#whoa this isn't a reblog

[quetzalrofl]

#half-life #friendpilled visitmaxxer #memes #quetz makes a thing #whoa this isn't a reblog

[rhys-ravenfeather]

So, something hit me recently:

As an autistic, aromantic, asexual, biracial girl with dyscalculia and PCOS (and this is without getting into the anxiety and depression), maybe the problem isn’t that Hollywood people are writing ‘forced diversity’ or ‘trying to gain woke points’, but that they just don’t know how to write people :P

#rhys-ravenfeather signing on #okay to reblog #diversity in media #aro pride #ace pride #might add to this later but i'm sure that if they made a movie about my life people would be calling foul #'whoa WHOA! that's a bit much to cram into one character isn't it?' #but like...that's just the way i am :P

[sanguineterrain]

hi sanne!!! my mind has been rotting with assistant!reader x dick, and i literally can’t get it out 😭. i'm in love with your writing and reblog everything! thank you so much, have a great day!!

cute idea! I gave it a little twist ;) hope u enjoy!

dick grayson x gn!assistant!reader. flirting, secret identities, sparring.

****

Bruce Wayne is evasive on a good day and downright invisible on a bad one.

So when you see him down the hallway from his office, attempting to escape without being caught, you nearly trip on your feet trying to catch him.

"Mr. Wayne!"

His shoulders rise with tension. You pity the guy, you really do. Being a gazillionaire is tough.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, Sharon has been hounding me about the charity dinner. Please, if you could just go to this one dinner... you haven't been to an event all month."

And you're getting the brunt of it from all of WE's clients.

Bruce turns, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Hn. Hello. A dinner? I was sure I had a shareholder meeting that day—"

"All month? B, what happened to the two event minimum? That's your rule."

The new voice comes from behind you. Dick Grayson walks down the hallway, wearing jeans that probably cost as much as your monthly rent.

"Mr. Grayson," you say, nodding primly. "How are you?"

You shift the files in your hands as they start to slip. Dick is quick to catch them, balancing the stack.

"We've been through this," he says with a smile. "You know you can call me Dick."

Yes, you've been through this. Every time Dick shows up to Wayne Enterprises, he tells you to call him by his first name. And every time after that, you call him Mr. Grayson.

"Right..." you say, taking back the files. You turn to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, if you would just consider the dinner..."

Dick gives Bruce a severe look. "B, this is ridiculous. You're such a stickler for rules and yet—"

"Oh, look at the time." Bruce scoots past you and Dick. "I've got that meeting with Lucius. Where does the day go? Please tell Sharon I'll get back to her."

You can't understand how a guy whose biggest exertion is made by playing tennis at the country club can slip through your fingers so fast. He's around the corner before you can blink. You sigh.

"Don't worry," Dick says. "I'll get him to go. And I'll get one of my siblings to tag along to make sure he doesn't duck out early."

You smile briefly. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Grayson."

"Dick. So!" He trails behind you as you make your way back to your office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Working."

"O-kay..." Dick jogs ahead to hold the door open for you. You push through, trying not to frown. "What about tomorrow night?"

You toss your scarf on the hook. It ends up on the floor. You ignore it.

"Still working."

"How 'bout I ask B to give you the day off then?"

Now it's your turn to give a severe look. "If you're implying that I'd be obligated to go out with you in return for a day off, you've completely misjudged my character, Mr. Grayson."

"Whoa, okay." He holds up his hands. "You're right, that didn't come out right. How about I get him to give you a day off, no strings attached?"

You dump your files and sit at your desk. "That's at your discretion."

"Hey." Dick leans on your desk, puppy eyes at full power. "Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Did I do something that put you off? I'd like you to tell me if I have. I hope the fact that I'm Bruce's son isn't stopping you from being honest."

You put down your pen and look at him. "Look. You seem like a nice guy, and you're handsome with a rich dad to boot. But I'm just not available, okay? You're looking for someone to go to Tahiti with. I respect that. But I'm not that person. I'm just not interested in that."

"You think I'm handsome?"

You sigh and open your laptop.

"Right! Sorry. Not the point." Dick sinks into a crouch next to you. He pulls the oddest poses sometimes, like he's made of rubber bands. "Okay. You're not looking for a trip to Tahiti. Got it. I don't take many vacations anyway. So how about having a friend?"

"And why would you want to be my friend? I'm just some assistant."

"Well, I..." Dick scratches his neck. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"

Very. But okay. You can throw him a bone.

"I guess not," you say.

Dick frowns. "You don't believe me."

How does he do that?

"Can I please get back to work?" you ask, only a little worried about being rude. "I'm sorry, I'm just very busy."

His face falls briefly before he stands and nods.

"Of course. No problem. I'll see you around? And I'll get B to go to that dinner."

"Thank you."

You don't notice his lingering looks, or the fact that he picks up your scarf and places it on the hook on his way out.

****

3...17...64.

The safe clicks. You smirk. Easy peasy. The hotshots always use their own birthdays for combinations. Predictable. You bet Bruce Wayne does the same.

It's a blessing that you were able to duck out early today. Bruce gave you the rest of the afternoon off. You suspect that was due to some outside meddling.

You take out the files from D.A. Colson's safe. You always say that if crooked district attorneys don't want their documents stolen, they shouldn't put them where anybody can find them.

...Maybe you were too harsh with Dick. He's sweet, no doubt. It was nice of him to get you off early. But you kind of feel like he'd take issue with the fact that you spend your weeknights breaking and entering.

"You know, cracking safes is already Catwoman's shtick," a voice says behind you. "You might wanna find a new gimmick."

A thrill shoots through you. You toss your head as you turn, leaning against the open safe.

"Catwoman steals diamonds." You hold up the documents. "I just steal files."

"Files from the district attorney," Nightwing says, crossing his arms.

"The dirty district attorney," you correct.

"I'm supposed to let you off on a technicality?" He sounds amused.

Your shrug one shoulder, a little coy. "You could. I hear you're the nice one."

He laughs. Nightwing has a pretty smile. It's the first thing you'd noticed about him.

"Oh, yeah? Anything else you've heard?"

"Plenty. But I'm in a bit of a hurry tonight, Wing. As much as I enjoy our little chats..."

You dart to the window. Nightwing easily blocks your exit.

You're not quite sure what overtakes you when you run into Nightwing. Ignoring the fact that he manages to be the one to chase you almost every time (and what a chase it is), there's a tension between you. Or maybe it's just one-sided on your part. It certainly doesn't help that he's got a nice smile and bouncy hair.

"You know I can't let you go," he says, hands on his hips. "Put it down."

And he's extremely good at what he does.

"Make me," you say.

He never uses his escrima sticks, which you know is a courtesy to you. But that doesn't mean you can't hold your own.

"Alright," Nightwing says, smirking slightly.

He takes three steps, blocks your immediate kick, and takes the documents.

Something swoops in your belly. You kind of get why Catwoman exclusively fights Batman. Once you go bat, you never go back.

"Got them," he says cheerily. "Now what?"

You throw a glass bird tchotchke at him from Colson's desk. He catches it with his free hand, but it's enough of a distraction for you to slide into his legs. Nightwing stumbles less than you would like, but you push him down against the desk.

He grunts as he hits the wood, then rolls you over in the next breath, hands catching your wrists.

"Stealing... makes you no better... than Colson," he says, hair falling over his mask. All of him is pretty, really. It's too bad he's so firmly on the blind side of justice.

"If these documents are released, Colson will win his case and bury his own crimes in the process. Is that what you want? Another crook in court?" you ask.

Nightwing frowns. "You know that's not fair. We can't toss a case for the sake of putting Colson behind bars. And if we pick and choose whose lives to play with, what gives us the right to carry out justice?"

"I dunno, Wing," you say, a little breathless. Nightwing's hips are politely shifted off of yours, chest to yours. "Seeing you go rogue would be kind of exciting."

You can tell he's glaring at you. "Not in your dreams."

"Been in my dreams, have you?"

You gain enough leverage to push Nightwing off of you. He's back on you immediately, trapping you against the wall.

"How is doing something like this not crooked?" he asks.

You scoff. "It's for charity. I'm donating residents to the county jail."

You twist in Nightwing's hold and land a kick. In the three seconds he's distracted, you grab the documents. No sooner do you do that does Nightwing tackle you. The documents slip out of your hand.

"I can do this all night," he says, knee wedged between your legs. "Might as well yield."

"Yield? You're not even playing at your full strength, hotshot."

He smiles. "No, I'm playing nice."

You roll your eyes. "Well, play fair."

And then you jump out of the window.

Your tuck and roll isn't the worst but it's not the best. Especially when Nightwing neatly lands a few feet away without a wince.

"Showoff," you say.

"Give me the documents," he says. "I want to put Colson away, too. But this isn't how to do it. He's still a civilian, and his client's life matters."

You get up and wobble on a loose brick on the edge. Stupid historical buildings.

You're desperate. If he keeps this up, you're bound to land yourself a night in the police station and lose the documents.

So you dust yourself off. And you stop. Right at the edge of the roof.

"Okay," you say.

Nightwing takes a careful step forward. "Okay?"

You toss the documents to him. He catches them in surprise.

"You're surrendering?" he asks.

You shrug. "Like you said: you can do this all night. And I guess there are better ways to catch Colson. More permanent ways."

He tilts his head. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"No! Jesus, man. Ye of little faith."

"I'm just trying to understand why you surrendered."

You sigh. "Because you always win anyway. You're a better fighter than me. And I'm cornered. I just feel like cutting my losses early. You're a lot more convincing than Batman."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah. I much prefer you chasing me."

"Uh-huh." He nods towards the building. "Come on, then."

"Okay, sure."

You take a step. And you fall.

The brick is loose under your foot. It doesn't take much for you to keep going.

Panic surges through you, but that only solidifies your acting.

"Wing!" you cry, toppling over the edge.

"Shit!"

