#except for like weed and similar stuff

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 1ST ★ BONDAGE - satoru gojo .ᐟ

[CHAPTER ONE RAPUNZEL] satoru gojo as flynn rider + bondage. once upon a time, a girl trapped in a tower with nothing but her extremely lavish, long hair as company decides…fuck it and sleeps with a handsome stranger to get what she wants ( 9.1K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, rapunzel!au, strangers to lovers, role reversal & switching, orgasm control, sensory deprivation, edging, thigh riding, spit kink, outer-course, begging, handjobs (m!recieving), reader's hair has blonde streaks but colour remains ambigous, rapunzel + fem!reader, flynn rider!satoru gojo.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yippieee!! kickstarting spooky season with this hefty boy. we have our glorious blue eyed king welcoming you all to our fourth annual tteokdoroki kinktober - i hope you all like what's planned this year and enjoy this piece to start with !! kissies hehe <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“you’re going to take me to see the floating lights. or else.” 

“or else, what, honey?” 

ever since satoru gojo climbed the wooden lattice sewn to your tower by blooming, overgrown weeds and winding vines effectively invading the safest space in the world ( according to mother ), he’s been a pain in your fucking ass. when he’d first arrived, a towering and unfamiliar figure creeping about the main floor — your heart had dropped to the base of your stomach, pulsing rapidly with fear while he scoped the scene. you’d never come across a man before, mother had made sure of that, warning you of their cruelty and ugliness both inside and out. except satoru looked nothing like the descriptions your mother had left you with, you’d say that the man was stunning. not that you had much to compare him to.

his hair was a crisp white, appearing soft to the touch much like the snowfall that came in the winter months (something about playing in it. contrastingly, his eyes were a beautiful shade of baby blue — eerily similar to that of a summer sky free of cloudiness. he was too good looking to be human, for it to be natural, almost as if satoru had strolled straight out of one of the many fairytale books mother purchased for you from the markets. although, over the years you’ve probably read each book cover to cover a million times and not one fictional prince could even match this stranger’s sheer beauty.

though for now, this handsome stranger’s looks would get him nowhere with you. strangers always came with dangers, and since all you’d known throughout your years of living were these four walls, you weren’t going to take any chances with satoru and whatever problems he’d have brought with him.  initially and out of an unfamiliar fear, you’d  taken the nearest weapon to you (a frying pan) and cracked it right over his skull — watching the hunk of a human collapse to his knees and eventually black right out. if mother were around, she would have been proud. you’d tried not to feel any guilt trying to stuff his limp, lengthy limbs in your closet or under your bed because… well, what business does this stranger have with you? what the fuck is a man doing here? how did he get here? why is he here? 

your whole life you’ve been convinced that the outside word was treacherous and that you had to stay inside, where it was safe, because people were horrible and selfish — intent on hunting you down for the powers that lay intertwined in the coils of your hair. those specific streaks that glow a valuable gold between the usual  colour of your locks whenever you sang. mother would style them the way you liked every night — so long as you sung for her. you weren’t about to let mother down, nor risk the little life you built here together.

but, as it turns out, satoru wasn’t looking for the magic sprouting from your crown and entangled in your hair. it almost seemed like he had no idea about them either. rather, the moonlit haired man was looking for a place to lay low and hide after being chased through the forest for his satchel that seemingly carries something valuable. a crown… jewels that have a weight familiar to your head and sparkle like something you’ve seen before in a distant memory. 

“come to think of it, honey, where is my satchel?” cocking his head to the side, sky blue eyes peer up at you with a charm that sends a foreign swarm of butterflies ripping through your stomach.

you frown, accusingly pointing your weapon of choice at gojo’s head and puffing out your chest to appear as intimidating as possible while giving him your name. “i’ve hidden it in a secure location—“ 

“it’s in that pot…isn’t it?” 

as best as he can in the handcuffs he can call locks of your hair, the tower’s newfound infiltrator gestures towards a colourful pot in the corner of tne room. what? all you could think of in the moment is restraining him against the chair and why waste perfectly good rope when you’ve got such length to your own hair? the pot was the closest spot too.you knock him out swiftly after his guess, not giving gojo the satisfaction of finding his precious purse.

now, with the satchel hidden once more, satoru gojo semi-concussed and conscious once again — you realise that for the first time in your life, you have some kind of leverage to bargain with. you need someone to take you to see the floating lights that illuminate the sky on your birthday, every year. satoru needs his… crown? that so obviously doesn’t belong to him. of course, he would have stolen it, mother always said men were no good and always take what isn’t theirs (oh the irony). nonetheless, it  was the perfect match of desires.

this way, you could prove to mother that you weren’t weak like she said you were. that you could cope by yourself and go explore the outside world. it wouldn’t be how it usually is with mother — where you ask for something and instantly get denied because she believes you to be too naive to function in a world outside of her. not this time. this time you have a bargaining chip. a satchel containing a valuable so rare that satoru was willing to risk his life for.

your captive wriggles against the restraints of your hair, woven around the chair like tough knots of a rope to keep him at bay. while the silver haired fox may not have canines like your mother suggested, you have no idea how powerful he could be. contrastingly, gojo finds your hair to be soft against his skin, ticklish along the veins of his arms despite how secure it has him strapped down. he’s forced to listen and to follow your every move across the floor plan, guided by the strength of your hair tugging him about.

“i have a proposition for you. come, look.” drawing back a curtain to reveal a painting from earlier — you recite your plan to your intruder. tomorrow evening, he will take you to see the floating lights … ahem…lanterns that drift across the sky on your birthday every year and then, return you safely to the tower before mother returns. it’s an easy deal.  “i won’t give your satchel back until then,” you stutter out fiercely, adjusting your height and the grip you have on the cool metal frying pan. “you won’t get it back until you’ve taken me to see the lights.” 

“oh whatever, i can just take it back, honey,” satoru goads, cockily ripping his head back in patronising laughter. even though the melodious sound makes irritation bubble hot underneath your skin, you can’t help the way your eyes are immediately drawn to the man’s Adam’s apple as it bobs delectably along with his chuckles. “as soon as i get out of this…hair? hair.” pale blue eyes flicker up to your face when gojo fixes himself in the seat he’s fixed to. they bore deeply into your soul, reading you with as much ease as you have flicking through the same three books that you own. you feel the weight of your hair shift around satoru’s shoulders as he gestures down to it nearly wrapped around his bulging forearms (not that you’d been paying attention). “this is kinda freaky, hon. don’cha think?” a slow sexy smirk tugs at the corners of gojo’s plush, glossy lips, or rather, he smoulders attempting to woo you into giving him what he wants. “you don’t seem like the freaky type, sweetheart.”

once more, a frustrated flame flares up in the middle of your chest — you’d feel offended for sure if you know what gojo meant. “freaky?” 

“as in like… dubious?” he grins in response, running the pink tip of his tongue over his straight, perfectly white teeth. “this is basically bondage, yanno?”

you blink once. confused.

“improper?” 

nothing, not one of these synonyms or explanations from the smiling idiot makes any more sense to you — bringing you to tilt your head to the side, innocently like a puppy that makes satoru laugh once more. this time it actually does something to you. sends weird butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

with a shake of snow white locks and an inhale that sounds amused as it goes, your hostage clicks his tongue — letting those cooling blue eyes slink up and down your virtuous frame . the swell of his lower lip trapped between pretty perfect teeth. “as in sexy, sweet thing.” satoru’s sickly sweet and powdered sugar coo slips through one ear and out of the other like hot, viscous molasses, you immediately shudder — flustered down to the meat on your bones, curling in on yourself as your faux intimidation tactics melt from your body and slip between the floorboards beneath your bare feet. “gosh! you’re so innocent,” his gaze rips away from you, and you fight back an unexpected whimper, missing the intruder’s gaze on you. “guess that’s what being trapped in a place like this does to a darlin’ thing like you. you wouldn’t last a day out there.” 

he’s patronising you. speaking to you as though you’re no more than a child. however, being talked over and down on is all you’ve ever known, especially from your mother… but the way he acts reminds you of all of the advice she’s bestowed upon you over the years. mother tells you all the time, how naive and silly you are. how people will try and take advantage of your looks and your kindness. and so you decide to use your mother’s advice — if all humans, act like dogs, you’ll throw one a bone and wait for them to come back for more. 

steeling yourself, you use a loop of your hair to drag gojo’s chair toward you — positioning him like a puppet beneath your cold, hard stare. he man spreads on the chair as best as he can in his restraints, leaning back while his seat tilts backwards on a forty-five degree angle — drawing your eyes from his face to his thick thighs momentarily. “you are going to take me to see the lights. it’s a promise, not a threat,” you whisper into the air that buzzes with tension between you both, leaning down and pinning gojo in place. you’re so close, so little proximity between your faces, that you can practically feel his warm breath lingering on the damp skin of your lips. “and i promise, i’ll make this worth your while.” 

your voice lowers an octave, smooth and buttery and just right. like a snare for a wild white rabbit or bait on a hook — it peaks satoru’s interest, illicit thoughts and desires flashing behind his pupils like lightbulb ideas. “oh, honey. i can make you see stars alright,” he looks up at you then, with an expression of heat and thirst, dragging you into a pool of shining blue eyes that you barely manage to free yourself from. drowning in his attention once more. you stand over him proudly, between his legs smugly and all he wants to do is wipe the winning smile from your face and show you a real good time. 

if he could, gojo would reach up and grab at your hips possessively, if he could he’d cup your neck and let his fingers toy with your baby hairs to pull you into a sloppy kiss. he can’t help the way white hot desire spreads through his system like throwing gasoline on an open fire and pile of wood. he grins mischievously, and in response, a brand new sensation stirs within your lower tummy — blistering hot as it zips between your chest and your core.

you sense the change in the atmosphere and gojo does too. both of you dying to scratch the itch on the part of your brain that is the control centre for lust. but you remind yourself what this is truly about, tell yourself not to get lost in the haze of it all, and will yourself to throw a loop of your hair over daring blue eyes like a blindfold — acting fast to secure a seat in an unsuspecting satoru gojo’s vacant lap.

he grunts in surprise, flinches when he realises one out of five of his senses are down. “what the fuck—?” gojo spits, cocky smirk melting away. 

