#what’s some making out between two dudes in their mid 20’s?

[starrcrossrose]

“This Is A Bad Idea”

“I Don’t Care”

Uhh HAPPY VALENTINES DAY *throws guys kissing at you and runs away*

If you wanna see more of them I have a LOT on my Patreon. Uhhhh yeah bYE —

#I’m so tired of being afraid of sharing simple smooching #what’s some making out between two dudes in their mid 20’s? #they are down bad #*shakes them in a jar full of marbles* #kissing #smooching #make out #idk how else to tag this #leoichi #LeoSagi #they ARE ADULTS OKAY #(hate feeling like I need to defend myself before posting anything but it’s my art and my au and I can do what I want) #I hope ppl like this #I just really love how the arm and hand on Leo came out #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME

[honeyedmiller]

Law of Attraction — Chapter Two: Exposition

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: professor!Joel, student!reader, (consensual) professor x student relations, joel miller au, reader is mentioned to be plus sized, drinking, jealousy, age gap (reader is late 20’s, joel mid 40’s), smut (m oral receiving, fingering, face sitting, unprotected piv), fluff, no use of y/n. 18+, minors dni.

word count: 5.3k

chapter synopsis: only one student gets chosen to go on an all-inclusive trip to the criminal justice expo that’s held at a different location every year. what happens when professor miller happens to be the attending staff representing the university of austin?

Your phone pinged in your lap, and you tore your eyes away from the TV screen to see what it was. You and your roommate, Adrienne, who also happened to be your best friend, were watching reruns of Gilmore Girls.

It was Saturday night and both of you felt like staying in, which ended up with both of you making dinner and filling up wine glasses before you settled in on the couch to watch the beloved show.

“Holy shit.” You say out loud, not believing the student e-mail you received in your inbox.

“What?” Adrienne questioned, gaze slowly moving to you.

“I got accepted– my application,” You started, completely dumbfounded. “I get to go to the criminal justice expo.”

“What? No fucking way dude! Isn’t that like a one-student-only type deal?” Adrienne questioned, turning her body to fully face you.

You nod, looking down to your phone again. You scrolled down the email, looking for the details of where it was going to be this year.

“It’s in California this year,” You say, chewing on your bottom lip to find out the attending staff from your school. You froze when you saw his name pop up. “Professor Miller is the attending staff.”

Adrienne’s face lit up, and she nudged you with her foot. “Are you kidding me? Free drinks, free food, free flight, and you get to bone again with your hot Professor?”

“Adri!”

“What? Oh, come on, you said that the sex you two had was mind blowing. Now you guys can, you know, fuck on an actual bed instead of a desk.” She snickered, and you rolled your eyes.

Adrienne knew how hot Joel was. She never had him as a professor, but people talked regardless. She was an alumni now and when you told her you two fucked, she nearly lost her mind. She told you to give her all the juicy details, and congratulated you for finally allowing yourself to have something like this.

You and Joel had been texting back and forth every so often within the past couple of weeks, and when it came to seeing him in class, he could barely look your way. He told you that if he did, he’d just get way too turned on to even carry on with the lesson.

The trip was over the beginning weekend of spring break, which was in a week. You sighed and toyed with your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating on telling Joel if you were the chosen student.

“So are you gonna tell Professor Hottie that you’re going to California?” It’s like Adrienne could read your mind sometimes.

“Actually, I think I’m going to keep it a surprise.”

She raises her eyebrows, “Will there be a bar there?”

You look up the hotel listed on the itinerary— J.W. Marriott in Los Angeles.

“The hotel has a bar.”

“So what I’m hearing is we need to go shopping for a nice little number that’ll make him wanna eat you right up.” Adrienne cocks an eyebrow up at you, and you purse your lips into a thin line. You knew you wouldn’t win this argument if you told her no.

“I mean, I’m going back home. Might as well shmooze some potential employers too, right?” You crack a grin at her, and she cheers while clapping her hands.

“You’re gonna look so hot in California. Professor M won’t know what’s coming to him.”

-

The following week went by swiftly. Your flight left at six in the morning to Los Angeles. As soon as you got to the hotel, you showered and napped before you had to get ready for the convergence of the first night.

The black dress Adrienne helped you pick out defined your curves, giving you a sexy silhouette. You took your time getting ready. You wore your hair down, put dark brown shadow in the crease of your eye, dusted gold shimmer over the top of your lid, and painted your lips red. You slipped on your trustee black heels and gave yourself one last look-over before you decided you looked hot enough to woo the richest man in the room.

You knew Joel was going to be downstairs, as staff and faculty had to pair with students from their own school. He texted you that he’d miss you since he had to go to this event before spring break, so it meant that he had absolutely no clue you’d be here. Unless he did, and he was just playing coy.

You put your keycard in your clutch, spritzing your favorite perfume on yourself, and walked out of your room to head for the elevator. Your heels clicked against the wooden floors of the elevator, and the glossy metal surrounding you gave you a good view of your reflection. You hit the button to take you down to the lobby, going back to looking at yourself a little bit longer.

You felt confident if you were honest with yourself. You usually adorned your body in looser clothing, something comfy and casual that wouldn’t show off too many of your curves. That was just your comfort zone—but, after the way you’ve been feeling lately, it’s elevated ten times more.

The elevator dinged, signaling you were down at the lobby’s level. The convention room wasn’t too far off, veering to the right. There were already so many students and faculty members from all kinds of different universities, mingling and drinking and having a good time. Nerves overtook your body for a split second before completely dissipating when you realized you were the one turning heads.

You decided it was safest to head for the bar first, just to get a little bit of liquid courage into your system. You ordered a Mai Tai, graciously thanking the bartender as you slipped onto a stool and deliberately sipped on your drink.

You turned your body so your eyes could casually scan the crowd, but in all reality, you were looking for Joel. Not even a few minutes later, and you spotted him. He looked deliciously handsome, with some dark slacks that hung low on his hips with an aqua blue button-up that complimented his tan skin tone exquisitely. His black glasses that framed his face matched his shiny black shoes. But, there was just one thing.

He wasn’t alone.

Some woman, who looked to be around his age, had a gentle hand on his bicep as she was laughing at something he said. They were talking with two other gentlemen whom you didn’t recognize.

You felt it. The ugly green monster slowly crept into you, seeping into your bones the longer you stared at Joel and the woman. They actually looked really nice together. Someone his age, more experienced, and really pretty. Someone his type.

You sipped on your drink some more, hating how you felt this way. He wasn’t even your boyfriend or anything of the sort. You two’ve only fucked once. He doesn’t owe you anything, and he can see whoever he pleases. So why did this make you so uneasy?

You sighed and slipped off of the stool, heading to the check-in area to get your lanyard that was supposed to say your name and the school you represented.

That’s when Joel spotted you from behind. He could recognize those beautiful curves anywhere. He excused himself from the conversation briefly as he made his way over to you, leaning against the table. You jumped at his presence, putting a hand over your heart, which was now racing.

“Joel.” You spoke softly, and he looked confused.

“Darlin’, what are you doin’ here? Are you the student that got chosen? Why didn’t ya tell me?” He asked all at once, his words coming out in a rush.

You simply shrugged. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, it’s definitely one hell of a surprise. Look at you.” He whistled, eyes trailing down your body. You looked incredible and the more he looked at his surroundings, the more he saw men staring at you. They looked at you in an almost perverted way, and Joel frowned.

“Thanks, Professor. You clean up nicely too.” Your smile is lip tight, and you’re secretly begging the alcohol to start taking effect. Joel’s eyes roam down to your drink, and he quirks an eyebrow.

“C’mon, I have someone I want ya t’meet.” He holds out his arm for you so he can escort you to his previous spot, where the same woman you saw with him earlier stood talking to another woman this time.

“Joel! I was just telling Misty that their food at the breakfast buffet here is amazing. Will you join us tomorrow morning?” The woman asks, and Joel smiles.

“Of course, Tess. I’d love to.”

“And who might this lovely young woman be?” The woman, who’s name is apparently Tess, gestures to you.

“My student in my criminal law class. The one I told you about last week.”

So he talks about you?

“Mm. Well ain’t you a beauty. Even prettier than Joel described you to be.” Tess smiles at you, holding out a hand for you to shake. You take her hand in yours, giving it a shake as a shy smiles comes over your lips.

“Tess and I go way back. Went to college together. She’s my best friend. She works for the FBI now, actually.” Joel chuckles, and Tess waves a hand to ward his words off.

“That’s impressive. Hope my background check came out clean.” You joke, and Tess laughs.

“She’s funny, Joel,” Tess nudges him. She then turns to you. “Lovely woman you are, sweetheart. This here is my partner, Misty. She also works for the FBI.”

Her fucking partner. You feel so stupid. Why the fuck would you be so presumptuous when Joel’s been nothing but honest with you about everything you’ve asked him?

“It’s nice to meet you, Misty.” You say, shaking her hand.

“You too!” She beams, and you can already see the sunshine and realist dynamic between the two women. “You should join us for breakfast tomorrow.” She offers, tossing you a warm smile.

“Uhm,” You look at Joel for a split second. “I don’t want to intrude, really.”

“Nonsense! You’re not intruding at all, sweetheart. I wanna get to know the woman Joel’s been gushing about to me all week.” Tess teases, and Joel’s face immediately turns crimson.

“Okay, Tess. Enough.” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

You quietly chuckle as you lightly pat his back.

“Didn’t know you were so fond of me, Professor.” You tease, and he looks at you with an amused expression.

Tess laughs lightheartedly at the interaction between you two, telling you both that she’ll see you both tomorrow before her and Misty bid you two goodbye.

You sipped on the rest of your drink, avoiding trying to talk. The air between you and Joel shifted, and you could feel the tension radiating between both of you.

“Let’s go get you another drink, yeah?” Joel offered, smiling softly down at you. You eyed your empty Mai Tai and nodded, making your way over to the bar with him.

“Another Mai Tai for her. I’ll take a whiskey, neat please.” He told the bartender, and he got started on your drinks.

“Lotta fellas lookin’ at you tonight, darlin’. Y’sure are stealin’ the show.” Joel looks down at you, then to the many eyes staring at you before glancing back to you. The amused expression on his face told you that he wasn’t jealous, but you saw the way his jaw clenched and the muscle ticked in annoyance.

Before you could say anything, the bartender handed you both your drinks. You thanked him and turned back to Joel, who was gripping his whiskey glass rather tightly.

“Are you jealous, Professor?” You quirk your eyebrow at him, taking the drink out of his hand before he could react. You sipped it once, leaving a red lipstick stain to coat the top of the glass. You smirked and slid the drink back into his hand, and his eyes widened as he wearily looked around the room to see if anyone was watching your flirtatious endeavor.

It’s not like you two would particularly get into trouble, because after all, you two were very much legal, consenting adults. However, professors sleeping with their students was a bit… well, frowned upon. Plus, the last thing Joel wanted was for anyone to think that you didn’t get into this expo due to hard work—which was the truth—but rather, by sleeping with him to weasel your way into the one student slot.

“Not here, darlin’.”

“Still didn’t answer my question, Mr. Miller.” Your voice was thick with lust, the idea of Joel getting jealous over you extremely gratifying.

You felt the stickiness of your arousal coat the thin pair of panties you had on, and you started to squirm in your seat.

Joel noticed this too, but he remained collected. “Yes, alright? I don’t like when others look at what’s mine.”

“Yours.” You repeat slowly, a small scoff behind your words. It came off as if you were unimpressed by his wording, but in reality, your stomach erupted with butterflies.

Joel leaned closer to you, not liking your response to his words. “Yes,” He hissed, “Mine. That delicious, tight little pussy is all mine, n’ I mean it when I say I don’t like sharin’.”

You swallowed thickly as he pulled back, studying your face. He took a nonchalant sip of his whiskey, smirk hidden behind the glass.

The smart ass in you wanted to tell him that it was modern times and you weren’t his fucking property, but you refrained. If that’s what it took for this man to fuck you again, then so be it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mr. Miller.” You crossed one leg over the other as you sipped on your drink. The bartender had a heavy pour, so you were quickly feeling the affects of the alcohol now.

“Not dangerous when I know how to finish it.” He grits, downing the rest of his whiskey. You sip the rest of your drink nervously, all remembrance of being a lightweight being thrown out the window.

Joel could sense the nervousness that overtook you. You hated yourself for making it so clear that he affected you so much this way, but who could blame you with the way he looked at you?

He nods his head toward the exit. “C’mon, let me walk you to your room.”

Your heart sank in disappointment. Surely his words were just teasing words, and you almost pouted at him. How were you supposed to tell him you wanted him to fuck you until you saw stars?

You silently planted your heels to the ground once more, and with the convergence still in full swing, you doubt you two would be missed. Joel followed you into the elevator, and you let your body sink against the wall. You closed your eyes briefly, exhaustion slowly creeping over your body.

“What floor?” Joel asked.

“Fifteenth.”

He pushed the fifteenth floor button, and only about three floors up, you felt Joel’s hand on your waist. You peeled your eyes open and gasped softly at the new proximity between you two.

“You know how crazy you’ve been drivin’ me all night lookin’ like this, baby?” His whisper is hoarse, dangerously low. A glint of arousal flashes across the dark pools of his brown eyes, and your body instinctively moves closer to his. You’re flush up against him now, breathing uneven as you try to balance yourself.

“Joel.” You whine softly, clutching onto the collar of his shirt.

“I know, baby, I know.” He leans down to kiss you softly, and you completely melt into him. It’s like your body instinctively morphed into his as soon as he got close enough. You couldn’t help it. You craved his touch, his kiss, his expert tongue like nothing you’ve ever craved before.

He was intoxicating, and intoxicated off of him you were.

He took a free hand to slowly slide in between your thighs, already feeling how wet you were between your legs.

“Fuck, sweet girl.” Joel groaned, and you whimpered when he rubbed your clit over the fabric of your panties. He moved them to the side, knuckles teasing your slick folds as you clung onto him for dear life.

You started to grind your hips onto his knuckles, desperate for any kind of friction you could get. Joel chuckled at you, kissing your temple as you used his fingers to pleasure yourself.

“Such a needy pussy, baby.”

“Need you, Joel.”

“You’ll get me, baby. Patience.”

You groaned as he pushed a finger into you, pumping it at an expert pace. You felt the tight coil of release building up so much quicker than you anticipated, and right before you were about to cum, the elevator stopped with a ‘ding’.

Joel pulled his slick-soaked finger out of you, slipping it into his mouth as he sucked your arousal off of his digit. He pulled down your dress quickly before the doors opened, and you were practically trying to drag him to your room.

You made sure the coast was clear before unlocking your door with the keycard, tossing your clutch onto the table beside the door. As soon as the door closed, Joel pushed you up against it.

You had a moment of déjà vu, feeling like you were back in Joel’s office with you up against the door as he hungrily kissed you.

Your hands tangled into his styled hair, greedily tugging at it. You moaned against him, pushing yourself off of the door to lead Joel back to the king sized bed in the middle of the room. The back of his knees hit the bed, and you gently pushed him down so he’d sit.

“Take this dress off, baby. I wanna see you.” You turned around so he could help you with the zipper, and he happily obliged. He kissed the middle of your back once it became bare, and you turned around to face him again as you peeled the straps off of your shoulders. You were moving slowly on purpose, giving Joel a bit of a sensual show before you wanted to make him feel good.

Once the dress was completely off, you got down on your knees in front of him and began undoing his belt buckle. He ran a hand through your hair, cupping your jaw as you fiddled with the button of his slacks next.

“Y’don’t have to, baby.” Joel whispered, searching your eyes for apprehension. You shook your head at him.

“I want to. Wanted to since the day I laid eyes on you.” You confess, and he groans softly as you tap his hips, signaling him to lift them so you could take the clothing off of him. You palmed him through his boxers, giving his cock a slight tug over the cotton material.

If it’s one thing you were determined about, it was giving Joel the best head he’s ever had in his life. You slowly peeled off his boxers as well, tossing them somewhere in the room.

His erection sprang free, head swollen and leaking pre cum. You whined at the sight, biting your faded cherry red lips in anticipation. You looked up at Joel who looked at you expectantly, and you smiled up at him shyly before taking his cock into your hand, giving the silky flesh a few tugs. You kept doing that as you leaned down to trail kisses up his tan thighs, free hand rubbing circles into his skin before using your tongue to lick your way up to the base of his cock.

You moved your mouth away from him so you could finally give the tip a kiss, kitten licking it softly for a few seconds. The salty taste of pre cum melted onto your tongue, and you hummed up at him. You took the tip into your mouth, tongue swirling over it before moving further down his girthy shaft.

“Mmph– fuck, your mouth feels so goddamn good, baby.” Joel groaned, cradling the back of your head with his hand. You moved your mouth all the way down, being met with the coarse, unruly hairs at the bottom of his cock.

You moaned around him as you felt him twitch in your mouth, and you moved your mouth back up while squeezing your lips around him. You continued this motion for the next couple of minutes, bringing your free hand to gently fondle his balls.

His hips bucked up, causing you to gag around him. “Fuck, darlin’, ‘m sorry.”

You hummed against him again as you looked up into his eyes, brow furrowed and jaw clenched.

“Look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around my cock like that, baby.” He was panting now, and you stuck your tongue out of your lips so you could lick the underside of his cock with ease.

Joel gripped the bed sheets with such sheer force that you thought the threading was going to rip. His uneven breathing was apparent now, and his head tossed back as he held onto the back of your head, moving it up and down faster.

“Fuck baby, ‘m gonna– shit.” He cursed, and you swallowed every last drop of cum that spilled onto your tongue. You let go of his cock from your mouth with a small pop, leaning back on your heels to look up at him. His eyes met yours after a brief minute and he hummed, chuckling while he shook his head.

“Christ, babydoll.” Was all he said before gently tugging your arm so you’d stand up. You looked so divine like this in front of him—all lace and heels and curves and a sex appeal he just couldn’t fulfill himself enough with. He needed you in every way all the time. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“You sound so hot when you moan for me, Joel.” You say, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah?” He pulled you closer to him by your hips. You nod, biting your lip. He smirks as you as your hands trail down to the buttons of his shirt. You undo them one by one before slipping the aqua material off of his body, leaving him completely bare for you.

“You’re so handsome.” You whisper, and he smiled shyly up at you. Joel Miller? Shy? That’s a new one. You concluded that he didn’t get told that often, so you made a mental note to tell him as much as possible from now on.

Joel moves back on the bed to lay his head down where the pillows were. “C’mere.”

You moved to sit on your heels on the bed next to him, and he tugged at your wrist. He brought you down for a kiss before mumbling against your lips. “I want you to sit on my face, sweet girl.”

You pulled apart from him quickly, puzzled and completely mortified. “What?”

“I want you,” He repeated, tugging you back down to him, “To sit. On. My. Face.” He emphasized each word, and you felt yourself clench around nothing at his request.

“Joel, are you sure? I’m– what if you can’t breathe? What if I’m too heavy?” Insecurity started to flood your mind quickly, and Joel shook his head.

“You’re not too heavy, baby. You’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Just, please, sit that pretty pussy onto my goddamn face.” He begged, and your brows furrowed at him in disbelief.

You trusted him, though, so you sighed as you straddled Joel’s chest carefully. You shuffled forward before stopping right below where he wanted you most in that moment. He grabbed your thighs and forced you to move upward so you were hovering over his face.

“Sit.” Was all he said, but you hesitated for a second. His hands slid up to your hips, forcing them down so his breath fanned over your slick-coated pussy. He kissed your soft flesh over the lace of your panties, moaning at how your hips bucked at the slightest touch.

He brought one hand up before moving the lace of your panties aside, kissing your bare pussy this time. You moaned softly, grabbing onto the headboard before Joel licked a long stripe up your folds. You moaned louder this time, relishing in the heat of his skilled tongue as he lapped up your arousal. He started to eat you out like a man starved, dipping his tongue into you before moving it up and circling around your clit. His hands moved down to grip the soft flesh of your thighs once more, moving them back and forth to encourage you to ride his face.

“Use my face, sweet girl. C’mon.” His voice was muffled, but you got the message loud and clear. You decided to let go of your fears and started to grind your soaked cunt into his face, clit catching onto the hook of his strong nose.