Nightwing lunges and grabs you by your waist, then uses momentum to haul you both to safety. His cheek against yours for a moment, body pressed to yours. It really is a damn shame he's such a Boy Scout.

You knock him in the stomach and snatch the documents, then separate from his grip. You watch his face contort in realization as you land and bolt.

"That wasn't playing nice or fair!" he yells, landing on the opposite side.

You're already gone, laughter echoing.

#dick Grayson x reader #dick Grayson x you #Nightwing x reader #Nightwing x you #Nightwing fanfiction #nightwing x y/n #dick Grayson fanfiction #dick Grayson imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #inbox #blurb

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Sumiko Mizukubo (Dragnet Girl)— isn't she cute???

Madeleine Carroll (The 39 Steps, The Prisoner of Zenda)— She was the highest paid actress of 1938 (whoa), pioneer for Hitchcock's prim blonde fixation, and has incredible cheekbones. She also quit acting to do full time philanthropy.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Madeleine Carroll:

Hitchcock's original ice cold blonde

Sumiko Mizukubo:

#madeleine carroll #sumiko mizukubo #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 1

[elaemae]

The premium version of human is here to wreak house, mfs.

Chp.2

[TwstxObeyme!AFAB!reader]

Whoa.. 😳

Thanks for the feedback, likes and reblogs guys~ It really makes me happy that my hard work is appreciated😊

Guys, what gender should my story's Yuu be in? It's quite hard to refer to two different characters with both gender neutral pronouns 😅

READ FIRST; PROLOGUE:1

• • • •

Again; Pronouns used to refer to MC are blue, because MC will be mistaken for a guy a lot.

SYNOPSIS:

With the Opening Ceremony going off the rails for a second time, MC is more than eager to get back home and probably binge-watch their stress away with their emotionally-repressed boys.

Though with the current situation right now, they don't think that will be happening soon.. Oh well, at least they're not the only otherworldly outlier here... *Nightbringer flashbacks intensifies*

$o|0m°N?

On the other hand, Yuu makes a new friend.

Yuu doesn't know if this makes them a problematic person or not, but Yuu is happy that there's someone else in a similar predicament as them in this strange world, even if it meant that their new companion also had to be kidnapped by a problematic school/lowkey-highkey a cult to be here as well.

But of course, there's trouble in the horizon as the whole fiasco in the mirror ceremony caused the students of NRC to keep a close and careful gaze onto the MC. I'm talkin' from but not limited to; The Fish Mafia, Queen of hearts and Evil queen Incarnates, even down to your perfectly normal 500+ year old war-veteran that looks like a child.

Meanwhile, The Devildom, Human world, and The Celestial realm are feeling a sense of something foreboding in the air... It's probably nothing though.. right?......right?? The calm before the storm. Or the calm before anyone barges into MC's room.

Prologue: 2 Electric-boogaloo

Watching the mysterious and somewhat confused-looking student continuously dodge Riddle and Azul's spells with a calm expression, sharp gaze and a frightening precision, Lilia is waiting for the perfect time to jump in.

Preferably when the student ran in front of him so that he could tackle him to the ground.

Crowley isn't doing anything but screech. Again.

Haah....

• • • •

Azul's smile widens when this ever mysterious new student blocks Riddles' Signature spell by quickly spinning his fancy staff into a make-shift shield once again. what an interesting staff, transforming from a necklace into a cane that can be used for offense and defense..

Azul straight up grins he can see Schoenheit's smile and Kingscholar's shit-eating smirk from here, as well as hear Shroud's maniacal giggles when Riddle screeches at the student to just cooperate and that "NO WE ARE NOT A CULT!!!!" "That's what cults always say!"

Prompting a round of laughter from the useles– *ehem* new students in the hall. How annoying..

What an amusing lad.. Though, Azul wonders.. can all his other jewelry transform as well? Besides the earrings, choker, necklace and forehead ornament that he's wearing, the student also has a ring in his middle finger and in both of his ring fingers, a wide bracelet, and even some bangles in his ankles.

And if all of those jewels can transform into something?....Ohhh, then he really needs to get his hands on them asap.

Seeing Lilia gearing up to jump the student, Azul shifted a bit and tried to lead the student closer to Lilia.

Help idk how to describe shit💀

You click your tongue as you got surrounded by Mr. bird-bitch, that red-mf, Solomon-but-from-wish, Columbina's cousin, lion-dude, "I'm a bad-bitch with a sad past" guy, and a floating tablet.

You ended up getting bound by the bird-bitch's whip the moment you tried to leap off a window in your belphie-escaping-his-responsibilities style. Your pact mark of pride flickered, and Lucifer wonders what MC could be dreaming about for their pride to have taken a hit at this time of the night.

You turned your staff back into a necklace by then, so you couldn't really block the whip and that redhead's spell from hitting you.

You had socked Walmart-Solomon in the face though when he sneakily tried to take one of your bangles while you were being yanked back from the window. Satan stirred in his sleep, feeling but not registering the creeping irritation under your skin.

So now you're here, with a collar for your troubles and a whip locking your arms to your body.

You're just about to resentfully summon Lucifer or something when the redhead who collared you with this uncomfortable fugly-ass neckwear started lecturing you and shit about etiquette and how disrespectful you are for trying to leap out the window and how you should be honored to be there blahblahblah—

Hell no. You ain't letting this short-pimp talk to you like this. (You should really stop hanging around too much with Asmo. Or Levi when he's being a hater on the internet.)

Satan stirred once again, starting to rouse from his slumber as he felt your irritation start to turn into embers of anger.

Lucifer furrows his brows, feeling a rush of indignity that can only have come from you. But why? Weren't you in bed? He hasn't felt you leave through any of the detection barriers he'd set up around your room so you should still be inside, right?

"I think it's much more disrespectful to have your fuckin horses kidnap someone straight from their goddamn bed just to attend a little ceremony they've never even heard of."

You narrow your eyes as you see the bird-man and goons look taken aback in varying degrees of obviousness. (A figure near the mirror perked-up; 'Maybe this person is in a similar situation as them!')

Bruh, what the fuck did they expect??

• • • • •

The Vice-prefects of all seven dorms lead the new students out of the Ceremony hall, leaving behind the five (sorry Mal. Also, Jamil's ass definitely dragged Kalim out with him.) dorm leaders with the headmaster to solve the issues of the sTiLl-uNdEr-tHe-efFecTs-oF-tHe-teLepoRtaTioN-sPelL new student who utterly refuses to cooperate with them.

Riddle is about to combust, Leona wants to go back to bed only to be dragged back by the headmaster—, Vil wants his beauty sleep but was dragged back by that petty bitch, Leona—, While Idia and Azul decided to stick around for their own personal reasons. ("He looks like an anime character—" "Brother, I don't think it's good to be taking pictures of someone without permission—" "AHH–! O-ORTHO?!")

While Yuu is.. hiding behind the mirror.

(The kinda-silver haired guy seems to be in his seventh ritual of making sure his face didn't get bruised from the solid right hook to the face he got.)

(Yuu would've felt bad for him if the guy didn't have such a shady smile on his face while he was massaging his punched jaw.)

Meanwhile...

"Oy human, it's me!"

Mammon knocked on MC's door, fully intent on bothering their sleep and cozying up on their bed again.

He waited for a few seconds, no answer.

He knocked again.

No answer.

... Look, it's not like The Great Mammon is worried or anything but this is strange..

The human always answers their door after a knock or two even if it's the middle of the night.

... Dammit.

Mammon is full of grumbles as he consciously sharpens his senses, tryna sense his the human.

They better not be ignoring him or he'll–

Wait.

What? W- wait a second..

• • • •

The quietness of the night in the House of Lamentation vanished as the sound of a door being busted down rang out.

It's other residents could barely even register the sound before a shout rang out. A shout that sent dread right into their cores.

"MC?!"

← Pr. 1 | Chapter List | Prologue 3 →

'What the?! Why can't I summon them??'

Elae: Hehe~ I'm back with some food~

Thanks for reading this far, I hope you enjoyed this chapter😊

Btw, do y'all want Yuu to be a love interest?

How do I tag ppl??

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obswd #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphagor x reader #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me mephisto x mc #obey me solomon x reader #obey me simeon x reader #obey me thirteen x reader #crossover #twst x obey me #twst x reader #obey me x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #polyamory #reader is a badass #obey me raphael x reader

[i984]

Not So Peachy of a Trick | Part 3

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Warnings|: Afraid of commitment! Wednesday Addams, reader was under the impression of one thing, Wednesday never elaborates the misunderstanding until now, lame-ass guy trying to make moves, Jealous! Wednesday Addams.

|Summary|: Your whole entire relationship with Wednesday Addams is apparently a lie.

|Word count|: 1.1k words

|A/n|: This is a part 3 to "Sweet Words Make a Lovely Shade" (check link in reply for my masterlist)! Reblog and like if you enjoy!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Dying.

That's what you feel like doing right now.

A lame-ass guy is sitting on what would usually be Wednesday's seat at Weathervane's sofa booth. And what makes it even worse? He's talking- no, flirting with you, you're pretty sure, and your apparently not-girlfriend is not here to save you. 

Your mind travels back to the implausible turn of events unfolding earlier that evening as you sip your coffee and nod your head, smiling politely at the man's poor attempt at a joke.

"What. The. Actual. Friggin. Sheet. IS HAPPENING HERE?" 

You quickly push yourself off Wednesday when the blonde's booming voice rings through the entire dormitory to hear. 

"I believe you have eyes to see what had happened, Enid." Wednesday's tone sounds calm and collected—like she hasn't just taken all the air out of your lungs from the intensity of her kiss—and you can practically hear her best friend who had witnessed everything squeal and jump in excitement; hardwood floor squeaking in her wake. 

