrelated crime and the only way you stop yourself from wishing ill on her out loud is the fact he looks so politely disjointed, you know your fury will only startle him.

and you feel it so frightfully, the fury.

you love dick, you realize. beyond the fancies and the underlying attraction, you love dick as a person, as a friend. he’s one of yours now.

the evening morphs into a casual sleepover. you don’t interrogate him, and he seems torn between wanting to say more and grateful you’re not prying. you keep yourself open to the possibility, but also try to comfort him as best you can. you make dinner. you put on a movie. you talk and joke and quietly watch. he invites you on the bed with him because his couch is a nightmare to sleep in and his guest room is “unavailable”, whatever that means. you don’t even think about it, just follow.

lying together under the sheets with the lights off, the rest of your feelings bubble up to the surface.

you ask before you clasp his hands between yours and look into his shiny eyes in the darkness. you try to tell him, how this single evening and all those that came before turned over your loyalty to him. how he can come to you for anything he ever wants or needs—your ear, your care, your protection. how much you appreciate his trust and how much you wish you could make anything, everything better for him. how much he deserves it.

“I’ll never leave you now,” you vow with fierce conviction, searching his eyes for any signs of doubt. any other time you would’ve questioned this statement with the sheer weight of infinite possibilities, but not now. tonight, truth is absolute and in your hand. “they will never take me from you. I will always be on your side, by your side. i’m serious, grayson. you’re not getting rid of me.”

a glimpse of  a watery smile is the only thing you see before dick throws his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “couldn’t dream of it,” he whispers into your hair.

you hug him back as tightly as he is, murmuring platitudes and running your fingers through his hair. he falls asleep like that, in the cradle of your arms. he feels secure enough to do so, and you feel both proud and nauseous about it considering the secret you keep.

that he’s told you this at all, that he’s trusted you with such a thing—you know how big it is. you know you can never betray him.

you consider your inherent monstrosity, that little unspeakable thing that bars your from that special kind of love. you understand, firmly, that any desire you feel will never be received eagerly and joyfully. not by him or anyone else.  in silent fury, you vow to die before you be like her, to bestow upon this man your grotesque wanting with no regard for his own desire, for the integrity of his being.

that night, you press a kiss to dick grayson’s hair and let him go forever.

.

the next morning, dick watches as you leave. you turn back one last time to wave at him from the parking lot, a bright smile and tussled hair you didn’t bother to brush. you wear out the clothes he lent you to sleep, so harried last night in your haste to come over that you’d simply forgotten to pack pajamas. he suspects you hadn’t planned to stay the night at all, but he’d been damned if he’d let you go yesterday.

you’re pretty. he’s always thought so, but this morning, you’re prettier than ever. it’s the radiance of your heart shining through.

I will always be by your side, you’d said last night. you’d meant it completely, then. dick had been dazed, overcome. he couldn’t take the brightness of your eyes, the surety of your affection. he’d buried his head in your neck and fallen asleep breathing in the smell of your shampoo. in the morning, he’d woken up with your fingers carding through his hair and the gentle warmth of your body against his.

that was nice. he wonders what he has to do to make it happen again.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dc imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #not that the night life features as anything other than a mention #anyway for those in the know.... this is the chundan 'i like you because you don't have expectations of me'/'im never gonna like ycy' scene #except set up a little differently given there's no isekai happening here #satplotdb

[momentofmemory]

If you were going to add an episode to Teen Wolf, what would it be about?

Oh i so got u bestie; i have so many thoughts about a bonus episode in between Codominance and Sword and the Spirit (5x13 to 5x14)!! The overarching theme of the episode would be trust—how it's been broken, how it's been healed, who you choose to put your faith into (and why), etc.

A-Plot

Scott seeks out, finds, and confronts Deucalion, in response to discovering Theo is looking for him at the end of Codominance. I think you could still keep the tension of whether or not Deucalion is double crossing Scott or triple crossing Theo, and then that final showdown will feel less out of nowhere

The main people involved here would be Scott, Kira, and Stiles, as Kira processes what all happened with the skinwalkers, particularly re: her test, and gets some closure between her & Scott re: her fox

In order for it to make sense that she goes back to the skinwalkers after Codominance highlighted how much she doesn't want to be with them, this episode would have to do some groundwork of her realizing she wasn't in control when she killed the oni and "beat" the test. We see her break her sword in the next episode, so i think maybe she should try to use it again in this one—and fail. This provides some really interesting stakes for Eichen & Scott's faith in her

Also i think scira deserve a talk about scott lying to her, and feel like this could be related to the crater in his chest he also won't talk about. I think his trust in Eichen could really elevated if Scira had a scene where Scott tells her the truth about just how big her fox is, and he trusts her not only with that information, but that she can still do it

Also also Scott and Stiles actually talk about Scott dying for heaven's sake!!! We needed it so bad and I think this would be a good time for it, especially as Kira finds out about it for the first time. Then we get a sciles hug bc i said so

How their varied fears of the nogitsune vs kira's kitsune plays in very heavily here, too

Ahem so anyway this resolves with a tense scene between Scott & Deucalion where you're really not sure if you can trust him at all, and afterwards Scott is worried he's making a bad call—and Stiles says it's okay, because he doesn't trust Deucalion, he trusts Scott, and Kira follows him up by saying that either way, this time, the pack will be there to back him up.

B-Plot

I hate Eichen so bad but I think it would've helped if Lydia had had scenes with Valack when she's more cogent/given more agency—maybe something that clarifies what he was doing with Peter at the end of s4 and how that led to her?

I feel like this would have to be in a mindscape, same as she has with Meredith, so Lydia is able to respond coherently/isn't just a prop to talk at

This could also clarify some of Valack's goals/motivations more concretely and foreshadow Lydia's victory over him in Lie Ability

C-Plot

Instead of Theo telling Malia he'll help her at the end of Codominance, their arc would be drawn out over the episode. This would heighten the tension of her having to depend on him, while allowing her to wrestle more explicitly with whether or not she's looking so she can kill the Desert Wolf, or to save Deaton

At the same time Scott is reckoning with his death, Theo is reckoning with Scott's resurrection—prompted, perhaps, by Corey having realized Scott was scared of Theo in the tunnels, the same way Corey was scared of Scott

Misc

I'd love a scene with Liam & his Dad—a werewolf reveal, preferably, +Liam processing his choices re: Scott & Hayden with someone that loves him, but is removed enough from the situation to comment on Liam's responsibility

I could get a Deaton & Corinne scene, as a Treat<3

#teen wolf #scott mccall #kira yukimura #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #malia tate #lydia martin #liam dunbar #s5 #teen wolf meta