“Fuck, Joel.” You cried, mouth falling agape as you used his mouth for your pleasure. He brought a hand down to your ass and squeezed it, moving his hand back to give your soft flesh a smack. You moaned at the feeling of your stinging flesh, moving your hips in circles.

Joel moaned from underneath you, shooting vibrations up and through your body. You felt that tight coil rapidly approaching again as Joel settled on sucking your clit once more, and you couldn’t hold it anymore.

It was like a dam bursting and the floodwaters came rushing in, unstoppable and forceful.

Your hips rutted against his face as you rode out your intense orgasm, crying his name like a prayer. All that was on your mind was exactly what was coming out of your mouth: Joel Joel Joel.

“Did so well f’me, honey. So fucking good.” He praised, bringing your body down to be leveled with his on the mattress.

Joel looked at you in your already blissfully fucked-out state, brushing your hair out of your face. Your eyes were glossed over as they stared at him, body still convulsing at certain points as you rode out the last of your orgasm.

“Think y’got one more in you, sweet girl?” He asked, and you were confused at his initial question before it quickly dawned on you that he meant another orgasm. The exhausted part of you wanted to say no, but the insatiable part of you wanted to be filled and stretched by his intoxicating cock.

You nodded your head, and he smiled down at you with mischief. “Good. Wanna see those pretty eyes of yours roll back when I make you feel good.”

Fuck, he was really going to be the death of you.

He moved to unhook your bra from you in one easy motion, tossing the lace item somewhere in the room along with the rest of the clothes already in disarray. He maneuvered himself on top of you, and you looked up at him with such adoration. He smiled down at you as he moved down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, a hand cupping your jaw gently as you two just simply kissed for awhile.

It was nice that Joel brought the balance of sweet and sensual to the rough and sexy parts of having sex with him. Though you’ve only fucked once before this, you knew he was a tender lover when he really wanted to be.

Your felt Joel’s hardened cock against your inner thigh, so you took it upon yourself to gently grab it and start gliding his shaft against your folds. He moaned into your mouth as your thumb swiped over the tip, bucking your hips against him to get him soaked with your sticky sweetness.

“You ready, sweetheart?” He asked, taking his own cock into his hand before lining the tip up with your entrance. You nodded, and he gently pushed inside you until he reached the hilt.

The stretch was just as delicious as you remembered. So fucking full that it nearly knocked the breath out of you. You grabbed onto his biceps, jaw slack and brows furrowed.

“Look at me, sweet girl.” He murmured, and your eyes snapped open to find his. He smiled down at you before he started to move his hips, thrusting slowly at first before he started to pick up the pace.

“Feel so good, Joel.” You mumbled, intertwining your hands into his hair.

“So do you, angel.” He moaned as you clenched around him, savoring the feeling of you so warm and wet. He continued the tortured pace of his hips for a couple of more minutes before you decided you wanted, no, needed more. You wanted to see aforementioned stars.

“Faster Joel, please. Need you to fuck me faster.”

“Needy little cunt.” Joel chuckled, and you nodded in agreement.

“Please.” You whisper, and his hips doubled in pace.

“This what you want, angel?” He asks through gritted teeth, knowing he probably wouldn’t last long if he kept fucking you at this pace.

“God, fuck, yes!” You cried, gripping onto the bedsheets as your eyes started to roll into the back of your head. The tip of his cock was kissing that oh so sweet spot inside of you, and you got what you wanted: you were seeing stars.

You clamped your eyes shut as the sound of skin slapping on skin and lewd moans from the both of you filled the cozy hotel room. Joel brought his middle finger to your mouth, and he didn’t even have to ask you to suck on it. You just did.

With Joel, it was this invisible push and pull that drove you crazy. It truly bewildered you how well your body listened to him without him having to say a single goddamn word.

He popped his finger out of your mouth before moving it down to your clit, rubbing fast, tight circles around it. Your body felt like it was on fire as your orgasm built up inside of you. The pit in the depth of your core was licking flames up your spine, ready to burst at the seams at any given time.

“Joel, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You choked out, and he groaned in response.

“Cum with me, baby.” His voice sounded pleading, and you nodded quickly. You felt yourself come undone in the blink of an eye, Joel following suit.

You brought down Joel’s face to smash your lips with his, swallowing each other’s moans as you both rode out your earth-shattering orgasms.

Joel pulled apart from you and dropped his head onto your shoulder as he pumped into you twice more before pulling out. Joel immediately brought you into his side, stroking your bare back with his hand. Goosebumps raised onto your skin, and Joel smiled.

You both laid there for a couple of minutes trying to catch your breaths, enjoying the peaceful aftermath of it all. You turned your head to press a kiss to his chest, heart beating slightly faster at your subtle movement.

“I think this is the best exposition I’ve ever been to.” You teased, tracing patterns on Joel’s chest. It rumbled when he laughed, grabbing your hand to press his lips to the back of it.

“Gotta say, it’s definitely mine too.” He agreed, and you softly giggled as you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

You had so much to tell Adrienne when you got back home from California, and you knew she’d lose her mind–just like you’re losing yours as you slowly realized you’re falling for the man that lay beside you.

tag list: @cool-iguana ; @beskarandblasters ; @nostalxgic @pamasaur ; @untamedheart81 ; @joelslegalwhre ; @ilovepedro ; @sarap-77

#joel miller imagines #joel miller au #joel miller x plus size reader #professor!joel #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #pedro pascal imagines #joel miller #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab!reader

[mieczyslawsravenclaw]

Behavioral Tactics - Spencer Reid & Stiles Stilinski

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•Pairing - Spencer Reid x Reader x Stiles Stilinski

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Someoneʼs fantasies about having Spencer Reid & Stiles Stilinski at the same time (Why choose, right?) are about to come true, after a little bit of wine and a lot of flirting.

•Warnings/Content - piv unprotected (DONT DO THIS KIDS - AND WITH 2 DIFF DUDES JUST LET IT BE FANTASY AND BE HORNY IN YOUR BRAIN HOLES OKAY) ; A-Z all bases covered bc Iʼm one horny bish ; Reader- focused 3-some if that wasnʼt evident ; Spencer and Stiles are HOT SO JUST BE WARNED OKAY ; Mentions of alcohol, some lil bits of bondage and such thingies, SO MUCH PRAISE, petnames and such IʼM SORRY IʼM CHEESY OKAY

•Word Count - 3.5k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - Yaʼll this is just PURE self indulgence at this point, so if anyoneʼs also into it, cool cool cool - I pretty much imagine reader to be Stiles' age and they're in their mid-to-late 20's with Spence around 16 years their senior but you can imagine it however you want! // ALSO TYSM FOR ALL THE NOTES ON MY FIRST FEW WRITING BLURBS OMF YAʼLL MAKE MY DAY I SWEARRRRR

•Additional Tags - Switch!Reader but mostly Sub!Reader, Switch!Spencer, Dom!Stiles, Slightly Tipsy Wine Night Turns Into PURE FILTH, Consent AS ALWAYS Is Important, Brat!Reader fr fr, Boys Whimpering I JUST 🤌🏻

Spencer wasnʼt usually one to drink, but this was a special occasion, he says - the three of us werenʼt able to see one another often, and so a second half-empty wine glass was currently in his hand, in danger of being spilled as Stiles finishes his story and makes the older man laugh so hard his face goes red.

“You told him you would what?ˮ He crows, eyebrows raised.

“I said it once, Iʼm not saying it again.ˮ Stiles shakes his head, reaching for the wine bottle Iʼve currently got clutched to my side. “Hey, refill me, why donʼt you?ˮ

I shake my head; Iʼm feeling fuzzy and light, and enjoying the game of keep-away far too much at the moment to let it go. The idea of them having to wrestle it away from me gives me a funny feeling in my stomach, but I ignore it.

Or so Iʼd thought. Because the moment the idea crosses my mind, their eyes catch it. Micro-expressions. I knew the term well from many late-night conversations with my two close friends, as they were both FBI agents, one specifically focused on analyzing behavior. How had I expected to hide this from them? It was only a matter of time until-

“Sheʼs doing it again.ˮ

“Huh? Iʼm doing…what? Iʼm not doing anything.ˮ

“Dilated pupils,ˮ Spencer notes, as if heʼs diagnosing something clinical. “Reddened skin. Iʼd stand to wager…elevated heart rate, as well?ˮ

Getting up from their shared couch, Stiles reaches for the wine, but instead, his hand brushes my neck with a careful look in his eye. Iʼm fixated, unable to move or speak, or really even breathe, to think of it.

“Youʼre right on the money, Reid.ˮ He nods, his fingers at my pulse point. My skin is burning at the sudden intimacy.

“Whatʼre you guys going on about?ˮ

“Still playing innocent?ˮ Stiles chuckles, backing up. I let out a heavy breath, half- caught in my throat over a newly forming lump.

“I have no idea what…ˮ

“Weʼre talking about?ˮ Spencer finishes, licking his lips and leaning forward. “Oh, but I think you do. Donʼt you agree, Stiles?ˮ

Stiles nods, not even looking at him. Theyʼre both hyper-focused on me, and the attention feels both fantastic and utterly unbearable at the same time.

“Every time weʼve gotten together, the three of us,ˮ Stiles continues, reaching out a hand and beckoning me forward. They shuffle apart, making a space between the two where Iʼd fit…if I wanted. “Itʼs undeniable. The looks you give.ˮ

My heart is in my throat, eyeing the space that Spencerʼs now patting. I set the bottle aside, the game utterly forgotten.

“I-ˮ

“Did we misread?ˮ He raises an eyebrow, setting down his glass. “Iʼd thought for sure you were thinking of us all…together.ˮ

The sip of wine Iʼd been taking that turned more into a chug comes back up into my glass. I cough, pushing it away. Stiles takes it, making sure Iʼm alright before continuing Spencerʼs thought.

“Sweetheart, if weʼre making you uncomfortable-ˮ

“No, not at all.ˮ I blurt, looking back and forth between them. Spencer, with his hair slicked back and slightly disheveled, who Iʼve thought of time and time again but never had the courage to do anything about besides call out his name in my late nights alone with myself; Stiles, my best friend, my confidante…one of the most attractive men Iʼve ever known. The whirlwind of explicit mind pictures involving him goes back a long, long time. Yes, Iʼve thought about it. Dreamt of it. But for it to actually happen, to no longer just be a fantasy, was never something Iʼd anticipated.

“I told you,ˮ Spencer smirks, not at all cocky - just knowing he was right.

I flush. “You guys talk about me alot, huh?ˮ

"About us, sometimes.ˮ Stiles nods, still eyeing me and beckoning me to sit. “Look, really, if you arenʼt into the idea, Iʼll back off. Weʼll back off,ˮ He amends, a short glance to his side. “But honestly, itʼs been a long time coming, hasnʼt it? You and us.ˮ

His words are divine, luring me in. Iʼm taking his hand before my mind can catch up, and sitting in the space between them. The heat from their bodies is only a further spur into this dangerous new game weʼre playing, now.

“I think…youʼre okay with it, arenʼt you?ˮ Spencer murmurs, gentle but teasing. He brushes my hair from my neck, leaning closer.

“Youʼre drunk,ˮ I let out a nervous laugh, shivering at his touch. Stiles is mirroring him on my left, although heʼs a bit more brazen, closer to me, his lips at my ear.

“Not even close,ˮ He chuckles, breath tickling my skin. “A glass or two isnʼt nearly enough to get me drunk. How about you, Spence?ˮ

“Nope.ˮ

“Well, I-ˮ My eyes flutter shut when Stilesʼ kiss hits my neck, brain going fuzzy. Oh, my god, what?

“Are you?ˮ Spencer goads, his hand resting on my thigh. “Iʼve certainly seen you drunk off of at least twice what youʼve had tonight, and from that point of reference, Iʼm going to say youʼre more in the buzzed-to-tipsy range.ˮ

“Just say no, I mean it,ˮ Stiles pulls back, his voice a husky whisper. “Consentʼs more important, Iʼll just take care of business myself, if I gotta.ˮ

“Iʼm fairly sober,ˮ I admit, looking at him. Gods, I want to kiss him. I want to kiss them both. “And Iʼm okay with it if you are. If…you both are?ˮ

“Okay with it?ˮ Spencer laughs. I catch the edge of his grin out of the corner of my eye, unsure who to focus on.

“I want it.ˮ I swallow, ready and willing to admit to every brazen thought Iʼd ever had. The temptation is much too strong, the lull of their voices and hands and lips and eyes and… Oh, good heavens, here we fucking go.

“Thatʼs evident in your behavior,ˮ Spence teases, hand slowly inching up my leg. “Do you want to lead, or be lead?ˮ

Not one to wait on me to respond, Stiles is back at my neck, and Iʼm finding it hard to speak. Rather than attempt words at this point, I tug at Spencerʼs collar, eyes on his lips.

His gaze, heavy-lidded and lust blown, drinks in my desperation for but a moment, then heʼs kissing me - and what a feeling it is, to have their attention centered on me. All at once, distracting and overwhelming, yet I canʼt get enough. Spencer kisses like he needs air and Iʼm oxygen, devouring me to the point Iʼm almost being pushed into Stilesʼ lap.

“Hey, there,ˮ Sti chuckles, gripping me tighter the moment Spencer backs off. “My turn?ˮ

I nod, more nervous about this than even Spencer had made me. Something about Stiles has always just…gotten to me, that way. And now is certainly no exception, with him pulling me into his lap and pulling my face down to his own.

Kissing Stiles is much different than kissing Spencer; Where Spence is hungry, Stiles is almost animalistic, despite being entirely and simply human - he makes up for it in the passion he brings, deep and hot and breathy kisses that make my head spin.

“We should- uh, my room?ˮ I mumble against him, reaching for a hand from either one of them. They both take me up on it, and let me lead them up the stairs. I can feel their bemusement coming off of them in waves, sprinkled into the desire that has them so warm Iʼm already sweating in my minimal clothes.

Once the doorʼs shut behind us, and Iʼm sat on my bed, their gazes have mefeeling so indescribably small.

“So eager, sweet girl.ˮ Stiles cooes.

“Look at you, weʼve barely touched you and youʼre already squirming.ˮ Spencer smirks, slowly undoing his belt without breaking eye contact. “Think you can be patient for us?ˮ

My eyes flick between them, one locking the door while the other, taller one is approaching me; I instinctively reach for him, but Spence tuts, pushing me back.

“Guess not,ˮ He chuckles, motioning for me to move back towards the headboard. I have a sinking feeling I know exactly where heʼs going with this, and I whine in protest as Iʼm proved right - wrists pinned above my head, secured with the very belt that had just been around his hips.

“Youʼre gonna be trouble, arenʼt you?ˮ

“Of course she is,ˮ Stiles laughs, coming to sit on the bed with us. They both gaze at me, helpless as I am, with the utmost mix of adoration and desire. I had expected to feel enjoyment from this, but safety? Oh, itʼs the cherry on top of a very delicious cake.

“No, Iʼll be good - I swear."

“Of course you will, sweetheart.ˮ Spencer tips my chin up to him as he climbs on top of me. It kills me that I canʼt reach up and touch him, and with that little smirk spreading across his face, he knows. Between him leaning down to kiss me again, and the gentle but firm hands of Stiles snaking up my thighs, Iʼm breathless and pleading.

“Please, please, just-ˮ

Spencerʼs lips cut me off, and I let myself get lost in the haze of him for a moment, just a moment. My attention snaps back into focus when I feel my shorts being tugged down my thighs.

“You two…ʼtryna kill me.ˮ I moan, and I can feel Spencer smile against me.

“Actually, the likelihood of dying due to any type of sexual arousal or intercourse is fairly minimal, so youʼre likely in the clear.ˮ He quips.

“If I could roll my eyes-ˮ

“Oh, weʼll give you something to roll your eyes back for.ˮ Stilesʼ voice comes from right above my heat, and I shudder, bucking up to try to grasp any sort of friction.

“Calm down, pretty girl.ˮ Spencer chides, his hand gripping my jaw and bringing me deeper into the kiss. I sigh, giving in, and simply allow his kisses on my lips, my neck, and Stilesʼ slow and agonizing undressing of my lower half.

He lets out a low noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, once my panties are discarded. “Youʼre a fuckinʼ mess, princess. Is that all for us?ˮ

Itʼs all I can do to let out an approving whine, a not so subtle begging for something, anything to break this coil built up in my belly. My arms are starting to hurt from the amount of tugging Iʼve been doing to try to get free, but I can barely even feel it. I just need them, both of them, so badly.

“Cʼmere, get a look at her.ˮ Stiles pulls Spencer back, and he pouts a moment before focusing on me - well, the lower half of me.

“Fuck.ˮ Spencer groans, rubbing his chin with a slack-open mouth. “You werenʼt kidding. Pretty girl, youʼre wet.ˮ

“Are you gonna do anything about it?ˮ My tone is desperate, but entirely bratty. The looks I get from the pair of them tells me Iʼm gonna pay for that.

“We could just leave you there and take care of ourselves.ˮ Spencer snaps back, but I can see in his eyes thatʼs the last thing he wants. I donʼt have to be a profiler to know how badly he wants to be inside me right now.

“Or we could do it together,ˮ Stiles adds, watching my reaction. “Oh, you would like that a little too much, though, wouldnʼt you? Does that get you off, sweet girl?ˮ

I nod. “Okay, Iʼll behave, just please, touch me or something?ˮ

“Sheʼs so pretty when sheʼs desperate for us, isnʼt she?ˮ Stiles smirks, leaning over me tauntingly. One hand traces lightly over my thigh, ever so gently. Spencer sits right on the other side of me, his grasp a bit more firm, a lot closer to where Iwant them to be.

“Aw, I think she deserves at least a little something.ˮ Spencer cooes, bringing his free hand to his mouth. I watch in awe as he sticks his fingers in and brings them out with a pop, so sure of himself as he brings them to my folds. Gentle but swift, he inserts one, then two fingers, once he hears the noise of relief I let out.

“S-Spence-ˮ

“There you go, beautiful. Just needed someone to touch you, huh?ˮ

The long, practiced fingers of Spencer Reid send my mind into a tailspin; Unable to think of anything other than the sheer pleasure and joy of knowing this is actually happening, I canʼt bring myself to feel any sort of self-consciousness - I only know the sweet nothings they whisper, and once Iʼve hit my limit and cried out for Spencer, how they trade off and now itʼs Stilesʼ turn to learn my body.

Somehow, though his touch is different, itʼs equally as pleasant, from the tugs he makes against my sweet spot to the thumb rubbing circles against my throbbing clit. Only when Iʼve came for him, as well, does Spencer gently push him aside, positioning himself between my folds with a hungry groan.

Stiles climbs up to kiss me, and Spencerʼs kiss…is somewhere else entirely. Iʼm mewling against the lips that suck on mine, bucking up despite myself into Spencerʼs face. He takes it well, only gripping my thighs harder and pressing his tongue deeper into my core. I can feel myself leaking onto his chin, and like a man starved, he eats with a deepseated hunger and noises that make my stomach twist. Mumbles and groans of ‘you taste so goodʼ push me over the edge once, twice, I lose count.

When itʼs time for the expected switching, Iʼm aching to feel something more, and it seems Spencer can sense this; while he climbs up to kiss me, he also sets to releasing my binds.

“Wanna know a little secret of mine?ˮ He whispers, voice low in my ear. “Iʼd like to see you take a little bit of your control back…just a bit.ˮ

The release I give into Stilesʼ mouth as I kiss Spencer, now that Iʼm free to do whatever I please with my hands, is monumental. Iʼm tearing at Spenceʼs clothes, and he responds with pulling my shirt over my head, his mouth latching onto my breasts. I cry out, more than ready for everything this will give me. It doesnʼt take long for the three of us to get undressed, heat of the moment as it is.

“Please-please-ˮ

“Thereʼs no need to whine, love.ˮ Spencer murmurs, tracing down a pattern from my lips to my chest. “What do you need? Use your words.ˮ

“Someone needs to be inside me, and now.ˮ

This earns a chuckle from the both of them.

“Are we flipping a coin?ˮ Stiles quips, sidling up behind me as Spence rolls off to my front.