"Oh my god, tell me everything!" Enid ran and sprawled her figure across your bed as she continued, "I know you guys have like a thing going on, but I didn't expect it to go so far as to flash me with a passionate make-out session," and you can hear the mix of curiosity and nausea etched in her voice.

You groan as you bury your head in your arms, face heating up because suddenly the room feels abnormally hot. 

"She humiliated me with compliments a few days ago," Wednesday answers the werewolf's request, "in front of everybody else unfortunate enough to be at an earshot distance from us—which wouldn't be too hard with the incessantly loud voice—so I had to make sure payback hurts."

"Like a bitch?" Enid wiggles her eyebrows, voice teasing.

"Sure," Wednesday replies flatly. 

You raise your head to look at the raven-haired girl, face grimacing in betrayal. "That's it? That's why you agreed to make-out with me? To get back at me?" your breathing quickens as you process Wednesday's words. 

"How far did you plan all this? Is that why you even proposed this whole study date thing?" 

"Precisely." 

You widen your eyes at Wednesday's reply, and at that moment, you want nothing more than to sink into the bottom of the ocean; that way, you at least wouldn't have to deal with the embarrassment of even being in the same room with her.

And Enid. Oh god, Enid knows. She'd seen the whole thing, and you're sure everyone else in this academy would know all the deeds by tomorrow morning. 

A meek "...why?" is all you can let out, heart beating wildly against your chest as you feel like you're about to explode. 

"Because I didn't come here to lose," came Wednesday's reply, and you were about to complain before she added the sentence that would be the bane of your existence, "and this isn't a date."

"What?" you snapped your head in Wednesday's direction, sitting straighter in your seat. 

"This isn't a date," Wednesday said impassively, "I simply executed my fool-proof strategy, and it was a resounding success."

"But you are dating, right?" Enid finally cuts in. There's a direness in her voice as you see one of her eyebrows raised in half-concern. 

You scoffed at the werewolf's silly question. "Of course, we are-"

"No. We aren't," Wednesday cuts in.

Your mouth gaped at the absurdity of her words.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, what do you mean you're not dating each other?" Enid jumped off the bed and grabbed Wednesday by the shoulders, face contorting in shock.

"Yeah, what do you mean we're not dating?" Your voice raised as you spoke, "You just shoved your tongue down my throat like 5 minutes ago- Don't you dare say we're not dating-"

The aggression and frustration are evident in your voice, and even the densest person on the planet would recognize the scrunched-up, hurt look on your face. Is Wednesday gaslighting you?

"As I said. We're not dating. I just put my strategy-

"-into action? Yeah, is that what you wanted to say? Is that it? Am I just a pawn on your chessboard? Some amusing game you play when you get bored?"

You stood up as you choked out your next words, "What even is all this, Wens? Am I just a joke to you? I know that we never made it official or something like that, but I thought we had something going on. Something special, even."

You held back a tear as you waited for Wednesday's response. There came none. She only sits there with her jaw clenched, as if you're being childish and acting pathetic.

"But I guess we're nothing special, huh?" your inquiry fell on deaf ears, "Heck, there wasn't even a 'we' to begin with." 

You bitterly chuckled as you tore your eyes away, catching a glimpse of Enid's sorry face. Quickly grabbing your stuff from the desk, you turned your back away from the two best friends and walked to your door, only stopping briefly to mutter a quick "See you around, Addams," before slamming the door after you.

And just like that, you were alone once again.

"-your number?" You snap back into reality at the sudden raising in the voice of the man talking to you. You look down to hide your exasperated look and take a deep breath before asking him to repeat his question.

"Yeah, can I get your number? I think you're cute and I'd love to get to know you," the stranger says as he leans forward in your direction; eyes looking expectantly at you.

You sigh. You haven't even responded to a single thing the guy has said in the past 15 minutes; your mind is too busy sulking at the sour memory.

Is this what you look like all the time you've spent with Wednesday? Maybe this is what it feels like for her; uninterested and slightly annoyed that you haven't gotten the hint and back off. 

You take another sip of your coffee. 

It tastes bitter.

Grabbing a tissue paper and a pen from your coat, you write a string of random numbers to get him off your back. 

What you had missed was the ice-cold stare of a familiar figure watching your every movement intently the entire time. You also missed the doorbell brutishly chiming when you handed the tissue paper to the man.

Next thing you know, your hand is yanked until you're forced to stand up from the sofa booth, a possessive arm snaking around the side of your waist, pulling your bodies flush together.

You don't have to look over to see who the intruder is; the familiar cold fingers on your skin and the seething rage emitting from the person beside you give away the identity.

At that moment, you only had one thought in your mind;

Wednesday Friday Addams is a frickin' menace.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday series #wednesday x you #wednesday addams edit #wednesday edit #wednesday #fanfic #fluff #my story #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday addams x gn reader

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Sweatpants (Frank's version) ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: this is just an exploration in thirst (and smut) similar to the blurb I wrote for Matt, about slutty grey sweatpants. I want to lick him.

A very sweaty man, oral sex (m and f), come eating. E. Also, PLEASE, PLEASE reblog if you enjoyed, likes are nice, comments even better! There is NO algorithm on Tumblr, reblogs are how things are found on your dash! Thank you so much 💕

This isn't fair.

Yeah, it's hot, but it still isn't fair.

You'd long abandoned any notion of working out while you were at Fogwell’s tonight, Frank unknowingly saw to that. Your kettlebells lay off to the side, long forgotten. Your initial warm up would never have gotten you as heated inside as you are now, seeing what you're seeing.

Those goddamn grey sweats he's wearing are barely hanging on to his hips. You're sure they're actually screaming out to you for help.

Take us off, they seem to be whispering. You're honestly surprised they haven't yet fallen down of their own accord with the way he's been swiping hard at the punchbag for the last half-hour.

He performs the same routine over and over, several powerful jabs, hooks and uppercuts and then he'll back off, doing a little lap of the ring to reset himself. And every time you get a glorious view of his bare upper body, the way the sweat glows on his taut pectoral muscles, the way his abs flex as he moves, the gorgeous curve of his stomach, framed by the defined V lines leading your gaze all the way down from his swaggering hips as he strides past you.

Good God. His ass looks amazing too.

When he bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet you can't help notice something else bouncing up against the slack fabric of those fucking ridiculous sweats of his…

Your mouth is practically hanging wide open now. You blindly reach for the bottle of water next to you to quench your thirst, knocking it over and spilling some in the process.

It's just not fair.

He must know. He must. He's gotta know what all this is doing to you, how can he not?!

Your eyes lock onto an innocent bead of sweat, following as it slowly trails its merry way down his heaving body to the sweatband of his pants, soaking into the soft fabric where you know it'll leave that musky scent you just want nothing more than to bury your nose in.

You bite down so hard on your bottom lip you're beginning to wear a divot into it.

It's insane. They're slung so criminally low on his hips that you can almost see where his happy trail is leading, the dark fuzz drawing your eyes down again toward-

“You alright?”

That gruff, grizzled voice of his knocks you out of your reverie. Are you?

You resemble a doped up kitty that's just returned from the vet, your eyes wide, dark, and spaced out as he's suddenly very close to you right in front of your face. He's pulling off his hand wraps and leaning across to grab some water from the bag that's lying open on the bench next to you.

He smells so good.

You can feel the heat from his worked muscles radiating off him, can almost taste the fresh sweat off him, absently licking your lips again as you watch him run a hand up over his damp forehead and through his hair.

“Y-yeah?” When you eventually reply he cracks a smile that definitely ruins your panties, as if they weren't ruined already.

“Okay. M'gonna hit the shower.”

Oh

Oh no.

No no no, you can't have that.

“W-wait!” You stutter out, and you're on your feet, somehow the keys to the gym that Matt had left with you are grasped in your hand, and in a blur you're locking the door, pulling down all the blinds and you've got your fingers splayed over his chest trying to push Frank down onto the mat on the floor.

“Whoa, okay mama. It's like that is it?” Frank huffs out a chuckle but he goes exactly where you want him to, still catching his breath as you straddle his hips.

“...you're evil,” you murmur, tracing your fingertips over and around his nipples and watching how the muscles under your nails twitch as you draw them down to your target.

Frank looks up at you with that confused puppy expression with his brows almost crashing into each other that always melts your heart, but this time it's just making you even more determined.

“Evil huh? Shit. What have I done now?”

“Driving me crazy…”

“C'mon sweetheart, you gotta give me a clue or somethin’.”

You pull teasingly at the damp elastic waistband of his pants, “These.” you muse, letting it snap back against his skin then lowering yourself to lick slowly along the deep groove at his hip. Your eyes shut as you finally get the sweaty, musky taste of your man on your tongue. A soft grunt leaves him as he cranes his neck to watch, his dick already showing interest too as your mouth makes it way lower. He reaches down, his hand just resting on your shoulder, fingers tapping lightly to get your attention.

“H-hey darlin’, not that I don't appreciate it but… we doin’ this? Here? Now?” Frank asks with a very slight nervousness. It's freaking adorable.

You look up at him through your eyelashes knowing he'll fold soon enough. “Yeah we're doing this here and now, Frankie. I already told you - you're driving me crazy, and you were distracting me so much that I still need to workout.”

He smirks and you can see him start to get more comfortable with the idea of some naked shenanigans with you in Matt's gym.

“All because of these pants?” He asks.

“All because of those pants,” You reply, curling your fingertips around the waistband of them again. “along with the way you look like a giant snack in them.”

Frank scoffs, but lays his head back down and lifts his hips up as you tug at the ‘problematic’ pants to pull them down. Predictably, as discerned from your earlier observations, and much to your delight, he's gone commando today. You hum as his fully erect cock is freed, slapping against his stomach with a delicious smack.

“Fuck, Frank…’ you say, taking in the rare sight of him laying almost prone for you.

What to do…

“Hey princess, you're the boss.” He says perceptively, waiting so patiently for your lust-addled brain to decide whether you want to stuff your mouth or pussy with him.