[strawhattery]

utilities included: the faq

ahead of the utilities included finale, i shared my retrospring on here & twitter, and i invited anyone to ask questions about the story. you can find the answers to those questions below the cut, and i'll be updating this post as any additional questions come in!

why did you choose an alpha/alpha pairing?

i think i was drawn to that dynamic specifically because it felt the most accurate to how i interpret their canon dynamic. it also gave me a vehicle to explore sanji's identity (and queerness), which was a lot of fun.

why did you choose sanji's limited POV?

limited POV in a romance story creates an interesting layer of narrative tension ("how does the other character feel?") that i love. i also knew early on that i wanted sanji to be a chronic overthinker in contrast to zoro's more simple, straightforward approach to life, and i knew that i wanted that contrast in their personalities to be the root of the story's "conflict." so it was easy to decide that i needed to plant myself in sanji's headspace for the story—that's where all the conflict is!

why did i decide to remove sanji's ability to sense pheromones?

when i was first outlining the story, sanji was actually going to move into the apartment as a favor to his friend luffy, who was begging him to take over his lease. but when i sat down to write this, it didn't really feel like luffy to me, so i pivoted to story so luffy has already run off and nami's trying to find a total stranger to take over his lease. this is what you see at the very beginning of chapter one. however, i quickly realized a plot hole in this: if sanji could sense pheromones, he'd immediately know the place wasn't nami's, and he might not even step foot in the apartment to begin with (because i was always going to write him not liking or trusting other alphas). so. uh. i nixed his ability to smell pheromones. and that spur of the moment decision ended up becoming the cornerstone of sanji's characterization and a major part of his internal conflict. i actually forgot until i sat down to answer this question why this became part of the story because it was a decision made so early in the process that it's funny to think there was ever a version of utilities included in my mind that didn't have it!

which part of utilities included did i enjoy creating the most?

chapter 10 is my favorite chapter overall, but the pool scene at the end of chapter 3 is really special to me. it's the first time sanji realizes these people are thinking of him as a friend, and it's also the strawhats (and friends) being petty criminals in a modern AU. honestly, any of the group scenes (with 4+ characters) i had a blast writing. i love the chaos and the silliness and also being able to push myself to make every character sound distinct from one another on the page. but the pool scene is just extra special for me.

while writing sanji POV, did i think of what zoro's POV would be each scene?

generally speaking: no. when i first started writing fanfiction, i had this compulsion to cram every detail i had thought about into my exposition instead of letting the details come up naturally through conversation or character observation. there are different ways you can get out of this trap as a writer (or lean into it, if you want to), but for me the most effective method was the most simple: if you don't need it, just don't think about it! so unless zoro's state of mind was directly contributing to the plot (because of what he was saying or how he was acting), i simply did not think about it. i like to think that gives sanji's spiraling thoughts some degree of authenticity because while sanji was thinking "how does zoro feel about this?" i was also thinking "hm. i wonder how zoro feels about all this." well. to an extent. i knew that zoro was going to be into sanji from the first moment they met (he likes blades. sanji threw a blade. simple.) and i knew that their first kiss was going to be zoro's "little garden" moment where he'd suddenly go from neutrally annoying sanji to actively stoking the fires of sanji's competitive spirit (and sexuality). and i knew that when the "define the relationship" conversation inevitably came to pass, zoro was going to be just as Not Bothered about it as sanji was Bothered. that's it, that's all i planned for zoro's perspective (with the obvious exception of the epilogue). i'm a big fan of working smarter, not harder with this stuff ☺️

what did sanji first smell like to zoro?

i kind of touch on this in the epilogue, but i'll expand a bit here. for sanji's pheromones, i wanted them to reflect the duality of his canon personality: both harsh and kind. so i wrote his pheromones as being both sweet and a little burnt. when i was thinking of how pheromones "work" i was loosely using the formula of "imagine you smelled a subtle scent ONCE, then ten years later your brain had to recreate that scent from memory." so zoro's brain does something like sweet + burned = caramel / sake, another character's brain might do something like sweet + burned = tobacco. it's less about a 1:1 scent and more about what their brain associates with that scent, if that makes sense? and if it doesn't make sense, you can see why i enjoyed writing a 100k story from the POV of the one character who can't understand this crap ☺️ as for their first impressions: when zoro first walked into the apartment, sanji had been contently cooking, so the room was probably very sweet at first. then there was a sudden, sharp burst of that burnt smell when sanji's anxiety kicked in.

was zoro into sanji from their first meeting? did he have an "oh" moment?

i wouldn't call it love at first death threat, but zoro was definitely interested in sanji from their first meeting. nothing like a little adrenaline to jumpstart zoro's attraction. i don't think zoro had an "oh" moment in the traditional sense, just because i think he goes with the flow so well that he's less likely to get bowled over by a sudden surge of feeling? if that makes sense? i think he'd be much more like "damn, i was right all along" than "oh" but that's just my take on him 🙃 as for when he fell in love, i personally like to think it was watching sanji's ddr match against koby. but i'm open to all other interpretations too ☺️

how did zoro feel seeing sanji cuddling with his friends for the first time in chapter three?

this is an interesting question. i didn't really think about it much while writing the scene, but i think zoro would probably not have lingered on the moment very much. i think, to him, it's obvious that sanji would be integrated into (and loved by) the people closest to zoro. if sanji was the sort of person zoro's friends wouldn't love, zoro would never have pursued anything more with him to begin with, and they would have just stayed contentious roommates forever. but zoro knew from early on how much his friends liked sanji, so seeing them all cuddled up together like that was probably just confirming what he already assumed.

we know what happened to sanji, but what happened this siblings?

i haven't thought too much about this because, again, i don't think sanji thinks too much about what happened to them. he was isolated from his siblings as a child—at first for judge's fear that whatever was wrong with him might be communicable, then later as a sort of carrot-and-stick measure (if sanji got better, he could play with his siblings; as long as he didn't get better, they were allowed to bully him). if i had dug into the vinsmoke siblings more, i'd probably have characterized them as people still adhering to the same reductive beliefs judge tried to instill in sanji early in life. they wouldn't have been exposed to the same medical trauma, but they would have been fed a lot of misinformation about alpha dominance and what it means to be the "right kind" of alpha in this society.

are there any canon side ships in utilities included's universe? are luffy and law an item?

i think the only confirmed ships besides sanji & zoro are robin/franky, nami/vivi, and usopp/kaya. luffy and law definitely have something going on, but what that something is is never confirmed. i'm happy to leave everything about them open to interpretation!

#utilities included #faq #by me #strawhattery #i'll continue to update this with more questions as i get them!