“shhh,” you taunt the man under your breath, leaning forward so that your voice coasts over the shell of his ear like a summery breeze. it invokes a sense of pride within your chest when your hostage tilts his head to follow your voice — his own breathing erratic and increasingly shallow with how he begins to struggle against your restraint on him. “you won’t get a chance to make me see those lights. not if i get you to see them first.” 

in truth, you've got nothing planned. you’ve never been in the same room as a man, let alone pleasure them the way that you’ve read in books you’d borrowed from your mother. 

the reality of the scene before you is daunting, giving up part of your virtue just to prove a point and get to see the floating lights like you’ve always wanted…but at the same time — it’s your one chance at freedom that’s at stake here. “you don’t sound so sure about that, sweetheart,” satoru taunts you with the peaks in his voice coltishly high. he continues to wrestle against the restraints of your hair — he’s strong and with a little more force he could escape but it’s like he senses your hesitancy. 

like he knows for certain you won’t make good on your promise. just like mother. 

that much is evident in the way his smooth, glossy lips tick upwards into an arrogant smirk. 

your determination to prove him wrong grows more and more by the second, so before you succumb to your nerves again, you let your free hand claw with way over gojo’s right shoulder — steadying him, forcing him to sit still as you make a comfortable seat out of his widespread lap. he tenses at first, unable to see you move, but his grin remains, you have no idea if it’s because he’s proud of you or doubting you — but the expression only serves to piss you off even more.

“what’s next, sweetheart?” 

a strangled growl is your only reply, the most menacing sound you can muster as you lift head upwards and his pool of loose silver-moon locks fall out of place. with a shuddering breath and a hold of gojo’s restraints, you press your lips to his in a shaky kiss — still unsure of where your lips go and what to do with your teeth and how to move your tongue. the captive beneath you knows it and takes advantage of your weakness, nipping at the swell of your lower lip gently — hardly enough to draw blood. satoru is testing you, telling you to be brave and take from him. prove to him that you’re willing to do whatever you want for him to make your silly childhood dream come true.

he allows you to fight back, despite this being your idea, lets you forcefully grab his angular jaw and capture him in a proper spit-swapping kiss. if he really wanted to, he’d find a way to escape from the tight bounds of your lengthy hair. but he doesn’t. gojo lets you swallow him down; push your tongue exploratively into his mouth and lap at his foreign flavour. he wants your tongue to take dominance from his, pink appendages sloppily rolling over one another, slipping and sliding as you take and take from satoru.

the kiss, already uncoordinated from your lack of experience, becomes hurried and hungry and wet the more you steal from satoru. you take and take and take until his glass his half full and his brain slowly becomes devoid of all logical thought. he comes the prey to your predatory mouth, missing the way your hand frees his pale cheek and fingers fluidly traverse down his broad shoulders, over his marble sculpted body to find purchase in the belt loops of his bothersome pants. now curious, you feel your way down the front of the fabric and grin into the hot and heavy kiss when satoru’s lets out a breathy, staggered moan into your open mouth. 

his swelling erection twitches in response to your inquisitive hand, slender hips involuntarily jumping upwards.

“fuuuck,” satoru chuckles airily, words featherlight as they breeze along your lips. his head keens upwards too, chasing the weight of your hot sticky tongue in his mouth — desperate to be closer, craving the feeling of your nose knocking against his and your breath on his cheek from just how pressed up against each other you are. “fuck baby that’s it. kiss me more, touch me harder…” he’s addicted before he even knows what you have to offer, what he’s getting himself into. if you could see his eyes from under his binding, you’d bare witness to pleading blue pools swirling with a painful desire as he twitches beneath you, wriggling his wrists to get free. “c’mon, touch me.” he adds between sloppy pecks.

backing your face out of satoru’s reach, you break the drooly lip lock — letting your lungs fill with oxygen it had once missed, while your heaving chest syncs up with the intruder you have strapped  to a chair. you pull away, connected to the man by not just your hair, but a string of saliva glazed across your lips — cautiously, your tongue dart out to break the the between your eager mouths, two sets of uneven panting filling the quiet air. 

the two of you remain unmoving and unwilling to back down while you catch your breath; but your hand remains in the centre of gojo’s lap — rocking it back and forth, back and forth over his growing bulge. you stare at him, observing the reactions that he tries so hard to control. little twitches to his pink swollen lips and the flare of his nostrils whenever your palm makes contact with a sensitive spot. all this waiting is agony, the white haired captive might die if he doesn’t get more from you soon. 

satoru whines impatiently as a result, knowing full well what you want and you won’t ask him again — not when you’re tauntingly squeezing his cock for a second, third, fourth, fifth time. he doesn’t fucking know — overwhelmed by waves of lust-infested blood rushes to its blistering hot tip. “fuck! okay, okay fine. i’ll take you! just—“ the chair rattles from the force of gojo’s struggle against your restraints, which hardly covers the low moan that escapes from between his plush glossy lips while his length pulses against the inside of his pants. “just fuck me. touch me. anything.”

something about his tone being all desperate and high activates a part of you that you never even knew existed. a part of you that knows what to do next… even if you haven’t acted it out, you’ve enough books to remember what the erotic ones say.

only then, after he pleads, do you use your shaky hands to tug down the garment — pulling them towards his knees as best as you can against your hair until the button pops free. the zipper follows easily and the waistband falls away from starlight skin and slender hips. everything gets hotter; any fresh air between your bodies becoming tinged with the need for sex as the scorching ghost of your fingertips leaves burn marks against satoru’s pelvis, and sends heatwaves of ardour from the base of his spine to the top of his skull.

satoru’s squirming pauses while he waits with uneven breathing for your next move — tongue pressing up against the barricade of his white teeth to prevent himself from taunting you further or perhaps to stop himself from belting out another pathetic set of whimpers. he wishes he could see you, those sweet innocent eyes looking down at him as you peel back the last layer of fabric stopping you from accessing his painfully hard erection. his underwear. 

when you gasp in shock, pride weaves itself between the bones that protect his heart and lungs like an uninvited weed, he knows that he’s decent. longer than he is thick, bright red at his mushroomed tip and leaky from just how turned on he is. there’s a trail of silver moon hair that leads you down a path from his belly button to the thickest part of his dick too. but oh, how satoru gojo wishes he could see.. the way you lick your lips as drool drowns your tongue, mouth watering at the sight of his length slapping against his clothed stomach while he manspreads for you. the way your pupils dilate, the colour in your eyes swallowed by a dark veil of carnality. 

this is a hunger you’ve never experienced before, a type of starvation that makes your hand lurch forward before your brain can control it, gripping satoru at the base of his milky, slender shaft. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a cock; let alone held one between your tiny fingers — it’s much warmer than you anticipated, tacky to the touch from dribbles of precum running down from his untouched tip, but you like it. the weight, the wet sound it makes when you slightly flick your wrist around satoru. not to mention the stuttered groan he lets out, his head falling against the support of the chair and yanking slightly on the blindfold made of hair that covers his eyes.

if you weren’t sitting in his lap, you’d want him in your drooling mouth. you’d sink down to your knees like the girls in your naughty books and take him down your virgin throat, just so you could look up at satoru and watch the sweat bead down his jawline and run a track over his bobbing adam’s apple. but you’re not and you’ve got a point to prove, so you loop your hair around your other wrist to tighten his restraints and extend a thumb upward from his base to his seedy tip, jamming the pad of it through the slit where he pre forms in thick, creamy pearls. as white as those that come from an oyster.

“that’s it gorgeous, just like that…” satoru leers up at you huskily, voice tinged with neediness that he fails to mask. he seems to like the way you touch him and you’re sure to use a delicate hand when you smooth the supple pad of your thumb over the pad of his sensitive tip, rubbing his opaque precum into it sweetly. “touch me s’more? you can do it… i know you’re shy, can hear your breathing ‘n how heavy it is. shit, you’re new at this.” saliva slows down satoru’s salacious words as he rambles to you with swollen lips and rosy cheeks, angling his head in whatever direction your breath seems to be coming from. 

he’s in tatters, destroyed by a few simple touches with his hard on smearing white across the front of his clothes. you roll your palm over his mushroomed cockhead next to test the waters and take pleasure in admiring the way he trembles, grasping at the arms of the chair you have him strapped to in order to ground himself. it’s torture for satoru to be this patient, killing him slowly from the inside out like a virus spreading across his brain and other vital organs — but it doesn’t mean you’re in any better state. practically dripping in his lap with your panties dampening more and more every time satoru so much as whimpers. past the point of being turned on by the sight of a strong, powerful man weak and blindfolded underneath you.

satoru bucks upward at your command, sucking in a breath as his sensitive, seedy slit bumps your palm once more. “s-shit… please.”

the improper ness of the entire situation sends a zap of electricity to your swelling clit. you’ve only ever imagined being with someone like this as you have seeing the floating lights — touching yourself beneath your skirts and under your painted ceilings whenever you were brave enough. now you’re here, spread over the thick thighs of a possible thief who begs you to jerk him off. “s-shut up,” you hiss as embarrassment and  inexperience begins to shine through the deal you’ve struck with gojo, the fact that he can tell as much and still wants this has you soaked all the way through and aching for friction as well. 

you’ve never been in possession of so much power in your life. mother never let you have it. but right now, you can taste it sparking between you and gojo, smell it in the air teeming mixed with a cocktail of your arousals. in the moment you realise that the silver haired man would cling onto every one of your sugar-coated words (no matter how nervous) if it meant he got the fuck he wanted in the end. and you would get to see your lights too.