It's a much easier decision than you thought, relishing in the familiar, quiet curses Frank is making as you start to work your way back up his thick, muscular legs, placing kisses wherever you want. When you reach his groin, you nose at the thatch of hair around the base of his cock, idly stroking and gently cupping his balls.

“Mm, I'm the boss.” You repeat back at him, smile sweetly as he grins at you.

“Yeah, that's right, oh shit-”

He makes a choked sound in the back of his throat and his cock twitches as you move your lips to the base, your tongue sneaking out to kitten lick his ball sac, gradually moving upwards, starting to trace along the thick vein that runs the salty length of his perfect dick.

You listen and are rewarded with the soft, low moan that comes from his throat when you keep going, the flat of your warm, wet tongue lapping underneath the head. He throbs again, a drop of precum beading and ready to leak from his slit.

“You're so good for me, Frankie.”

He's got those deep brown eyes trained hard on you, licking his lips, his chest rising with the deeper breaths he's drawing. They only increase as you wrap your fingers to grip around the base of him and then swipe and swirl your tongue to taste him. He moans, biting down his lip as you take him into your mouth, sealing your lips around his girth. Having him, the man the rest of the world only knows as the Punisher, his pleasure at your mercy, is maybe the most powerful feeling in the world. Or maybe that's when you have your own thighs wrapped around his head. It's a tricky one to answer.

“Fuuuck, sweetheart…” Frank hisses out, his hands self-restrained by his sides, “Mm, jesus christ!”

You hum around him as you pull your lips back to his tip before taking him as deep into your throat as you can manage, your hand working the rest of him. You repeat the motion, spit dripping down to his length and over your fingers helping your squeeze and twist, feeling the way he's almost shaking beneath you.

“God damn you're so good, so damn good to me baby.”

Your free hand switches between reaching up to dig your nails into the meat of his pectoral muscle and sliding down between his legs to gently tug and tease his balls. He groans loudly, you'd made a point in the past of making it known to him just how much hearing the sounds of his pleasure turns you on, and he had gradually rewarded you with more and more feedback.

You're almost entirely focused on him but now you can no longer ignore the incessant ache at your core. You're slick from almost an hour of getting yourself worked up at the sight of Frank boxing, still sucking and licking the length of his cock as you slip your hand into your leggings and under the soft fabric of your underwear. You moan around him as the pads of your fingertips slide over your clit, aware that Frank is propping himself up on his elbows to watch you.

“You want my mouth, mama? C'mon an get up here. Sit right here baby, let me take care of you.”

You release him temporarily to shuck off the clothes from your bottom half because you cannot refuse an offer like that.

He curls his arms around your bare thighs as soon as you straddle him facing towards his feet, pulling you straight down onto his hungry mouth without delay. You grind down to meet him as he laps at your glistening cunt, a wavering moan leaving your lips as you reach again for his rock hard, weeping red cock. You stretch your tongue out to lick and suck what you can, jerking him off as he devours your pussy like it's his last ever meal.

This was supposed to be all about him but as usual he's managed to flip the script and somehow make it all about you. You're hardly complaining, no. In fact you're riding Frank's face hard as his encouraging moans vibrate right through your core. He loves going down on you, could even say he lives for it, inviting you to sit right on his face almost every time you're intimate with each other.

Now that he's not snug in your throat he bends his knees and starts to thrust his hips up against the direction of your firm strokes, driven by the way you're grinding and rocking your own more quickly, completely covering his mouth and chin with a sheen of your arousal. You concentrate the tight circle of your forefinger and thumb just under the fat, wet head of his cock, twisting and squeezing up and over because you know that's what gets him panting and praising you. More salty pre trickles out and you eagerly lap it up.

You yelp as Frank thrusts his tongue as deep as he can inside you, fucking you with it before he nudges forward again, slurping and sucking at your puffy clit. The tightness and tension of your impending release is gathering pace as you hear how feral Frank sounds between your legs. You can barely keep a rhythm with either hips or hands but it doesn't seem to matter as you can tell he's as close as you are. You're half worried you'll smother him with the ferocity and strength with which he's holding you so close to him, as if he needs you to breathe.

Suddenly, the tension snaps, hard. His tongue making you cry out, your legs shaking underneath your wildly undulating hips as you climax, calling out his name repeatedly like a prayer, the sound reverberating around the gym. Your hand is barely moving on his cock but it's you quivering and moaning in ecstasy right on his face that sets him off. He's tapping his fingers against your hips in warning, as very quickly afterwards his own hips jerk up and with a muffled groan against your pulsing pussy, his cock spurts its creamy load. You catch some on your waiting tongue, the rest dribbling warmly on your fingers and down onto his tensing stomach and abs.

After a brief moment getting your bearings and breath back, you're both humming, satisfied, and softly laughing with each other. He supports you as you gingerly lift your leg over his head and turn yourself around to face him. He's licking his lips, the biggest smile on his gorgeously wrecked face, his eyes half-lidded as he pulls you down to him for a languid kiss, tasting each other on you as your tongues slide over one another. At the same time you're trying to find somewhere to place your come-covered hand so it doesn't go everywhere and you don't lose your balance.

“Mmm, okay you can't tell me that wasn't fun.” You say, and then your lips turn down as you remember something vital.

“Shit.”

Frank looks up at you, his expression one of concern. “What's wrong?”

“Urgh, Matt will know. He'll know even if we clean the mats and everything!” You groan again, wiping off your messy fingers on Frank's discarded sweatpants. “He won't let this go, we probably won't be allowed back in the gym!”

Frank just shrugs, a damn sight more relaxed now as he cleans himself off with them too.

“I'm pretty sure Murdock's done way worse in here. He aint that pure."

His lips curl into a grin. "Anyway, don't know ‘bout you, but I'll be puttin’ the blame on these pants. More trouble than they're worth, ain't that right, sweetheart?”

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle in sweatpants #smut

[juiceinpanties]

A Proper S'more

Pairing: Eddie Munson/afab!reader

Rating(s): E

Words: ~3k

Tags: smut!, humping, nipple play, semi-public sexual activity, drug use (just some pot), flirting through food, friends to lovers, established friendship

Summary: Your best friend Eddie Munson invites you camping, and while you're reluctant at first, you realize this might be just the chance you need to finally show him how you feel.

Notes: I was rage-inspired by the TERRIBLE take on s'mores they recently featured on Great British Bake-Off. Pretty sure this is the first time the British have inspired hot, sexy smut. Thanks as always to @tonybourdain for her invaluable help as beta, idea bouncer-off-ofer, and just all around wonderful and amazing human.

This is meant as a one-shot, but if y'all want I can add more.

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated and PLEASE reblog if you can! It's how posts spread around here; likes are appreciated, but they do nothing to boost interaction. :)

part 1 | part 2

In case you wanna read on Ao3 instead

“Camping?” You blink at him, confused. “Eddie, you hate camping.”

He scowls and kicks at the ground. “Yeah, I do, but Henderson and his friends wanna go, but their parents want some older kids to go to make sure they don’t set the woods on fire or something.”

You lift a brow, struggling not to grin. “And they nominated you?”

He smirks a little. “Dustin’s mom loves me.”

“Uh huh, I bet.” He's weirdly popular with moms, even your own. You'd think the whole metalhead thing would be a turn off, but they seem to like it.

It works for you, so maybe you shouldn't be that surprised.

“Look, Nancy and Steve are going, but I don’t wanna third wheel it. They’ll be makin’ goo goo eyes at each other all night.” He rolls his own eyes, then gives you puppy face. “Pllleaaase? I’ll be your best friend!”

“You’re already my best friend, doofus.” You sigh. “But fine. I’ll go. Anything to get out of a weekend with my parents’ passive-aggressive bullshit.”

“Fuck yeah!” He lifts your hand so he can high five you (you’re known to leave him hanging) and spends a few seconds jumping around before he comes back to you. “Okay, so, Saturday morning we’re meeting at the lake and then hiking to the campsite. It’s not too far, but far enough to feel like the wilderness. Should I pick you up?”

“Sure,” you say, amused by his excitement. “Anything special I should bring? Besides the obvious.”

“Junk food.”

“You don’t have that covered?”

He shrugs. “I’ll bring some stuff, but I like the way your mind works, snack-wise. That snack mix you brought at Christmas? Blew my fucking mind.”

“My aunt makes that, so I won’t be bringing it, but I’ll come with something good. Now we both have class, and you can’t cut again. I’ll see you after for Hellfire.” You say your goodbyes and head to class.

Maybe camping with Eddie Munson and a band of young miscreants isn't a great idea. The kids you're not worried about, but Eddie? Alone in the dark woods with Eddie? Okay, not alone, but...

What if Nancy and Steve decide to share a tent? Will you be sharing with Eddie? Maybe it's a sign: this is the time to finally make your move. You can roll over in your little shared tent and kiss him and slide your hand down his shorts and—okay, whoa, you're at school. Save thoughts like that for tonight, in bed, by yourself.

Today, math class. Saturday, possibly finally making a move on your best friend.

Eddie picks you up bright and early Saturday morning, and he's more or less dressed for hiking: that is, boots instead of his usual Reeboks, and his long hair is pulled back with one of his many bandanas. He also left his bigger rings at home, which makes him look almost naked.

"Hey!" he says. "Lookin' good, Camper Bob!"

You roll your eyes. "Such a dweeb," you say, but with affection. You're wearing a t shirt and jean shorts, plus hiking boots and a jean jacket. It'll be much cooler tonight, but for now it's warm, and hiking in jeans is always a mistake.

He helps you stow your pack in the back, then you hop in and you're off.

Everyone's already at the lake when you get there, and it's chaos. How can so few people make so much noise?! You give Eddie a Look, and he wades in.

"Alright, alright! Pay attention! Boy Scout Steve is leading this dog and pony show, so listen to him and don't be little shits! We're here to enjoy nature, and you can't do that if you can't keep the volume below a dull roar. So shut the fuck up for 5 minutes and look around!"