[fossilfan39]

I love your modern jetko ideas :) do u have any more headcanons (modern or otherwise)? u shld write something…

Woah thank you :))))!!! I definitely want to try my hand at writing something BUT I’m shy.. so for now im posting my concepts

Jet is Not socially ..challenged.. like zuko..BUT after years of having this impenetrable mask + intensely manipulative tendencies as a means of survival, he suffered a sort of burn out. With time he more or less moved past that. Still a bit of benign manipulation, but only in the sense that he has an understanding of people in a way that easily allows him to choose the right phrasing to get his desired response. <- This wouldn’t work with zuko because he’s autistic doesn’t seem to operate using the same social rules as everyone else, so Jet would lean into gratuitous flirting and comments so sincere they almost come off as sarcastic. Attempting to charm zuko by being disarmingly genuine.

Zuko is generally miserable and hard to get along with (at least in the beginning). Jet would be drawn to him because of his scar <- “you’ve had a hard life like me trope. In my au zuko goes to an all boys catholic school, and his family is catholic. Their relationship with religion is complicated at best. it’s more of a performance + Ozai using religion & shame as a means of control. One must imagine God being a surrogate for your father when he cannot reach you. Zuko is a huge dick to Jet at the start, only because Jet lets him get away with it. Zuko’s never been around someone who allows him to take up so much space. Pushing jet away just makes him even more interested. They make me sick.

Jet would .listen to 2010s trap and hip hop, have at least one piercing, and smoke cigarettes

Zuko would listen to 90s emo. I say this because I believe URSA would listen to 90s emo. I have many modern Ursa opinions. Because I can imagine anything….

I have limited knowledge of New York/Jersey BUT☝️I know enough to know jet belongs there (or Chicago perhaps. But east coast ftw)…. He would be chinese + Italian <- inspired by natla jet actor. Adore him.

Zuko would be a native New Yorker. I find the idea of Zuko being from New York & forced to relocate to Jersey to live with iroh funny. He would hate that. He would commute to school <- I’m not sure how plausible this is. Feel free to let me know…

#thank u for your interest…so kind.. #atla jet is majority fanon atp. but modern jet borders oc territory #jet atla #jetko #zuko #fabi art #asks #atla #avatar the last airbender

[osirisiii-bc]

Primo Emeritus: Florence.

This is the first of my posts where I locate each Papa in Italian cities based on the occult influences/history of each city. I hope you find it interesting and useful!

Primo Emeritus, The Old One, the embodiment of all that is sacred. A personality like his deserves to be located in an ancient city full of art, poetry, and history, shaped by the esoteric and alchemical obsessions of the Medici family, amidst the enduring shadow of centuries-old Satanic cults.

Let’s see why I have chosen Florence for Primo.

In this chapel of ritual…

From the early 70s to the late 80s, a series of murders occurred in various regions of middle-north Italy, with the most infamous taking place in Tuscany, known as the case of the 'Monster of Florence' (Mostro di Firenze), which resulted in the deaths of 14 people - officially, but it is believed there were way more.

The theory is that these murders were part of a large network of Satanic rituals involving influential figures from Rome, Perugia, and Florence. This network is supposedly still active. The original cult allegedly responsible for initiating these rituals seems to be the 'Rosa rossa' (Red Rose) cult. 

A fertile ground for writing Ritual...

2. The creator of Hell.

Florence is the birthplace of Dante Alighieri, the renowned author of the Divine Comedy and the creator of the now canonical structure of Hell.

Primo could have had many more things in common with Dante than we expect: indeed, it is said that Alighieri was part of an esoteric cult named ‘Fedeli d’Amore’ (Loyals to Love), probably affiliated with the Templars. From there, Dante is said to have drawn inspiration for his symbolic and esoteric tales, as well as his passion for numbers.

Keep an eye on Dante, as he will eventually come back in the next chapters.

3. The ghost behind the open window.

It’s not a Ghost story without an actual ghost.

In Piazza Santissima Annunziata, there is a building, Palazzo Grifoni, that holds a mysterious detail: a window that remains open at all times, whether day or night, summer or winter. Legend has it that a woman of the Grifone family bid farewell from that window to her lover, likely Ferdinando I, who departed for war. She waited for him by that same open window throughout her life, but he never returned, dying in battle. When she passed away, the window was finally closed. However, soon after, numerous mysterious events happened in the building, to the point the residents concluded that the building was haunted by the ghost of the woman, and they have kept the window open ever since not to upset her.

But that's not all: the Ferdinando I statue placed in the square, has his face turned to look right to that window… At the very end, he finally came back to her.

4. The Boboli alchemical garden.

Boboli represents a very particular case of an alchemical garden conceived to be ‘accessible’ only to those who have a strong alchemical and esoteric knowledge. It is built as a symbolic route where you can contemplate the principles of magical and alchemical doctrine along the way. You’ll be welcomed by two fountains, placed one on top of the other: the Mose’s (it is an indoor fountain) and the Carciofo’s (artichoke). They are believed to represent the esoteric concept of “as above so below”, but the references to esoteric concepts are present along the whole garden.

Primo would have surely loved this place.

#ghost band #the band ghost #primo emeritus #papa emeritus i #papa primo #italian cities #ghost theories #Ghost band theories

[mrsnancywheeler]

can’t help but wonder what daisy has to say about billy and his muse… hmm. i feel like she’d have some words about muse’s age, how young she is, and since she’s always starting fights with billy to begin with i can’t imagine it would do poor muse any good. i think daisy would feel some sort of kinship with her because of their shared experiences with absent parents and getting into bad situations with people older than them, i just don’t believe she would handle it responsibly 💀 wanting to help muse develop her own sound and come into herself musically outside of billy dunne and the rest of the band turns into holing up at daisy’s place for days on end and getting ridiculously high together. and i doubt billy would be too happy with his girl showing up completely strung out after vanishing off the face of the earth for a week either. hanging out with daisy feels good but frequently makes things worse instead of better. they’re so interesting i love thinking about them

I'm literally sat for this, I've been thinking about this since it was sent it and need to doscuss with y'all

okay so timeline wise I imagine muse met billy when they were still just the six but like after they'd gained some fame. obviously in this universe there's no camilla, I'd never hurt my girl more, and so billy is just a ticking time bomb of fame and ego and all of his dreams. and he's good but not as good as he thinks he is so when teddy has the idea to give an edge to the six by a collaboration with daisy jones he's still obviously very pissed but now muse is there too, there relationship is probably like 6 months old or so.