“just… tell me what to do,” you say without realising how husky your own voice has gotten. “i promised you your crown, to make you feel good if you took me to see the lights. and i never go back on a promise. s-so tell me.” talking yourself into it and building up some more confidence, you circle over satoru’s bulbous cockhead again — gaze laser focused on the burning bright red colour as it oozes. you know that he likes it and it makes his head spin so much that he starts to fight against the restraint of your hair again. “i won’t let you go, not until this is over. so tell me what i can do to make you cum.” 

despite not being able to see his entire face, gojo’s smug smile says it all — his perfect teeth cheerily on display, contrasting with the flustered pink tint to his cheeks. “cup it, make a fist around my cock so you can jerk me off’a little bit,” a haughty moan scratches at the walls of your captive’s throat when you follow his guidance and finally grip him fully, soft and supple hands easily dwarfed by the size of him. satoru’s shaft may be a little thinner, but he’s thick enough to fill your own throat and cause a stretch to your quivering hole with his balls being round, plump and full of white hot seed saved up just for you. “christ, squeeze my base a lil’ before you get movin’,” at first contact, satoru’s thighs tremble deliciously against your mound, blood rushing to your clit and through the forked veins that spiral down his length. 

your senses are overwhelmed, he smells so good — of peppermint and a musky twang of sex act like dangerous smelling salts or fumes. you could get addicted if you weren’t careful. you’re super aware of each ridge and firm vein that decorates him and as you start to palm satoru steadily, you notice just how sticky your hand is — movements guided by the wet cream of his cock. slipping and sliding as your closed fist moves up and down, up and down, occasionally squeezing the base of him just like he asked. your knuckles brushing the soft bush of pubic hair at his pelvis. you can only imagine how everything feels for him, not being able to see at all.

the thought just barely crosses your mind — too focused on speeding up your soiled hand around gojo just to hear more of his angelic gripes and groans that rise and fall from his heaving chest. how good all of this must feel for the man without being able to see. every touch must make him tick and drip and throb achingly. he must feel weak too, completely vulnerable to anything you might do to him while blindfolded and unable to touch you because of bonds formed by your hair. 

once you set a steady rhythm to your closed fist to jerk him off with, gojo takes a breather to announce his next command — head shaking side to side with moonlight locks sticking to his forehead in an attempt to alleviate the inferno of desire spreading through of his limbs. “now spit on it,” he states bluntly, an obvious dip to the octave in his voice. you can’t possibly imagine why he’d need spit; your hand is already glossed with a shiny layer of precum, tainting your knuckles from the viscosity. 

you swallow thickly, but don’t dare stop pleasuring your captive stranger. “w-what?” 

“are you kidding me just—“ leaning forward as best as he can while held back by the strong locks of your hair, like rope around his wrists. dopamine crackles over your brain like fireworks in an enclosed space at the scene that unfolds next, satoru pursing his lips to spit onto his own milky dick — letting the frothy mix from mouth join the mess that lubes the both of you up where connected. “just spit on it, honey. thought you wanted me to feel it.”  

licking your lips, you rub down satoru’s girth far enough to drag the glob of spit down to his tender weighty balls, that pulse at your gentle touch. the feeling makes satoru’s entire body jolt like an electric shock — a gargled groan clambering out from the depths of his panting chest as his jaw goes slack and mouth falls open. “please. please spit on it, honey. god please.. need you to wet my cock. i need it so bad, promise i’ll be fucking good.” blind but with his remaining senses in tact, gojo remains largely vulnerable to your touch, his entire world tilting on one axis when you grip his dick a little harder at his request. causing a ring of white to gather where the circle of your wrist envelopes him.

at his begging. which you swear makes you gush like a small, erotic stream — your juices sloshing about in the gusset of your panties while your sex goes unattended.

so you nod obediently, tilting your head forward and parting your swollen lips to let a thick, syrupy string of your own spit ooze onto his plump and sore balls, stroking him rapidly to spread it over his creamy tip as well. your spit is contrastingly cool in comparison to the natural lubricant smeared all over your captive’s palpitating dick — causing it to grow impossibly harder. it slickens up your hand, evidence of the silver haired man’s arousal seeping through the fabric of his crumpled shirt and coils of your restrictive hair. neither of you can bring yourselves to care in the moment — all you can think to do is relish in gojo’s size.

he’s so big, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered how satoru fit entirely inside your tight hole, stretching you out in the new future — earning yourself a fresh wave of liquid lava hot essence to your ruined panties. you dare to dream onwards, picturing the azure eyed stranger fucking you against the walls of the tower in every way the man knew possible… you have no idea what he’s capable of when untied. but the sight of him lazily thrusting into your filthied fist like it’s instinct, following it like a moth to a candle flame, is enough dream fuel to last you a lifetime. even after the deal is complete and the lights are just a distant memory. 

eventually, you decide to pull off of satoru to give your wrist a break — walking your fingers up the broad expanse of his built chest to tweak his nipples between your tingling bodies. his entire frame is wracked with a case of shivers, mouth parting in a high-pitched, whiny whimper with strings of saliva connecting its roof to his tongue. you’re so pathetically turned on, drool pooling on your tongue like a hot flash flood. 

it’s why you tighten your grip on your hair and thus his restraints, resulting in satoru staggering forward. closer, panting like a damn dog in rut. drawing your free hand up towards your lips and away from his pecs, the proximity between you becomes so little that satoru can practically smell the musky evidence of sex that you lick from your hand. “oh… you taste so good,” you lament in a dulcet tone, failing to miss the way gojo’s dangerous azure eyes dart about beneath his makeshift blindfold, probably dying to see you get a taste of him.

“d-don’t say that, you’ll make me fuckin’ cum, honey.” he gulps, involuntarily pumping his hips into the air, chasing your hand which he needs so desperately to feel good. “please don’t stop.” while begging you — satoru is the perfect picture of a ruined man, though you’re sure he would say the same about you if you hadn’t strapped your hair over his line of vision. his milky skin glistens as though it’s the very source of light for the silvery moon — illuminated by droplets of sweat from the exertion off fucking your fist like a squelching, welcoming pussy. his cheeks glow warmly with a dusty shade of pink and there’s a red ring forming around his lips from where he’s bitten them to control his wails of ecstasy.

succumbing to the obscenity of it all,  you reach forward and lick a stripe into his hellfire hot mouth. effectively sharing the saltine flavour of gojo’s own precum with him while he languidly sucks all the tang from your pink appendage. his angel white lashes flutter shut at the heaviness of your tongue against his own. the kiss is messy and mismatched, saliva seeps from the corners of your mouth and drags a sticky train down your chin. parting briefly, you spit it into the middle of your palm — happily taking satoru’s cock back into your talented hold and providing a solace to soothe its passionate ache. 

“ngh… i can feel you. f-fuck. feel you tryin’ not to grind against me, sweetheart.” somehow, gojo finds pockets of air to taunt you in — his voice an arousing mix of a raspy whine and cocky tone. “so wet, i can smell you too. so sweet. dripping all over your panties while you jerk me off. do you need that needy pussy taken care of?”

everything he’s said is true, while the man with the sweaty silver locks fought to escape the prison of your hair — desperate to see how you pleased him, you fought the growing pit in your stomach. the urge to use satoru for release. you’d never hit your peak with another person before, only your smaller-than-his fingers whenever mother left for more than a day or two. 

you admit to nothing, continuing to stroke satoru to his own high — his panted moans accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin from your hand fisting him to the high heavens.  “please baby, i wanna help get you off. feel that wet little cunt. let me go, i’ll be so good to you if you let me touch your sweet c—“ 

“n-no! we had a deal. my rules.” you stutter, denying yourself. denying him.

“c’mon sweetheart,” a strained and petulant whine echoes throughout the tower — satoru thrusting shallowly through your closed hand in order to match his rhythm to the flick of your wrist. “please, god, baby. if you won’t let me touch you, or at least see you, then can you put that pretty pussy on my thigh? ride it real good? wanna know how you sound when you’re being pleasured…when you give into it all. please honey, give me somethin’ to work with. anythin’…”

gojo presses, like a disciple begging their god for mercy. begging you for mercy. there’s never been this much power in your reach, the ability to control a man who could easily over power you with your sex makes your mind feel egotistically weighty. your resolve crumbles just a tad, satoru’s neediness  chipping away at its foundation until your hips instinctively position themselves perfectly over the swell of his right thigh. how bad could it be? giving him an inch when you’ve taken a mile from him. mother says you’ve never been good at lying and right now, you can no longer pretend like your hips aren’t dying to slide back and forth over your capture like a desperate whore. 

like you don’t want to use him for more than just the floating lights, but to soothe the fire lit in your lower stomach — trailblazing down to your throbbing clit.

something clicks in your mind, all of your inhibitions are dashed from the tower as you briefly release satoru’s pathetically wet cock and restraints to pull up the skirts of your silk purple dress, exposing a slither of supple fat at your thighs. hurried movements deliver the same treatment to satoru’s pants. “this… this doesn’t change anything. doesn’t mean i’m letting you go just yet. it won’t affect our deal.” you warn the intruder but all sense of venom and authority is lost, evaporating into the temperate air and ending up as a piteous, meek mewl when your exposed mound makes first contact with man’s naked thigh.

if the sound of ruffling fabric hadn’t caught your hostage’s attention; the heat of your sopping sex against his moonlit skin definitely did. “fuck…that’s it. there we go, honey. put it on me,” a tinge of amusement lays evident in his gravelly voice, sets of slender digits peeking out of their hairy restraints to map out your doughy thighs and crawl their way up to the source of your essence. “i just knew you were wet for me, can feel how turned on you are.” as best as he can, gojo shifts until his knee is able to bump your clit — cooing in satisfaction when you ooze against him in response. you almost despise the way he laughs up at you condescendingly, as if he’s the one in control irregardless or the fact that you’re on top. 

maybe it’s the dopamine rush that makes your dynamic unclear — neither of you wanting to give up or take the lead. the lust fizzing in the cracks and crevices of your brain make you cute and pliant for gojo but hair woven over his body keeps him subdued and thirsty for you. 

like a gravitational pull, you buck downwards on the silver haired stranger’s toned thigh and smear the beginnings of your arousal all over him. you’ve barely been touched, oozing in viscous waves as you lose control over your body, rutting harder and faster. “watch your mouth.” you cry out, volume barely above a whisper, bottom lip trembling because it feels so good to use someone this way. 

resuming your hold on his dripping cock again as you rock your hips — you rearrange the loop of hair keeping gojo in place, covering his eyes just as your hair begins  to glow gold in time with your symphony of moans. “right, right, sorry. this doesn’t change things,” he flexes his thigh underneath your syrupy sex, strawberry tongue slipping out to wet his lips while your words fade away into a pretty little sigh. “but you wanna smack that messy clit all over my thigh, don’cha wanna make it creamy… even messier?” satoru all but jeers, the wisps of a smirk rising on the horizon of his lips now that your hips have formed their own rhythm over his leg.

they speed up their passionate dance on him, beads of glistening essence pearling between your two fat pussy lips. the slick smack of your naked cunt against his muscular thigh caused his dick to twitch in your hand — gojo thrusting up when you thrust down. he tilts his head down, catching a whiff of your heavenly scent in the air between you both. you hate that he’s right just as much as he hates not being able to see you and touch you properly — only catching glimpses of the golden light sparkling within your hair like a halo from underneath his makeshift blindfold.

you feel like you might be going insane, trapped underneath a non existent touch. like being pulled under waves of euphoria with aching lungs that don’t get enough air. near angelic screams of delight rip through the base of your throat contrast with the way you sinfully hump satoru and jerk him off to the point of his dick forming a creaminess in your hand. he bounces his thigh faster the higher you moan, rewarding you for all the hard work you put in to make this deal worth it.