You muffle a giggle behind your hand and share a grin with Nancy. Steve is rolling his eyes and grimacing, but he loves this shit. He takes his place at the front of the group and gets everyone organized for the hike. Finally, after what feels like forever, you set off into the woods.

You hike until mid-afternoon, and by the time you stop everyone's tired and cranky. Steve gets people setting up tents and digging pits for fires while you, Eddie, and Nancy organize the food. There are enough hot dogs to feed an army, plenty of chips, baked beans (gross), and...

"Fuck yeah, s'mores!" Eddie says.

"Thought you'd like that," you say. You add another bag of marshmallows to the pile and his grin widens.

"You know, that'll go perfectly with this," he says and pulls a baggie from his jacket pocket.

Nancy's eyes widen a little. "We can't give that to the kids!"

Eddie makes a face. "I don't give kids drugs, Nance. It's for us! The more-or-less grownups."

"I'm in," you say with a shrug. "I need it after today."

"Knew I could count on you, pumpkin patch."

The two of you have this old running joke in your friendship: you are firm in your belief that he's actually a human Muppet, and nickname him accordingly. As a sort of payback (he has a rep to maintain, and "human Muppet" is not it) he comes up with the weirdest, most random shit he can think of to call you. This is a new one.

"What does that mean?" you say.

He shrugs and stuffs the bag away. "I dunno. It's fall. Pumpkins. It made sense in my head!"

"Weird things make sense in your head, Grove."

"That's the truth," he says with an unbothered grin. "Lemme go help Steve with the fire."

It's dark. Everyone's fed. The kids are around the fire telling scary stories. Eddie gives you a subtle nod and the four of you wander off to sample his product.

"This is probably a terrible idea," Steve says as he puffs and coughs, then passes the joint to Nancy. "We're responsible for these kids!"

"They're 14, Steve, not 6," Nancy says. She takes a delicate puff before handing it to you.

"They seem pretty good at handling themselves," Eddie says. The night's turned chilly, especially away from the fire, and he has his arm thrown around you in easy camaraderie. He's gained a little weight recently; still skinny, but not a rail; and it looks good on him. Feels good too, you note as you lean into him.

He takes the joint from you and inhales deeply before handing it off to Steve. He nuzzles your hair. It smells like wood smoke and leaves and under that, your usual shampoo. He tries to keep his eyes off your bare legs, but it's a struggle. "Not so bad, huh? Camping?"

You look up at him with a little smile. "I could learn to like it. Maybe."

You continue passing the joint around until it's nearly gone. Eddie carefully puts it out and adds it to the Sucrets tin he carries, then you head back toward the group. He grabs your hand and pulls you close. "C'mon, it's s'mores time," he says.

"Oh god I could murder a s'more!"

"Did someone say s'mores?" Dustin says.

"Grab sticks," Steve tells them. "It's time for marshmallows!"

He tosses the bags to Nancy and they all scatter to find roasting sticks. Soon you're back, stick in hand, eager for a roasted marshmallow-and-chocolate treat.

Nancy hands you a couple of marshmallows and you drop down onto a rock next to Eddie. "Burnt or bust," you tell him, and thrust your marshmallow-laden stick into the fire.

He laughs and does the same. Your marshmallows catch fire at the same time and you quickly pull yours out to blow out the flame. It's black and brown on the outside, oozy on the inside, and when you smash it between the chocolate and graham cracker, it goes everywhere.

"Oop!" You hastily lick trailing bits of marshmallow off your fingers and down your wrist, and when you look up Eddie's eyeing you, his own stick forgotten in his hand. "What?" you say.

"Nothing." He dips his head back to assembling his s'more. "Nope, nothing at all."

You lift a brow. That was...interesting. You aren't blind: you know Eddie checks you out from time to time. Or at least you hope so, but sometimes you think it's just wishful thinking. That clearly wasn't. Apparently sucking sticky sweet mess off your fingers is the way to his heart. Or at least his boner.

You squish your s'more together and take a bite, and of course chocolate smears on your lips and all over your fingers. You make a little noise of protest and start to suck your fingers clean again, and when you look over Eddie once again can't take his eyes off of you.

"Munson," you say with a little grin. "Are you going to stare or help?"

"Help?" he says, his voice breaking a little. "Help with what?"

"The mess I'm making. And look!" You point at his little marshmallow sandwich. Chocolate is dripping onto the back of his hand. "Silly," you say. You lean in and carefully lick the chocolate off his skin.

He freezes. You licked him. With your tongue. Now you're sucking more chocolate and marshmallow of your hands and fingers, all while looking right at him. Marshmallow. Long, melted strings of white that ooze just like—

No! Nope. No. He is NOT going to think of you and come in the same sentence. Your little pink tongue darting out over your full pink lips, licking the white off with a happy noise that he feels right in the cock.

He carefully sets his own uneaten s'more aside and grabs you. "C'mere," he says, voice rough.

"Eddie—!"

He pulls you into the woods, away from the noise of the kids and the heat of the fire, and pushes you against a tree. You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and he looks down with a frown of concentration between his brows.

"You're kinda evil," he says.

"What the hell are you doing?" you breathe. Your heart is pounding, your cheeks flushed, and you still have marshmallow and chocolate on your fingers.

As though reading your mind, he grabs one of your hands and carefully sucks a finger into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it, licking and sucking every bit of sweet off your skin, and you feel your knees go weak. You let out a soft moan and lean against the tree to support you.

He does the same thing to each finger and even your thumb, and by the time he's through you're panting and squirming. He rubs his thumb across your lower lip, tugging it a bit, and smiles at you. "Maybe I should get you back to camp," he murmurs. "You look a little...out of it."

"Oh shut up," you breathe. You grab his shirt and pull him in for a kiss.

His hand slips around to the small of your back while the other grips your bare thigh below your shorts. Your arms go around his neck and you're biting and sucking his full, gorgeous lips. "Eddie," you breathe. "Is this why you brought me camping?"

"What, to make out in the woods?" He shrugs a little. "No, but it's a really nice bonus."

You laugh as he kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and swirling against yours. He presses his hips into you and you slide your knee up against his thighs.

"Mmmm what's that?" you whisper. "A roasting stick in your pocket?"

"Not exactly," he says. He rocks against you just right, so that the bulge of his erection rubs you through all your layers of clothing. You bite down on your lip to muffle a whimper and he kisses you again, harder. "Goddamn I've wanted you forever, baby. To touch you and taste you and make you moan my name."

He rubs his thumb over your lip again. You're looking up at him with big, dazed eyes, pupils blown and mouth soft and swollen. He slowly reaches down to unzip your shorts. "You can stop me," he says.

You shake your head. "Don't stop, Eddie," you breathe. "I've wanted you too. I never—I was afraid to say anything, but—please?"

He kisses you hard and shoves your shorts down to your ankles. You kick them away as he drops to his knees and kisses your thighs. He bites. Sucks. You bury both hands in his hair and try to keep breathing.

He kisses his way up your body, completely ignoring your panties, and pushes your shirt up. He tugs the cups of your bra down and spends ages licking and sucking your nipples. He switches back and forth between them until they're both swollen and aching and you're wiggling against the tree.

"Eddie, please!"

"Please what, princess?" he murmurs, lashing his tongue back and forth across your nipple while he squeezes your tits with both hands. "Tell me what you want."

"My pussy! Please!" you gasp. "I'm so wet! I need you!"

"Fuck!" he rasps. He kisses your tummy. "Whatever you need, baby." He grips your hips and kisses just above your panties. Your head falls back on a quiet moan, but the tree's closer than you thought.

"Ow!" you say, sharply.

"Babe?" He jumps to his feet, but it's too fast. He reaches out to grab you, but you're a little dizzy from smacking your head, and you both end up tumbling to the forest floor.

You lie there a moment sprawled out on top of him, shorts off, tits out, and then you start to giggle. He barks out a laugh and soon you're both laughing so hard you can barely breathe. You move a little, your legs falling to either side of his hips so that you're straddling him, and you're both still laughing and gasping.

You rock your hips, and the next breath he sucks in is entirely different. "Babe—"

"Shhh. I can feel you, Eddie. Mmmmm you're so hard for me!"

He gets over his surprise quickly and grabs your hips again, this time to guide you as you move. "Yeah, princess. All for you. I swear to god every erection I've had for the last two years has been for you." He laughs. "And there've been a lot of 'em."

"Mmmm bad boy," you breathe. You rest your hands on his chest and grind against his erection. The rough material of his jeans makes your panties slip and slide along your dripping slit just right.

"Fuck, baby, that feels so fucking good! Don't stop!"

You lean down to kiss him, changing the angle just right, and he rubs his hands over your ass. You love the feel of his guitar callouses, how soft his palms are. "Eddie!" you gasp against his mouth. "God, Eddie, I'm so wet!"

He groans. "For me, princess? Is that all for me?"

"Uh huh, every drop! Fuck, I need—!" You rock faster, grind against him harder. You can't believe you're just out in the woods humping Eddie Munson's erection through his jeans. You feel wanton and incredible and you know you're close.

"Take what you need, angel," he breathes. "Anything you need. You gonna come, baby?"

"Uh huh!" you whimper. "Oh god Eddie oh fuck!"

"Good girl, fuck, that's so hot, you're so fuckin' hot! Take it, baby, come for me!" he mumbles in your ear, his breath hot and his words slurred by his own need for you.

"Eddie!!" you cry, a little louder than you intended, and the orgasm takes you. He holds you down against him while he bucks his hips to drive you higher and higher.

"Good girl," he says, almost a moan. "Good girl!"

You finally start to come down from it and fall against his chest. He kisses your temple, runs his hands through your hair. You lift your head to give him a long, easy kiss. "Your turn," you murmur.

"Fuck!" he gasps, and you're just starting to work your way down when you hear a familiar voice echoing through the woods.