“Statistically speaking, it is the most-mmm-ˮ His voice lilts as I reach for him, eyes fluttering when I stroke. “Now thatʼs not…fair.ˮ

Stiles reaches over across my hip, circling my clit. “Behave, princess.ˮ

I rut back against him, earning a low moan.

“Someone. Either. Both?ˮ

“Now that sounds difficult to…position-ˮ Spence grunts.

Stiles takes the opportunity of my distraction to shift me a bit, pressing his tip to my folds. One rut forward and heʼs swiftly entered, making my hand and voice stutter against Spence. “Good girl,ˮ Stiles cooes, brushing my hair off of my neck and kissing at it as he works to find a pace inside me. “Good girl.ˮ

I whine - really, thereʼs no other word for it - and do my best to continue pleasuring Spencer, but the overstimulation of it all makes my brain go numb. Heʼs helpful, though, fucking up into my hand and echoing Stilesʼ praises with gentle and passionate kisses to my lips, my chest, my jaw. When Sti rolls me over, pulling out and climbing onto me before getting back to it, Spencer backs up and eyes us with utterly delicious lust, his hand pumping slow and hard against himself.

The noises filling my room are lewd, downright nasty, but the feelings are just so good, I canʼt bring myself to feel anything but disgusting pleasure from it all. Have we been here for hours now? Days? It feels like itʼs been forever and yet no time at all. The scratches Iʼve left down Stilesʼ back wonʼt be going anywhere for likely just as long. When the beautiful man wants to use my mouth, Iʼm ready and willing, and take his load without blinking. I doubt Iʼll ever get over the sight of him letting go and howling my name, either.

“There you go…did sʼgood for me.ˮ He praises, wiping the stray trail from my lips as he backs up, a sweet kiss to my cheek as well. “Spence?ˮ

“Only if sheʼs up for it,ˮ Spencer approaches slowly, eyeing me carefully. “How about it, pretty girl?ˮ

I nod fervently, and he likely would have laughed if he wasnʼt so overtaken. I reach out to pull him onto me, but he lifts me up and mumbles something about it ‘being my turn to be on topʼ. Hesitantly, I adjust myself until Iʼm hovering over him. Something about those eyes on me has my heart thudding so hard Iʼd almost think heʼd hear it; The noise that rips from me when I sit down onto him is almost criminal.

“Youʼre in control,ˮ He tells me, hands on my hips as but a guide to rock me back and forth. “Do what you will with me.ˮ

I set to making a pace with him, and to my enjoyment, Spencer is a whimperer when I do it just right. “You feel… fuck, you feel so good on me, baby. Better than I ever imagined, my mind canʼt even do you justice, and thatʼs… saying something, oh my god-ˮ

“Sweet talker,ˮ I coo, grinding against him just to get more of those wonderful whimpers. “Youʼre gonna make me… Spence-ˮ

“Please, cum all over me, youʼve earned it, havenʼt you? Been so fucking good for me.ˮ

“I-I need-ˮ The words wonʼt escape, so I simply show him, bringing his hands to my breasts and motioning, pull.

Heʼs a diligent submissive for the moment, doing as I ask. And the waves crash over me and out of me and onto him with such intensity I almost lose vision. More, I want more, and Iʼm begging for it so much that he canʼt say no, rubbing a pattern on my pounding clit until Iʼm seeing stars.

“Doing okay, baby?ˮ

“I could take you two…all night.ˮ I moan. The energy to do so may put me in a coma, but…

“I wanna cum in you,ˮ He grips my chin, forcing me to look straight into his eyes. “Can I? Is that okay?ˮ

"Yes, so very okay.ˮ

As Spencer chases his high, heʼs sloppier and thrusting up into me with the loudest noises of the night from him, and again I lose count of the edges he sends me over; A sweet melody, him calling out to me as he topples over his edge and comes down, both of us running down the space where we meet. I collapse onto his chest, and he strokes my hair, soft and sweet praises and kisses a stark contrast to the dirty things weʼd all done together tonight.

A strange noise rips from the edge of the bed, and we turn to look and see Stiles, completely passed out and snoring.

“Is he…?ˮ

“He is.ˮ

We laugh, careful not to wake the poor boy as Spencer gets to work cleaning me up. Once heʼs done so, I tug Stiles up into bed with us, relishing in them holding me on either side.

“Mmmm…sleepy.ˮ He groans, snuggling into me. “That was fuckinʼ something.ˮ

“Very much something.ˮ Spencer agrees, smirking on the other side of me.

“Something we should do again sometime?ˮ

“Yes!ˮ Stiles whines. “Just…lemme sleep more first, and Iʼm ready…tʼgo…ˮ

Spencer and I laugh again, and itʼs clearly a unanimous decision - this will happen again. And thank the gods, because I certainly havenʼt gotten enough of them just yet.

#stiles stilinski smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #stiles stilinski x reader

[medea10]

My Review of Koikimo

(short for: Koi to Yobu ni wa Kimochi Warui)

(translation: It's Too Sick to Call this Love)

...

Oh goodie, this is only going to go south from here.

How did I get into this anime? Seeing as I didn’t have many slots open for Winter 2021 animes, I wanted to pick up as many random animes for the spring season. That’s all. Wow, I’m late as fuck with putting this one out. Apologies for the lateness of this review…I’m being lazy.

Meet Ryo Amakusa! He’s a businessman in his mid 20’s. And because he’s very handsome, he’s a constant target for loose women. One morning on his way to work, he felt a little dizzy and almost fell down a flight of stairs at the train station. He was saved by a high school girl named Ichika Arima who proceeded to give Ryo her handmade lunch to make sure he’ll be okay. That night, he heads back to his parent’s home to find Ichika there. Turns out Ichika is friends with Ryo’s little sister, Rio.

Ryo didn’t fall down those flight of stairs, but he certainly fell head over heals in love with Ichika. And this girl is not feeling the same way Ryo is! In fact, she finds him creepy. Ryo ends up smothering her with compliments, flowers, chocolates, and all this unwanted attention. This is the story of a businessman falling in love with a normal high school girl.

…

Oh God, this is getting too Matt Gaetz for my liking!

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: Not a Crunchyroll original, but one that is being streamed on the site. It’s been a full year and still no dub. Although, a dub could happen. In the last few months, Crunchyroll has been going back through their old catalog and giving dubs here and there. I mean, if Natsume’s Book of Friends and Given were NOW able to get a dub after all these years, Koikimo could get one in the future as well. Aside from the notable male seiyuus, this is actually my first time hearing Yurie Kozakai. She seems relatively new but I think she carries the role of Ichika very well. Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

*Ryo is played by Toshiyuki Toyonaga (known for Yuri on Yuri on Ice, Mikado on Durarara, Hideyoshi on Tokyo Ghoul, Asahi on Free!, and Shun on Kimi to Boku)

*Ichika is played by Yurie Kozakai

SHIPPING: Oh geez…

Let me look over my notes of what I was screaming during the first episode.

“How old are you? Dude, you’re a businessman and you’re coming onto a high school girl. Weren’t you just fucking some random skank the night before meeting Ichika? This ain’t one of those sick hentais that snuck onto Japan’s primetime slot, right?! How the fuck old are you? Remind me what the age of consent is in Japan! Are you some sick masochist that gets off of girls making a disgusted face while insulting you? WHAT IS YOUR AGE?! 27?! Da fuck, man!

Ah-ha, yeah this is not good! Ryo, bring it in. Sit boy! When a girl says “no” or she feels uncomfortable around you, that’s not a sign that she wants to see more of you. I feel like a restraining order video featuring Gary Busey should play when talking about the start of this ship. As you can tell, I’m not digging the Ryo x Ichika ship all that much. But like it or not, this relationship is developing throughout the series. I guess I should be happy that Ryo doesn’t treat Ichika like all of his other girlfriends/one-night stands. He actually treasures her! So yeah, dude gets a point there.

Then in episode 3, we’re introduced to Tamaru. He’s a space cadet, but there’s some potential for a ship with him and Ichika. So expect some jealousy moments from Ryo. We do get some cute moments between Ichika and Tamaru, especially during the field trip episode. I thought it was cute because Ryo wasn’t there to make things weird or ewwie. Things do come to a climax between those two in episodes 8-9 when Tamaru confesses his feelings to Ichika. It went as well as one would expect in this situation.

Dude is friend-zoned!

On the other side of this, Ryo has been with a plethora of women throughout his youth and into his 20s. Not only that, he’s pretty popular at his work. The girls in the office find him pretty. And one co-worker (nicknamed Arrietty) has a crush on him. Problem for her is that Ryo is in deep love for Ichika and only talks to Arrietty for anime advice to get on Ichika’s good side. Arrietty ends up finding out that Ryo’s in love with a high school girl and she worries about Ichika’s well-being having to deal with the stress of a May-December relationship. And at the same time, tell Ryo she loves him!

So yeah, Ryo x Ichika is inching closer and closer. Let’s see how the ending sizes up for this ship.

ENDING: After the events of Christmas, Valentine’s, and White Day, Ryo and Ichika are starting to feel something with this relationship. Ichika ends up rejecting and friend-zoning her classmate Tamaru some time after Valentine’s. It’s a weird new feeling for her, but it really seems like Ichika is really falling for Ryo. I mean, she turned down the sweet classmate to be with the same guy she called creepy not too long ago. Now what do you suppose would happen if Ryo x Ichika’s love is out in the public and around people not in the loop?

We got our answer when Ichika lied to several female co-workers of Ryo’s. The two were in public and were asked if they were going out. Ichika lied and told them that she was just friends with Ryo’s little sister and nothing more. Oof. Yeah, Ichika recognizes the stigma and pressure in this situation. If you’re 16 years old and out on a date with a 26-year-old businessman…yeah, it doesn’t sound too pleasant. And what do you suppose is gonna happen when Ryo’s father learns about this little relationship? He literally blew up at his son. But I’m going to be real here and kinda take Ryo’s side on this one.

Ryo’s father only learned about Ryo and Ichika through second-hand talk from Rio and her mother. The father started putting pieces together and jumped down his son’s throat without knowing the full story of any of this. Yes, it is kinda creepy that a mid-20’s businessman is taking an interest in a high school student. It’s generally frowned upon. But Ryo’s father is jumping to all kinds of conclusions that stray from the truth. Ryo’s father would always get angry at him for his promiscuous lifestyle and he immediately jumped to the thought that Ryo corrupted Rio’s best friend Ichika. I can’t say I blame the father for that. After episode one, I was calling for this mother fucker to get an AIDS test. But I grew to…lack of a better term, tolerate things for what they are in this series.

It was well established at the beginning of the series that Ryo and his father don’t get along at all. And the endless fighting from those two mentally scarred Rio when she was younger and potentially ruining Ryo and Rio’s sibling relationship for years to come. I just can’t help but get angry with the father right now. Dude is away for months at a time and doesn’t take the time to talk to his kids. Then again, if there’s distance between father and son, no chance of either one opening up about this sort of subject. Life is difficult!

In the final episode, Ryo decides to be cruel and intentionally puts distance between him and Ichika. Ryo sees how this relationship or lack-there-of is stressful. Arrietty had some good points and I don’t blame Ichika for lying in front of Ryo’s workmates. This distance was really bugging Ichika and worrying her to death. Even Rio was suspicious as her brother never uses “busy at work” as an excuse. Rio ends up laying it down for Ichika that she really needs to step up her game in telling Ryo her true feelings. Rio isn’t fond of anyone hurting her brother in any way. Rio’s very grateful for both Ichika and Ryo and hates to see them suffer.

Ichika ends up running into Ryo at the train station, the place of their first meeting. Ichika yells at him for ignoring her. They say they love each other. They kiss. They embrace. And they came to consensual agreement that they would wait until Ichika was an adult. And it’s not that long, I mean it’s only until Ichika graduates from high school and that’s like in another year, maybe nine months.

I didn’t expect to like this anime as much as I did. And before anybody asks, I didn’t watch Higehiro. I know both of those were similar in the premise, but I think I picked this anime for convenience sake, like the anime aired on a light day in my schedule. I can go either way when it comes to May-December relationships, especially when it comes to one of the characters being high school age. But I’m still hypocritical as I nod in agreement with some of animes cutest ships that were also May-December. Whatever, the case! Yeah, at first it felt creepy. It felt VERY creepy watching a mid 20’s male fall in love with a 16-year-old girl. Especially the way Ryo was acting in the first few episodes.

Now I’m not sure how this story ends for real. The manga ended around the time of the anime’s airing and I haven’t gotten word of what happens between Ryo and Ichika or if there’s enough material to constitute a second season or special in the future. But I suppose it’s satisfactory to leave us with their decision and imagine that things got better once Ichika becomes an adult. If you’re not like me and have no problems with May-December romance…

I can’t finish that sentence.

Anyways, Crunchyroll has all 12 episodes available.

#anime review #koikimo #koi to yobu ni wa kimochi warui #ichika arima #ryo amakusa #rio amakusa #kai tamaru #arie matsushima

[sweetsmellosuccess]

Sundance 2022: Days 7 & 8

Number of Films: 4 Best Film of the Day: Emily the Criminal

Something in the Dirt: A couple of rando dudes in L.A. meet at a small apartment complex. They become sort of buds, sharing smokes, and talking about spearfishing. Then, they observe a peculiar phenomenon in one of their apartments, and think maybe it could be their big break. They start to make a documentary about it, and then, things start to get really weird. Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead have made a decent directing career out of taking oddball, vaguely sci-fi premises, and expanding them into interesting, unexpected features. This film, in which they also star as the dudes — Benson plays Levi, a slacker bartender with a confusingly criminal backstory; Moorhead plays John, an intelligent, though smug man, with an air of wholly unearned superiority — has similar vibes to their other work (including The Endless, and Synchronic) but this one, shot during the quarantine, has an even more claustrophobic effect. As the two bros begin to investigate this phenomena — objects suddenly rising in the air, cast in a shimmering light, which also seems to emanate from a closet — they go from assuming it’s supernatural, to something that involves incoming aliens, Pythagorean theorems, extremely complicated metaphysical math computations, and potential wormholes. Along the way, they also fall increasingly into a shadowy world of extreme conspiracy theories and coincidences they seemingly find everywhere, taking them to remote desert outposts, mountain tops, and graveyards, gathering their ever-more unhinged “research.” As they continue this quixotic quest, the tensions between them begin to grow, until their grievances begin to curtail the project. It’s an interesting sort of premise, and the character work between the pair is finely wrought (we don’t at first realize what a colossally selfish jerk John is until towards the end), but there are limitations to what they can accomplish in such a confined space. It’s pretty clear that the pair had to conceive a way to make a film during a pandemic, and the solution was to utilize as few people as possible — save for some confusing 1:1 interview inserts, with experts talking about what happened, they are the only people ever on screen — which makes for a limited sort of narrative. It also becomes increasingly peculiar in its conventions. At times, it works like a found footage construction, other times, a more free-flowing narrative, and/or a quasi documentary, but it’s unclear who has put together this ungainly construction. For all its interesting gambits, digging into the heart of conspiratorial analysis, it’s also a bit too long to really support itself. The result is not uninteresting, but doesn’t quite hang together the way they intend.

Cha Cha Real Smooth: Writer/Director/Star Cooper Raiff has a way of betting big on himself, and pulling it off. The versatile young man, still in his mid-20s, has now made two films starring himself (including 2020’s S#!%House), so often, certain doom (think for a moment how many of your friends in high school and college professed to want to make such movies, it’s roughly the equivalent of a young athlete stating their intention to play for the NBA), and, against all seeming odds, has staked a claim as a legit filmmaker with burgeoning (indie) star power. The thing about the lanky, dark-haired actor, he’s got a genuine sense of character, and enough charisma to pull it off. As Andrew, a recent college grad come home to New Jersey to stay with his adoring mom (Leslie Mann), admiring kid brother (Evan Assante), and disparaging new stepdad (Brad Garrett), he’s a bit lost, but hardly wayward. He quickly gets a “lousy” job (at a mall stand called “Meat Sticks”), attempts to stay in contact with his college girlfriend, who has gone abroad to Barcelona and is mostly ignoring him, and more or less tries to figure out his next move (very much a people person, he seems genuinely interested in working for a nonprofit having to do with kids). Along the way, he randomly attends the Bar Mitzvah of a friend of his brother’s, and does such a good job getting everyone popping on the dance floor, he gets hired by a slew of other Jewish moms, planning for their own child’s upcoming big day. At this event, he also happens to meet Domino (Dakota Johnson), a beautiful though mercurial as-yet single mother, and her on-the-spectrum daughter Lola (Vanessa Burghardt). Sweetly effusive, he strikes a friendship with both of them, before things start to lean in another direction, despite the fact that Domino is actually engaged to Joseph (Raul Castillo), a successful, serious lawyer. As with his first feature, Raiff is canny enough to endow his self-portrayed characters with enough rough edges to keep them grounded — Andrew, as much a sweetheart as he is, seems to have a bit of a drinking problem, and has a way of shunning his responsibilities as much as embrace them — and the dialogue is often a cracking good time (“You were put on Earth to make things weird,” he tells his stepdad after a particularly peculiar exchange). Johnson, continuing her most welcome foray into indie films (including Am I Ok?, another selection at this year’s Sundance), as both an actress and producer, is very good, which is just enough to give her character, who, perhaps a bit too conveniently for narrative purposes, seems to fly from one extreme to the other, and wonderful, albeit small turns from cagey veterans Mann and Garrett, add to the film’s cache. But the real star here, once again, is Raiff, himself, both as the glue that holds the entire enterprise together, and as the main draw itself, his wit and charm pouring out from nearly every line. As a writer, it’s pretty clear he could still use some seasoning (along with the aforementioned Domino, her daughter, who speaks without contractions like a vulcan, feels more than a bit flimsy), but as a performer, and dynamo behind his films, it seems entirely appropriate that he’s center stage. He could well be an unlikely star in the making.

3 Minutes: A Lengthening: The film starts with those titular three minutes — shot in a small Polish village in 1938, by a Naturalized American, on vacation with his wife to visit his old shtetl — a mere year and change before the town, Nasielsk, gets taken over by invading Nazis and the 3000 some odd Jews living there get wiped out. At first, the 16mm footage seems unremarkable, a line of buildings down the small main street, crowds of kids and onlookers pushing towards the camera, attempting hammily to stay in frame as long as possible, as the most unusual sight of a movie camera is presented to them. There are a few different sorts of shots, as well, some in black and white, others in color, from inside a neighborhood restaurant, more kids crowded in the windows, trying to get a glimpse; or people pouring out of the local synagogue, and on with the rest of their days. But cannily, director Bianca Stigler, keeps her film on that footage, reviewing it over and over, in sections, or by faces, as we hear in VO, the voice of Glenn Kurtz, who found this footage shot by his grandfather, David, crumbling in a family closet, before sending it to the Holocaust Museum, where it was painstakingly restored (and with not a moment to spare, as it turns out, in just a few weeks, the film would have become completely unrecoverable). Glenn eventually finds a survivor from the town (of which there were only about 100), who actually recognizes himself in the footage (a young kid with a big grin, and dark cap), and is able to identify a few of the others, but despite their best efforts, the vast majority of people shown in the film (some 150, which Stigler takes the time to pop out in single headshots) remain unknown. It’s a haunting sort of portrait, a recognition, once again, of the tremendous toll such a genocide wrecks, and a testament to the tremendous loss of heritage and culture at their loss. Towards the end, one interviewee makes mention the idea of “absence in the presence,” and, sadly, by that point in this affecting film, you know exactly what they mean.