“you’re no better… you’re filthy,” 

“that’s right honey, so dirty. all cause of you. messy with you, why won’t you let me see?”  the captive rambles, torn between fighting to break out of the bondage and listening to the lewd sticky noises your mound makes when gliding smoothly over his paled skin. satoru growls at how roughly your body moves above his own, face contorting lecherously, cheeks red and lips puffy — a mess from how long he’s been holding out for you. he’s a mess. it’s true. he won’t even deny it. “now fuckin’ stroke it baby, stroke me to the rhythm of your pussy bouncing up and down for me…please…” 

simpering slightly, gojo’s fingers twitch against the arm of the chair — itching to grab at your ass and slam you down against his shaky thigh. if you palm him more, grip him tighter… he can better imagine the warmth of your cunt if he got the chance to slip inside. for now, you oblige his request, pulling tighter on the bindings of your hair while you them use as leverage — throwing yourself down on satoru as the lewd pap of your drooling pussy fills the musky tower air. “that’s it honey, up ‘n down. uppp ‘n  down. keep goin’ just like that.” 

you don’t have the energy to chide him, jostling about in satoru’s lap with wet whimpers bubbling up on the seams of your lips. pleasure begins to twist nice and tightly in your tummy, scalding you from the inside out and burning any logical thought from your brain. head beginning to roll to the side, you think about fully submitting to your capture. letting go entirely — you’d be satisfied. you’d get to cum. your deal might fall through but at least you’d get to see a different kind of light. 

easily, you could just give up. it wouldn’t be hard to, not  when gojo firmly plants his feet into the tiled floor and the power from his hips has hip rutting upwards to chase your fleshlight-like fist. a beefy cry battles its way out of his broad chest, vibrating through you as his quivering thigh juts your pretty, syrupy cunt every time you lift off of him. 

it’s the perfect cycle; the ideal push and pull. you squeal in ecstasy, the hood of your clit dragged back so that your sensitive bundle of nerves is exposed to the blistering heat of satoru’s cool toned skin — taking you closer and closer to your high. streaks of your hair glow brighter than before, more intensely the louder you moan and just like they would if you were singing to help mother or while she brushed your hair. despite the strength in the light of your hair, everything else about you weakens, your grip on your hair, the pace of your hand as you palm satoru to the high heavens. you can’t think to care about any of it when you’re this close. 

if mother could see you now, you don’t think you’d mind if she was disappointed in you. 

but then you’re ripped away from the edge of cloud nine. satoru stops just short of the dam threatening to break. his thigh completely still with your juices splattering against him once your own hips come to a hault. a petulant howl echoes through the flower, frustrated tears stinging in your waterline as you feel your orgasm slip away from you cruelly. “what the fuck satoru?” 

“sorry honey….” he laughs heartily, a slight rasp coating each syllable from each word that leaves his mouth. “don’t think i like this deal very much. just ‘cause you feel good doesn’t mean you can forget about me,” gesturing to the way you gush on and stain his thigh, the captive with the silver moon hair shrugs. “you don’t get to cum or see the lights unless i get to see you.”

gojo’s been good so far, hardly challenging you this whole time and instead, goading you into a world of pleasure you would have never experienced under mother’s watchful eye. instead, he was content to have his cock touched and his name wailed a hundred different ways — he’d shown no indication of breaking your deal aside from this. so in turn, you halfheartedly let go of the loop of hair that kept his sapphire stained eyes away from the world and held his wrists down to the arms of his chair.  the restraints loosen just enough to please him and do what he needs to do. not enough to give him complete freedom. 

“fuck the deal.” you cast it all to the side, relentlessly resuming grinding all over gojo — pushing your hips back as far as his knee to smother your swollen pleasure against it.

this time, satoru is able witness the way your bambi doe eyes roll back into your emptying skull. 

with newfound motivation, the intruder begins quickly blinking away any darkness that caused a fuzz at the edge of his vision, gojo’s gaze immediately trickles down to your clenching hole, a treasure kept safe between your nectar glossed thighs; watching you ride him. “god, if i had my hands on you i’d rub that clit until you were squirting… i bet you’d like that, if i ruined that pussy. made her mine — you'd like that.” gojo’s stare returns to your eyes, flashing you his pearly whites through a condescending smile. his rushed and rambled teasing words make your creamy cunt wetter; body betraying you to violently shake above him. 

though you find strength to keep up your end of the bargain. you’d sworn to make satoru see stars, encapsulating his rigid, sloppy dick between your nimble fingers once more. you even spit on it, earning a haughty bleat from between the man’s pretty (yet chatty) mouth. his sturdy body seizes underneath your touch as you take a firmer grip on him, palming him faster and faster — seedy, hot precum webbing over your knuckles once more. that’s when you finally get to see it. how murky and dark your captive’s vibrant eyes grow, like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

the rapture that had once melted away from you like butter in a pan begins to blossom within you once again — willing you to beg for a chance at a real orgasm. “yes satoru! oh, yes please!” you squeak, short of breath and not entirely sure or what you’re even begging for. the golden light emitting from strands of your hair flare up again and your pussy throbs with an aching need to hit release. “please…”

a self congratulatory thread of cobalt lust weaves its way between the darkening midnight flecks in this eyes. “now look who’s begging,” clicking his tongue, gojo cocks his head to the side, relishing in his ability to finally look at you. drink in the way your chest bounces beneath the bodice of your lace orchid gown. it’s completely fucked, darkened by a crude mix of your arousals but it’s the most beautiful thing satoru has ever seen — only serving to rial him up even more… his own orgasm coming up over the hill. it burns at his internal organs, the lining of his stomach and the only way to alleviate this almost painful yet delectable twinge to his system is through you. “bet you’re only being nice ‘cause you’re close. well guess what? me too, be a good girl, honey, and cum for me.” he says, voice rising in both pitch and breathiness through his gritted teeth. 

he’s going to cum. 

and you’re too far gone to form a response with words just yet. you stop your own ministrations, payback for edging you earlier. his own cock dribbles pitifully as you rip his high away from him like pulling a rug from beneath his feet. gojo thrashes in his hair in response, azure eyes wild and almost wet with a sheen of tears — just as desperate to cum ad you are. “wh-what the fuck was that for?” he winges as though he’s a child on punishment, slender hips rising up to chase your soiled hand and perfect grip — shaft standing needily at attention. “honey…”

“you don’t get to cum until i get to cum. so either you work with me, satoru, or we’ll go all day.” you snap, slowly working your drenched cunt over the meat of his thigh once again, your puffy folds spread either side of it — squelching with the way you salaciously wind your hips all over him. 

satoru basks in the sight, tongue poking out tauntingly between his teeth as he decides to test the waters. “fine, but at least let me help,” he suggests, watching eagerly as you throw your head back in the purest form of pleasure and grind on him harder. it’s clear as day that you need just as much of a push to cum as he does and he plans on giving it to you in just one condition. “untie me.”

“deal.” chewing on your lower lip, you let more of your hair unwind your glowing hair from all points that keep gojo strapped to the chair. enough for more of his hands to escape. then, he’s on you within a flash, hot tongue swirling its way over your clothed bosom and biting at your peaked nipples while his hands shoot to the globes of your ass so that he can drag you in harsh circles across his lap. he’s ravenous, out of control, as if he’s been waiting for this moment the entire time. 

somewhere along the way, in one final burst of passion, your mouths find each other again — swapping streams of saliva as you lose yourselves to sex crazed minds teaming with lust hormones. with your lips smacking and bodies moving against each other in a delicious bump and grind — satoru forces a large hand between you both, fumbling against your cotton panties. the sound he lets out when he finally, finally gets his hands on your puffy clit is glutoral and animalistic, the simple touch sending a shock wave of electricity across every one of your synapses. dazing you for good. 

you bear witness to the silver haired stranger losing his mind, falling from grace like an angel with blackened wings. and for you, he does the same, commiting the sight of your glowing halo-like strands of hair to memory — the coils that shine brighter the more you sing and sin for him.

he can’t stop gabbling, gargling on the spit you pour into one another — followed by howls and screams of pleasure. “oh you like that, hm? i bet that feels so good… so sweet ‘n wet under my touch.” hot fingers belonging to satoru pick up the pace between your sticky folds, flicking your clit feverishly and writing his claim against your cunt at the same time that you jam a thumb into the tricking slit of his dirty red cockhead. the pair of you jolt in one another’s arms, taking one too many steps towards the edge of cloud nine before you’re even ready for you.  