Calling your name. Then, "Eddie!"

Your eyes widen. "Oh fuck!" You scramble to your feet and cast around for your shorts. Your panties are soaked and sticking to you, but there's not much you can do about it.

Eddie jumps up as the voice gets closer and helps you fix your bra and top, tug your shorts on and zip them up. You're barely decent when the flashlights bob into view and Steve and Dustin appear in the little clearing.

"Shit, there you are," Steve says. "We thought you got lost."

"Nope!" you say. You run both hands through your mussed hair. "No, just ate a bit too much. Needed some fresh air away from the fire."

"Dude!" Dustin says. He has his light trained on Eddie's crotch. Luckily his erection has gone down, but... "Did you piss yourself?!" he says around barely-contained laughter.

"What?!" He glances down and sees the big wet spot you left on his jeans. You feel your face catch fire.

"You did! You pissed yourself! I gotta tell everybody!"

"I didn't piss myself, Henderson!" Eddie says. "I spilled my flask."

Dustin shines the light in Eddie's face, and he winces away from it. "You brought alcohol and drugs on a camping trip with minors? Edward Munson!"

"How did you know about the drugs?!" Eddie says.

Dustin shrugs. "I've got a nose, dude."

"Okay, okay," Steve says. "Let's get back. You feeling better?" he says to you.

You glance at Eddie. "Much!" you say. "Eddie?"

"Feelin' great," he mumbles. "Hate that I spilled my flask."

Dustin just rolls his eyes and turns back toward camp. You fall in next to him while Steve and Eddie bring up the rear.

Steve nudges him. "You really spill your flask?" he mutters.

"Left my flask at home," Eddie says. "But I had to think of somethin'!"

"Uh huh." Steve's trying not to laugh. "That you or her?"

Eddie doesn't say anything, just looks away with a shrug. "I don't kiss and tell, man. But." He frowns and carefully adjusts himself. "It ain't me."

Steve muffles a bark of laughter in the crook of his elbow. "Okay then. Nancy owes me ten bucks."

"What?!"

"We had a bet that you two would hook up on this trip. I said yeah, she said no. I knew I'd win."

"Jesus," Eddie says, but he's struggling not to grin. He got the girl! For once in his life. You glance back at him with a soft, pretty smile, and his grin breaks through.

Yeah, he thinks he could probably get used to camping too.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction #meg wrote this #stfic #emfic

[testudoaubrei-blog]

So being in both the she Ra and tLT fandoms I definitely see a lot of posts about religious trauma. Which, fair. But Tasmin (Edit: Tasmyn whoa I am dumb) Muir is a practicing Catholic and Nate Stevenson is an atheist who was raised Calvinist. And in addition to tLT being arguably more in the tradition of Very Gay, very subversive Catholic art rather than a more straightforward account of trauma written by someone now 'on the outside' there is also the theological specificity to think about.

She Ra isn't just about the psychological harms of Christianity or Evangelicalism but -Calvinism specifically-. This is true of a lot of Nate's work. The rejection of total depravity in Catra's redemption of herself, of a 'good' elect and 'bad' damned in the shows consistent ambiguities/humanization of everyone, and the shows rejection of (pre)destiny in Adora and Catra's arcs are extremely anti Calvinist. And of course Horde Prime claims to be a Calvinist God (but he isn't, this acting as a proxy for the -people- who claim their abuses and oppressions are the will of God - there is no actual deity on Nate's universe, only people).

But I have no idea what is going on, religiously, in the Locked Tomb. However I suspect that while Nate, raised Calvinist, is interested in the terror of damnation, Tasmin (EDIT: Tasmyn) Muir might be exploring much more ambivalent Catholic ideas of Purgation and of course, the Harrowing of Hell. TBH while I adore Nate's cartoon theological critique I am hoping Muir gives us some Man Who Was Thursday theological what the fuckery.

Note: if you want to read more about Catra and Calvinism here is one of the most batshit posts I have written on this website. (Note this was written before Nate transitioned to Nate so it uses his former name and both genders of pronouns since that was his preference at time of writing). I treat my old posts like articles so I don't keep them continuously up to date but linking to anything that doesn't say Nate still feels odd.

#the locked tomb #harrow the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #john gaius #she ra spop #spop #nate stevenson #tasmin Muir

[jen-with-a-pen]

ALL TIED UP - FOUR

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: A look into the House of Sigma Beta Theta (ΣBΘ). Annoyed with the vague hinting at the party on Friday, Steve confronts Clint and stands up for once– and it only slightly backfires.

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 1386

warnings: cursing, food mention, meeting the rest of the brothers, dudebro Clint, fuckboy Tony, singling out/exclusion, power dynamics, Steve's just trying to make it through the day man

a/n: we get to meet the rest of the fraternity! so sorry it's been a while. the holidays, seasonal depression, and work happened and i didn't really have the motivation to write for steve again until recently. hope yall like it ❤ p.s. thank you all SO SO much again on the continuing love for filthy impetuous souls. it means the world ❤

This chapter was not beta'd by anyone else. All mistakes in this chapter are my own.

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥ Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Wednesday.

Dribbles of cereal milk splash onto the kitchen table as Steve switches between eating breakfast, drafting a perfect-but-also-not-too-perfect text to his barista, and reading the newspaper. The newspaper thing makes him feel like an old fucking geezer, but it reminds him of mornings with his Ma back home. He misses her.

He makes a mental note to call her this weekend. 

Munching on another spoonful, he nearly chokes at the sound of slow, calculated footsteps descending the stairs. Normally he’s the only one home on Wednesday mornings. Normally he can sit in comfortable silence in the kitchen without needing to sneak around the fucking house. However, this specific Wednesday morning was not normal– all the guys were hungover from the party the night before. Upon realization, Steve reluctantly swallows the half-chewed gob of Cheerios. It lands in his stomach like a rock as he frantically looks about the scene on the table; he can’t decide fast enough whether to hide the newspaper, or his phone– or himself– before whomever is around the corner sees him outside his bedroom, outside his element. 

Tony Stark is the first to stride into the kitchen. Jet-black hair slicked back with yesterday's pomade complimented by a face riddled with stubble. He’s a mismatched mess of a worn Yankees jersey, khakis, and the newest Nikes, all of which are covered by the stench of luxury cologne and seven types of vodka. Even with designer sunglasses on, he winces at the fluorescent kitchen lights while dragging his feet straight to the coffee pot. 

"’Sup, Rogers." 

As far as they are into the semester, it’s the first time Tony directly acknowledges Steve in a way that isn't sarcastic or followed by a snooty comment under his breath. Steve quietly tips his chin to Tony out of politeness. From his perch at the kitchen table, he watches Tony pour a mug of coffee before slyly taking a mini Fireball out of his shirt pocket, dumping it into the hot liquid. He stirs his concoction with a finger, tasting it with a faint grimace before sipping. 

To each their own, Steve thinks. 

"Are you really reading the fuckin' newspaper, old timer?" Tony remarks behind his mug. Last night’s party and lack of proper hydration makes his voice raspy, deeper than usual. Steve shrugs, nodding with a faint 'yeah' in response. Steve sips his protein shake.

Tony sniffs a laugh. "Soon enough, you'll be on it." 

Another slurp. 

"What?" Steve chokes, a chunk of unmixed protein powder lodging itself in his esophagus.

"Hm. Nothin'." 

“No, what did you–”

"Whoa! Sure is a party in here," Clint Barton jokes upon entering the kitchen, following in Tony's footsteps to the coffee maker. Compared to Tony, Clint takes his hangovers in full stride. It figures, too; the guy is a kinesiology-finance major with a nutritionist-business major of a girlfriend. Eyes full of light and mischief, hair already stylishly spiked even though he just rolled out of bed, he’s already in his usual workout shirt and sweatpants. Clint whistles to himself, taking a large tub of protein powder off the top of the fridge before fixing a shaker of protein coffee. Tony steps out of the way to the other side of the kitchen to lean against the stove, watching, lurking. 

"Not until you got here, Clint," Steve attempts. Clint doesn't turn around until he's shaking his protein shaker. Loudly. 

"You say sumn'?" He asks, smirking when Steve begins to shake his head and go back to his phone. 

"Steven, I kid, I kid.”

Steve gives a tight-lipped smile, looking down at his soggy Cheerios. The knot in his chest tightens. The milk smells sour.

“Hey, Steve.”

Steve looks up, locking eyes with Clint. He swallows, hands gripping the newspaper and crumpling the comics section– his favorite. 

“You have fun last night?” Clint asks, dropping more powdered supplements into his shaker. 

“Y-Yeah, it was fun.” 

“You see any cute honeys you like?” Clint waggles his brow. 

Steve’s face burns. His eyes dart to Tony, who’s hiding a knowing smirk behind his coffee mug. 

“I think, yeah,” he shrugs. 

Clint laughs, lips morphing into a knowing, dark grin. “Well if you think they were cute last night, just wait ‘til Friday. You’ll believe it, then.”

Another vague nod to Friday. Steve’s brow furrows, leaning forward in his chair. “What do you mean by that?” 

Clint blinks, surprised at the confrontation, and sets his shaker down on the counter before approaching the kitchen table, hands slamming into the wood. Steve’s cereal sloshes, splashing a bit onto the screen of his phone. 

“You wanna ask me that again, Steven?” Clint hisses with a challenging smirk. “Go ahead, y’know I can’t hear real well. I didn’t hear ya the first time.” He leans in with a hand cupped to his ear and a mocking face. “What’s that? Huh?”

“Nothin’,” Steve mumbles. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” Steve’s knuckles are white.

“Sorry! Come again?” Clint’s smirk grows wider the further he leans in. 

Steve stands abruptly, slamming his own palms onto the table. “I said–!”

“You said what?”