and daisy is changing lyrics, she brings so much energy into the studio, she's fun, and muse is young and I think instantly drawn to the magnetic field of daisy jones. kind of in awe of daisy which billy can't fathom because he's too busy being miffed about the whole ordeal. and in this version look at us now is about muse and billy, and daisy see's right through the original lyrics and her changes make muse feel more seen. so she listens to billy bitch and moan but secretly agrees.

and muse definitely pushes for daisy to be in the band, "billy's an ass, but everyone thinks you should join. he'll get over it eventually and realize."

and daisy is just open and honest about her thoughts right off the bat, "why do you stay with him? if he's an ass, then why?"

and muse is taken aback but also honest back because it feels right, "I don't want anyone else. not the way I want him."

daisy does get to join the band and with that she learns a lot more about muse and billy, more to dislike about the arrangement. muse is so young and attached, the only other person she turns to is eddie who obviously also wants to be with her, and daisy feels like any spark that muse has is quelled to play cheerleader for billy. and she respects that muse doesn't want to be a star but she tells her to write, or to talk and daisy will cultivate the ideas.

daisy definitely gets involved in a couple of fights that muse and billy have. "plenty of groupies to go around, don't need one wasting my goddamn time"

"don't fucking talk to her like that!"

"daisy-" you're trying to deescalate because you knows daisy and billy just make the fight worse.

"she's a person, a child, not something you get to call whatever you want when you're pissed off." daisy's turning to you, "c'mon let's go get some air, away from this asshole."

"you can't just walk out of rehearsal, daisy!" billy's calling after but you let daisy guide you.

"watch me!" and you and daisy are sitting outside, she's handing you some pill that you barely question before taking.

"you know, it's okay, it's just the way it is. no reason to fight more because of it."

"no, it's not okay. you know just because he's older and gives you what you crave doesn't mean you need him, right?"

you pause, "I know." you sigh, "daisy, I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself, I know what's going on."

"sure you do, chickadee." and suddenly it's like something lights within her and she's searching her pockets for a paper of napkin, "do you have something to write with?" and she ends up scribbling something you're not allowed to see on a napkin with your lipstick. eventually she makes it a song about you. and then your though and frustrations eventually become many many more songs.

and once during one of the breaks where they've got some time rather than muse spending time with billy she goes to hang out with daisy, which ends up being the whole of the break. she's with daisy, screaming out every frustration into metaphors daisy is scribbling out as they dance around to records taking every pill daisy can get hands on, lines off every surface, so many bottles completely empty. and whenever you just want to call billy or sometimes eddie, daisy totally encourages against it because, "you don't need them!" and when it's finally time to go back to the studio daisy has started to realize she handles highs terribly but better than you, who's not used to taking nearly as much as daisy does.

once they're stepping out of that taxi, billy's first words quickly form from a, "where the hell were you?" to a , "what is she on?" hands softly gripping your face, looking into her eyes, knowing you're gonna feels like crap later. and he's gonna end up nursing you out of a bender, daisy's kind of scared that you were so out of it by the end. so it creates another conflict when she's saying billy is horrible to you and billy brings up how she usually gets you too high to function.

let me know y'all's thoughts bc I'm definitely already cooking up more

#wanda 💋 #billy dunne x reader #billy dunne #djats x reader #anon

[chantiying]

Full moon reading 🌕

Before to start, sorry for any mistakes or grammar error. English is not my first language. How to choose? Take a deep breath, close your eyes, then open them and choose the image that drawn to you. Remember tarot is not set on stone and you can change your path whenever you want. This is for entertainment purposesThis reading is general so if it doesn't resonate with you just let it go

1 2 3

Let's start!

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Pile 1

I think you guys are most likely to be introverts and really enjoy your time alone. Your are the type of person who listens to others carefully, who sees and analyzes everything around you, you can read so well the room and people look for your advice. For some of you, you might think you're "boring" or you perceive yourselves as someone who is better when it's isolated and people don't understand that.

You know how to act and move forward in situations that are no longer for you. You can look really calm when taking the wheel, and that's one of your best qualities. I can picture you as someone who is always calm and looks really confident, but at the same time dreamy? People just love your aura, and the way you manage the problems and know how to balance all the stuff that's going on is a gift to all the people around you. They trust in you and count on your wisdom to give the best advice.

I feel that even if you just can't admit it out loud, you love taking care of others, you like serving to others and you like being in an environment where you can bring calmness and kindness to everyone. Maybe you don't know this, but the way you can make quick and wit decisions, your words and the way you act are your best qualities and can help you to be a great leader.

Idk guys, you all have a lovely energy.

I feel like people want to be your friends but at the same time you low-key scare them

Siren energy

I picture you like a shadow in the mist being caressed by the brightest and calmest moonlight

"I thought you were rude the first time I met you"

You're protected and a light of love shines on you

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Pile 2

The first word that came to mind while reading this pile was "hardworking." You guys probably see themselves as someone who is consistent, ambitious and efficient, someone who always does their job perfectly, and you shine because of that. Perseverance is one of your best qualities, you can be light or dark depending on your mood or the situation. Guys, you are duality; you are the moon and the sun, whichever you decide to be and you're always slaying, no matter what.

You're so smart, and people can rely on you. You're responsible but sensitive at the same time, and that's why people trust you so much.

Even tough, when you like a job well done, you're not the type of person who follows the rules actually. You like doing things your way. You're kinda rebellious and you find it funny to break some rules and traditions. You like the freedom of doing things by yourselves.

I think even when you all like you're freedom and doing things by your own, you have to start learning to work on team.

I feel like you guys are hot af and you know it

Your charisma is off this planet

You have a mysterious aura

People feel attracted to you

Maybe you're feeling confused??? Or betrayed???? The moon is there to calm you down and to embrace you with her light

Just tell your worries to the moon she's always willing to listen to someone as interesting as you

You're magnetic and bewitching like the moon and powerful and confident like the sun

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Pile 3

I feel like you guys are my generous pile. You might give more than people ask, and because of that, some people've taken advantage of you. I feel like you guys don't feel the shining of the full moon on you. You might feel like all the rays of the moon bathe everyone here but you. Do you feel like drowning in the deep ocean? Do you feel like there's no light at the end of the tunnel? Did they tell you that you were not enough? Enough brave? Enough loved? Enough awesome? Did someone steal your ray of the full moon? You, my dears, have a strong connection with the moon. You understand her and she understands you. Reclaim your power back, guys. Reclaim your abundance, your happiness and your beauty. And let me tell you that, for some of you, no one stole your bright, but you by yourselves hid it so no one would see it, indeed.

Some of you might be "classy" old money style or you like clean, vanilla or natural make up.