“oh sweetheart, listen to you, sound so good. wish i could have you on my fat cock instead of my thigh. next time yeah? you’re gonna cum like this, aren’t you? gonna get my thigh nice and wet?” gojo growls, voice hoarse and layering perfectly over your whistle tone whines. his digits slow and start their greedy assault on your sex, edging you further and further as you wriggle and writhe at his words. 

the world escapes you, the knot of lust that had been warping within you finally coming undone. “gods… s-satoru! please!” you shriek as though your voice is a  gust of stormy wind — reverberating off of painted cobblestone walls. your free hand (no longer trapped by loops of your own hair) darts out to grab the intruder’s wrist, thighs locking around the hand that works you through an earth shattering high. the dam finally bursts, forcing open floodgates as your pussy releases streams of clear arousal in small spurts that soaks his entire lap and clothes.

gojo has no idea where to look, the smallest glimpse of your orgasm sending him hurtling over the edge as well — he doesn’t relent, viciously circling your precious pleasure mug and drawing out your release to match his own. his thick length spasms in your tiny hand, plump balls no longer able to contain the viscous, hot seed he has saved up all for you. just for you. he cums with a shout, abdomen contracting under your never-ending supple touch, ropes of white hot endlessly shoot from his overstimulated tip almost as though he’s a faucet that’s never been turned off.

he swears he almost blacks out, a white and sweaty mop of hair collapsing onto your shoulder as you slump in gojo’s lap — exhausted. as the air in the room cools, your hair no longer glowing and your chests syncing up to heave in an even rise and fall — you bring a lazy hand to the back of satoru’s head, toying with coils of his baby hair to help you both calm down.

a moment of quiet passes before you find the energy to whisper. “will you take me to see those floating lights now?” 

your innocent question causes satoru to snort sleepily, pressing a wet chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek as the sound breaks free from his cherry-bitten lips. “a deal’s a deal, honey. as soon as you untie me… we’ll hit the road.” 

neither of you move a muscle, however, still recovering from the sinful act you had just shared. 

you use the time to reflect, a sense of excitement dawning on you. you were going to leave the tower. you were going to see the floating lights on your birthday. and most importantly, you were directly disobeying your mother to prove your capableness. and all you had to do to get your fairytale happy ending was give a handjob to a very handsome, very willing stranger. 

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[doubleddenden]

So the stories leaked from gen 4 development are certainly interesting, eh? I'm sure everyone has their own feelings about it- some of you are apparently ECSTATIC about fucking your Machokes. Good for you, my guy. Some are horrified, thinking something's been defiled (it is fiction and most importantly non canon, you're fine, get a grip).

Me? I think the lady (yes, it was a lady) that wrote all of these is REALLY PASSIONATE about her craft, and was also referencing real world mythos and how they portray similar instances- I think we all know that Zeus has probably done worse on all giving and receiving ends of these stories, as well as Poseidon, Loki, and probably some other myths from Europe, China, and definitely JAPAN- key word there. In fact, the Typhlosion story is probably a reference to a similar story about a badger yokai that can alter its face to appear human, and the Octillery story is definitely a reference to- well, tentacle porn is a thing for a reason that goes pretty far back as a way to get around censorship in hand painted porn. The contents of the story aren't really much different or more terrifying than mythos we'd see in the real world (or if you're in the bible belt like me, probably EXPOSED to with morning bible studies before class growing up), and it's mainly just shocking to see it in the context of Pokemon.

And I think that's kind of the point. Sinnoh is already a pretty dark region in terms of lore and myth, and has surprisingly religious undertones considering the family friendly nature of Pokemon and its general target audience. Obviously none of the horse, badger, sloth monkey, octopus, god, or... Lapras fucking made it to the final cut, although in Japan they still reference People and Pokemon being so equal at some point that they could marry- that's even kind of referenced in Legends Arceus with I think a diary written by a man kidnapped by a Froslass? its been a minute, but you probably know what I'm referencing.

I think an interesting question would be "How did we get to these terrifying stories?" Especially Typhlosion and Slakoth.

Its important to remember this: None of this was meant to see the light of day outside that office circa 2003 to 2004ish. Yeah, surprisingly you weren't supposed to see the story of a man fucking an Octillery BEFORE throwing it back out to sea in a rated E for everyone game, and you didn't! You saw it via twitter, reddit, 4chan, tumblr, discord, or your local weed guy who all spread it from someone who got it from confidential office logs we wouldn't see unless someone took that info from Game Freak's darkest depths of other secrets they'd prefer to keep hidden. Every game and media company has this, good and bad, to various degrees of sfw and not. Did you know Disney has an entire vault of actual PORN that animators would make of their own anthropomorphized characters? Locked nice and safely, too... with uh, some exceptions breaking containment, I think?

So with that being said, we understand this is meant to be privileged info only a handful of people were supposed to see. That means they can use words and stuff you normally wouldn't see- Adventure time for instance had Finn and Jake saying "fuck" in story boarding, kinda funny- because its meant to be workshopped and tinkered with, refined until you get something desirable.

In fact, creators will often propose darker ideas than what they actually want so that they can more easily talk censors into an outcome they ACTUALLY desire. Alex Hirsch did this a few times in Gravity Falls' production, and you know Disney was a bitch to deal with (although he probably didn't propose stuff like this, but you get the idea). So this being said- Obviously nobody wants a story about a Typhlosion engaging in a non-con relationship with a minor it kidnaps. Nobody wants to read a story about humans MUTILATING Slakoths for fun and then getting revenge impregnated by a Slaking, only to give birth to a Slakoth and have it killed and thus kill yourself out of grief for your lost child (people reading this without context- ho boy you guys have missed out on some crazy shit that's popped up). So what is okay from here?

Maybe a little Pokemon death after going a while without it and accruing a reputation of being safe for kids? Mention of Pokemon bones being picked clean of meat and put back into a river so it can come back reborn? Some darker undertones of Pokemon being tormented by Team Galactic? How about a story of a boy slaying Pokemon with a sword, but less detail of mutilation of Ursaring and Slakoth? All of this made it into Diamond and Pearl, didn't it? Add in a little Human and Pokemon "Marriage" that is easily scrubbed out and replaced with "eating at the same table" for the more sensitive Western audience, and you have some pretty believable, dark, somewhat uncomfortable but child friendly lore for Pokemon.

Not to mention, a lot of this was probably pitched just to get a feel of the vibe they were going for in the game. If you read back through the stories, bits and pieces end up being used in other, non Poke-fucking stories, or recontextualized. See the above.

While its certainly a relief that they're non canon, it is a rather interesting look at the development of gen 4 lore and actually makes it feel more... realistic, in a way- again, comparing it to real world mythos and religious tales. That, and honestly? The religious backstory is actually, unironically amazing- HEAVILY based on real world religion, but plenty of real world religions steal from other religions and mythos anyway (coughchristianitycough).

Its actually a bit sad, because in any other JRPG, Arceus becoming a wounded woman that an ordinary man cares for, Arceus falling in love with this man because he treated her so tenderly, bearing human twins, the twins becoming Dialga and Palkia to fight some Titan that would become Mt Coronet, and Arceus loving this man so much that she took his soul to create Azelf, Uxie, and Mesprit to spread love and joy throughout the world? That would literally be INSANELY GOOD world building. Plus! Arceus was a human woman when she did this! It was also consensual! Can you imagine what the world would have been like if we had gotten not only FEMALE Arceus- god of all Pokemon universes- but also a HUMAN INCARNATION of her? And this was BEFORE Giratina came into the picture, apparently. If anything, we got robbed a bit of some deep lore and potential story telling from this being cut, imo.

But one more thing to consider is this: All the stories, even if they did make it to the final cut, would still be stories within a story. Fictional folktales within a fictional setting. If we judge the above by how relevant the ACTUAL content that made it into the games were to the actual overarching plot... It'd be overall kinda useless beyond some flavor text. That's kind of the sad fact of it. Pokemon Players especially, grown adults too, are not exactly known to be well read and some play the game by rapidly A pressing every ounce of dialog they come across, even in brand new playthroughs. I'm sure some remember that one idiot on twitter that thought he made the discovery of the century when he found Snowpoint Temple in Legends Arceus, right? So understandably, especially when you're working on a clock, on limited space, on new and unfamiliar hardware, and trying to be as broad and reachable to audiences as you can- things get cut. Even... Some of the coolest lore building of all time SERIOUSLY A FUCKING PANTHEON WHAT THE HELL.

And I lied, there is one more thing to consider, especially for anyone actually morally offended by some of the content mentioned- Keep in mind that this is in 2003 to 2005ish Japan, with Game Freak (who we know are pretty out of touch in some regards, even by today's standards), before twitter, before tumblr, during a more edgy time for... well, everyone alive at the time, and especially adults. That's 20 years ago. Some of you may not have been alive at that point (did you finish your snacks and juice, lil guy?), some of you probably had a lot of your formative education influenced by the more puritanical side of tumblr or twitter, but it was simply a different time and place. That's it. The people involved in this have moved on and have probably grown into better people, and probably haven't made more fics like this. Maybe. Who knows. It's fiction anyway, and nobody real got hurt from it, and that's what's most important at the end of the day.

So that's my thoughts on it. I think I'm more annoyed by the fact that one of my favorites got a worse Vaporeon treatment than anything, and there's possibly the risk of Nintendo/TPC/Game Freak overreacting and gatekeeping Typhlosion out of the games for a bit. Sigh. My first pokemon, man. Well, anyway, try not to take it too seriously if you see the jokes and memes about it. It'll pass.

But hey, sexy Latina Skyla is canon! Shadow the Hedgehog wins!

[codderanged]

After Party - Phillip Graves X Shadow!Reader

A/N : This came to me as I listened to Dealer by S3RL! Sorry it’s so long compared to my usual stuff (ToT ) Also sorry but this one is mega indulgent LMAO. I love myself some acts of service and intimacy via things that aren’t sex and the idea that nudity does not equal sexual tension. Enjoy!!

A/N2 : THIS BITCH WAS 15 PAGES IN GOOGLE DOCS

Word Count : 4,699

TW : Drugs, alcohol, hallucinogenic consumption, description of involuntary actions, reader under the influence, good trip turned bad, anxiety, hallucinations (visual and auditory), nonsexual nudity

No one remembers when it became a tradition but at some point in Shadow Company, without Graves knowing a thing, someone decided to start throwing post-mission parties. Most Shadows referred to them simply as “after parties” and whenever an outsider asked the explanation was always that it was simply a glorified way of saying a group was going to rest and veg out together. 

These parties were exclusive. At first they were small, just a small group of Shadows who started it, then they became huge. Half of a barracks hall used to party late at night when everyone was sure the commander was asleep like kids using the house while their parents are away. Anyone who wanted to attend needed an inside connection to be invited specifically or taken in as a plus one. 

Hence why this particular recruit didn’t expect to be invited to the after party this time. 