Emily the Criminal: When we first meet Emily (Aubrey Plaza), she’s at a job interview, somewhat nervously handling the questions put to her by an HR rep. When he gets to her felony conviction, however, she drops her amiability and storms out, flashing a temper and resolution that we understand might have something to do with the charges against her. Saddled with $70k in student loan debt — which you might as well double, as it’s $70k of student loan debt from art school — and with no great opportunities before her, she takes a tip from a buddy at the catering company she works for, and gets in contact with Youcef (Theo Rossi), a Lebanese American, who along with his cousin, Khalil (Jonathan Avigdori), runs a ‘dummy shopper’ ring. Soon, Emily is sauntering into a big-box store, and buying a large flatscreen with a stolen credit card and a fake driver’s license. With the chance at scoring big money, and with no better prospects in sight, she quickly goes from contract shopping for Youcef, to having him help set up her own shopping platform, to the consternation of Khalil. When things take a turn, putting the cousins at odds with one another, it’s Emily who shows the more passive Youcef, now her boyfriend, how things are done. It’s another great turn from Plaza, who has fully embraced her indie-goddess status, starring in (and producing) low budget pictures with a great deal of panache. Emily, with her artistic talent on-hold to appease her massive student debt (the Millennial’s Burden, it would seem), is frustrated and down on her luck, but, we come to understand, far more indomitable and feisty than anyone gives her credit for, at first. “The problem,” about her aggravated assault conviction on her then boyfriend, she eventually confides to Youcef, “was I didn’t go far enough.” She certainly doesn’t make that mistake twice. John Patton Ford’s highwire-taut thriller builds in suspense slowly, but unmistakably, as we get more embroiled in Emily’s circumstances. As the tension mounts, she comes more and more into her own, until at last she’s outgrown the restraints, ethical and legal, put on her. It’s a rare form of film that finds in the heart of its protagonist, the unrepentant soul of a born gangster.

The Sundance Film Festival has returned, albeit in virtual-only format. We might not be skating on the ice and snow of Park City, but we’re still going to take in a whole bunch of independent films, some of which might be the best things we get to see this year. Let’s see how it goes.

#sweet smell of success #piers marchant #ssos #movies #films #sundance film festival 2022 #park city utah #indie #virtual film fest #emily the criminal #cha cha real smooth #three minutes: a lengthening #something in the dirt

[dangan-writing]

Anon Asked- Hey! I was wondering if I could maybe have some headcanons for Gundham, Fuyuhiko, and Kiyotaka (separately) with an S/O who has trouble eating? Like the S/O is scared they look gross when eating and sometimes doesn't want to eat because they think they look bad? I totally understand if you don't want to so don't worry! Thank you so much, and I hope you have have a good day! /gen

of Course Anon!

I hope this meets up to your expectations! if i doesn’t just tell me so i can rewrite it!

@twisted-lies​

🖌мσ∂ αиgιє🖌

🐾 gυи∂нαм тαиαкα 🐾

Gundham watched as you slowly poked at your food with the fork you were holding, focusing your attention to your friend next to you blabbering on about whatever had came to their head, replying back happily, enjoying every second of the conversation you were having with your friend.

Then the question came out of your best friend’s mouth. “Hey (S/O), are you going to eat that..? you’ve been poking at it for quite a while now...” Your friend tapped their chin then pointing at your fork that was mid way into the lunch. “O-Oh it’s nothing! i’m not hungry today!” you rubbed the back of your neck shyly, a small drop of sweat rolling down your face and to your neck. 

“but didn’t you say that yesterday? and the day before that? AND the day before that! is something wrong (S/O)?! please tell me you’re eating at home!” You best friend exclaimed, gripping your hands. Gundham watched from in front of both of you before speaking up

“(RANDOM NAME) is correct, your weak mortal body needs it’s recourses to keep moving on!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms. “well i just eat a lot at home and-” You get cut off by Your friend pointing the fork towards your mouth, some of the food on it. “here comes the choo choo train (S/O)!” they exclaim, their eyebrows furrowed together with a smile on their face. “n-NO!” you shoved the fork out of your face, causing it to drop on the floor

Your friend blinked at you, shocked at your sudden outburst, they were expecting you to just move your head away and they would continue teasing you. You turn back to your food and stare at it blankly, Gundham looked at you and your best friend.

“(S-S/O)...is thou okay?” he asked, focusing his gaze towards you, you nodded before looking up “i’m sorry about that, let’s just continue talking”

|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

-Gundham ended up finding out you weren’t eating cause you didn’t like people seeing you eat

-he attempted to reassure you that (quote on quote) “No Mortal would dare turn their wretched gaze to thou while thou feasts”

-you found it cute and that small reassurement let Gundham see you eat

-you were nervous at first but Gundham said (again quote on quote) “that thou, seems to be in the most peaceful state while feasting, your cheeks also start looking like chipmunks when you chew” he mumbled that last part

-Gundham suggest you eat more in public

-he supports you in anyway he can

-and eventually you start eating front of a small group of your friends, trusting they won’t tease you about how you eat

-all thanks to GUNDHAM TANAKA-

👶fυуυнιкσ кυzυяуυ👶

You sat next to Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi talking to them both while poking the food with a fork, often stopping, when you had to get up to do something. Both males would look at each other and ask question why haven’t you’ve been eating? and when you would return they would quickly change the subject and act like nothing was wrong

“Heyy! (S/O)! can you try this for me! i made it myself and wanted someone to taste test it first!” Kazuichi said, holding up a small container with some food in it. Kazuichi gave a thumbs up to Fuyuhiko while the small yakuza just drank a juicebox giving him the same motion. “o-oh sorry Kazuichi i-” The pinkette quickly shoved the food into your face in hopes of you taking it and eating it, clinging on to the strand of hope that you were starving and would want to eat. “come on! my cooking is that bad is it...?!” he exclaimed 

‘n-no of course not! it’s just that-” you were once again cut off by Kazuichi “then why won’t you eat it?!” he shoved the container closer to your face to the point where it was like a hand holding you back “Because i’m not hungry, Kazuichi” you attempted to remain calm, moving the container from your face.

Fuyuhiko, who was watching from a distance, sighed, taking a quick sip of the juicebox, and walking towards you both “if you want i can taste it first and you can try it after” Fuyuhiko suggests, Kazuichi stares at him as if he is holding a gun to his forehead, mouthing ‘Dude! the plan!’ Fuyuhiko shrugged and put his juicebox on the table and grabs the container full of the homemade food and took off the lid, taking the spoon from Kazuichi and dug in. 

“this is amazing Kazuichi, you should cook more, here, (S/O) try some” Fuyuhiko scooped some of the food and held it in front of you mouth. “i w-would gladly try some b-but-” another moment where you can’t finish your sentence, Fuyuhiko had groaned and started nearly shouting at you “Damnit! why won’t you just eat?!” He snarled, Kazuichi behind you both sat Fuyuhiko down “maybe we should listen to them-” Now Kazuichi was the one who was cut off. “No idiot! i’m making them eat this if it’s the last thing i do, Now open your goddamn mouth!” Fuyuhiko nearly shoved the food in your mouth if it wasn’t for the fact you moved your head. The small Yakuza boy glared at you once again attempting to feed you, his stubbornness getting the best of him. “Dude leave them be! if they don’t want to eat they shouldn’t have to!” Kazuichi exclaimed, grabbed Fuyuhiko’s arm and sat him back down in his seat. “just calm down” Kazuichi patted Fuyuhiko’s back. Fuyuhiko let out a sigh and started to eat his own food again, staring up at you every once in a while.

|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

-If Fuyuhiko found out that you weren’t eating because you were self conscious

-prepare for a 20 minute lecture from him on how you’re amazing and shouldn’t care about other’s opinion

-he’s now pushing you to try and eat in front of him to see if that eases you into eating in public

-”why in the world would i give a fuck about how you look when you eat? i don’t care how you eat, as long as you’re eating in general”

 -any time you eat in front of him he’ll compliment you so much just to boost your self esteem

-he eventually convinces you to start eating in front of Kazuichi

-Kazuichi accidently offended you which caused Fuyuhiko to death glare him along with smack him on the back of the neck

-if someone were to insult you about how you look while eating, Fuyuhiko threatens to “dispose” of them if you know what i mean

-after a few months you can now eat in public without feeling having to focus on how others think of you

-all thanks to Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

🧭кιуσтαкα ιѕнιмαяυ🧭

“Mr/Ms. (L/N)! it is required that all students eat at lunch since it’s against school rules to eat anywhere else!” Your friend Kiyotaka exclaimed, after watching you poke at your meal for 10 minutes “Oh i’m not hungry Taka” you smile at your friend, trying to ignore the feeling of hunger in your stomach

“but-” You cut Kiyotaka off “seriously, i’m not hungry, i ate a big breakfast at home this morning” that was a lie, you only at some pancakes and eggs along with some orange juice and you were absolutely starving, you would sometimes eat in the bathroom if your hunger got to out of hand.

Taka sighed “i guess” he muttered, looking down at his own lunch and sighed, “i’m...worried about you, you know? i never see you eat at lunch...” Taka rubs the back of his neck, looking away from you disappointed. you also looked down sadly, silence fell between you two.

|---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

-he eventually found out you would starve yourself  during lunch

-taka nearly had a heart attack, and almost nearly cried

-he offered you 

-you had turned around and eaten it so he wouldn’t see how you looked while eating

-when finally pieced together why you didn’t eat

-he takes you to the guidance councilor daily

-you became friends with your councilor and she helps you with your self esteem every day during lunch

-she encourages you to eat in front of Taka, in which you do

-he threw your self confidence through the roof with the compliments he gave you

-anytime you eat he’ll look at you and blush, telling you how cute you are when eating

-you only eat in front of Taka, and Taka only

_______________________________________________________________

Mod Angie apologizes that Taka’s was so short, i couldn’t really think of much for him

i hope you enjoy this though! 

мαу αтυα вℓєѕѕ уσυя ∂αу

🖌мod Angie signing off🖌

#🖌мσ∂ αиgιє🖌 #Mod Angie writes #Gundham Tanaka #Gundham Tanaka x reader #Fuyuhiko kuzuryu #Fuyuhiko kuzuryu x reader #Fuyuhiko x reader #kiyotaka ishimaru #kiyotaka x reader #Kiyotaka ishimaru x reader #gender nuetral reader

[angryschnauzer]

What about if ghost mike took a liking to you and when you were getting harassed by some guys he "stepped in"?

Oh wow this one really got away from me! There’s something about Mike that makes me just want to hug him and make everything better. Thank you for this ask!

Warnings: Ghosts, potential assault, Mike saving the day. Canon-fix-it ficlet.

From the moment you moved into the tiny apartment you knew it wasn't going to be your forever home. Strange chills would cross over your skin when you would least expect it, the seemingly nice neighbourhood was far from it with regular arguments and fights breaking out between tenants or people just out on the street, and it got to the point where you didn't leave the apartment at night for what crept unknown in the hallways.

Your thesis was almost done, your final year of your Doctorate on religious texts and the only merit of not leaving the apartment in the evenings meant extra time to study and complete your work. You sat at your desk typing furiously, on a roll with your thoughts and your work when a sudden chill ran up your forearm giving you goosebumps;

"Fuck" you cursed, screwing your eyes shut as you tried to will the train of thought back to your mind, but to no avail. Finally with a sigh you pushed your chair back and stood, deciding to make yourself a hot cocoa.

Warming the milk in a pan on the stove you wrapped your cardigan tighter around your body as you stared out of the window that overlooked the street, before something moved in the periphery of your vision. A young man bending over your laptop, his lips moving as he silently read what you had written. In shock you gasped and turned, but to an empty apartment. Shaking your head you laughed to yourself; you had spent so long writing about spirits you were now seeing them.

Going back to your stove you finished making your drink before returning to your computer, working late into the night now you were re-energised in your mind.

-

Your Professor had been very complimentary of your latest work, and how you had led the Freshman and Sophomore students in theological discussions about spirits and souls, almost as if you had a new understanding of them. 

Continuing to work on your thesis you spent long nights and quiet weekends busy at your computer, but reminded yourself to take a break now and again. One such evening the words hadn't come, so abandoning the screen you’d lit some candles, poured yourself a glass of wine and had curled up on the couch beneath a blanket to read. You were deep in the world of your book when you were aware of your computer screen coming to life, the screensaver ending and your unfinished work on screen. As you looked up you saw him, this time sitting sideways to the desk on your chair where you’d left it. 

He was young, no more than 25, and dressed a little outdated in baggy jeans, hoodie, and a leather jacket, his dark hair curly and trying its best to hang in the mid 2000’s style of curtains. A fear shot through your body, rooting you to the spot and you held your breath; watching waiting… but he continued to read, biting his lip as if deep in thought; he had no idea you’d noticed him. The longer you looked the more real he seemed, no longer transparent but the colours of the apparition deepening.

“I can see you, you know” your voice was quiet yet it startled him, he turned in fright and disappeared right before your eyes. 

Crossing the room you pressed your hand to the chair, stilling it as it span slightly before sitting down, your writer's block now long gone. Your thesis was certainly getting jump started again thanks to your spectral visitor.

-

A week later it was a quiet weekend, no saturday classes, no additional work needed on your thesis until the last few books you’d requested from the campus library were returned. Snow fell outside your window and you stayed curled up in bed, dozing in the quiet morning. 

As the pipes in the building bubbled you finally woke properly, and you saw him, standing in the doorway.

“Don’t be scared” you said quietly, watching as he quietly laughed before raking his hand through his curls;

“Shouldn’t i be saying that to you?”

His voice was quiet, but deeper than you imagined.

“Do you know why you are here?”

He shook his head.

“Are you drawn to something? Did you die here?”

Again he shook his head;

“I can’t remember”

“What do you remember?”

“That my name is Mike” he looked down, almost bashfully; “You realise one tit is hanging out of your top?”

Glancing down you saw your cami had shifted in your sleep and you were now showing far more than you realised, letting out a laugh as you adjusted yourself, but when you looked up he was gone.

Calling out you smiled;

“Thanks for the tip… or should i say tit?”

You heard what could only be described as a chuckle, but he didn’t reappear.

-

Over the following days and weeks, Mike would appear occasionally. Once when you were reaching for something on a high shelf you’d turned to get a box to stand on only to discover the packet on the countertop and him standing next to it with a smile on his face before disappearing again. You became at ease with his presence, your skin chilling as you recognised the signs that he had appeared in the room. He still didn’t talk much but you’d managed to get a few lines of conversation out of him. It almost felt like having a presence to welcome you home, not a pet, but a silent roommate that didn’t bother you because you’d work different shifts.

After one particularly long day on campus, staying late after class to help the Sophomores with their midterms, having to stop for groceries on the way home, it was well past dark before your bus had pulled up outside your apartment building. Juggling your groceries, your backpack, and your keys, you stopped at your mailbox as you could see mail jammed into it, cursing as your cold fingers struggled to work with the tiny key when you heard a cough behind you. Glancing over your shoulder you saw the tall burly figure of a man, and you stepped closer to the mailbox;

“Sorry, won’t be a moment”

“Don’t you worry sweetheart, we can wait…”

You stopped, the fear bubbling up in your throat as you turned and saw that he wasn’t alone, two other men now standing behind him;

“A nice little treat to be found out after dark…”

You turned your back to the mailboxes, pulling close to them as you backed away and the three men started to advance like a pack of wolves, when suddenly another figure appeared in the doorway;

“Mike!” you called out, and the three men turned in surprise.

“Oh, your little boyfriend appears just in time? Don’t you worry about him, he can just watch”

It was then that you heard Mike’s voice, strong and loud in the small hallway;

“Babe, shut your eyes and don’t open them until i say so, ok?” he paused and looked directly at you; “Ok?”

You nodded and screwed your eyes shut, trembling as you hear the three men start towards Mike, but then you could hear them stop;

“What the fuck?”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“RUN, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

A strange gurgling noise came from the end of the hallway and you felt the rush of air as the three men pushed past you. Opening your eyes you gasped when you saw Mike. 

“I said don’t open your eyes!”

“Stop” His voice gurgled as he spoke.

You stepped towards him, the sight almost unbearable but now you understood;

“I can see what happened to you…” you paused; “And i’m not running away”

-

 Stepping in the door of your apartment you juggled the bags and held the door for Mike, before you smiled;

“Do i even need to hold this open for you, or could you just walk straight through it?”

He glanced at you and rolled his eyes, not saying anything.

“I would offer you to get cleaned up, but i have no idea how to clean a ghost up”

You set the groceries on the counter and turned, surprised to see Mike standing close to you, his injuries gone and his face and stomach back to normal;

“Oh!”

“I guess you just had to look away and i reset somehow” he muttered, his body sagging as if exhausted.

“This may sound strange, but do you need to rest? I would imagine what you did took a lot of energy…”

“I don’t like to sleep… the memories come back when i do…”

“Why don’t i rest with you?”

Reaching out you managed to grasp his hand, gently leading him to your bedroom and watching as he lay back against the soft covers, a tired smile on his face as he watched you climb in beside him;

“When i was alive it was never this easy to get a girl into bed with me” he murmured, his eyes drooping. 

“Just rest Mike, i’ll be right beside you… i’ll protect you the same way you protected me”

Leaning forwards you brushed your lips to his, and it felt like wet sand pulling away from you as the tide pulled back to sea. Resting your head on the pillow you felt your own eyes grow heavy, and as you watched Mike fall asleep the same happened to you.

-

Rain hit the window as you slowly woke, the unfamiliar feeling of a warm presence beside you in bed startling you as you sat bolt upright, looking on in shock as Mike slept peacefully beside you. His chest would rise and fall with each breath, and with a shaking hand you reached out and rested your palm against him and could feel the warmth of his body. Eyes wide in wonder you reached to his neck, pressing two fingers to the side and you felt the steady and strong beat of his heart. 

He woke with a gasp, inhaling as if he had been winded and sat up, his eyes wide as he grasped your hand in his own;

“How are you touching me?”

“Y-you’re real” He looked down, watching as your hand pressed against his chest; “and you’re alive”

You leapt at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you straddled his lap, laughing with tears of joy starting to spill down your cheeks before finally pulling back, your mouths so close you could feel the others breath hot on your skin.

“When i was alive… i mean before… i was an ass”

You shrugged;

“Most dudes in their 20’s are”

“And i thought i was god’s gift to women too, but was far from it”

“How about we leave the opinions of gods to the one of us that is the Theological major? As whatever happened here, we have someone to thank and it certainly isn’t Earth bound”

He smiled, and for the first time you noticed that in the blue of his eyes there was a tiny spec of brown. His voice was quiet;

“Can I kiss you?”

Nodding you edged forwards, the touch of his lips this time was soft and warm, and as the kiss deepened the two of you slowly fell back onto the bed, your bodies warm against each others as clothing was shed and bodies were explored.

Mike had a lot to catch up on, twenty years after life had ended for him you were now there to help him start it back up again.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #mike hellraiser #mike x reader #canon fix it fic

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (4)

Hi everyone! Sorry this came late! I was soooo busy this week that I had to push this chapter back but I’m hoping to drop chapter 5 on Friday next week like normal. As listed in the warnings, this chapter has some heavier topics than the other 3 but the scene is relatively mild and not too descriptive. 

Story Masterlist

Word Count: 2808

Warnings: Mentions of verbal s*exual harassment, mentions of fighting/injury, strong language, angst 

% approximately the last weekend in September %

You sat at the back of the team bus on the way to the hotel, since the tournament was all day Saturday. You shared a row with Julia and was working on some calculus homework and listening to music while she talked to someone across the aisle.

When you finished, you took out your headphones and looked over at her. She was now playing on her phone.

“Hey, do you wanna bunk together tonight? I don’t feel like sharing a bed with Emily this week.” you whispered, making sure the freshman sitting a few rows up couldn’t hear you.

“Yeah sure. I was actually gonna ask you the same anyways.”

You were one of only two seniors on the team, so you and the other senior, Anna, were asked to split up and chaperone the girls whose parents weren’t coming to the tournament. Both of your rooms had three other people.

Once the team got checked into the hotel, you all went to dinner at a nearby chain restaurant where you, Julia, Anna, and a few other girls sat at a table together joking around.

After dinner, the team headed back to the hotel and were allowed to either hang in the lobby or your rooms, so long as you weren’t disruptive and stayed in pairs. You stayed in the lobby for a while but decided to go prepare for bed around 10.

Julia tagged along as your buddy, not saying much as you rode the elevator up. 

After changing and brushing your teeth, you sat at one corner of the bed looking into a wall-mounted mirror as you combed your hair to pull it into a braid. Julia had been watching the TV when she piped up.

“Hey, y/n?” 

“Yeah?” you didn’t look back at her.

“What’s going on between you and Tom?”

You paused mid-braid, then continued. 

“What do you mean?” your brows furrowed as you finished off the braid, wrapping the end with a hair tie.