You have purity, and you're projecting it to others.

Please take a rest guys. I know it's important to do homework, projects or work but it is really importan to take a rest and have fun too.

I don't know, this pile feels like an old soul but at the same time like young people, like students.

Why don't you want the moon to shine on you?

Enough of being hidden behind the clouds, it's time to see the beauty that you're, it's time to people to fall in love with you, it's time to see your graceful persona reflected in the mirror, just like the enchanting moon is reflected in the clear water

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Guys I just hope this resonate with someone. I wish you all a pretty life

Alic (Chanty) 🪽

#Tarot #Tarot reading #Tarot and astrology #Tarot community #tarot asks #tarot cards #tarot tumblr #tarotblr #pick a card

[tenderjock]

in the middle before I knew that I had begun; [not a happy codywan ficlet]

In the Jedi teaching, attachment is forbidden. Love is – a separate issue, obviously, as love can take many forms. When Cody and I were – what I mean is, I was –

You realized that you were in love with him and panicked.

: :

Obi-Wan is finishing the dregs of his second Daruvvian champagne cocktail when Breha inhales, sharp.

“Hmm?” he turns to her. His head is pleasantly fuzzy, but he’s far from nonfunctional. “My dear, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reassure him. There’s something strained around her eyes. He turns to see what she had been looking at, and she puts an insistent hand on his arm. “No, Obi-Wan –”

He doesn’t immediately see whatever caused Breha such stress; instead, Obi-Wan’s eyes go to Cody, sharply dressed in his greys across the ballroom. He’s talking to the Ghayyn’i ambassador, a handsome man with wide green eyes. The ambassador is tall enough that Cody has to look up to meet his gaze. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to comment, rather snarkily, on that fact, when the ambassador brushes gentle, sensual fingers across Cody’s chest.

Obi-Wan waits for Cody to move away. He doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, a little knowing quirk of the lips.

“Oh,” he says, feeling rather as though the wind has been knocked out of him. “Oh.” He quickly looks away. Cody is a very private person, and it feels wrong to have seen something so clearly intimate.

“Obi-Wan,” Breha says, and her face is sad. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why it’s sad. Nothing bad has happened. He clears his throat, thinking one of the sweet-pickle cherries in his drink must have caught there. Unbidden, his gaze is drawn back to Cody and the – the ambassador, who is now laughing at something Cody said.

It’s fine. It’s beyond fine – it’s wonderful, that people recognize Cody for the brilliant man that he is, Obi-Wan explains, three cocktails later, eyes closed with his head in Bail’s lap. Bail makes a noncommittal noise.

“People other than his command,” he clarifies. “And his fellow commanders. And, ah. Me.” His voice is very rough on the last word. These sugary drinks are really hell on the throat, he thinks.

“Of course, love,” Breha says soothingly. Her hand cards through his hair. It feels pleasant. Cody does the same, when they’re lying in Obi-Wan’s bunk together after a long day.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, letting them stare unfocused somewhere near the floor. Breha is really wearing the most ridiculous shoes, and he’s thinking he should tell her that when a pair of GAR-issued boots come to a crisp halt just in his line of sight.

“General,” Cody says. Obi-Wan nearly falls out of Bail’s lap in his effort to sit up quickly.

“Commander!” he says, helpless to how warm he sounds. Cody had looked good when they left the ship, all buttoned up in his uniform, but he looks better now. He’s holding his cap in his hand, letting Obi-Wan see his short curls, and the top clasp of his jacket is undone.

Obi-Wan squints. Is that a lovebite on his neck?

Before he can dwell on that, Cody says, “We should get you back to the Temple, sir.”

Obi-Wan considers that. He’s fine where he is, except that when he attempts to lay back down in Bail’s lap, both Bail and Breha push him back up.

“That’s a good idea,” Bail says, firm but kind. How he adores the man. “I can arrange for an air taxi – Commander, are you alright to see him back?” There’s something uncertain in Bail’s voice. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why; it’s Cody. Of course they’ll see each other back.

Cody just looks at him. In this light, his eyes are dark honey.

“I’ll get you home, boss,” he says after a beat. Obi-Wan blinks at him, lips parted. He suddenly feels the alcohol very much, everything loose and golden and a little bit sweaty. Cody’s lips twitch. “C’mon, then.”

Cody manhandles Obi-Wan to his feet. Obi-Wan tucks his face into Cody’s shoulder as best he can while also moving his limbs in the direction of the taxi Bail is calling them. Cody, wonderful steady dependable Cody, keeps him going, a hand at his waist and another under his armpit.

“The ambassador,” Obi-Wan manages after a few steps. Cody hums.

“He had to leave,” Cody says. “There was an afterparty. He asked –” he cuts himself off, then continues: “I’d rather stay here, honestly.”

Obi-Wan nuzzles the starched fabric of his shirt. Wonderful man, he thinks.

The taxi ride lurches unpleasantly. Obi-Wan is distracted by the task of not spewing the contents of his stomach all over his commander. They get to the Temple without incident, and make it to Obi-Wan’s rooms with no one other than Yoda – who cackles – seeing them.

Cody puts Obi-Wan down in his bed. Obi-Wan tugs him in after.

He catches himself above Obi-Wan, arms bracketing Obi-Wan’s head. Cody huffs a bit of laughter and dips down to brush a kiss over his forehead. Obi-Wan cranes up, chasing his lips.

“Not now, sir,” Cody says, chiding. He kneels at the side of the bed to take off Obi-Wan’s boots. When he’s done, he leans back up, brushing the hair out of Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan beams at him, feeling unbearably fond. His Cody. His darling. Always looking after him.

Cody’s face is very still, just a few inches above his. Obi-Wan reaches out, touches his scar.

“What are you thinking?” he wonders. Cody shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.” He kisses Obi-Wan’s forehead again. “Get some rest, General.”

Obi-Wan exhales, eyes fluttering closed. He tracks Cody’s movement, straightening his jacket, turning the lights off, slipping out the door. His familiar Force presence is warm sunlight and hot caf, thrilling and comfortable in equal measure.

As the door clicks closed, Obi-Wan murmurs sleepily to himself, “Love you, my darling.”

: :

When he wakes up, head pounding and mouth dry, Obi-Wan remembers what he said. He’s the only one that heard it; it would have been easier to forget.

This complicates things.

Somehow, they go a fortnight, ending their leave and starting a mission, without Obi-Wan saying anything. He’s just – waiting for the right moment, a moment when they aren’t dogged by war and flimsiwork, when he can talk to Cody calmly and reasonably.