Steve and Clint turn to the direction of Bucky’s voice as it drifts into the kitchen before he and Sam do. Hands pocketed, brow raised, ponytail bobbing, Bucky looks sternly between Steve and Clint. Sam mirrors him with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. Steve straightens instantly; Clint follows suit, stretching a hand out to Sam to exchange high fives. Steve’s eye twitches.

“Hm?” Bucky questions, stopping in the middle of the kitchen. He looks from Tony– who just nurses his coffee, checking stocks on his phone– to Clint– who lifts his hands in defense, acting confused– and finally to Steve– who sets his jaw, trying his best to level his breathing and frustration. 

Steve swallows, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t say anything.” He tries to keep his tone level, convincing. Bucky nods, gaze shifting to Clint. 

“Nothin’, boss, y’know me.” Clint’s lips twitch along with his brow. 

Bucky’s eyes dart between them before he turns back to Sam, who leans against the fridge with crossed arms. Steve locks eyes with him for a second longer before he turns to Bucky and shrugs. The moment hangs in the air, silent and tense, like every other time all five of them are alone in the same room. Steve’s always the one that feels the tension, though. 

“As you were,” Bucky concludes. The kitchen reverts back to normal as everyone resumes the start to their days. Steve stands idly by, looking down at his milk-coated paper and phone, his breakfast soggy and ruined. He sighs and begins to clean up. Before he leaves the kitchen, Bucky grabs his arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Forgot to ask. You inviting anyone?” 

Steve responds with a confused look.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “To the party, Stevie,” he clarifies, flashing a smile differing from his usual, knowing smirk. 

Steve hesitates, looking to Sam then back to Bucky. “Kinda, yeah,” he shrugs. All eyes are on him and the kitchen stills once again. Bucky’s brow rockets up his forehead.

“Yeah? Who?”

Steve’s Adam's apple bobs. “Uh, just–just a friend. From class.”

“But who?” Bucky’s grip on Steve’s arm tightens. 

“She’s just a–” Steve immediately bites his tongue. It's too late. 

“She? You have a she-friend?” Clint asks incredulously. Even Tony looks at Steve from behind his lowered sunglasses. All eyes are on the blond whose eyes dart around helplessly. 

“I–Wh–She’s just a friend from class, that’s it,” Steve defends, heat pooling in his cheeks as he stares pointedly into Bucky’s cool blues. Bucky holds him for a second more before releasing his arm, dusting off Steve’s shoulders, smiling. 

“We’ll make sure to give her a real warm welcome, then,” Bucky winks. 

Unnerved, Steve quickly makes his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room while mixed conversations from the kitchen chase after him. He doesn’t bother listening. Once he enters his room, he triple checks the locks on the door before slouching into his secondhand office chair. Popping in earbuds, he hits play on the album he fell asleep to the night prior as his fingers fly over his phone’s keyboard, coming to a stop when the adrenaline does. 

He reads over the text, chewing his lip, and hits send.

Hey, it’s Steve

who?

Meathead.

oh i know just wanted to hear u say it

Don’t you mean see it?

damn. got me there

nice first attempt at texting btw. solid 8/10, good introduction

8/10??

What can a guy do to earn a 10/10?

hmm

come by the cafe later and try a new drink i made ;)

Deal.

#All Tied Up #All Tied Up Series #Big Red Bow Series #Steve Rogers POV #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #modern steve rogers #artist steve rogers #college!au #modern!au #steve rogers series #slowburn #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fic #jen writes #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans series #captain america x reader #fluff #angst

[max1461]

Ok ok. Ok.

I really need to spend less time on this site.

I've been having this thought for a while like "tumblr interactions are dampening my capacity to enjoy things, particularly art". Which is a bad thing to happen. So I should spend less time here.

Here's why I think I feel that way. It seems like the way a lot of tumblr people engage with stuff is very... novelty driven? Like they only seem to be interested in novelty. I'll see people reblogging some, you know, some ancient Greek urn with a crazy animal on it or whatever the fuck, and it just seems like people's reason for engaging with it is the novelty. "Isn't it weird that they put a crazy animal on this urn." "Whoa, check out this crazy animal urn." Etc. It's like... it's Mr. Beast! It's pure spectacle.

For me its like... doesn't an ancient urn excite you in a deeper way? Don't you, sort of, viscerally feel the connection that seeing it provides us to the people who made it? Doesn't it make you wonder about their world, and about what parts of that world are reflected in the design? Don't you marvel at the craftsmanship?

When I see an ancient urn, I am overcome with this longing to... investigate it. I want to see all the other urns dug up from the same site side-by-side. And maybe all the nearby sites too. I want to characterize the urns ("they use this type of material and that type of design") and I want to trace the origin of the style. I want to read the story where these urns are the main character. I want to learn how this or that symbol evolved from humble beginnings as a maker's mark in some village to a design element spanning an entire cultural sphere, or whatever.

I just want to know how things happen, you know. Not why they happen, how they happen.

The culture on here, here's why I don't jive with the culture on here:

I don't care about the economic conditions that made the urns possible. I don't care about the technological developments. I don't care about the grand humanist story of our rise out of primordial darkness. I don't care about the power relations the urns betray. I don't even care so much, although perhaps I care a little bit, about the individuals who made the urns.

I care about the urns. I want to know about the urns. I want to read the story of the urns.

This world is full of amazing things. I want to know about the things in the world.

I don't care about novelty and I don't care about function. Contentcels cope and seethe. I am a powerful formchad. I love the form...

[quetzalrofl]

Mattholomule is confirmed to be Steve’s little brother, so it stands to reason that Steve is short for something like Stephanopheles.

#whoa this isn't a reblog #the owl house #toh theory #mattholomule toh #steve toh

[archiveikemen]

『 The Past Records 』 Collection Event: Chapter 4

Jude Jazza & Ellis Twilight

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

As per Liam’s suggestion, they decided to “test” Jude and Ellis—

Liam: Our main concern is whether they will betray Crown and sell our confidential information, right?

Liam: Why don’t we leave some important classified documents unattended on purpose and observe how they’ll react?

Harrison: What did you leave unattended and where did you leave it?

Liam: I left a name list of targets I’ve dealt with in the hallway outside Jude’s room.

Harrison: Isn’t that too obvious?

Liam: There’s no point if no one notices it, you know?

In the middle of their conversation — Jude enters the dining room.

Liam: Oh, good morning, Jude!

Jude cast a brief glance at Liam’s charming smile before tossing a stack of documents in front of Liam.

Liam: Eh? … Whoa, I was looking everywhere for these. Thanks.

Jude: Isn’t this confidential information?

Liam: Yeah. I was so worried about getting an earful from Victor, I was about to cry and beg Harry for help.

Jude: Go search for it before begging.

Liam: Ahaha, you're right. Thanks for helping me find it.

Jude: … If leaked this information, it’ll be over for you and Crown, no?

Liam: …!

Jude: Someone who isn’t capable of protecting confidential information can’t be trusted.

Liam: Yeah… I understand. I’ll be careful.

Liam: … And there he goes.

Liam: What should I do, Harry… I think he hates me…

Harrison: Nah, this is his usual attitude. Don’t let it get to you.

Liam: But what he just said to me was only a warning not to “endanger Crown”, right?

Harrison: Kind of.

Liam: He picked up the document and warned me about breaking confidentiality. That earns him some trust points, right?

Harrison: I guess getting yourself hated was worthwhile after all.

Liam: Oh, so you do think he hates me—!

…

— That night.

Ellis: … Oh, Harrison.

Harrison: It’s you? Rare to see you here at this hour.

Ellis: I was thinking of having something to drink before I go to sleep. Are you working, Harrison?

Ellis: Would you like me to make you a sweet cocktail? I heard from Liam that you have a sweet tooth.

Without waiting for Harrison’s response, Ellis took various ingredients from the shelf and skillfully prepared a Grasshopper (mint flavoured cocktail) before offering it to him.

Harrison: Are you also working as a bartender or someth—... mm, this is good.

Ellis: I’m glad you like it.

Harrison: … Liam already did so much, it’d be unfair if I don’t contribute too.

Ellis: Did you say something?

Harrison: Nah, it’s nothing. … You’re pretty handy, huh.

Ellis: You think so?

Harrison: You’ve also been kind towards everyone since the first time we met.

Harrison: Because of that… I’m a little suspicious of you.

Ellis: …?

Harrison pulled out a gun from his pocket and placed it on the table.

Harrison: I’ve been tailing you and Jude for the past few days. If I say I want to play a game with you, are you in for it?

Ellis: A game?

Harrison: Yeah, the rules are simple.

Harrison: There isn't a single bullet in this gun.

Harrison: If you trust what I just said, put the gun to your head and pull the trigger six times. If you can do that, you win the game.

Ellis: Point it at my head and pull the trigger six times.

Harrison: You should be able to do that if you don’t have a guilty conscience towards us, right?

Ellis: … Yeah, got it.

Without hesitating, Ellis swiftly picked up the gun and pulled the trigger more than six times.

Harrison: Wha—

Ellis: Does this mean I win?

Harrison: … Uh, yeah.

Ellis: Did that resolve one of your concerns?

Harrison: —... Haha.

Harrison: You didn’t even hesitate one bit.

Ellis: Not at all, because you're a kind person.

Ellis: You wouldn’t use real bullets to test someone.

Ellis: … Am I wrong?

Harrison: … Does that mean I didn’t completely fool you?

Ellis: Hm… I guess so.

Harrison: Even if you pulled the trigger without hesitation, it still doesn't prove that you’re innocent.

Ellis: You’re right. So that means I didn't ease your concern?

Harrison: … Nah.

Harrison: I’m not messed up enough to remain suspicious of someone I trust this much.

Ellis: … That’s a relief. Care for another toast, then?

Harrison: Sure.

They clinked their green cocktails with a light sound.

…

— And so, a few days passed.

William: Is the investigation going well?

Harrison: It’s going smoothly, I guess. Most of them have already come to a conclusion.