They were newer to the team but most definitely had proven themselves as a useful asset. A few good friends had been made and they’d established a nice circle to sit with in the mess hall during breakfast. But none of those friends struck them as the type to go to these parties. Not when they’d heard that recently they’d been getting progressively more wild. More booze, louder music, a little bit of drugs, etc.. 

Of course the question of whether they’d accept or not was a big one. Saying yes was dragging them into something likely bigger than they even knew, but declining would most likely prevent them from ever going in the future. It took a lot of consideration but they simply chose to go but avoid any of the heavy partying. It would set their reputation well but hopefully prevent anyone from offering them drugs thinking they were into that sort of thing. 

That night they made their way to the barracks hall the party was held in. Always the one furthest from Grave’s own quarters. From the entrance they could see the party down the hall. A few people kept the doors of their rooms open to let Shadows in and out and it seemed there was already a line for the bathroom. The recruit was stopped by a taller Shadow who asked for proof of invite. In response they took out the little piece of paper their friend had scribbled on, signing that they were the one who invited the newbie. The bouncer Shadow nodded and handed the slip back to the shorter, “Enjoy.” 

They scuttled along further down the hall. Upon closer inspection it seemed there was a designated room for smoking what smelled like weed, another room for snacks and drinks, and everything else was free range to hang out. Without missing a beat the recruit went into the snack room. Getting food was a good way to start a conversation, right? Bond over similar tastes and snack combos seemed like a normal conversation topic. The room was simply decorated with a couple of black lights, a singular strobe, a speaker, and a few tables with snacks and drinks laid out on them. However, what caught the Shadow’s eye through the throng of buzzing coworkers was the table with a large closed-topped pitcher labeled “Southern Style Tea”. Ignoring all the other drink options they raced towards the table, grabbed a red solo cup, and filled it. 

Just before taking the first sip they noticed two tiny plates next to the large cooling vat. One was labeled “Sugar cubes” in simple messy black sharpie while the other was labeled the exact same thing except in fancier pink cursive marker. The recruit chuckled and grabbed a couple sugar cubes under the pink label and tossed them into their drink. It was a party, of course they had to pick the more whimsical option. After stirring their drink a bit the recruit took a few sips and shuffled off to the side so they could observe from the wall. Hopefully some easy opportunity to interact would come along and they would be able to hop in on a conversation. 

After ten minutes that opportunity still hadn’t come. They stood there sipping their tea and even got a refill with more sugar cubes. It was likely the music but slowly their head grew fuzzy and every now and then they swore they saw something moving from the corner of their eye. Just as they went to grab a sugar cube for their third cup of tea, their Shadow friend came by, standing just a couple feet away. “Well hey there!” he greeted with a sickeningly intoxicated laugh. His eyes lazily drifted to see the sugar cubes. “Oh wow I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing.”

The recruit raised a brow in confusion, “Well it’s just sugar, yeah? Not like I haven’t shown off my sweet tooth before.”

Their friend shook his head, “No, that’s not sugar.” The Shadow moved to stand directly next to them and pointed at the sugar cubes with black sharpie. “That’s sugar,” he pointed at the pink labeled ones, “and that’s sugar cubes soaked in LSD.”

“LSD…?” the other mumbled, staring in horror as they processed it all. The senior Shadow laughed loudly.

“Oh boy! How much did you have? You’re way in for it,” he slurred through his amusement. With a sigh he put a hand on the other’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine I’m sure. Just uh… don’t get caught.” 

He nodded, popped a raw sugar cube into his mouth, and walked away with drink in hand. The stunned recruit stood there staring between the cup in their hand and the sugar cubes in the little dish. How many had they had? Six, maybe even seven. They left their cup on the table and shakily began trying to exit the room. It seemed whatever they did was in slow motion and just about everything around them was going too fast to see anything other than the motion blur. No one they shoved past seemed to care or notice, simply stumbling to the side while too busy with their conversation or dancing. The music bumped so loud that the bass sent vibrations through their very core and the lights seemed to flash in their eyes even when they weren’t looking at them. Like a kaleidoscope, shapes and color swirled around the border of their vision, obscuring the things in their peripheral vision and distracting them as they ambled out into the hall. The music seemed to echo there and the noise felt like it was going to burst their ears open. People passed by, not paying any mind, and the recruit wandered around. They didn’t realize but their mouth hung open a little and in the midst of everything they were going much slower than they felt they were. Things blurred further and everything seemed to swirl around in their vision. The buzz of everyone yelling over the music was merely a monotonous hum that settled itself into the back of their mind. 

It took some time for them to find it but eventually they came across a room where everyone seemed to be smoking weed. There were a couple groups of people passing different forms of the substance around who didn’t seem to want to be as loud as everyone else outside the room. The Shadow saw this as a perfect place to settle and enjoy the sudden euphoria budding in their chest. 

They stumbled over to a bean bag chair in the corner and let their weight crash down into the squishy cushion. Sprawled out across the big bean bag they stared up at the ceiling, watching the little shapes and colors drift by and feeling the bass of the party music rumble underneath them. It felt like merely a minute but it must have been an hour when they finally looked up to see half the people from the rotations gone and the other either sleeping or mumbling amongst each other. The party outside was still raging but strangely the sudden change in the room disturbed the Shadow more than they were prepared for. Something about it didn’t quite click to them as their eyes slowly dragged across the room to see if perhaps everyone was only hiding. 

No one was there. No one was hidden under the blankets or in the corners of the room.

Unless they were. Unless this was some ploy to trick them and possibly humiliate them. 

While the shapes and colors still blotted their vision they pulled their knees to their chest and looked around the room a little more panicked than before. Their arms held their knees close as their breathing quickened. Everything appeared to close in on them. The walls leaned in and the people in the room slowly grew bigger as if trying to intimidate the poor Shadow rocking gently back and forth in the corner. The others in the room didn’t seem to notice, though, as they all talked amongst one another and even lit up a new joint to share. The pungent smell immediately slammed the Shadow in the corner like a truck. It infiltrated their nasal cavity and made them more nauseous than ever before. Their hand covered their mouth and they did their best to not look at the group in case the mere sight of the source would trigger their gag reflex. The music from outside was shaking too hard and the words felt much too loud in their inner ears like some kind of pressurizing system. It all bumped and shook and sent relentless shivers up the Shadow’s spine.

The Shadow could not see as the group’s attention turned to the door. A couple of them stood and went to the doorway, peeking out into the hall, and the recruit finally noticed. The group’s joint had been forgotten as they all gathered by the door. What felt like only a second later they were all scrambling around the room, shoving previous smokes into plastic bags to hide the smell and spraying an ungodly amount of air freshening spray to drown it out. Of course the beachy scent only gave the recruit in the corner an intense ache in the base of their neck. 

One of the stoners approached the Shadow, standing over them and saying something that sounded distorted to the point the recruit couldn’t understand. They stared, mouth open and pupils blown wide. The stoner’s words didn’t even penetrate their mind. Their heart rate went wild and the ache in their neck spread up to their temples and behind their ears. All that their mind could think of was how big this person was, standing over them and raising their voice about something. The idea that someone was upset because of them suddenly caused anxiety to prickle up into their shoulders and back. Thoughts raced through their head on double time trying to figure out what they did wrong as a frown crossed their face. 

Quickly the thoughts felt all-consuming. It was like every noise in the room was nothing compared to the thrum of their own heart in their ears and foreign voices like cursed whispers filled their head in an agonizingly loud cacophony. As their hands went up to cover their ears the stoner standing above them huffed in annoyance and stomped off. The Shadow on the floor rocked back and forth, glancing around as if they could find the source of all the noise. It wasn’t the group of people still panicking as they picked up the room, was it? When they spoke to one another was it about the Shadow in the corner? Did they look pitiful or were they, arguably even worse, some kind of nuisance? 

Though the swirling colors and the loud voices persisted, everything else stopped as a figure stood in the doorway. Behind him Shadows were in the hall panicking as they rushed around. 

It was Commander Graves. 

His brows pinched together and his fists clenched at his sides as he stood there. The group in the room stood stock still as they stared. Each of them was thinking the same thing. They all knew what Graves standing there meant. 

It was all over. 

No more after parties.

Some of them would likely get terminated.

Graves’s eyes scanned the room like he was assessing a room during a mission. The stoner didn’t dare make eye contact with him; their own gazes glued to the floor instead. It didn’t take long for Graves to see the Shadow huddled in the corner. They simply stared at him, brows pressed together and lips curled down in a pouty frown. The commander looked to the stoners and pointed to the high Shadow as he spoke. They couldn’t tell what he was saying, or what the stoners said in response, but Graves seemed immediately concerned as he looked at the Shadow again. The man didn’t bother even looking at the other Shadows as he barked some order. They all quickly nodded and exited the room, their collective “yup yup!” sounding loud and distorted in the high Shadow’s head. 

Once the others were gone he cautiously stepped towards the other Shadow. They stared up at him like he was some enigma. Or perhaps like he wasn’t real. 

“Hey now, y’hear me?” Graves asked quietly. He wasn’t one for drugs and had only chewed tobacco as a kid but he’d dealt with drugged up people before and knew a few things about helping. 

The Shadow merely tilted their head to the side in response, mouth not opening. Graves sighed and crouched down in front of them in an attempt to appear small. 

“Y’understand me?” He asked again. Once again the only response was the thousand yard stare and Graves’s shoulders sagged a little. He waddled forward a little, “C’mere, ‘m gonna help ya.”

Of course the warning was nothing when the Shadow was barely understanding anything happening around them nevertheless comprehending what was real or fake. Graves hesitated only a moment, worried that perhaps he was overstepping his authority and responsibility, before reaching to grab them. Their reaction was delayed and by the time they mumbled an incoherent babble of confusion Graves was already carrying them in his arms; their chin on his shoulder and their legs wrapped around his waist. His steady hands were gentle as they held the Shadow with a hand on their back and an arm under their rear. He was careful of their knees as he exited the room, awkwardly waddling sideways as to avoid a hit altogether. 

Once out in the hall he looked around, barked a few orders the Shadow in his arms couldn’t quite grasp, and began heading out of the hall. The Shadow could see their coworkers picking things up and cleaning the ruined floor. The lights were on, the strobes were off, the tables and speakers were being put away. A few Shadows stared after Graves and others were helping corral drunk and high Shadows alike into their rooms. 