Or does he even need to talk to Cody? He was drunk. Everyone says things they don’t mean when they’re drunk. Teenage drunken Anakin once told Obi-Wan he wished he had been born a jellysquash, as they have no feelings and don’t know enough to care.

Cody is leading a squad on Im-Onh-Augulu’s surface when comms cut out. It’s a tense three-quarter hour before they reestablish communications.

“Arrow squad to Vigilance,” Corporal Hart is saying. “Vigilance, do you copy?”

“Copy,” Gregor says, shooting Obi-Wan a look. Cody should be the one contacting them and they both very well know it. “Arrow, sitrep, over.”

“Is General Kenobi there, Captain?” the corporal says. “Over.”

Obi-Wan’s heart is in his throat. “I’m listening, Hart, over,” he says. Under the sleeves of his robes, he’s clenching his wrists hard enough to bruise.

“They captured the commander, sir,” Hart says, desperately blunt. “When they recognized him, they took him and left the rest of us. Said they’re going to use him for negotiations. Over.”

Gregor looks at him. Appalment-sympathy-secondhand-embarrassment-stress is radiating off not just him, but also every clone trooper and officer on the bridge.

Use him for negotiations. Because Cody was a Marshal Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. Because he was Obi-Wan’s right hand man. Because Obi-Wan loved him, dearly, and would do near about anything to get him back, a fact which was apparently obvious to everyone except for him.

“Understood,” Obi-Wan says, feeling like his mouth is very far away from his body. “Regroup at the drop point; we’ll be sending a secondary team to that location for extraction.” He’s quiet for a second, nails biting into skin. “May the Force be with you. Over.”

: :

Obi-Wan is the one leading the extraction team, and Obi-Wan is the one to find Cody. He’s in bad shape.

“Didn’t –” Cody slurs out. His eyes can’t seem to focus. “Didn’t tell – ah – them kriff, sir.”

Obi-Wan stares at him, heart pounding in his chest. At his commander – at Cody, telling him that he didn’t fucking talk, when he was being fucking tortured because of Obi-Wan –

“I know,” he says, finally, blinking. He touches the pads of his fingers to Cody’s left eye. “I know you didn’t.” Obi-Wan leaves off the my dear at the end of that sentence, because it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He slings an arm around Cody and hauls him to his feet, instead. “Right this way, Commander.”

Not just his commander. The man he loves.

That thought beats around Obi-Wan’s head for almost a day before he can reconcile it with the heavy feeling in his gut. The man he loves. And he doesn’t – he can’t – it doesn’t mean –

His chest hurts.

Cody doesn’t –

It can’t be so kriffing serious that he can’t think the words. It’s not. It’s not –

Cody doesn’t love him. How could he? How could his beautiful, brave, resilient, kind Commander Cody, who isn’t really his at all – how could he love Obi-Wan? And if he did – if he had some incredible lapse in judgement that allowed him to – to – Cody would have said something, his brutally levelheaded Cody who wasn’t afraid of anything, let alone Obi-Wan and his feelings –

So, no. Cody didn’t love him. That shouldn’t make Obi-Wan feel like his ribcage was being split in two.

And if Cody doesn’t love him, then that means it isn’t wrong for Obi-Wan to – kiss him, soft and warm, and press his cold nose to the back of Cody’s neck, and hold him, and –

It can’t be wrong, can it? It can’t be wrong. It hurts no one. He knows possession is against the Jedi code, but this isn’t possession, because Cody isn’t his, and Cody doesn’t love him, and –

Obi-Wan feels ill.

Cody remains in bacta for three days. Obi-Wan finishes his flimsiwork, then finishes Cody’s flimsiwork, then works on some of Gregor’s flimsiwork. He arranges the battle plans for their next two attacks. He oversees the writing of some new training protocols, something about not letting shinies have access to oxygen tanks. He scrubs his quarters, stem to stern, twice.

Eventually, Cody wakes up. And like a flutterbug drawn to flame, Obi-Wan goes to him.

: :

“We need to stop,” Obi-Wan says. He’s not looking at Cody. It’s the day after the commander’s been released by the medics, and he came to Obi-Wan’s quarters to get the datapads Obi-Wan had borrowed when he was doing all the flimsiwork he could get his hands on.

“… Stop?” Cody asks. His brow is furrowed. Obi-Wan aches to smooth it out.

“This,” Obi-Wan starts, and stumbles. “Our – us. What we have. We need to stop.”

He expects Cody to argue. He expects Cody to demand an explanation. He doesn’t expect Cody to take a slow, deep breath and say, “Of course, sir. If you think it’s best.”

Obi-Wan feels like his chest has caved in. He can’t speak.

“Anything else, sir?” Cody asks. Obi-Wan shakes his head, blinking hard.

Cody stands there at parade rest for a long moment before Obi-Wan realizes he’s waiting for a dismissal. He clears his throat. “Ah, no, Commander. That’s all.”

Cody salutes crisply – salutes – and about-faces to the door. When it clicks shut behind him, Obi-Wan lets out a single hideous, strangled sob. He buries his face in his hands.

Well. At least it looks like they won’t have to dance around each other awkwardly for much longer, he thinks to himself. The war looks to be over soon. Obi-Wan sniffs, straightens himself up, and pulls up the plans for the invasion of Utapau.

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #star wars #the clone wars #this is technically kind of canon compliant! its also my personal headcanon for their relationship plotline #Friends With Benefits only theyre actually in love and one half realizes several years before the other. #and this story is told from the perspective of the half that didnt realize it until it was too late and then he panicked. #the working title for this was ''certified dumbass obi-wan'' but it could have just as easily have been ''useless bisexual obi-wan'' #may the force be with you #myfic #also because obi-wan lowkey thinks he's the center of the galaxy he's gonna think that part of the fallout of o66 #was due to the fact that he broke up with his steady lay-slash-love of his life

[cjrights]

🧌

Alora had always been a huge fan of UConn basketball, so when she found out that Paige Bueckers, the talented point guard, was single, she couldn't believe her luck. The two started dating, and Alora thought she had hit the jackpot. She loved watching Paige play on the court, and off the court, they had a blast together.

But as the months went by, Alora started to notice someone else. Cj, a girl from her sorority, would often attend the games with their friends. Cj had this magnetic personality that drew people in, and Alora found herself more and more intrigued each time they spoke. It wasn't long before Alora realized that she was developing feelings for Cj.

The problem was, Alora was already in a committed relationship with Paige. She felt guilty for even having these thoughts about Cj, but she couldn't deny the connection she felt. Cj was kind, intelligent, and had an infectious energy that made Alora smile from the inside out.