“It’s just… you guys have seemed super close lately, and Sam said you’re at their house pretty much every weekend now. I thought you guys hated each other or something.”

You turned your body to look at her.

“Uhhhh we definitely still hate each other. We’re just partnered up for this semester-long marriage project in home ec. It’s whatever.”

“Oh. Okay then. It just seemed like something else I guess.”

Something else?

“Wait, what are you trying to say? Do you think we’re, like, dating or something?”

“Well you guys go to almost every one of each other’s games. And Sam said their mom loves you so it just seemed like… I don’t know.”

“Whoever thinks we more than hate each other is wrong. Just the idea of him and I together grosses me out so much. Once this semester is over, he and I probably won’t speak to each other again until the day I’m chosen valedictorian over him.”

“Okay, well, I’ll let Sam kn-” 

She was cut off by the sound of the door opening as the two freshman girls who were taking the other bed came in giggling.

Glad to finally be out of that conversation. 

After a few more random conversations, you all decided to go to bed and rest up for the tournament early the next morning.

It’s when you rolled over onto your side to face the wall that thoughts of your conversation with Julia began racing. Did people really think something other than a fake marriage was going on with Tom?

Exhaustion got the best of you before you could dwell on it further.

%

You sat in calculus Monday morning listening to the announcements. Your name and a couple others were listed off from the winning sports. The team had won, and you’d gotten tournament MVP.

The class congratulated you, so you jokingly did a royal wave around the room, stopping to look at Tom.

“That’s how it’s done. You guys may have won too, but I think I beat you out this time.”

“Yeah, good job.”

What. Why was he congratulating you?

“Uhhh. You don’t have anything else to say? No insult, no witty clapback? Who are you and what have you done to the Tom Holland I know and hate?”

He shrugged.

“I just don’t have anything negative to say. I mean, you got MVP and the team won. That’s pretty impressive.”

Now you knew something was up. In all your years of knowing Tom, he’d never been this nice. Sure, he’d sometimes say “nice shot!” when you scored more than one goal in soccer but he usually was able to find a way to pick on you at the same time.

You were working on a new sewing project in home ec later, sharing what happened with Alexis.

“Maybe he’s just not feeling well or something? He probably just couldn’t think up something fast enough,” she suggested.

“You don’t get it, Lex. It was so not like him. After Thursday, and what Julia said Friday night, something weird is going on, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.” 

Wondering if anything was out of the ordinary with him now, you looked over to where he was, only to find him looking back at you.

Weird.

In senior art that afternoon, you worked on an acrylic beach landscape you’d been doing with a palette knife. 

You were listening to music and intently focused when you felt a presence loom over you and noticed a hand resting on either side of you.

You ripped out an earbud and turned to see Tom leaning over your seated position, looking at your artwork.

“What the- Tom! What in the hell are you doing?” you pushed him off you and he stepped next to your chair, arms folded over his chest.

“Just looking to see how you were doing, princess. I think it needs a sailboat.”

“Okay first of all I’m not even done but like… why were you leaning over me like that? I was kinda in my zone there.”

He uncrossed his arms and pointed one had around the canvas.

“Well I was mostly coming over to say you had a little something right,” he poked a finger from his other hand onto your nose, leaving a dot of paint, “there.”

“Thomas Holland. If you don’t get the hell away from me and my artwork right this second I will literally beat you up in front of this entire class. You know it’s true too.” you threatened through grinding teeth.

“Are we having a problem over here?” your art teacher interjected, causing you to both look at her. You pointed at your nose.

“Mr. Holland here doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.”

“Tom. You know how I feel about messing around with art supplies. Now go sit down, you still have a lot to go on your own painting.”

He sighed and headed back to his seat. 

“Y/n, why don’t you go wash that off real quick. I’ll keep an eye on your canvas for you.”

You got up, brushing past Tom. First, he’d been super nice this morning, and now he was putting paint on your nose like a little kid? 

It was infuriating to think about.

Wednesday, it was like he was even worse.

He flipped between being the nicest guy ever to trying to humiliate you every chance he got. 

The final straw was during your free period when you’d typically have volleyball practice (it was a game day). You’d walked by some of the football team who were practicing on the field and some players tried to catcall you, yelling disgusting sexist comments and whistling. Instead of sticking up for you, Tom just looked at you sheepishly as they laughed.

You just stuck up a middle finger and kept walking, as you were running errands for your volleyball coach and didn’t want to be too long.

After school, you stormed out of the school building and caught sight of him leaning against his car talking to a few of the guys from before as his brothers stood around nearby.

When you were about 20 feet away when you yelled out at him.

“Hey Tom! What the hell?”

His conversation paused and he turned to you. The other guys laughed and waved him bye as you approached.

“I’m sorry, but what?” he asked when you reached his car. You tossed your volleyball bag onto the asphalt.

“What is wrong with you? First you’re super nice to me, then I catch you staring at me in class and then the whole paint thing, and that was just Monday. Then today you flip from nice to asshole, and just sit idly by when your friends fucking harass me!?”

“I was just messing around like we always do! And come on, it was just a whistle and a couple jokes, y/n.”

“That’s the thing! It’s not just a whistle or a joke! Call it that when you read the countless stories of women who are attacked for simply ignoring a guy or trying to stand up for herself! I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO BEG YOU AND EVERY OTHER MAN FOR SOME SIMPLE RESPECT!” you were yelling and breathing hard. “I guess I thought that after the past few weeks we had come to some kind of an understanding, but apparently I was wrong. You’re still the biggest asshole I know.”

“Y/n, please. You know I would never do anything to actually harm you, right? I’ll talk to the guys and figure it out. I mean, what else do you want me to do?”

“Maybe we should get a ‘divorce’ on this stupid project. It’s obviously not working out,” you spat.

“I- okay.”

You were taken aback. Did he really just agree?

“Okay? That’s all you have to say? You really want to go through with it?”

“Well, if it’s what you feel is best, I’m not going to stop you from talking to Mrs. Flynn.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see what she wants us to do.” you said, much more calmly.

With that, you picked up your bag and walked off, wanting to cool down before your game.

“Damn, Tom. That’s rough,” Harry said once you were out of earshot.

“Yeah, dude. You should’ve stood up for her. That’s not cool,” Sam added.

Tom hung his head for a minute, not sure what to think, then straightened up, shaking it angrily. 

“You’re right. She’s right. I need to find those guys.”

%

Things had cooled down for you by the time you’d eaten a snack and hung out with some of the team for a little bit. You didn’t tell anyone what had happened, but by the way Julia kept looking at you, you figured Sam had told her.

An hour before game time, you went to go put on your kneepads and volleyball shoes. As you passed through the gym, Julia hopped up from her seat next to her boyfriend and rushed up to you.

“Whatever Sam said, I’m over it now. I’m just going to channel it into the game” you told her before she could get a word out.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Sam said you seemed pretty shaken up.”

“Look, jules, I know you’re trying to help, but now isn’t the time. I just need to focus on one thing at a time, okay? Let’s just win this and then maybe later we can talk.”

You sped up past her to where the group was in a circle, already doing stretches. You felt bad for blowing her off, but you had other things to worry about.

%

Your team lost the first set for the first time all season. You just couldn’t get your head in the game. You had fumbled a few sets and sent your hand into the net while hitting not once, but twice. You’d even sent a serve straight back to the wall on the other side of the gym.

You were now sitting on the bench listening to your coach yell at you, taking it all in. You were looking at her directly when a figure coming through the door caught your eye. It was Tom.

You tried to pay attention to coach, but the second she turned her attention to someone else, you glanced at him sitting by his brother. 

His lip was split and he caressed one hand in the other. His hair was also all over the place and one cheek swelled slightly.

Did he get into a fight?

Even though you were still mad, something inside you appreciated his presence. You also felt concerned, but obviously couldn’t do anything about it from the bench.

You instead decided to do what you knew best, which was win. The team came back in the end and did just that. A few people were congratulating you when you saw Tom and Sam leave the gym.

“Uh, sorry guys but I need to go do something. See y’all tomorrow though!” 

You jogged into the hall, frantically looking both ways before seeing them.

“Wait! Tom!” you called, running to catch up with them. They stopped, Tom not making eye contact with you when he turned as Sam watched cautiously.

He looked worse up close. 

Where his cheek had only seemed swollen before, now there was a blue and purple bruise beginning to form, surrounded by pink inflamed tissue. His bottom lip also was red and puffy around the split, and when you glanced at his hands you noticed the darker bruises on each knuckle.

“Tom…” you said softly, scanning him. “Are you okay?”

“What does it matter to you? We hate each other don’t we?”

Sam took that as his cue to go back to the gym, you assumed to find Julia.

You let out a sigh and looked away. 

“I don’t ‘hate you’ hate you. Yeah I hate when you’re better than me at something or you’re acting like a douchebag, but I don’t, like, want you dead or anything. I mean, you know that, right?”

You searched his face for a sign that he was getting you. After a few seconds of him staring at the ground nervously tapping his foot, he replied.

“Well I don’t hate you either! Yeah, you can have an ego and it gets on my nerves, but I’ve always thought we had just a playful hate-love thing. Like… I don’t know... Doofensmirtz and Perry the Platypus.”

You let out a chuckle at that one. 

“That… actually. Yeah. That pretty much sums it up. I never actually wanted to hurt you, and I’m sorry that I did but what you did today was so not cool, man. I thought we at least tried to look out for each other a little bit. That stuff hurts. A lot. Because being a woman means I don’t know when it might cost me more than just being the butt of a joke.”

“I realize that now, and I’m so sorry for trying to trivialize you. I didn’t really think about it in the moment because it’s never affected me. I might be in trouble tomorrow because of it, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“After you left, I was so mad at myself. I marched straight over to the guys, who were then trying to laugh about you coming to talk to me, and I just… swung right on Harrison. He’s the first guy that whistled.”

“Tom…”

“And then I may have gone after the other two while I was at it. They tried to fight back, which is why my face looks like this, and I just went nuts. They gave up after realizing I wasn’t gonna back down.”

You tried to hold back tears. You always knew in the back of your mind that Tom cared a little bit, but not like this. One slipped out onto your cheek.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered, trying to keep a steady voice. He reached out and brushed his thumb over your tear.

“Yes I did. Who else was going to teach those dickheads, huh? Obviously no one else in their lives have cared to.”

“Well thank you. It means a lot… and I didn’t go talk to Mrs. Flynn after our little spat outside. I wouldn’t mind staying as your ‘bride,’ if you’ll have me.”

He looked at you skeptically for a few seconds then smiled.

“Yeah, alright,” he pulled his necklace from his shirt. “Who else would rub icy hot on my back and make pie with my mom?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of the first one,” you laughed.

After a few seconds, you held out your arms.

“We good?” 

He grinned, taking your offer for a hug and wrapping his own arms around you.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

%

A/N: Thanks for reading! Like I’ve mentioned in the past, this will not be the last of heavy topics and some future scenes will actually be more descriptive, but I will make it explicitly clear where those scene are so you can have discretion. Love you all so much!

Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson

#The Marriage Project #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #Harry Holland #sam holland #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au

[sssn-neptune-vasilias]

Even when you get into your 20s people in their 30s/40s still have power over you through experience, connections, and internalized hierarchies. People being grossed out by Winter/Qrow aren't wrong by a long shot. A relationship could work but there needs to be communication and acknowledgement of the power dynamic between them. People that utterly ignore this are in fact being gross.

If you’re willing to disregard the agency of grown ass adults to try to make a point that someone in their mid-twenties can’t consent to a relationship then you and I have irreconcilably different ideas on relationships and personal responsibility. ALL relationships require open and honest communication between the parties involved. ALL relationships require all parties involved to recognize the differences between them and to discover ways to deal with those differences. This is implied in any and every healthy relationship. So much so that it doesn’t even need to be discussed. It’s like reminding people that they’re being pulled down towards earth at 9.8m/s/s. We know that. We always have been.

Just to continue on with this point, Winter is the one with more power in the dynamic than Qrow. Despite her age WINTER is the one who is directly beneath Ironwood, while Qrow isn’t directly beneath Ozpin (that’s Glynda) but a couple positions down. Winter is also incredibly wealthy and incredibly privileged considering she’s a Schnee, while Qrow’s a regular guy making an average teacher’s and Huntsman’s salary. Winter also isn’t a fucking alcoholic who’s barely trusted during season 3- Glynda and Winter were literally bickering back and forth on whether or not they could take what Qrow says at face value. The only thing Qrow even had on Winter was knowing about what Ozpin was willing to let his closest peers in on in concern with Salem and the Maidens. That has no affect on the relationship between these two characters.

Secondly, if you’re trying to explain to me that a woman in her mid-twenties doesn’t have the ability to make the decision of entering a relationship for herself, you are the one being gross dude. People in their mid-twenties aren’t children. Their brains aren’t still developing. They don’t need to be coddled or protected from the consequences of their actions or mistakes. They can make their own decisions and spot dangers on their own, as well as learn from their own missteps. This isn’t to say we can’t be taken advantage of, but if you’re willing to completely remove any and all responsibility of a relationship from someone in their mid-twenties for no reason other than “you might be taken advantage of!” you’re literally a child. Grow up. No twenty-six year old is reading this thinking “damn I sure do wish some white Knight on the Internet would imply that I can’t make decisions for myself on my own dating life.”

Tl;dr: People grossed out by Snowbird- or any ship between grown ass consenting adults- are either A) looking for a way to remove agency from an actual, grown ass adult character for no reason or B) unaware of how all relationships work in general and are waiting to read some hidden fine print of “well, these two characters are engaging in open and honest communication with one another with the express acknowledgement of the advantages and power dynamic between them” that NO ONE is going to bother writing down for you because it’s implied in ALL relationships.

#RWBY #STRQ #Qrow Branwen #Winter Schnee #Snowbird #The D

[andmaybegayer]

The cultural positioning of typewriters, or: I promise I’m not corporatecore come back it’s fine.

I got a typewriter! If you want a documentary breakdown of that you should read this post, but this is going to be about what typewriters were used for back in the 20th century and how utterly batshit the entire ecosystem there was.

Typewriters were used by three main groups of people: journalists, authors, and secretaries. I don’t really care much about the first two, because while they used typewriters, their job was not typewriting. Typewriters were popular for journalists and authors because typewritten drafts and manuscripts were easier for editors and typesetters (and indeed, legibility is a big reason for the adoption of the typewriter in all parts of the world) but typing is not what journalists and authors do. Authors compose and edit, and journalists research and write, but only secretaries type.

(I read an interesting paper about this three-way split, you can read it here)

In the 1800′s, secretary was a job given to a strapping young man with a bright future in business so that he could learn the trade, but after some wars and other social pressures that reduced the supply of male secretaries, and a convenient confluence of women learning the skill of typewriting, the female secretary became a thing. Suffrage movements were pretty happy about this for a while: Women in the office! How progressive! Of course, the role of secretary very quickly stopped having a progression path to management, and it picked up all the usual misogynistic stereotypes that you probably know today.

If you’re over 45 you probably know what the job of secretary used to look like, but for those of you who aren’t, for most of the 1900′s secretary was a job that revolved around typing letters, missives and notes in a legible and consistent format. This is important, because the alternative sucks shit. If you were mid level manager Johnson Q. Goodfellow at the Racism Company, and you needed to tell the Racism Factory that they needed to produce 400 more units of Racism this week, you could try calling up the manager at the factory and telling him this. Unfortunately, there’s all manner of things that could go wrong here. He might misinterpret you saying “produce 400 more” as “produce 400 only”, in which case you might have a Racism shortage. Or he might mishear entirely and produce only four more, if your accent is particularly bad.

Instead, Johnson Q. Goodfellow could get a secretary to create a missive (in quadruplicate, using carbon paper) and get the 17 year old who hangs around your lobby to courier two copies out of town to the Racism Factory, and you can keep two copies for your own records. Very low chance for errors now, since either side can refer to their copies to find out what was intended. A secretary would also add dates and ensure all communication meets business standards.

(This is also why there’s no red telephone between Washington and Moscow. It used to be a teletype: a text transfer machine. Later, it was Fax, and nowadays it’s encrypted email and text chat. All text-based systems, written in the sender’s native language and translated on the other side to provide the lowest chance of a misunderstanding and high chance of being correctly recorded.)

How would that letter get written? If you were an audio or shorthand typist (a highly skilled profession requiring extensive training at a secretarial school) you would either be a personal secretary to a single executive or a high-ranking member of a secretarial pool. Either way, your manager would dictate a letter, and you would have to convert it into a typewritten document. Originally this would be done by a secretary capturing the speech in real time in shorthand, and later it would be captured on a microcasette and transcribed with the assistance of a dictation machine. On the other hand, a simple copy typist can only work in the secretarial pool, and you would get a hand-written draft from a manager, likely one too low-level to have his own secretary or even his own microcasette recorder. This would possibly be sent back for checking, either by the manager or by your superior, and then all copies would be sent wherever they were needed. The jobs are otherwise similar, apart from a lack of real progression for copy typists.

(A good pop-media example of shorthand typing is the “speed test” song from the musical “Thoroughly Modern Millie”, a rendition of which I will link here. It’s also a treasure trove of the kind of ridiculous stereotypes that existed around the secretarial profession, as a musical made in the 60′s about the 20′s. Millie is a fawning social-ladder-climber who gets her job explicitly to someday marry her boss, who is a self-absorbed dipshit. I was a stagehand on my high school’s production of this, so I know the whole thing from memory. Please send help.)

Why don’t the managers type their own letters? Well, partially because of the weird skill split on typing: typing was a woman’s skill back then, many men would not even know how to type, and those that did may be extremely slow hunt and peck typists who would make many errors and produce uneven, sub-par manuscripts. Secretary was kind of considered a fallback profession in some cases: schools taught it to girls the same way woodwork was taught to boys. You don’t necessarily want to become a carpenter/secretary, but if you can’t find a decent company job/suitable husband, the skill can support you until you track one down or die. Man, the 20′s-70′s were insane.

There’s some interesting status stuff to talk about here. If you’ve ever seen an old movie where a rich dude takes out a tape recorder and makes a note to himself, that’s the movie’s way of telling you that this guy is powerful enough to have a personal secretary. It implies that later he’s going to put that in an envelope and leave it on someone’s desk and the next day when he comes in, any reminders he made will be on his calendar and any notes will have been typed out in full.

Secretaries type as a profession. The speed expected of an acceptable secretary is a sustained 70 words per minute, which is about what I can do in an extended session. A good secretary could easily surpass 100, and there’s an old navy typist training video of the fastest typewriter typist in the world reaching 180 wpm on demand, and since correction on typewriters is tedious, your accuracy was expected to be near on 100%. On old manual typewriters the skill of keeping all letters even was an additional challenge, since you provided the mechanical force for the type bars. Electric typewriters, like the one I have solve this problem, but it’s still a complicated skill.

Before the invention of the typewriter, the only way to produce clear, reliably text was typesetting. Typesetting is of course, a noble profession, but not something you can easily do in the office on a whim, and wholly unsuitable for one-time messages. Standardized writing in the office reduces the chance of errors and improves your ability to find out who’s to blame when something goes wrong.

Nowadays secretary is not really a job that exists anymore? You mostly hire Executive Assistants and groups of lower managers share a single Executive Assistant rather than accessing a pool of secretaries. Typing is also no longer the name of the game, instead it focuses on maintaining schedules, synthesis of letters from prompts from your manager, and serving as a gatekeeper for mail and meetings. The name has changed because the job has changed, describing an executive assistant as a secretary would be like referring to the blades of a combine harvester as a scythe. That’s not to say secretaries don’t or can’t type, they are still often the most skilled typists in an office (I have seen multiple photos of macbooks with the coating worn clean off their keys by a legal secretary or medical scribe) but most executives are now capable of performing an adequate job of typing and editing on a computer.

If you wish to do some further reading, interesting resources I found while doing some research that I haven’t linked above for this include:

This quora answer from a woman who was a secretary in the 70′s

This series from an EE magazine about what it was like to work in a typing pool

#typewriter #history #secretary #typing

[player-1]

Anyone who’s been in the TMA fandom (or those who understand the bare minimum of the story) know damn well that whatever was going on with Michael D. Stortion and Gabriel/Worker-of-Clay was not just a simple Avatar/Entity partnership. No, in the twisted timeline of the Spiral itself, the Armageddon arms-race pales in comparison to the romantic tragedy subplot those two had long before Jon and Martin were in the picture.