It all disappeared as Graves rounded the corner and made his way into the dark hallways. The Shadow in his arms closed their eyes but the colors in their vision remained and the darkness gave them a strange feeling like everything was gone or perhaps not be there when their eyes opened again. Just as they’d started trying to reel their mind in, Graves interrupted their thoughts, “‘M gonna take care of ya, alright?”

The Shadow simply mumbled something quiet that resembled “yup yup” moments later. Graves couldn’t help but chuckle at the response. It was endearing for a reason he couldn’t quite pin. Something about one of his lethal little Shadows being subdued was simply too foreign to not catch his attention. Of course the reason was incredibly displeasing and all Graves could hope for was that they were going to end up alright in the end. 

The commander struggled with the knob to his personal barracks for just a moment before clicking the door open, shuffling inside, and then pulling the door closed behind him. His barracks were only slightly bigger than that of the Shadows. He designed the place but he sure wasn’t selfish with the power. Each room had its own shared bathroom with another and Graves simply had his own bathroom. Which, to be fair, was in fact quite grand. A large tub, a separate shower, and plenty of counter space. The entire room was decorated fairly scarcely with the only hint of Grave’s less military side being the hats and boots hidden away in his closet. Everything was some shade of grey or black, the entire room feeling like a pit of monotonous darkness besides the singular warm beside lamp clicked on from when he had woken up. 

He stared around at his room, supposedly thinking, before taking a deep breath and heading for his bathroom. Graves was careful as he sat the Shadow on the bathroom counter, standing in front of them to keep them in place with his hands resting on the counter on each side. They stared at him with that thousand yard stare look but strangely their blown out pupils made it almost look like they were enamored by Graves. The idea tickled him and the corner of his mouth quirked up just a little as he shook his head lightly. “You poor lil thing…” he sighed.

Graves observed the Shadow as their eyes lazily wandered the room. The movement was rhythmic like they were stuck in a cycle of staring at the tub behind Graves, then the carpet, then the shampoo bottles in the shower, then repeating once again. The commander frowned as he gently touched the back of his hand to their forehead to get a feel for their temperature. Of course they felt like they were overheating like some overrun generator. That wasn’t to mention the thin layer of sweat that had accumulated on their entire body, clinging to them grossly and emanating a smell like a weird mix of wet dog and sweaty child. Graves set his hand gently on their cheek, trying to get them to look at him. It took several seconds for their eyes to mosey on to meet his own. 

“Hey, can y’ talk to me?” he asked softly. There was no telling what they took or how much. From the symptoms it seemed like some kind of depressant and by the way they seemed barely aware of their surroundings they took quite a bit of it. 

The Shadow hummed so quiet it was nearly inaudible, “Yup yup…” Graves sighed with a hint of relief. At least they were somewhat still there. Considering the ‘yup yup’ they could probably recognize him. 

“Yer in a tough spot, soldier,” Graves explained. His thumbs gently rubbed their cheek bone back and forth before he noticed the unconscious movement moments later and moved his hand to the counter. “I’m gonna help you out, alright? That okay with you?”

Silent moments passed but Graves remained patient as he waited for an answer. Even as their lips parted but nothing came out he still stood there, head slightly tilted to the side, waiting for a response. The Shadow’s eyes caught the bright bathroom light and they groaned as they shoved their face down into Grave’s shoulder to hide from it, and slurred, “Yessir… yup yup…” 

Graves let out a little huff from his nose as his arms wrapped around them protectively. “I gotcha soldier.” His chin settled onto their shoulder and he mumbled quietly so as to not hurt their head, “‘M gonna take care of ya.”

He reluctantly let them go, pausing to be sure that they could sit up on their own, before heading for the large tub and beginning to run the water and dumping in some body wash just for the suds that would arise. He kept his hand under the tap just to be sure it wasn’t too hot or cold then shook it dry as he walked back over to the Shadow. “Gonna clean y’ up so you can get some good rest, alright?”

The Shadow, seeming to have come to their senses just a little, grumbled in acknowledgement. Graves nodded, more to himself than to the Shadow, and set his hands on their hips. He paused as his face heated up from the thought of what he was doing. Graves immediately slapped himself though, trying to steel his mind against it all. This wasn’t for his personal enjoyment. This was to take care of them. He took a deep breath and kept his eyes up on the ceiling as he assisted the Shadow with removing their clothes. Once he had their things folded and set to the side to be washed later he helped them down from the counter and held them up as they walked to the bath. Initially the Shadow grumbled, not wanting to leave their spot on the counter since the cold marble had finally grown warm, but as they felt the steam arising from the bath they quickly stopped protesting and slipped inside eagerly, head and shoulders just above the water.

Once sure the Shadow was settled Graves made quick work of changing into some random shorts in his closet so he wouldn’t get his pants wet. He sat on the edge of the rub, put his legs in the water on either side of the recruit, and let their head rest on his thighs. The Shadow seemed content simply sitting there soaking with a little smile on their face. Graves had a smile of his own as he reached down and cupped some water in his hands to pour over their head. He was careful to put a hand on their brow to prevent water in their eyes. Then he went for his bottle of shampoo and began to lather it in his hands. 

The Shadow leaned into his touch as he carefully scrubbed their scalp then proceeded to rinse the product out. His fingers on their scalp seemed to scratch some itch deep in their brain. Fresh-cut nails digging in to really get at the roots for a wash that felt borderline purifying. Graves carded through every section and got each and every little knot and tangle out. The room spelled like green apple as he continued on, the shampoo’s scent filling just about every cavity in the Shadow’s senses. Afterwards Graves gently scrubbed their body down, once again looking anywhere he could that wasn’t their body. His eyes kept away, instead taking great note of the grout between the floor tiles or the way the paint was textured on the ceiling. Anything to try and give the Shadow some semblance of privacy as he helped them. Oddly enough Graves didn’t struggle to navigate them despite not being able to see where his hands were. He pretended in his head that it was because it was simply his understanding of anatomy. Knowing where to strike a foe meant you had to know where everything else was as well. The commander knew, though, in the back of his head, that it was because he’d see this Shadow before. He’d found himself enraptured by their performance and physique. Their uniform always left much to the imagination but walking around base, with mere training gear on, he’d seen more of them and loved every bit. Graves had dreams of seeing this body, kissing every inch in pure reverence, and running his hands through their hair sweetly, just to make them feel loved.

The thought turned a little sour as Graves remembered why exactly he was here touching and seeing them. This was not quite the sweet union he’d imagined in his head. 

Graves heaved a heavy sigh as he shook his head. The Shadow below him was smiling wide with their head resting back onto his lap. Their eyes wandered around the ceiling and occasionally his face but had no true path. The nearly pitiful sight made all of Grave’s annoyance wash away as he cupped their cheek and smiled softly down at them. 

“Gonna get out now, alright? Get all warm n’ head to bed,” he whispered quietly down to them. They finally fixed their eyes on his and nodded with a mumble of approval. 

At that Graves carefully stood himself up and with one foot in the tub and another he assisted the Shadow out of the water. They shivered and grumbled uncomfortably as the cool air hit their wet skin, but Graves was quick to grab a towel and wrap them up. He held them close as they snuggled into the fabric and in turn pressed their face to his chest. Even as water dripped from their hair and soaked his shirt he didn’t protest. When they were dry except for their still dripping hair Graves sat them down on the counter, excusing himself for just a moment, before heading for his closet to grab something comfortable for both of them to sleep in. He emerged from his walk-in closet moments later with a simple hoodie and shorts with a drawstring for the Shadow and some sweats and a tee for himself. Graves was sure the clothes would probably be too big for the Shadow but he didn’t mind the idea of them cuddled up in the too-big clothes contentedly sleeping. A pang went through his chest at the thought so sweet and he went a little faster as he helped them dry their hair and the rest of their body before awkwardly assisting them in getting the fresh clothes on then getting changed himself.

Though the process took a while, when it was finally complete Graves was more than happy with the result he saw before him. His cute little Shadow sitting on the counter with their legs on either side of his waist. The commander’s hoodie was most definitely oversized for them but they seemed to enjoy it, flapping the extra length of the sleeves around like a child looking for mental stimulation. Graves chuckled and couldn’t bother holding down his smile, “Y’ sure don’t seem tired, now do ya? Still gotta rest, sug- soldier.”

Just like before the Shadow grumbled and nodded, “Yup yup..” 

“C’mon then, careful now,” Graves coaxed as he backed away to let them get down from the counter. With shaky legs like a newborn deer they stepped down. Graves took their hand and carefully guided them from the bathroom to the main room of his dorm. He turned the bathroom light off behind him as he went along.

“Yer doin’ great. Just a lil’ further now,” he praised in a low hum. The moment they reached his bed the Shadow practically collapsed down into the sheets. Graves panicked for a moment before seeing them wiggle their way into the blankets and tuck their face into the pillow. He was about to slip in alongside them when he paused. Hypothetically, waking up to your commander cuddled up next to you would be quite disturbing. Especially if you had, hypothetically, not remembered anything of the night prior. Instead of getting in bed with them Graves leaned down to tuck them in and, indulgently, leave a little peck to their forehead, before rummaging around under his bed until he found some extra blankets and pillows. He set himself up a pallet on the floor next to the bed. 

Just in case they were unable to sleep Graves stayed up for about an hour more. He was sitting up next to the edge of the mattress with his head propped up on his palm. His blue eyes searched their content face the entire time, taking note of every little twitch of their brow or slight movement in their lips. Anything that might mean they were stirring awake made his shoulders tense in anticipation, ready to jump in and help them settle back to sleep. 

They never once stirred but did once mumble something Graves could not make out. He eventually passed out in his silent vigil, but seeing their face as he closed his eyes was all he needed to sleep soundly through just like his Shadow did. 

[sauce-salad-bowl]

SAW YOUR SANS UBDERTSLE HEADCANONS... ohh foaming at the mouth. getting down on one knee my lady we need a oneshot about sans and reader getting high together

hehe hi!! :3 so ironically enough, i’ve been working on a one-shot with a very similar idea for a little while now, and i didn’t wanna end up writing about stuff i already write a lot about, so i decided to do a few headcanons instead… 🥹

i hope that’s okay!! i tried to be creative with them, cuz i felt bad i wasn’t writing another little fic… you can drop another request if this isn’t to ur liking!!