One evening, after a particularly intense game, Alora and her friends were heading back to their dorms when they bump into Cj and some others. In the midst of the crowded hallway, Alora accidentally bumps into Cj, causing both of them to stumble slightly. Their eyes met, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Alora said quickly, helping Cj regain balance. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

Cj laughed it off. "No harm done. It's not every day you run into someone who can steal your heart—and your balance."

Alora blushed and chuckled nervously. The flirtatious remark caught her off guard, and yet, it left her feeling warm and giddy all at once. "You're right; it does happen less frequently. But thankfully, I'm here tonight to pick you up should you need saving again."

Suddenly, self-consciousness fled as Alora realized she was speaking to the person she found herself increasingly drawn to. Her confidence grew, and she continued with light banter.

"Well, if we keep crossing paths like this, maybe I'll start calling you 'my knight in shining armor'," CJ replied playfully, locking eyes with Alora.

The atmosphere shifted around them, and Alora felt a spark ignite between them. She couldn't help but smile. "Perhaps that title would suit me better than you realize," she teased, before excusing herself and walking away to give Paige a much-needed hug after the game. The encounter left her wondering why she hadn't noticed how much fun it was to be around Cj before now.

As the days passed, Alora struggled with her feelings. She didn't want to hurt Paige or betray their trust, but she also couldn't ignore the growing connection with Cj. Little did she know, fate had more surprises in store for her...

Alora found herself spending an increasing amount of time with Cj, drawn to her like a moth to light. They would hang out after games, attend movies, and even share quiet nights in studying together. The more time Alora spent with Cj, the more she realized how perfect they were for each other.

Cj was kind, intelligent, funny, and shared many of Alora's interests, including UConn basketball. But it wasn't just their shared hobbies that drew them closer; it was their personalities. Both were empathetic listeners, passionate about social justice, and values-driven individuals who genuinely cared for those around them.

As their bond deepened, Alora began to see things through new eyes. She no longer took her relationships with Paige for granted, realizing that the excitement and passion she once felt were beginning to wane. Meanwhile, her connection with Cj only grew stronger. They explored the campus, sharing stories, laughter, and dreams, creating memories that filled her heart with joy.

Their friendship blossomed into something more, and soon, they were inseparable. Alora knew she needed to be honest with herself – and Paige – about her true feelings. The guilt still lingered, but with each passing day, her certainty grew: she was meant to be with Cj.

One Saturday, Alora received a call from Cj, asking if she could accompany her to her twin sister Luce's wedding. As it turned out, Nika, a fellow UConn player, was tying the knot with Luce. Alora hesitated initially, unsure if she should attend given her complicated situation with Paige. However, Cj assured her it would mean a lot to have her there, and Alora couldn't resist the opportunity to support her friend.

As the wedding day approached, Alora found herself growing increasingly anxious. She didn't want to cause any unnecessary drama or hurt anyone involved, especially since Paige was already a bridesmaid at the wedding. Still, she knew it was essential for her to be honest with herself and those around her.

The moment Alora entered the church, she felt eyes on her. Most were filled with warmth and joy, but a few carried an air of suspicion. She tried to ignore it, focusing on the love that surrounded her. The ceremony went smoothly, and soon enough, the newlyweds were officially pronounced husband and wife. Afterward, as the guests filed into the reception hall, Alora made her way over to Paige and sat down beside her. "Hey," Alora said softly. "You look beautiful."

Paige smiled politely back at Alora. "Thank you," she replied. Despite their awkwardness, they managed some small talk before the music started playing and people began taking their seats for dinner.

As the lights dimmed, and the DJ switched to a romantic ballad, Cj caught Alora's eye. With a gentle smile, she beckoned Alora onto the dance floor. Without hesitation, Alora nodded and followed her to the center of the room.

They swayed to the music, lost in the moment. Alora felt free, letting go of all her worries as Cj's hand rested lightly on her hip. For a brief instant, everything else faded away, leaving only the beat of their hearts and the rhythm of the song.

Just as Alora was starting to relax into the dance, she sensed a presence behind her. She turned to find Paige standing there, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. Alora's heart sank as she knew she'd been caught.

"Hey, Paige," Alora said, trying to sound casual despite the turmoil brewing within. "What's wrong?"

Paige's voice trembled. "What's going on, Alora? I saw you dancing with Cj. You two seem... close."

Alora sighed, knowing the truth had finally been revealed. "Paige, we need to talk. I think it's time I told you let’s talk outside —"

Outside, under the moonlit sky, Alora gathered her thoughts and prepared herself for an uncomfortable conversation. "I've realized something about myself lately, Paige," Alora confessed softly. "I have feelings for Cj... and I don't know how to handle them without hurting you."

As Alora began to explain her feelings, Paige couldn't help but feel a wave of betrayal wash over her. She stared at Alora, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. As Alora continued speaking, Paige suddenly interrupted her.

"Why? Why would you do this to me, Alora?" Her voice quivered with emotion as she struggled to comprehend the situation. "We had something special, and now you're telling me you have feelings for someone else?"

Alora felt guilty, knowing the weight of her words hit Paige like a ton of bricks. "I never meant for it to hurt you, Paige. But yes, I am admitting my feelings for Cj." She took a deep breath before continuing.

Paige remained silent, absorbing the information. It took everything she had not to scream or cry out in anger. Instead, she turned away from Alora, shaking her head slowly. "I can't believe this is happening," Paige whispered, more to herself than anything else. "You deserve so much better than me." Said Alora

With that, Paige walked away, leaving Alora alone with Cj. Alora felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she watched her friend disappear into the night, wondering how things had gone so awry.

Moments later, Luce and Nika emerged from the reception, their faces glowing with happiness after exchanging vows. Seeing Alora and Cj in a somber embrace, they immediately sensed something was off. "Everything okay?" Nika asked, worry etched across her features.

Cj and Alora shared a glance before Cj answered. "No, not really. Alora and Paige broke up."

Nika's eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" She glanced between Alora and Cj, noticing the tension between them.

Luce stepped forward, placing a comforting arm around Alora's shoulders. "Hey, sweetie, tell us what happened."

Alora recounted the events, feeling a mix of emotions as she spoke. Nika and Luce listened attentively, offering words of encouragement and support. Though the pain still lingered, Alora appreciated having her friends by her side during this difficult time. Together, they vowed to navigate the complex web of relationships and emotions that had developed among them. Little did they know, this was only the beginning of a long, winding road ahead.

and when i add 🧃into the sequel then what

im posting this one because im a menace and you aren’t gonna edit AFTER i called you out

anyways

FIRST OF ALL no matter how good my pussy is im sorry alora would never leave paige for me idk idk

am i like that??? is my shit that heat??