(This is also going to be a long one, and with some MAG 101 spoilers, so buckle on in...)

Here’s what I mean:

Gabriel (or in this case, Gabe) works with Neil Lagorio (Web aligned special-effects dude) in the mid 1900′s on their first movie The Labyrinth of the Minotaur. Unfortunately for him, Gabe quits in 1972 just as the movie was released. 

Not much is known of this time after 1972 up until the dreaded sculpting class in 2004. Speculation-wise, Gabriel might have been corrupted by the Flesh during his movie-making times or earlier before he came into contact with the Spiral.

Reasons: -The Spiral connects with the unraveling of reality, question one’s sanity and eventually “spiraling” into insanity. -The Flesh, in its literal sense, connects to the fear of people or animals being killed for meat; even the appearance of flesh/bone being twisted, bent, or butchered. But it can also connect on a emotional level, such as being viewed weaker than others, mostly relating to a person’s body image. That’s also the reason why the nature of his death is completely unlike the Spiral simply letting him fade out of reality. -Gabriel displays more Flesh-like qualities in his appearance and work up until the end of MAG 126. He doesn’t want people to judge him by appearance alone (even if his entire body is made up of clay) but he makes up for it with his unassuming personality and amazing talent. In a literal sense, he wants to mold himself into the kind of person that gets praised for his clay-making abilities, not just from his creations alone.  

[Enter Ｔｈｅ　Ｄｉｓｔｏｒｔｉｏｎ: Stage Left] Of course, while there’s no evidence on how, when or why the Distortion would target him specifically, but there is one thing. Compared to all the other Spiral avatars and fear-aligned creatures, they all used to be humans in the past. The Spiral by nature is to cast aside their humanity and submit to the nature of insanity. But since most of the Spiral avatars either faded out of existence or just refused to do anything ritual-wise, how was it supposed to create a new world if all they ever do is destroy? It adopts an artist, of course. There’s nothing more chaotic than the struggles of a budding sculptor such as himself. But while that may be a convincing argument for the Spiral to get Gabriel to join the Dark Side, there could be more to convince him that it’s worth following the unknowable being of delusions. Long story short, there was no reason for Gabriel to judge himself so poorly if he knew how to reshape the world to how he sees fit. it would convince him that, like the archangel he’s named after, he could show the world the coming future; twisting the laws of reality so that there’s no room to judge how something should be right or wrong, imaginary or real.  As if they were said from the Lord himself, Gabriel heard the Distortion’s tell him about a new world and finally found inspiration in them.

Then comes the sculpting class.  It’s worth noting that, even with the angel symbolism for Michael and Gabriel, it could be implied that Gabriel is also a goody-two-shoes Christian boy who regularly attends church, as evidence of Michael having knowledge about Mass in MAG 20, assisting the Flesh in driving Father Edwin to cannibalism (so the Flesh and Spiral have an interesting partnership, huh?).  Besides that, this is where Gabriel takes the spotlight. From Deborah’s point of view, he was a strange little man from the beginning; eyes always jutted out of his face, appearing right in someone’s personal space and disappearing just as fast, and of course, his works of clay. (Also a random headcanon just because: Gabriel may be afraid of water, either because his entire body being made of clay, and since you need water to help shape the material, he does not want to get it melded into his own flesh. Could also be the reason why he has short and greasy hair, cause he would practically melt into a puddle if he was unfortunate enough to get wet.) And apart from Deborah and her friends’ growing discomfort over Gabriel in general, he’s just vibing in the back of the class, trying to make a shape for the unknowable form of the Distortion. And the second Deborah inadvertently gives him a break from his artist’s block, he quite literally takes control of the class; switching over the biweekly schedule it was before into every week, and even manipulating the space of the classroom to further support his artistic needs. 

“Ray told us the lesson was ‘faces.’ I put my hand up to say that sculpting faces was probably a bit advanced for where we were in the course, but he shook his head, and said that we were… a lot more talented than we thought. He said the key was that faces were twisted. All faces were twisted on the inside, and all you had to do was reach into the deepest part of yourself and put that twisted on the outside of the clay, and as soon as you can scream you’ll have your own face staring back at you.”  (MAG 126)

This is also the key to the Spiral itself. With Gabriel’s assistance, he will be able to let the spiral to insanity move in reverse, create the physical manifestation of that fear instead of letting it collapse and destroy itself. And in that lesson as well, Gabriel finally creates a fitting image of the Distortion...A door, the physical entrance to insanity itself.

Then comes the final stretch in Sannikov Land, the nonexistent island that was said to exist between the years 2009 and 2011. And as Michael D. Stortion explains in MAG 101, was the perfect place for their ritual, The Great Twisting. After everything Gabriel had done to appease his good “friend”, The Distortion seemed extremely invested in the Worker of Clay at that point. Nevermind the fact that its telling Jon how its identity was stolen away from Michael Shelley by merging with the Distortion, but there’s more to this origin story.

“Michael was protective of the frail old woman he believed her to be. So… so delicate, so forgetful, yet gently wise. He cared for her. He trusted her. And she fed him to me. She made him to destroy our transcendence. And she did not hesitate.” “And it was me they sought to stop. Me and the others of It-Is-Not-What-It-Is. Our Great Twisting. The-Worker-of-Clay had laboured for decades on that contorted, impossible edifice of doors… and stairs… and falsehoods… and smiles. A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it. And in the centre, the door that would open to all the places that were never there, was me.“ “Perhaps I should have realised what was happening; seen those two lonely figures approaching me, but I cannot tell you the existential joys of truly… becoming. Of an entireness finally crossing the threshold into your self. So ecstatic was my completeness, I did not even hear my own door creak open.“ “Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place. To become Michael. And to do so at such a crucial point in our Twisting, in our becoming, well of course it destroyed it. The impossible altar collapsed. The-Worker-of-Clay tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud. The others of us were cast to all the places that aren’t; some have still not found their way out again...My very existence tied to my pointlessness. Wearing my failure as the very fabric of my being. Reduced once again to feeding on the unsuspecting and confused. That is who I am.“ (MAG 101)

Even if all of this was to explain how the Distortion became the being it is in the series, it’s easy to see how overjoyed it was during the ritual. All that the Spiral ever did was bring the sense of unreality and paranoia unto people for ages, only breaking down the mind until they eventually spiral into oblivion. It wanted to be something, it wanted to make something twisted and nonsensical from the world, to shape the world itself to the nature of insanity. And after all that time, no matter how many avatars it had in its control, Gabriel was the only one who began creating the ritual. Even if it was for an ulterior motive, The Distortion was pretty giddy as Gabriel worked for years on end to create the meaning of insanity; to create something that the Distortion saw as the perfect vessel for itself. And even as it was explaining it, with all these feelings of joy and ecstasy and very human thoughts and emotions, this was before it was forced to become Michael. So much for not being bound by human nature, huh? But it’s pretty ironic that, as the embodiment of delusions, insanity and lies, it never considered the idea of having an avatar that could make something out of that chaos. Even if the Distortion was explaining how Michael-not-Michael Shelley came into being, it also can be interpreted as Michael just yearning for his best Avatar so far.  So instead of “I’m going to tell you my entire backstory.”, it’s more like “I’m going to tell you how a nosy old woman and her idiotic assistant ruined my chances to be with my Avatar of the Decade who may or may not be my boyfriend.”

In conclusion, Gabriel AKA The Worker of Clay AKA Igor with an art degree became the Hands of the Spiral because the nonbinary embodiment of delusion (who is also a door) gave a miserable struggling artist a shot of self-confidence (and a shot out of the Flesh’s control), eventually becoming its #1 Boyfriend Avatar of all time, and is the only person that would make the “hates gender and existence itself” Distortion yearn for years after his tragic death.

Takes notes people, this is what peak performance looks like.

#not kh #tma #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #tma michael #tma gabriel #tma michael shelley #gay shit #shitpost #rant post #text post

[writingonjorvik]

The New Gang Pitch

Following my narrative arc pitch, I wanted to outline a pitch for the new central character unit around the MC to go with it, since characters can make or break a story.

The Self-Taught Vessel, Allacia Clair

One of the first characters part of this group I would imagine has a bit of a rivalry with the MC about their powers. While she’s also a Vessel (my name for the Aideen’s champion role from my narrative pitch), she didn’t have anyone like the Keepers to teach her about her powers. She has a strong grasp on the “Avatar State” power/connecting to Aideen, her other powers she can’t really control and doesn’t have a good foundation for using her other core abilities. Her arc with the MC includes them learning to work together, possibly coming to a head at some point when it seems to this character that the MC is having no trouble with learning about the “Aideen State” powers.

She should be reckless, her powers manifesting in bursts, kinda like an unbridled Lightning Circle Alex, to show she never learned basic control over her powers. She’s stubborn and resilient, with a bitter sense of respect for the MC. She should be funny in a dry humor sort of way, but heart of gold trope, all the way. Points for her being in her mid to late 20′s, so a little older than the “about to start college” MC to add to that “how can you do this thing I struggled with” arc. Extra, extra points if she’s a POC, because, you know, cannon POC badasses are great.

The Valley Girl Hacker, Brittany Bellwinter

We need a diva in the party, and there’s nothing I love more than the idea of a full blown, bubble gum popping, gag me with a spoon, Silicon Valley girl for that. None of the “I don’t get people” hacker trope. This girl gets people, but is also Elle Woods smart with computers. “You took down entire network of G.E.D. encrypted asset logs.” “What, like it’s hard?” She takes no shit for being the pretty blonde girl, and she works her ass off to pull off her chic cyberpunk style while she takes down an entire DC facility’s security system from the Stablebucks down the street.

She’s open, honest, and direct. Her self-confidence is through the roof, to the point of initial conflict. Her being a vigilante when she meets the MC is a great arc to have them working together, and also establishing people outside the Keepers having an issue with Dark Core. She’s hungry for knowledge though, and her handiness with gadgets can provide SSO with a lot of tools for having ruins being destroyed in story beats without losing the information. But also a problem as she risks her life to get those pictures.

The Heart, Kadin Fairwind

This is the one character I think whose gender is most important to be kept the same. Kadin needs to be masc-presenting, either as an enby person who uses he/him pronouns, or just simply as a male presenting person. This is first and foremost because of the message Kadin can send. If SSO wants to be a story about gender equality, then it needs to also talk about how men relate to “feminine” topics, in particular, being the heart of the group. The Heart of the 5 man band is exclusively reserved for a female in the party, which is why it’s important to have a character like Kadin, who is masc-presenting, be the heart, to subvert that and show other masc-presenting players that you can be masculine and also be an empathetic person that tries to keep your friends together.

Kadin is a big sweetie, possibly physically, who just has a soft-spot for people. But when I say he’s big, I don’t mean Kadin is this doofy gentle giant or some himbo. No, he’s physically built, like a quarterback built, but he’s also very intelligent. Kadin needs to be outwardly very masculine, with an awareness of his strength and how it impacts people around him. He’s smart and observant and is really good on picking up on people’s emotions. He wants to help people, with a passion for being either a counselor or a nurse (specifically a nurse, not a doctor). Possibly with friends who were assholes when they were in school who bullied people, until Kadin decided he didn’t want to do that and wanted to be better aware of how he hurt people and how to make things better.

As much as I’m an advocate for queer & POC rep, I think the best way to do Kadin is just have him as this straight, white guy. I think him just being a hetero-cis dude and becoming aware of his privilege can be such an impactful message, even if the why isn’t ever explicitly said.

The Magic Enthusiast, Nakai “Xen” Seiko

If Kadin is cis, then Xen is one hundred percent they/them non-binary. But also, if Brittany is the tech wiz, then Xen simply wants to be an actual wizard. And not just wishes magic was real kinda wants to be a wizard, legit knows magic is real and can’t figure it out/can’t use it wants to be a wizard. Xen consumes all things magic, which makes them an amazing outside asset to the MC and Allacia, who both can use magic, but don’t always understand magic. Xen gets magic fundamentally as a study, but not always as a practice, which is why they struggle to actually use it. And while I do think they should learn how to use magic, they should by the kind of character who wants to multi-class wizard over and over so they can get every school of magic, not so they can actually get better. It’s Xen’s craving for understanding magic that will be a great tool in learning more about other planes of reality and how they relate to magic.

Xen’s personality is fundamentally at odds. While they come from a very traditional Japanese immigrant family and have a high respect for their culture, they obviously struggle with who they are and how that fits into what they want to do with their life. This is import in particular to me because so many cultures gender magic, with feminine and masculine sources of magic. Xen as a non-binary magic user, like myself, has to struggle with figuring out where those legends come from and breaking down how to feel about that in their own practice, particularly when Aideen is shown has being a very feminine entity. Much like the points before, I don’t think this has to be explicit, but I do think it can be very clearly coded to say that gendering things is often forced. While there are gendered things in nature, like things surrounding baby-making, most things aren’t and just because something is gendered, like Aideen, it doesn’t designate that all things need to be. I think the best way to balance this message is to have Xen has a very comedic person, always telling jokes, even when the timing isn’t always right. They should have an issue with hyperfixating, and I think having them being someone with ADD/ADHD is a great match for their other struggles, getting consumed in their pursuit of magic to the point of it being a hazard too.

The Gentle Giant, Bogga Norsdóttir

If anyone is going to be the brute of this party, it’s going to be Bogga. Bogga is a “I’m going to deadlift a Shire” kinda girl, but she won’t, cause it’s a horse, and why would she scare a horse like that? She’s honestly the simplest concept I have. She’s a gentle giant, though I don’t think she should be “stupid.” I think she should have a simple code of ethics, a very black and white version of right and wrong. It’s simple, you hurt her friends, she fucks you up. I would love too if she’s part Kalter. But yeah, Bogga is kinda the constant rock of the party, and that’s not just cause she’s a solid unit. She’s just reliable, and for that she’s kinda a sounding board for everyone else’s more complicated arcs. The point is that Bogga will always be there to support the party, and she doesn’t really need to grow. She’s got her life figured out, and so she’s just there to help everyone else figure out theirs.

The Returning Soul Rider

If there’s any of these members I’m ok with dropping, it’s this one. Not just cause I can’t decide which one, but also the whole point of the above group is establishing a friend group that the MC chooses through the story and actively recruits, not an existing friend group like the Soul Riders are. Even with the new intro to the Soul Riders they added, there’s never going to be a point where the MC isn’t a fifth wheel to their group, at least for me and I know for a lot of you, particularly as SSL gets more and more removed. The only reason they could even effectively establish their friend group before was because only two of them were friends when Lisa got to Jorvik, and it was Lisa that brought the four of them together. And honestly, I think staying on their story makes if feel more and more to me like we’re cleaning up their mess and undermines the Soul Riders defeating Garnok in SSL. Which ruins their abilities, and it’s just yet another reason we need to move away from them narratively.

Still, that doesn’t mean I think the Soul Riders need to be cut out entirely, but I think we need to relook at the angle that the MC is relating to the Soul Riders. And that means the Soul Riders relooking at themselves, particularly post Garnok, which is also why I think this arc needs to end.

In any case, I’m tied between Alex and Anne. On the one hand, Alex is a fighter and suddenly having no big bad to fight is a hell of a good arc to pitch. I also think her in contrast to Bogga is a great square off. Alex not being ready to be done fighting is a good arc, because she’s always been a fighter. What is she without something to go after now? I think her being afraid of falling back into her old ways now that she doesn’t have a target to hunt down is such an interesting arc to follow.

Anne is another interesting one, because I think with everyone expecting Anne to be consumed with vengeance before Garnok is defeated and her to come out of that, people would expect that after he’s gone, she would be ready to be done and just go back to being a normal girl. But I think that even if Anne gets over her vengeance, she’s the Soul Rider of the Sun Circle. Her powers are to open portals, she’s destined to travel. Anne isn’t going to want to go back. Whether it’s being a dressage master or traveling between planes of reality, Anne is the portal master of the druids. Worse, she was an imprisoned portal master. She’s shouldn’t want to be still ever again.

I’m honestly up in the air on them, and I’m not opposed to both, but I think it should just be one in the main group and another with a side arc we touch in on when we touch base with the other Soul Riders.

And yeah, that’s the pitch.

#sso #star stable #starstable #star stable online #starstableonline #woj writing #woj analysis

[robinskey]

Lover (Steve Harrington x Reader)

A/N: GUYS as you’ve probably noticed, I’m incredibly excited about the release of @taylorswift‘s new album. IMO, Lover is one of Taylor’s best songs to-date, and I thought it would fit perfectly with a fluffy, domestic Steve one-shot. 

Warnings: Mild language, heavy fluff. Story under the cut.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

This is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

It wasn’t until you and Steve moved into your first home together that you realized how deeply in love he was with holiday decorations.

You had started the process of moving your belongings into the new place at the end of September. By mid-October, Steve had begun pestering you about shopping for Christmas decorations. You reminded him that you hadn’t even unpacked the last box yet, and Halloween hadn’t even occurred yet. Steve was persistent that you needed to get the lights up as soon as possible to “maximize the Christmas spirit.”

After a lot of convincing, Steve had finally agreed to wait until November. By then, you figured, he’d forget about it. I mean, this was the guy who couldn’t remember his social security number and occasionally wrote it on his stomach (“because I’m not dumb enough to keep it on, like, my hand, Y/N, where everyone can see it.” When when you suggested he just carry his social security card with him, he told you he didn’t trust himself not to lose it.) Surely, that guy would forget all about it, right?

Wrong. On November 1st, you were nursing a Halloween-candy hangover when Steve dragged you to Goodwill. You returned home with enough decorations to light up a mansion and spent the rest of the afternoon stringing them all around your tiny one-bedroom house. After dinner, you and Steve headed outside. As the sky faded to black, Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and he watched in wonder as your small townhouse transformed into a winter wonderland.

“Look at that, Y/N! We did that,” he said. The various colors of the lights reflected in his eyes as he gazed down at you.

“I didn’t know King Steve Harrington could get so excited over Christmas lights.” Your smooth teasing was foiled by a strong gust of wind that left goosebumps on your arms and caused you to shudder.

“I’m full of surprises,” Steve said as the two of you started back towards the front door. “For example, you probably didn’t know, but I can make the best cup of hot chocolate in the state of Indiana.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, yeah. Grandma Harrington taught me her secret recipe.”

Even though you’d known Steve for years, you learned new things about him every day. You wondered if you’d ever run out of things to learn about the boy you’d known all your life.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Dustin Henderson started referring to your place as “our house” before you guys even moved in. He dropped by several times a week with updates on the newest happenings at Hawkins Middle or questions about how to handle a Suzie situation. At least once a month, Dustin crashed on your couch after a weekend movie night. 

On one occasion, you and Steve returned home from a date night to discover half a dozen adolescents gathered around the television in your living room. A curly-haired kid carried around a bag of chips in one hand and waved cheerfully with the other. He flashed his infamous toothy grin, which you met with a half-scowl, half-squint of confusion.

“Dustin? How did you get in here?”

Dustin spoke through a mouthful of Doritos. “My mom dropped us off. And then I used my key.”

Your glare switched targets. This time, you directed it at Steve. He clamped his hand down on his face; you weren’t sure if it was to avoid your gaze or express his frustration.

“Dude, I gave you that key for emergencies only.”

“This was an emergency!” Dustin threw up his hands, sending an army of cheesy corn chips into the atmosphere. After falling back to earth, bright orange triangles wedged themselves into your new white rug. “The season premiere of our favorite show is tonight, and we didn’t have anywhere to watch it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Your eyes scanned over the gang sprawled across your couch, armchairs, and carpet. Judging by the boxes of candy and cans of soda littered across the floor, Dustin must have raided your pantry. Apparently, the kitchen wasn’t the only place he infiltrated, since almost your entire linen closet was spread out over the living room. Lucas and Max shared the recliner beside which Dustin was currently standing. Will sat on a pillow with his back against the coffee table, his attention still focused on the television screen. You turned your attention to Mike, who was curled up next to El under a crocheted blanket you’d received from your grandmother. 