Harrison: I’m also done with my proofreading work, so I’m thinking of starting on the final report.

William: I see. Perhaps this piece of information I have is unnecessary, then.

Harrison: What information?

William: Jude and Ellis declined when I asked if I could assign them their first mission tonight, saying that they have work to do tonight.

William: What are your views on their response?

Elbert: It’s at night when most of their clients should be asleep… what kind of work could they possibly have?

Alfons: Ahaha! Sounds suspicious.

Alfons: To be frank, I couldn't care less whether they’re good or evil. But this sounds like fun, let’s tail them to see what they’re up to.

Harrison: At this point, do we really have to…?

Liam: Actually, Harry…

Harrison: Hm?

Liam: When I was investigating them, I noticed something kind of odd.

Liam: The two of them went to the port in the middle of the night… Jude seemed to be investigating something surrounding a warehouse he was renting out.

Roger: Could he have been inspecting the goods?

Liam: But… there are rumours saying that some ex-inmates who’ve just been released from prison were seen frequenting that area.

Alfons: I think I’ve heard that rumour somewhere… but I can't recall where exactly.

Harrison: … Fine, fine.

Harrison: There will be no further investigation after this.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil collection event #jude jazza #ellis twilight

[mars-wuz-herez]

What of Sonic died in Sonic Prime?

Part two

Rouge’s view (2)

I feel the sun creeping on my face. I turn to face the other side but now something is tickling my face. I open my eyes and see that I'm surrounded by grass. My body aches as I rise from laying down. Then the flood of memories comes pouring in. Oh Chaos, where is Tails? 

I get up from my spot and start running around the area screaming Tails name. Chaos… Shadow why do you have to be like this? I returned back to the spot I was laying in. Shit. Shit. Shit. What the heck am I going to do? First Sonic now Tails. It just keeps getting better and better. I look at the ground and see a fresh track that can only be made by one hedgehog. I raise my head a little higher to see another mess. Broken rocks, bent trees and scattered rings all over the place. What the heck happened here? 

Then I hear an explosion coming from the distance. I turn my head to where the noise came from. I see smoke coming from….

Rouge: “Eggman's lair?”

Great. That can't mean anything good. I get out my communication device and message Knuckles and Amy. 

Please tell me you guys didn't go to Eggman's lair

No response. I’m about to call when I notice a glowing blue thing. I walk over and pick it up only to see that it is one of Sonic's blue quill's. Tails must've dropped it. I take a good look at it and see that it isn't…normal. The color looks to be…fading. Then out of nowhere the quill fades to gray and disappears. Whoa what the heck-

The ground starts shaking. An earthquake? We never get those- 

Rouge: “Whoa”

I feel dizzy and fall down on all fours. I look at my hands on the grass and see that I'm turning…gray? I feel…tired…I close my eyes and when I open them again I see myself on the beach. 

For a split second I see Sonic sitting on a rock and Shadow standing next to him. What? When did this happen? I feel the ground shaking again and I open my eyes. I'm back on the grass. Whoa that was weird. I look at my hands. Back to normal. I'm about to reach for my communication device when, again, a flood of memories comes to me. Except I don't remember any of these. The memories are of me flying and repeating the same thing. They are also of Sonic and Shadow fighting over…I don't even know.  I get my communication device from my pocket. No messages. Something is wrong. (I mean besides what just happened) Knuckles always messages me back no matter the situation he's in. I look back at the Eggman base which has smoke coming out of it. Knuckles and that brat Amy must be there. Then I look at the track. I have two choices. Go after Shadow or help the other two.

I think about these options before making my decision.

To be continued….

Mentions:

@mrfrobbert @hawk-has-alot-of-gay-ships @callme-aprilroseisha04

@rainestorm05 @upodubo-reblog @seaslugdisco @bun-bie @annoyingcat413 @bee-birb @idiotayo @theavo-guac

I hope ya'll enjoy it! Sorry it took me almost a month to write. School is kicking my butt. Also it's the anniversary of a few bad things that happened at my school last year. I'm over it now...kinda. Anyways I will try to update more and not leave you guys hanging!

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonic prime #sonadow #sonic prime season 3 #tails the fox #sonic prime spoilers #Rouge the bat #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #eggman #sonadow prime #What if Sonic died in sonic prime au #writes-from-mars

[olderthannetfic]

Alcohol anon: Whoa, lots of less-than-charitable assumptions made about me in the notes! I don't appreciate that. "Why did you mention addiction when we were discussing fandom?" because I've witnessed this convo on this blog before and I know "conservative about alcohol" has been used to mean anywhere from "believes addicts are The Devil" to "has unrealistic ideas about alcohol in fanfiction" to "reblogged a post once criticizing mommy wine culture." I actually agree that a lot of people are sort of babies about alcohol in fanfiction, and I believe the idea that authors have a responsibility to caution against alcohol consumption is just another manifestation of anti ideology. To address the assumptions: No, I wasn't raised conservative, or in the Bible Belt. I was raised very progressive. No, my first thought about alcohol isn't "ZOMG BUT ALCOHOLISM." My intent was not to moralize about alcohol or addiction, and I attempted to be clear that was the case. I am aware people DO use the concept of health to moralize about alcohol - my point is, it should in fact be possible to say "alcohol has health detriments" and for it to NOT secretly be a moral statement about addicts, BECAUSE health doesn't determine morals. I am also aware that most people know alcohol has health detriments - but some people genuinely don't realise that alcohol habits considered completely safe actually might not be. And, in part because of the moralization about addiction, some people have this idea that if they're not an addict (or what their idea of "an addict" is), their alcohol habits must be completely safe. I didn't know what the actual definition of a "binge" was before recently! One person in the notes accused me of condescension - I'm sorry if I came across that way! I don't assume EVERYONE who chooses to drink, even to an extreme extent does so uninformed. I also don't make it my mission to constantly "uhm, actually" people about alcohol. It rarely crosses my mind, and I would never ride a horse so high I'd inform an acquaintance or friend "that's actually considered a binge and it's bad for you :)" when they mention their alcohol habits. I was just reminded of the discourse of yesteryear, and curious for clarification if "weird about alcohol" just referred to fanfiction here. Because I vividly remember "one drink a day won't hurt you" and "but uh, it can?" being responded to with "what are you, a prude?"

--

Nonnie, I'm sorry, but nobody really cares about the actual medical advice in the US, which right now is something like no more than one glass of wine a few days a week for women and one a day for men. Yes, it's a lot lower than things considered culturally normal many places. But you're not going to get people to care about this.

In the context of fic, what I care about is that it's generally also OOC for these characters to care.

[untitledmemes]

Blue Eye Samurai Prompts

Part II An assortment of prompts taken from the series Blue Eye Samurai on Netflix. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

“ I can fix everything. ”

“ What choice do I have? ”

“ Now, get in and shut the door. ”

“ I'm not even good at what I thought I was great at. ”

“ I don't know you, and we have no dispute. ”

“ We come scorched by ire and affliction. ”

“ I wish to be great at something. ”

“ Still soft. ”

“ Killing it is a mercy. Do it already. ”

“ Is that an order? ”

“ So, if you might, my dear, dear friend, my trusted partner and clear equal, my right hand and both feet on land, fondest heart, spare a cup of concern towards our purpose and do it your fucking self. ”

“ If he dies, you die. ”

“ I didn't kill you when I easily could have. ”

“ The time to kill your enemy is when you can. ”

“ Whoa. Wait. Where are you going? ”

“ No one gets to kill you but me. ”

“ Fight within your confines, not against them. ”

“ I am not out here to learn a lesson. ”

“ Why'd you let me follow you, hm? ”

“ You need me because you're weak. ”

“ You think you can be great? ”

“ If he's walking in to meet certain death, I'll be there to keep him and death from getting too friendly. ”

“ It's called taking someone for a ride. ”

“ Don't be shocked. You're not a child anymore. You have to see things are they are. ”

“ You have been looking for me. ”

“ That's the law. No one would be the law. ”

“ I look your way and don't even see you. ”

“ What do you think they're doing? ”

“ I have no interest in being happy. Only satisfied. ”

“ Men like him like to talk so much, they eventually tell you how to destroy them. ”

“ I need a brothel. ”

“ I like when you slap them. ”

“ Nothing desired is peculiar. ”

“ Desire is beyond the need of my purpose. ”

“ Sex? An art? ”

“ Name your desire. ”

“ Women like me must be practical. ”

“ There can be no witnesses. ”

“ Don't exhaust the gods with your requests. Save something to when you need them. ”

“ This is boring. I'm bored. ”

“ He deserves better than you. ”

“ I'll tell you this, though. If this all goes my way, I will go ahead and take it for a sign that you tilted the wind to my back. ”

“ One thing to credit you is you are consistent. You're an idiot every day of your life. ”

“ No man can grasp sunlight, only worship fleeting rays. ”

“ Whatever clever insult comes next isn't as clever as you think. ”

“ What was his name? I can't remember. Anyway, he's dead now. ”

“ Women in our world don't have a single good option. ”

“ Do you have to stare? ”

“ I should have killed you. That was my mistake. I wanted to meet you first. ”

“ I thought you had to be something special. ”

“ Do you have a death wish? ”

“ I've been a captive my whole life. If I die today, I die free. ”

“ You must never do that again. ”

“ Being on your own, you could be like water. Impossible to catch. ”

“ I am nobody's wife. ”

“ I'm not a brute. ”

“ Too fast! You're going too fast! ”

“ Did you also lose your backbone when you lost your title? ”

“ How did this terrible creature come to be? ”

“ I never tire of your people's aversion to impoliteness. ”

“ Why set traps only to mash the rat yourself? ”

“ Sit, we have business. ”

“ Are you real? ”

“ I have a man to kill. ”

“ You came all this way... for me? ”

“ Are you still alive? ”

“ You promised we wouldn't be bored. ”

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