SECOND why you acting like ANYONE deserves better than alora like it doesn’t get better than her

THIRD i love our little dancing era that’s so cute

FOURTH i love nika x twin yayyyy

FIFTH IM PISSING MYSELFFFFF YOU GET ME EVERYTIME OSNDKTNG

#character ai anon #alora my princess #luce my twin #paige x alora x cj angst #unserious business #AND 🧃?? WHAT #dysfunctional family #famfam

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

A collection of Poorly Drawn Cats

#poorly drawn cats #I had a very fun time drawing these! I love how cats contort into strange shapes! #Backstory to this was me asking people to show me their cat. All of them were amazing photos. #Cat photos always have a very good energy and I really needed it! #Thank you to everyone who took the time to show me and tell me about their cat. #You too can tell me about your cat. I may (MAY. NO GUARENTEE) do another round in the future. #Know that it has a 100% guarantee of making me very happy B*) #...Drawing these made me miss the MDZS warrior cats AU. I still have a lot more to draw.

[oobbbear]

HAPPY 1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO OUR LITTLE GAY WITCH STORY!!!

#my art #witch au #YE!!! #man I haven’t drawn them happy #in #a year #🧍‍♂️ #the story is not ending anytime soon #I still have a lot to tell #witch au and afterland postal has some overlap plot lines #I’m working on both #people who followed from the beginning #and actually know the heck is going on #first I love you so much you don’t understand #second is how #the story is all over the place even for me #I might do a story overview post later someday #maybe after I finish the Alleno part

[squishosaur]

day one: mahou shojou!!

#ygorarepairweek2023 #GOD I LOVE MAGICAL GIRL AUS ESPECIALLY WITH PEOPLE WHO ARE GENDERFLUID IN MY MIND... #i love them so bad..... #iii arclight #trey arclight #michael arclight #yuma tsukumo #aztecshipping #yugioh zexal #ygo zexal #my art :> #digital art #comics #put his crest all over his outfit but then got lazy.... it's okay she's still cute :3c #not drawn: after the battle iii tries to come out to yuma and apologizes for not telling him both her hero and gender identity #but yuma cuts him off and goes 'that was freaking awesome!!! and you didn't tell me you were also the prettiest Girl in the world :0' #he is immediately supportive. iii doesn't have to say anything and she just starts crying a little bit. they hug also!! :3 #maybe i'll draw that later...

[kineticallyanywhere]

Tell us more about Doodler Normal Kinetic i beg of you

First thing to note: Doodler Boss Normal would not survive contact with Canon Normal

Cause the thing with this version of Normal, I think, is that the situation to create it is so specific; and in a way that I've never thought about before, for a narrative? I'm sure it exists somewhere, because what story framework doesn't already exist somewhere but like.

this version of Normal only happens in a world where all 4 anchors are broken with violence and not a single other person is questioning that decision by the end. (which I don't think is going to happen! for the record!) in this world, Normal presents himself as a last bastion of empathy, but where in any other story that would look like a shining knight with their Chosen One sword and shield and righteous strength, in this story it looks like a kid ready to turn into an eldritch monster because the eldritch monster is the only other creature he can find that makes any sense to him. a character who, written in words, is a paragon hero who's virtues refuse to crumble. but because of the Ao3 CSS skin of the world he's in, he gets all the style and flair and trappings of a villain.

(which, again, I don't have reason at the time of this writing to think that this situation would happen; that there isn't going to be at least one other person on Normal's side. It's all but impossible to predict any of these kids and I think they all have good hearts, even Scary. Link right now is an unsettled weather vane in a storm, Taylor for all his swagger doesn't seem on the side of brutality, and then like... Hermie???)

that said! In a world where sometimes you can't decide if you want to sit in your disappointment or scream at the top of your lungs, there's falling back on your new frienemy-of-the-family monster bro

(anyone with a writing bug and time, feel free to use any, all, or none of these ^^)

for thoughts on where this AU would end up, anyone can obviously take it anywhere but I know the version I would make would have a happy ending (I am allergic to writing tragedies, sue me). I guess it would be a story where finally snapping and letting out some Oak Anger and not apologizing (because while it's not okay to be cruel it is okay to be angry) is what gets characters to come to terms with each other and better understand each other and meet each other in the middle and even come to terms with themselves and what version of expressing themselves makes them happy and comfortable and best able to love themselves and the people around them.

all of that admittedly wrapped in a gift box with the catharsis of a character saying "I'm not okay with how you're treating me" in a very badass fashion, as we all wish to do one day.

also for those of us who would die for Scary but also want to take her by the shoulders and shake vigorously there's the Rule of 3s for swiping the Goth Crown from Scary a THIRD TIME

all of her put-on apathy and tiredness and lashing out but from a genuine place, simultaneously forcing her in front of a mirror and asking her to reach back for the part of herself that started the day of the debate "bright eye-ed and bushy tailed" so that she could even stand a chance at getting through to Normal??? The ways to talk about Scary skyrocket even higher. to be clear, I don't want this as a form of stealing Scary's narrative, I want it as a way of taking Scary's narrative and hitting the NOS. give her just about everything she wants, for everyone to agree with her and listen to her and think she's right and enforce the belief that she has any power over what's going on and then see if she even likes it. See if she likes herself and see how far she's willing to take the identity of goth punk seeker of darkness. ask her where the line is. show her the road she she's taking and ask her where the line is. canon parallels and connections between normal and scary are a whole other post I can have and will drive to work in the morning writing the meta in my head, the way Normal is a previous version of Scary cranked up to 11 and the way Scary makes herself into a person that Normal has every right to be but isn't becausehe'shumanandflawedbutsogoodatheartandnevergivesuponothersnotevenherandAUGH

#dndads #dndads 2 #normal oak #aus #ask ka #me talking #i... have even more thoughts than i thought #and also more that i dont know how to elaborate on or balance yet #cause figuring out how to finagle this au without doing Link dirty is something I would like to do #problem is we dont know what the other two anchors are or even why he did it yet and like #we are in a pocket of time that's perfect for the seedling IDEA of this au #but we dont have enough content for me to grow it in a way that satisfies my love for all the characters #i know there are others more powerful than me who can take a thing and run canon be forgotten im just... bad a that #and therefore lean on them in these trying times #SPEAKING OF THEM THE NUMBER OF OTHER PEOPLE WHO'VE DRAWN BRANCHES OF THIS/TAKES ON THIS???? #HI I SEE YOU AND LOVE YOU IM BLOWN AWAY #...well dang i had even more thoughts #long posts #i couldnt figure out where to put a readmore and also forgot to