“Doesn’t your family have a TV, Mike?” 

"Yeah, we do, but my mom kicked us out so she could watch a soap opera or some shit. She and Nancy love that crap.”

Nancy. 

That name ignited the flame of jealousy in your chest. You knew it was totally irrational; she and Steve hadn’t dated since high school. They’d both moved on-something Nancy did almost instantaneously. Steve had told you the whole saga of their mostly-one-sided relationship, and you were fairly certain Nancy never really loved him.

Still, Nancy was Steve’s first serious girlfriend. She was the first girl-the only girl, other than you-to whom he’d said “I love you” and meant it. Nancy was, and would always be, Steve’s first love. There wasn’t anything you could do to change that.

“Y/N? Hey, babe, you good?”

Steve’s voice jolted you back to reality. You shook your head slightly to clear it, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

You pretended not to notice the way his mouth twitched downward slightly in concern.

“Great. So we can stay?” Dustin interrupted. The hopeful gleam in his eyes was too much to resist.

“I guess,” you sighed, earning a chorus of triumphant “yeah!”s from the kids. “Your show’s probably about over by now, anyway, isn’t it?”

Dustin furrowed his thick brows, as though that was the most blatantly incorrect assumption you could have made. Lucas let you know that “it doesn’t even start for three more hours.”

“Won’t that be, like, midnight? Your parents aren’t going to freak out if you come home at two in the morning?” Steve asked.

“Actually...” Dustin drew out the word until he finally ran out of air. Then, he spoke the next few words in one breath. “We were hoping you’d let us spend the night here?”

You and Steve exchanged glances. Between your schoolwork and Steve’s work schedule, the two of you hadn’t been able to spend as much quality time together. You’d finally both managed to secure a responsibility-free night and a cheesy rom-com to watch while cuddling on the couch. (Steve pretended to hate those movies, but he almost always teared up at least once during the show.)

None of that mattered now, though, because your boyfriend could never say no to his favorite child-or so you thought.

Steve scratched the back of his neck. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before saying, “Actually, Dustin, tonight’s not the best night for a sleepover. Y/N and I kind of had plans.”

Lucas raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Plans, huh? What kind of plans?” he said, earning a smack on the arm from his girlfriend.

Color rose to your cheeks; Steve picked up a pillow someone had haphazardly tossed on the floor and launched it at Lucas’s head. Instead of hitting its intended target, though, the cushion collided with Max’s face. Ever the hothead, the ginger quickly contorted her neutral expression into a deep frown. She chucked the pillow back toward Steve with tremendous force, along with a few other throw pillows. Only one actually hit Steve. The rest rained down on you.

And, as a mature, homeowning adult battling literal children, you knew there was only one correct response: to hurl each and every one of those pillows right back.

It didn’t take long before the scene devolved into utter chaos. Fluffy rectangles flew across the living room, smacking into bodies or simply into walls. The kids outnumbered you and Steve three-to-one, so you were doomed from the start. However valiant of an effort you two gave, the party still overcame you, burying you and Steve under an avalanche of pillows.

“Clearly, we won this fight,” Dustin said as he loomed over you. Steve had tried to act as your human shield, so he laid beside you on the floor. “I think that means we earned the right to stay.”

“Dustin-“

“No, Steve, it’s okay,” you said, turning towards him. “I know it’s not what we originally planned, but maybe a sleepover with the kids would be fun.”

Steve looked at you with admiration glittering in his chocolate eyes. “Yeah?” he asked softly.

“Yeah.” You shifted a few pillows to get closer to Steve and plant a gentle kiss on his mouth. He smiled as your lips brushed his, and for a moment, you forgot about the gang of gangly tweens in your living room.

Then, a symphony of “ew”s and “aw”s and “can you not”s and “I think it’s sweet”s erupted throughout the room.

Steve shot into an upright position, pointing his finger in the general direction of the sitting area. “Hey, this is my house, and my girlfriend, and if I want to kiss her, I will. And if you dweebs want to stay here to watch your stupid show, you’ll keep your mouths shut.”

“As long as you keep yours shut,” Dustin quipped. “I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’d rather not see you and Y/N sticking your tongues down each other’s throats.”

You tossed the last pillow throw of the night at Dustin but agreed. You and Steve kept the PDA to a minimum that night. They were just kids, after all, and you didn’t want to corrupt them. However, when Nancy came to pick up Mike the next morning and Steve waved to her from the porch, you didn’t hesitate to flounce out the front door in your robe and draw Steve into a passionate kiss.

You just had to make sure Nancy knew what was yours.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force-of-a-man to be my lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Your favorite part of the day was coming home to your best friend.

Steve more or less memorized your schedule. You arrived home around the same time every evening, so Steve knew when to start listening for the sound of gravel crunching under the wheels of your car. He would then meet you on the porch with a “hello” kiss and a “how was your day, honey?” You always feigned indignance as he took your bags, murmuring something about how weak he must think you are to not be able to carry them two more steps. But, secretly, you spent your entire commute home anticipating the interaction.

This was especially true on the stressful days, the ones you felt would never end. Even though Steve was completely clueless in most situations, he could typically tell when you were in a foul mood. Those were the times he pulled you a little closer to his heart, hugged you a little tighter, loved you a little extra-just in case you needed it.

Today, you really, really did. It had been one of those days where everything seems to go wrong. You couldn’t wait to crawl into bed with Steve and snuggle all your sorrows away.

As you pulled into the driveway, your heart beat faster in anticipation. You watched the front door swing open. It took you a second to realize that the figure standing on the porch wasn’t your boyfriend. Rather, it was a short, stocky kid with a halo of golden curls. If it hadn’t been for the unmistakable hair, you might not have recognized him; you’d never seen him sans ballcap but plus a paisley-print bowtie around his neck and certainly never with dish rag was draped over his arm.

“Hey, Dustin,” you said. When he responded by simply smiling back at you, you asked, “What...what’cha doing here, kid?”

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ll be your server for the evening,” he responded without missing a beat. 

“My server?”

Dustin bent his head slightly in what he must have considered a sophisticated spin on a nod. “Indeed. Now, if you’ll follow me, ma’am...”

You kicked off your shoes and set down your purse before wandering after your guide down the dimly-lit hall. Something crinkled under your footsteps. You quickly noticed small ovals scattered across the wood floor. As you stepped on one, it felt like silk against your bare feet. 

Petals?

You were too busy staring at the flowers scattered across the hall to realize you’d reached your destination. Dustin stopped, and you ran right into his back. You stumbled before regaining your balance and taking a look around the room.

The “server” had escorted you to your own kitchen-a place you were quite familiar with, since Steve couldn’t cook a decent meal to save his life. (To be fair, though, you weren’t much more skilled with the stove, so approximately 90% of your diet was comprised of takeout and peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.) However, you’d never seen the kitchen quite like this.

It was the cleanest it had been since move-in day. Not a dish sat on the counter or even in the sink. The crumbs typically scattered across the floor had been replaced by rose petals. Sparkling white Christmas lights stretched across the room, and Elvis Presley crooned over the record player in the corner of the room. You didn’t even know Steve owned a record player. (As you later discovered, he didn’t. He’d borrowed it from Jonathan Byers.)

In the center of the room, your cheap card table was draped with a lace tablecloth. Wedged between two covered silver platters that looked like they belonged in a castle, a flickering candle cast shadows on the face of the boy sitting beside it. As soon as his eyes fell on you, he scrambled to his feet and over to you.

“Hi,” Steve said, winding his arms around your waist. He sounded breathless, even though he’d literally just walked a few feet.

“Hey.” Your eyes flicked from his slicked-back hair and freshly-shaven face to his crisp button-up and newly-polished shoes. “What’s-um-what’s all this?” you asked, vaguely gesturing around the room.

“Oh, you know.” Steve pressed a quick kiss to your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the table. “I just thought I’d do something special for you tonight.”

"That’s...really sweet.”

Steve scooted your chair in before placing himself back into the seat across from you. Dustin disappeared into your pantry, then returned with a bottle of sparkling grape juice. As you watched the teenager carefully pour a splash into each of your glasses, you asked whether Steve had bribed or tricked him into spending his Friday night playing restaurant.

“This is my full-time job, ma’am. This is how I earn my living,” Dustin answered dutifully before breaking character. “Besides, four of my stupid friends are on a double-date, and Will’s sick, so I had nothing better to do.”

“Way to sell us on the idea that you want to be here, dipshit,” Steve remarked.

“Hey, show our waiter a little respect!” you teased, gently kicking Steve under the table.

“Thank you, Y/N. But, actually, I prefer the term server,” Dustin corrected. He proceeded to produce a notepad from his pocket and read you the specials-or, rather, special, considering there was only one: spaghetti with meatballs. “On our regular menu, we also offer a wonderful noodle dish with a marinara sauce for the same low price as the special-zero dollars.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “So...just spaghetti again?”

Dustin clapped a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Excuse you, madam. It’s spaghetti without meatballs, which is a completely different experience.” Dustin glanced around as though someone might overhear before quietly adding, “Personally, I would recommend the spaghetti with meatballs, unless you want grubby hands digging around in your dish to pull out the meatballs, which may or may not already be incorporated into the pasta.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed nonetheless. “I guess I’ll have the spaghetti with meatballs, then.”

“Excellent choice. And for you, sir?”

“I’ll have the same,” said Steve.

“Well, you’ve both made this very easy for me. Pardon my reach,” Dustin said, leaning over to pluck the covers off the platters. A heaping hill of noodles, red sauce, and meatballs lay underneath. 

Dustin took the lids and disappeared into the living room. You weren’t sure if Dustin was just trying to stay out of the way or if he was going to attempt to wash them in the bathroom sink. It definitely wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing he’d done in your house; once, you and Steve caught him trying to explain morse code to a squirrel in your backyard. That kid was truly an odd duck. 

And speaking of weird behavior, you were still seriously questioning what was happening. Steve was a sweetheart, and he did everything in his power to make you happy. This definitely wasn’t the first time he’d surprised you with a thoughtful gesture, but it was probably the most all-out he’d ever gone. The last time he even attempted to cook for you was during senior year of high school, when you first started dating. As an after-school snack, Steve had popped some pizza rolls in the microwave and promptly forgotten about them...until, of course, the kitchen appliance burst into flames.

As strange as it was, you didn’t want to ruin the moment by verbally expressing your curiosities. You simply swirled slightly-soggy spaghetti around your spoon and savored the small talk. Eventually, Dustin reappeared to clear your plates and ask if you wanted dessert. 

“What are my options?”

Dustin’s excellent waiter facade faded for a second. He glanced at Steve with wide eyes. His gaze begged for guidance-which Steve failed to provide. He simply squinted at Dustin as if to say, Figure it out for yourself.

The entire ordeal lasted about fifteen seconds. It was too long for Dustin to turn back to you with a tight-lipped smile plastered on his face as though nothing had just happened between them.

“The final course is-the dessert, uh-it’s a surprise.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw Steve offer a nod of approval.

“Okay...” You drew out the word as your mind jumped to every conclusion possible. “Is it a good surprise? Or is it, like, a somewhat-edible science experiment that might actually poison me?”

“Oh, no, no. It’s a good surprise. You’ll like it. I promise,” Dustin said. “I-uh-I’ll go get it,” he said, then disappeared once more. 

“Steve, why did Dustin just head toward the bathroom? I swear, if he made Jell-O in the toilet or something, I’m going to lose it.”

Steve just shrugged. He avoided your gaze, and a few beads of sweat had broken out across his forehead. That pretty much solidified your suspicions that Steve and Dustin were pulling some weird sort of prank on you.

Dustin returned a few minutes later with yet another silver platter. (Seriously, where was he getting these things?) This time, though, there weren’t any noodles on the plate he unveiled. Instead, a small velvet box sat on the metal.

The next few seconds happened in a blur. You recalled Steve rising from his chair and reaching for the box. Then, suddenly, he was on one knee in front of you. The box opened like an oyster. Instead of a pearl, though, its treasure was a glimmering diamond ring. 

Tears began clouding your vision before Steve’s lips even parted. As soon as he spotted the water in your eyes, Steve started to get choked up, too. He tried to power through, but his voice became more strained with each syllable.

“Y/N. These past few years with you have been the best of my life, and I never thought...shit." Steve blinked rapidly, attempting to clear away the tears. “I never want to spend my time with-with anyone else-damn it,” he murmured as a drop of water finally escaped his tear duct and rolled down his face. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I had this whole speech prepared, but now I’m a mess-”

You stopped his ranting by placing a gentle palm on his cheek and a kiss on his forehead. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I love you for the whole-ass mess you are.”

Steve leaned into your touch for a moment and whispered, “I love you, too, Y/N.” Then, he straightened up, cleared his throat, and softly asked, “Will you marry me?”

“Of course.”

Steve barely had the patience to slide the ring on your finger with his shaking hands before he picking you up and swinging you around. He kissed all over your face, and your happy tears mixed with his in a joyous saltwater solution. 

The kiss fest didn’t end until Steve, caught up in all the excitement, accidentally pressed his lips to your nostrils. The two of you burst into a fit of giggles amplified by the ecstasy of the emotions you were feeling. Your hysteria lasted for several minutes and ended with you and Steve laying on the floor, lungs devoid of oxygen and limbs tangled together.

“Are you guys really that happy, or are you, like, on something?”

You both glanced toward Dustin, whose presence had completely slipped your mind. Luckily, Steve had a response ready. It was cheesy and cliche, but nothing could have fit the situation more perfectly:

“No, dude. We’re just high on life.”

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (Forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover

***

Taglist:  @novaddictx @anabundance0ffand0ms @rexorangecouny  @broadwayandnetflix @explode-a-pult @whormotional @loulouloueh  @readinthegarden12 @lacunaclouds

If you want to be added to the tag list for a specific character/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading. <3

If you want to check out more of my writing, here’s my masterlist. :)

#lover #lover fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things steve #stranger things steve x reader #steve harrington songfic #lover songfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one-shot #stranger things one shot #stranger things oneshot #parker-potter writes

[switchedflip]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

Repost, don’t reblog.

BASICS.

full name. Citynetics Workbot Unit C-8 5779. or, yknow, just switch. never bothered to come up with a last name for himself

nickname. very often called “dude” or “bro”, mostly by raptor. not really a nickname but regularly gets called shit like “tin can” or “scrap” by hecklers.

gender. dude, he/him

height. six foot even

age. he was manufactured five years ago, but being a construction bot, he was built to have the sense of someone in At Least their mid 20s to work a dangerous job and be personable to human workers. now, he’s got the attitude of a college dropout, so he’s mentally like 21

zodiac. he didn’t want his birthday to be the same day that the other bots were manufactured, so when he became lucid, he gave himself a new birthday. the thing is, he had two days in mind, but he didn’t want to pick between them. so, his birthdays are september 19th and october 28th, the anniversaries of the release dates of tony hawk’s pro skater 2 and 3, making him a virgo and a scorpio. whatever one he chooses that year is anyone’s guess

spoken languages. he was programmed knowing english and spanish, but he downloaded a japanese patch as well after he went lucid

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair color. bald! bald! bald!

eye color. glowing yellow. they look really sick in the dark

skin tone. burnished steel. he really needs to get himself polished again

accent. is bitcrushed an accent? otherwise, he’s very much got the speech patterns of someone from coastal socal, very much has that flavor of “surfer dude”. what the fuck kind of guy in probably 21XX says gnarly unironically?

voice. did you know switch has the longest set of voice clips in the game? i think that’s neat

dominant hand. okay, being a robot he doesn’t have a dominant hand, so he’s ambidextrous, but he did program himself to have a dominant foot. bear with me on this. you see, in skating, you generally have your dominant foot be the one on the back of the board to have better control. he programmed himself to have his left foot be his dominant foot so he could be goofy footed

posture. he’s just got a habit of standing up straight, he probably can’t even bend much around the waist. 

tattoos. his arm guards being decked out and bolted on is kinda close? i’ll call that tattoos, just short of actually engraving his chassis

birthmarks. speaking of chassis engravings! his barebones frame under his main chest piece is engraved with the citynetics logo in a few places, as are a lot of his other more fiddly parts

noticeable feature(s). he’s decked himself out A Lot compared to other citynetics workbots so he doesn’t get lost in a crowd. for one, he wears pants and shoes. but also, he’s done away with any safety markings on his parts, he’s modified his chestpiece to have much more appealing lights, and his armguards-- which match his board no less? he’s curated his style to fit himself perfectly

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. he was manufactured in the main citynetics factory in shine city!

birth weight. probably at least 200 pounds? robots arent light, especially ones meant to do construction projects

birth height. still six feet

manner of birth. conveyor belt construction line, put together with giant machinery like all the other bots

first words. when he was first activated? he just rattled off his standard boot-up phrases. thank you for choosing citynetics blah blah. his first word when he was freshly lucid was “what?”

siblings. technically 9999 others in his manufacturing group. raptor’s his only Real brother though

parents. do you count foremen of the factory?

parental involvement. nah

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. please do not try and fuck the robot

romantic orientation. gay as hell

love language. physical touch and words of affirmation. for the physical touch thing, yeah he might not have the best touch sensors out there, but he still likes like. holding hands and cuddling and stuff. its nice and, for lack of a better way of putting it, it makes him feel like he’s close to a human way of expressing love, yknow?

relationship tendencies. he WILL make a mixtape and IT WILL have daft punk on it. he’s very chill in a relationship, though. he doesn’t do big grand romantic gestures, and generally things dont change much between him and his partner. he’s still a dumbass, he’s still chill, he just likes holding hands and maybe gets into movies for half off by pretending to be a guardbot or something

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. sk8er boi his home stage in blaze is the abandoned pool with this as the theme, so That Works. but if you ask me, i heavily associate him with this song from ollie king,

mental illnesses. not a mental illness, but he’s got some shades of neurodivergency. he’s got some flavor of adhd, or as he likes to call it, 80HD. otherwise, a while back he was in a pretty bad depressive spiral for being where he was. like, things were easier when he was a braindead bot, or if he was fully human, not somewhere in between. now, he’s mostly gotten over that rough patch with the help of his bro and some other friends in the league

self-confidence level. oh he is super confident 64. like, genuinely, he’s probably one of the cockiest members of the league, with boasts such as “i’m not programmed to lose”. it doesn’t stop at him being competitive, he’s open and easygoing, personable but strong in his convictions

vulnerabilities. he IS still a robot, so anything that messes with machinery will fuck him up. you can also get to him if you mess with someone he cares about

#meme friday #long post

[talesfromthesnogbox]

Big (Trash) Mouth

Summary: Richie Tozier is an already overall awkward human being, the absolute last thing he needed was an untimely visit from Maury, his hormone monster.The Big Mouth x It (2017) crossover I apparently needed but couldn't find.

Word Count: 4164

Notes: Soooooo yeah, I posted something on tumblr a little while ago about how I needed this crossover and nobody took the bait so I took it myself. I've never written for It or for Big Mouth, so I'm sure this is all wildly out of character, but whatever, it sparked joy. It was... interesting attempting to write this and not say a lot of the things I knew Richie would say, but I didn't want to go there being in my mid 20's and writing 15 year olds. So yeah. Enjoy? 

P.S. I totally headcanon Maggie and Went Tozier to be EXACTLY like Mr and Mrs Birch if you’ve seen Big Mouth, so I wrote them that way.

ao3 link

~~~*~~~

Big Trash Mouth

“Late bloomer”. It’s something Richie had heard his whole life.

Late to start talking, walking, late to potty train, and now…

“Bill, when the hell did you decide to grow a mustache?”

Richie rolled his eyes as his friends fawned over how masculine it made him look. Their voices all deeper, bodies filling out the way they should be. He was fourteen and still gangly as ever, the only thing that had changed with Richie was his height. He now towered over his friends, but still had the awkward squeaky voice. His cheeks were still filled with baby fat, and he walked like a newborn giraffe.

All he wished for was to grow up, like his friends were. He talked the big talk, but in reality, Richie was a scared little boy. His heart thudded in his chest when he thought about what his first kiss would be like. Sure, Bill and Bev were really the only two losers who swapped spit on the regular, but Stan had kissed a girl from camp, and Mike had been actively pursuing one of the girls in their year at school after they’d kissed at a birthday party in a round of truth or dare. Eddie always blushed and told them to fuck off whenever he was asked, which left Richie and Ben as the last two losers.

Ben was a romantic, he wanted it to be special, which Richie always fake gagged at before running his mouth about the love of his life, Mrs. K. It was easier to make a joke about it than face up to what he was really thinking about…

It wasn’t that Richie couldn’t see himself settling down one day, or having a crazy whirlwind romance. He was just young, he wasn’t thinking about it. All he wanted was to be with Eddie.

He’d deny it to anyone who asked if he had a crush on Eddie (even to himself). It wasn’t a crush, Eddie was his best friend of all the losers. He knew what they had was special, and he wanted to grow old with him… and be like, best friends forever, ya know?

Nevertheless, Richie would shake off the feeling. He’d shaken it off at twelve, and he was still shaking it off at fifteen… for a little while at least.

It was hot that night, he’d been reading one of his dad’s old Batman comics, and he realized Batman and Robin were a little close for just friends.

“Ha, totally gay.” He’d muttered, trying to ignore the feeling of his heart beating wildly at the thought. Unlike most of his friends, he didn’t see the appeal to characters like Catwoman. She was sexy, sure, but he didn’t feel the attraction to her. But Batman…

A shiver ran through Richie, and suddenly, a rumble came from his closet. He jumped, terrified that the fucking clown might be back again.

“H-hello?” Richie whispered, praying there wouldn’t be an answer. After a moment of silence, he turned back to Batman. The story became lost on Richie, he stopped focusing on what was happening, and continued to zone in on Batman’s well-sculpted body; and then the rattling started again. “Fuck, hello? Eds, did you follow me home again?”

The closet door opened and a dark figure walked out; a big ugly monster, covered in hair revealed himself in the light. “Who the fuck is Eds?”

Richie shouted as the thing came closer. He slapped himself across the face, attempting to wake himself from whatever nightmare he was in, but he wasn’t waking up.

“What’re you doing kid? With the whole… slapping thing?”

“What the fuck are you?” Richie shouted again, adjusting his glasses and scrambling further up his bed.

“Oh, me? I’m Maury! I’m your hormone monster!”

“My what?”

“Your hormone monster! Congrats kid, you’re a man now.” Richie looked at him, confused and a little horrified of the physical monster that had manifested in front of him. “Look Rich, you’re reading a dirty magazine or some shit, your mind wandered for a bit, badda bing badda boom, here I am. So why don’t you… how did you put it… tickle your pickle and call it an evening?”

“What the fuck.”

“What, are you not looking at your dad’s Playboys?” Richie stared at the thing… Maury… in horror for a moment. “No, I’m reading a Batman comic.”

“Odd flex, but okay, I can work with that. Chicks dig a man in a spandex suit, I bet he gets so much pussy.”

 ~~~*~~~

Richie had barely slept that night. Maury kept him awake, flooding his mind with confusing thoughts and images.

“Wow Rich, you look horrible.”

“Thanks asshole, not looking too shabby yourself.” He snapped back at Stan as they reached the quarry together. He was not in the mood today.

Hanging out at the quarry today instead of the clubhouse turned out to be a blessing and a curse. The cold water woke him up instantly, and soon enough, Richie was back to being the trashmouth they all knew and loved. But shortly after jumping in, Eddie arrived.

Richie’s heart thudded, and a weak smile broke across his face as Eddie dropped his bike, waving to his friends. Then… his clothes started coming off.

“Ohhhh, shit man, I see how it is, that’s Eds.”

He jumped. “Fuck’s sake, you scared the shit outta me.” Maury had appeared out of nowhere, and it put Richie right back into his bad mood.

“Yeah man, who knew short, angry and hypochondriac would be the one to get your motor running. I thought for sure it’d be the tall, leggy redhead.”

“Shut up, Eds does not get my motor running. He’s my best friend.”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to your dick.”

“What? FUCK.” Sure enough, Richie felt the same unfamiliar stirring he’d started feeling the night before low in his belly. He sunk lower in the water, covering his shoulders, moving as far away from his friends as he could.

“Hey Richie!” Eddie yelled. “Get over here, I need a partner for chicken.”

“Oh yeah, chicken is a fave. Think about it Richie, Eddie sitting on your shoulders, it would be so easy to just turn him around and bury your face—”

“FUCK OFF MAURY. I GET IT.”

“Well you obviously don’t. That problem in your pants wasn’t a problem until he showed up.”

“Oh my god, OKAY. I’m attracted to dudes.” Richie hung his head low, his face burning.

“And…”

“And what? I said what I said.”

“Come on man, it goes deeper than that. You’ve had four other dudes in their tighty-whities feet away from you literally all afternoon and you waited till Spaghetti man showed up to pop a boner.”

Richie frowned. “Um, you’re the hormone monster, none of that was my decision apparently.”

“No, but the gay thoughts you’ve been having about Eddie were all yours.”

Before that day, Richie would have denied it until his face turned blue, but finally, he had to come clean with himself.

“Fine, fine. I’m attracted to Eddie; I have gay thoughts about my best friend. I… I l—I like Eddie.”

“Atta boy! Now go tackle him and pretend your hand slipped when you touch his butt.”

 ~~~*~~~

“Hey Richie, why were you being so weird earlier today?”

Richie spluttered. Bev had always been forward, calling him out on his bullshit, but he didn’t expect that she’d call him out on it today. The two of them had become close. Richie’s mom adored Bev, she was always welcome at the Tozier house for dinner, a sleepover, whatever she needed. He never questioned why his mom let him have a girl sleep over all the time, but now he supposed she had an inkling that he might not think about girls that way.

He leaned back against his headboard and looked straight ahead.

“I… um…”

“I thought it might be the boner you popped when you saw Eddie strip down, but you were quiet all afternoon.”

Richie felt his face pale. “You… what?”

She laughed. “Stan pointed it out, Mike begged us not to say anything after the sleepover incident.”

“Fuck, well that’s embarrassing. I feel like I’ve lost control, my hormones are like a fucking monster, always there, just waiting to attack.” Richie sounds crazy in his own ears.

“Is it weird that I understand?” Richie looks at her curiously. “Sometimes I just… I just feel so angry, I want to scream and cry, but then…” she shakes her head, “Bill comes in and just… he makes it all better. But then it’s hard to control myself there too.”

“Oooh, Bevvie, you gonna spill all the dirty deets about Big Bill?”

She giggles. “Shut up, asshole. You gonna spill the beans on why you popped a boner at the quarry?”

“I think I have a crush on Eddie.” Richie’s surprised to hear it come out of his own mouth, let alone with another person in the room.

“Yeah dipshit, tell me something I don’t know.”

“Wait, what?” Maury popped up in the corner of Richie’s eye as they spoke it together. “Dude, what the fuck, how’d she find out before you did?”

“You two aren’t exactly subtle you know. We’ve been placing bets on when it would finally come out forever.”

“But… but Bev, neither of us… I didn’t even tell you I was gay. I didn’t even really admit it until very recently.” He paused. “Oh yeah, I’m gay by the way, you’re… you’re the first of the losers to know.”

She looks down at her feet, embarrassed by her own outburst. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… thank you for telling me Rich, I’m proud of you for coming out.”

“Thanks Bevvie.” He opened up as she leaned into him.

“It’s just… you and Eddie have something different, something special between you two.”

“Yeah, but… just because he likes guys too, doesn’t mean he’s into me.” Richie pouted.

Bev turns to look at him. “Richard.” She deadpans.

“What?”

“Eddie’s been flirting with you since we were fucking thirteen.”

“Um, he’s been bitching at me since we were fucking thirteen is I think what you meant to say.”

“No, flirting. He’s been pulling your metaphorical pigtails. And the shorts, he literally only wears them when you’re around because you always comment on them.”

“What? Richard, you never told me there were shorts involved.” Maury popped up. “I demand to see the shorts, take me to the shorts!”

Richie rolled his eyes, his heart thudding in his chest. Could Eddie like him back? “That still doesn’t mean anything, Bev.”

“That means everything, Rich.”

“Yeah Rich, that means everything! I think Eddie likes you man. Maybe try sticking your tongue down his throat, it’ll be like a fun little experiment to see for sure.”

He ignored Maury, still turning red at the thought.

Beverly smirked. “You’re imagining sticking your tongue down his throat, aren’t you?”

Maury raised his eyebrows. “Wow, she’s good.”

He shoved her, a smile cracking on his face. “Shut up.”

“Never.” Bev composed herself and leaned back into Richie. “I think you should tell him.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Richie shook his head. “I-I can’t. He’d never—”

“I literally just told you he’s been flirting with you for years. Spit it out Richie, it’ll feel good once you do. Plus, boyfriend.”

“No, but he’s my best friend. What if I fuck it all up and he never wants to see me again? Or worse, what if we do end up dating, and I hurt him? I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt him. I just want him to be happy.”

“He’d be a lot happier if he were with you Richie.” Beverly reached up and stroked the hair away from his forehead.

“Okay, maybe so. But maybe I’m just not ready to come all the way out yet.”

She smiled. “That’s okay too.”

~~~*~~~

Months went by, and Maury continued to torture Richie to no end. He somehow sprouted up even taller, his voice got even lower, and suddenly he was just… hairy.

Richie had grown up a lot, but not just physically.

He was still Richie Trashmouth Tozier, but in much smaller doses than he had been before. He almost stopped relying on dirty jokes and made genuinely funny remarks, he stopped trying to take the spotlight, and opened up to, and listened to his friends in return. Richie had become almost civilized.

He’d come out to his parents; they were every bit as loving and supportive as they’d always been, sometimes overly supportive.

“You know sweetheart, my friend from work has a nephew in the next town over who’s gay, maybe we should set you two up.” His mom would say.

“Richie, you should really think about cleaning up the hair on your face, at least until you can grow a proper beard. Your mother has told me scratchy kisses are unpleasant, and you don’t want some nice boy to think you give scratchy kisses.” His dad would lament.

Richie’s parents were a lot, but he was grateful that they cared.

“For god’s sake man, why did your dad cry teaching you how to shave your face?” Maury said, rolling his eyes.

“Because he doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that I’m growing up and I won’t be his baby anymore.”

“Geez, that’s bleak.”

Richie and Maury’s attention was drawn to the window as he heard a gentle clink. They approached carefully, only to find Eddie at the base of his house looking up.

“Well well well, would you look at that. Just saw him this afternoon, but little Eds came back for some of that sweet Trashmouth lovin I see.” Maury waggled his eyebrows. “OH! And he wore the shorts. The SHORTS Richie!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Richie opened his window. “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” He called down to Eddie.

“Really not in the fucking mood right now, Trashmouth.” He sounded broken, small. There was anger and hurt layered under his displeasure to Richie’s usual antics. “I—I don’t think I’ll be able to climb up. But…”

“Say no more Spaghetti. Come around to the front, my parents are in the kitchen, I’ll sneak you in.”

Richie raced to the front door as quickly and quietly as he could. When he saw Eddie’s broken expression, he immediately brought him in for a hug.

“I’m okay.” Eddie repeated, but he didn’t look okay.

“Come upstairs, we just have to get past Maggie and Went.”

They tiptoed into the house, but Maggie Tozier was like a bloodhound. “Richie, is that Bev with you? Oh, hi Eddie, what a nice surprise.” She smiled as she turned the corner and spotted the two boys.

Eddie smiled. “Hi Mrs. Tozier. Sorry to interrupt your evening, I won’t stay long.”

“Nonsense, stay as long as you’d like. Can I get you boys anything, a snack? Something to drink?” Maggie smiled, sensing something was wrong. “Eddie, is everything okay?”

Eddie smiled but shook his head. “It’s complicated.” He shrugged, but Maggie’s eyes were kind, encouraging him to share. “I… it’s my mom… she’s been even more overbearing since I came out to her and we got in a fight. I just needed some air. I think I should have just kept it to myself and not told her I’m gay.”

Maggie rushed over, and Went popped his head into view. “Oh honey thank you for telling me. Never feel ashamed to be who you are.” She pulled him into a hug, Went rushing over to join them. “Well if you ever need some extended time away, there’s more than enough room for you here.”

“Thanks Mrs. T.”

“Wow man, this is all pretty gay.” Maury snuck in. “Ha, get it, gay? Cause we’re like totally gay and sharing feelings ‘n shit? Yeah, that’s some good shit.”

Richie rolled his eyes at the hormone monster, and touched Eddie’s shoulder lightly. “Love the whole Full House heart to heart thing that’s going on, but I think Eddie came over to take his mind off it all. Wanna go upstairs and play on the Super Nintendo?”

Eddie smiled and nodded, following the other boy into his room.

“Went, did you know Eddie was gay?” Maggie asked her husband quietly.

“I had an inkling. I think something very beautiful is happening with our son and his best friend right under our noses.”

Maggie frowned. “Just because they’re both gay—”

He shook his head. “No, no. They’ve had something special from the beginning, my sweet. I think it’s just the natural progression of their relationship.” Went kissed his wife’s cheek, and went back to their cleaning.

~~~*~~~

In the hours that had passed, Richie successfully took Eddie’s mind off his mother. The two teens laughed as they played Street Fighter, shoveling popcorn that Maggie had brought up into their smiling mouths.

It was Friday, so Eddie didn’t feel bad about drifting off in Richie’s bed shortly after they’d both collapsed in it, comic books sprawled at their feet.

Richie looked on as Eddie peacefully slept beside him. His features were soft, boyish still, but a hint of developing masculinity lay beneath the baby fat that remained. He removed his glasses and flipped off his lamp, settling into his normal sleeping position when Eddie snuggled in against his side.

Fuck.

“Oh shit, Richie, I don’t think Eddie’s asleep.” Maury once again made an appearance.

“What the fuck are you talking about, he’s totally asleep. Maury, what do I do?”

“Um… um… do you think he’d mind if you—”

“YES. Yes he would absolutely mind if I just whipped my dick out in the middle of our sleepover Maury.”

“Richie…” His head turned to the boy in his arms who was obviously very much not asleep. “I can hear you thinking. Shut the fuck up and hold me.”

“You heard the man Richard, he wants to be held, hold him!”

Richie moved hesitantly, gaining confidence as Eddie snuggled in closer to him. He could feel his friend’s breath lightly hitting his neck, getting closer and closer as he searched for that perfectly comfortable sweet spot in Richie’s arms. Eddie’s lips lightly grazed his neck, and suddenly Richie bolted upright, feeling the familiar tension stir in his gut.

“Richie?” Eddie sat up sleepily, eyes boring into the side of Richie’s face.

“Why the fuck would you move! If you would have waited a few more minutes, sweet, sweet magic could have happened!” Maury whined, dragging a hairy hand down his face.

“I—I’m sorry Eddie, I just… gotta save some lovin for your mom, am I right?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I-is it weird, being like this together now, because I’m gay?” They had indeed had sleepovers before where Richie had woken up with Eddie curled around him, but it had never bothered him until Maury showed up.

“N-no, no, that’s not it. I’m gay too, asshole.”

Eddie got up, walking towards Richie hesitantly. “Then why…” and then in the moonlight, he caught a glimpse of why. “Oh my god, classic Trashmouth. It’s like the quarry all over again. You really can’t control that thing can you?” He joked.

Richie had no witty response for him. He was silent for a moment, letting his own embarrassment wash over him. “I’m sorry Eddie.”

Eddie frowned. “For what? We’re teenage boys, that shit happens like all the time in our sleep.”

“Eddie, I… I wasn’t sleeping.”

Maury’s eyes shot open. “Richie why the fuck would you do that, he’s gonna think you’re some sort of pervert! Not that I wouldn’t love you any less if you were some sort of pervert, believe me, I could tell you stories about some of the other kids I’ve been assigned to.”

“Maury, just… just shut up, please.”

“What do you mean you weren’t sleeping? Richie, we’ve been asleep for—”

Richie shook his head. “You’ve been asleep for hours, I… I couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts of Mrs. K running through—”

“Richie please, you literally just said you were gay.” The two were silent for a moment. Eddie looked at him hesitantly and nodded. “Okay. Does this happen with—”

“No.” Richie closed his eyes and collapsed back on his bed, willing the horribly timed problem to go away. “No, Eddie, just you.” He let out a groan of frustration.

Maury stood behind Eddie, unable to read his expression. “Shit man, I think you have to tell him how you feel now.”

“I’m sorry Eds, I never meant for you to find out like this… I never meant for you to find out at all.”

“What the fuck are you going on about Richie?”

Richie sat up and looked Eddie in the eye. “Eds… Eds you don’t get it?”

Eddie spluttered. “N-not really! I have no fucking clue what you’re trying to say right now. All I can tell from this conversation is that you’re gay and still apparently fucking my mother, and you popped a boner from lying beside me. I’m not a fucking mind-reader man, I’ve got no idea what—”

Richie’s lips gently touching Eddie’s cut off his rant. The kiss only lasted a second, but it left the two teens breathless.

“O-oh.” Eddie’s eyebrows were in his hairline, and Richie couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

“Holy fucking shit kid, you fucking did it.”

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Neither boy wanted to speak first, neither wanted to look into the other’s eyes. Richie was beyond embarrassed, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d maybe lost a friend.

“Fucking hell Eddie, even your mother is more talkative in bed.” He laughed nervously, adjusting his glasses.

“Shit man, he’s not saying anything. Whip it out, whip your dick out! Stun the motherfucker into saying something!” Maury yelled and jumped about.

“Richie… we were having a moment, why the fuck would you bring my mother into this again?”

Richie’s eyes went wide. “We… we were? I kinda thought you were going to jump out my window to be honest.”

“No, no! That… that was… good! I mean, I liked it.”

“You did?”

Eddie shoved Richie lightly. “Yes, dumbass, I did. I just don’t really know how to do this whole…” He pointed between the two of them.

“This whole what?”

“You know… um… crush… thing.”

“Crush!” Maury looked between the two boys and collapsed.

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” Richie pushed his hand through his hair.

“Yes asshole, why do you think I always try to partner with you in chicken? And sit beside you whenever we’re with the rest of the losers? I’ve had a crush on you for like… I dunno… like a really long time. And I kind of thought you did too. But now I’m wondering if maybe you just wanted another gay boy to I dunno, experiment with. Fuck, I’m an idiot.”

“No! No, Eds, me too, I feel that way too. The crush I mean.” Richie smiled and took the smaller boy’s hand in his. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole, and I’m sorry about…” he waved his free hand over his crotch. “I just… it’s like… uncontrollable. And like… your butt just looks really good in those shorts.”

“Beep beep trashmouth.” Eddie giggled. “I get it. I mean, I don’t, my dick isn’t trying to sabotage me, but it did at one point, and that sucked.”

Richie looked over to Maury accusingly. “Yeah, it does suck.” He shook his head and looked at Eddie. “So what do we do now?”

“Well I like you, and you like me, we could always… um I mean… you could be my boyfriend?”

Richie fake gasped. “Mamma dear!” He said in a southern belle accent. “This here boy wants to be my boyfriend!”

Maury shook his head. “Yeah man, maybe don’t do that.” But Eddie was giggling like a schoolgirl, eating Richie’s performance up. “Okay, wait, maybe you’re onto something. He likes it, keep doing it.”

Eddie shoved Richie again, knocking him down onto the bed, but tumbling after him. “Shut up asshole.”

“That’s asshole boyfriend to you, boyfriend.”

He blushed adorably. “Okay, asshole boyfriend.” Richie noticed Eddie’s gaze travelling between his eyes and his lips. Before he could stop himself, he leaned forwards, and kissed him again, this time longer, with more pressure.

Eddie’s breath hitched; it was perfect. Perfect until…

“Boys? Shouldn’t you be—oh!”

Richie pulled away from Eddie, and jolted back up again. “Mom!” He shouted. “This is why you need to knock!”

“Sorry sweetie, I’ll just… I’m gonna leave the door open a bit for you. We’re talking about this tomorrow. Goodnight boys, sleep tight! Make good choices!”

Maggie wandered back into her room, giggling as she crawled back into bed beside her husband.

“You may have been onto something with those two Wentworth.”

“See Mags, I told you. Something beautiful is happening.”

#reddie #reddie fic #richie x eddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #maury the hormone monster #It big mouth au #my writing