(the one-shot i was working on b4 is up on my ao3, but it’s rated E, so pls keep that in mind)

OKAYY without further ado, what’s it like to smoke with sans?

When you first start dating Sans, you’re excited to be with a partner who actually enjoys smoking with you! Although he’s not the kind of guy to do it every day, if you ask him to smoke, you’re hard-pressed to find a day he’ll say no to you.

Sans says his favorite part about smoking is the social aspect— he enjoys sitting around with the people he cares about, just chatting and relaxing. It’s not the same when you don’t got people to share it with.

The only thing Sans brings to the smoke sesh is himself and a lighter— only so he can make puns about how you “light up his soul” or something. It’s always corny, but it always makes you burst out into giggles.

He’ll say he’ll get you back for it, but he conveniently always forgets his grinder when he comes over, so you’re not too sure about that. Next time you’re smoking at his place.

Has a preference for joints, since bongs are hard to fit around his teeth. Every time he brings it to his mouth, it makes a little *clink* noise.

Smoke comes out of every hole when he hits it: his eye sockets, nasal cavity, and his teeth. You won’t tell him this, but it sort of looks badass.

Sans never coughs, due to his lack of lungs. He seems to find it pretty funny when you’re bent over and hacking from a nasty hit, but he’s still always at your side with water if you need it. “take it easy, kid. the weed’s not going anywhere.”

When he’s starting to feel it, his little eye lights will start to get pink and fuzzy, and his voice will drop a bit lower. He’s confident when he’s high, teasing you easily with whatever joke his hazy mind can manage to come up with.

Something about Sans getting high also inspires him to cook. After a long session, you’ll usually find him bumping around in your kitchen, managing to create something you have no idea he can make. When you ask about it, all he says is, “who do you think taught papyrus how to cook?” Of course, he always makes enough food for the both of you.

Never gets paranoid, except when his brother texts him during a sesh. Then he gets convinced his brother will appear out of nowhere and catch you two smoking. You’re not sure how to break it to him that Papyrus definitely already knows.

It makes him soo sleepy. Most nights he’s over, he’ll fall asleep on your porch or on your couch, head rested right on your shoulder. You can never bring yourself to wake him up, so you simply let yourself drift off to sleep with him, body buzzing with warmth

++++++

i hope these were cute!! sorry this took me so long to get to!!

[dresshistorynerd]

i saw your post on greenwashing and one thing that stood out was the talk abt polyester. im trying to not buy fabric for sewing (im just resizing clothes) but im wondering if its worth using any old polyester clothing item? i dont like the idea of throwing them out or donating a garment thats not going to last long to ppl who need long lasting clothes

I'm so sorry I had completely forgotten this (and multiple other) asks into my very full drafts! (I'm trying to go through them at the moment to make it a little more manageable.) At this point I'm sure my answer won't matter much to you, but perhaps someone else has a similar thought!

I definitely agree that it's worth using all clothing till the end! Polyester and other synthetic fibers have the issue of spreading micro-plastics which are devastating to environment and likely cause long term health problems in humans too. I don't really know what's the best option to deal with them since when in use (especially when washed) they shed microplastics and when thrown in the end of their life into a landfill, they also shed microplastics, in both cases they will end up in nature to cause multitude of issues, and to our food eventually. Perhaps the best would be to burn them in some controlled facility, where maybe the particles and likely toxins too they release could be somewhat controlled. Obviously that's not the ideal solution either though. But when the options are using synthetic fabrics longer or throwing them to landfill (or putting them to recycling where they might go faster to landfill (the more there's clothes in recycling, the more of them will end up never recycled actually)), I definitely think using them longer is a better option. At least that way you have to get less new things and you're putting less textiles to the cycle. I also have some old clothes from synthetic fibers I'm trying to use till the end.

I honestly think we should ban synthetic fibers (though there could be some exceptions, and maybe even transitional period, when there's more exceptions, but I'm getting into the weeds here). We already have a devastating amount of synthetic textiles in use and in landfills that are turning into a microplastics every second, and dealing with them won't be easy or simple, so the least we can do is not to add to that amount. To be clear, I don't won't hold it against anyone who buys clothes with synthetic fibers. It's practically impossible at the moment to get underwear, outdoor wear or sports wear without any synthetic fibers, which is precisely why I think there should be legislation to do something about it.

For more details on the effects of microplastics and synthetic fibers in general, I made a post on the effects of the fashion industry, where a lot of it is unsurprisingly related to synthetic fibers. There's also like sources and numbers and stuff.

[maxcaulfielddidnothingwrong]

ITS HER BIRTHDAY!!! B-day hc’s except they got like really sad and I don’t know why. I miss her :( 835 words.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ Ever since William died she was reluctant to even celebrate. She always tries to get out of the house before Joyce wakes up but often fails. David goes easier on her when he smells the FOUL amount of weed coming from her room.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ If she gets a cake trust it’s Black Forest cherry cake bc I said so. Or just plain chocolate.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ She wants to go to a concert, but only got to go one year because she got lucky and found one she could sneak into, similar to the firewalk one in before the storm.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ Insists from anyone that she doesn’t want any gifts, but secretly would love a gift from anyone. Doesn’t matter what it is it could be a joint and she’d be hyped.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ If we’re talking pre-missing Rachel they’d spend most of the day at the junkyard doing nefarious activities. Smoking, drinking, smashing things in the junkyard, etc. or they’d go around town doing just whatever. They’d go to the two whales diner to get some food because Chloe knows Joyce will definitely give them something, especially because it’s her birthday. They’ll go to stores and pocket stuff too.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ if we’re talking max is there, Chloe would text max to meet her at two whales. Once again Chloe would get free food from Joyce. Chloe would force Max to go all around town with her, and they’d end up at the junkyard. Max would take so many photos. Chloe would definitely smoke. Max of course would sit it out, but Chloe would offer her a hit and max feel would decline. Chloe would say something like suit yourself. If you wanna be angsty she’d wish Rachel was here and think that Rachel wouldn’t decline a hit. In my perfect world everyone is happy though.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ Chloe would most likely try to get free weed from Frank. Definitely not after they had their falling out or whatever where they became mortal enemies but Chloe would definitely take advantage of it being her birthday to guilt anyone and everyone into giving her free stuff.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ More on the angst side, if we’re talking post-Rachel disappearance and pre-Max coming back to Arcadia Chloe would spend the day alone strictly in her room or at the junkyard. Maybe, unlikely though, she’d hang with a few randoms she used to kinda be friends with at Blackwell, whoever answered really. Justin, Mikey (if he’s still around I know he doesn’t appear in LIS and I’m not sure what happened to him after BtS), Trevor, Steph. If none of them are available she’ll probably get annoyed, but only in private because ‘no one has time for her’. Probably listen to the message Max left her in Farewell.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ Once again post-Rachel disappearance and pre-Max coming back, Chloe definitely hopes that one of them will just show up on her birthday. Preferably Rachel because she hasn’t seen max in forever and she just wants Rachel back. She would definitely want Max there too though. Rachel is just her number one pick at the moment.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ So Rachel went to that last vortex party on the 28th of march, and Chloe’s birthday is in the 11th. I know Max moves back to Arcadia that September, but in theory if there was a year between I can imagine Chloe being immeasurably upset on her birthday and honestly most of March knowing it’s been about a year since Rachel has been missing.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ I haven’t watched past life is strange and before the storm, so I’m not sure what happens after Chloe and Max leave Arcadia bay if the player chooses Chloe over Arcadia bay but this is how I’d imagine birthdays. Chloe’s first birthday after they left she reminisces a little bit, but ultimately is still carefree. As time goes on though she thinks back to all the birthdays in Arcadia bay and how wildly different each one was each year. Her and Max bake a homemade cake for sure. It either turns out really well or really bad. Either way they eat it. They probably live in a small apartment somewhere, in my mind California, or they travel constantly. If it’s the former they stay home for the day and if it’s the latter they just stay in one place for the day paying more attention to wherever they are than they usually would just enjoying the day.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ I know if you choose to sacrifice Arcadia bay, Joyce dies, but I’m unsure if Chloe knows. If she knows I think she’d be quite upset, probably cry a little, knowing she’ll never spend another birthday with her mom. She’ll cry for her dad too, even if she’s ‘used’ to it by now it still hits as hard especially with Joyce gone. If she doesn’t know she’ll likely spend a portion of her day calling Joyce’s old number, looking for information on Joyce, etc. feeling the need to reach out.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ Chloe hates fondant. I just know it. Max is, in Chloe’s words, a weirdo who enjoys fondant.

[dogwasthrown]

Inebriated words are sober thoughts

College!Ellie AU, Hockeyplayer!Ellie AU, weed, alcohol, sex, head (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), vibrator, strap on, readers besties with Jesse and maybe you hooked up with him, smut with a little plot

Minors dni!

The room was loud and colorful, friends and family crowding around typical party games. You’d said hi to so many people already, just to get dumped for a conversation with someone else. It was hell in a way. Music blared over conversations with no sign of stopping soon. This annoyed our best hockey player, Ellie. The girl who sat in the corner with her Aunt Maria. In your mind she was always such a moody kind of person. In a menacing sort of way. Like it was dangerous to like her. To be friends with her. Even revolving in a similar circle of friends could get your ass beat if a fight were to break out. She was a bad idea in general. She was hot though. Anyone would say the same for the auburn headed girl on the Wyoming Wolves college hockey team. She was the very reasons a huge party had been thrown. Everyone was enjoying this except her. The same girl who’s won us regionals and sent the team off to state. Typical. You’d assumed she was just antisocial, to be fair so were you sometimes. But… this was a more sour mood. However, you had a slight idea why. It was well known that Ellie and Cat had dated and had a rough falling out… the same Cat that you were actively talking to. Her being pissed at you is sugar coating it really. Any time you glanced her way, her eyes were staring daggers at you. Your eyes immediately shoot down to your feet when your savior Jesse arrives, pulling you into the crowd and to a quieter room. You stare at him thankful and tired.

“Thank fuck… whereve you been you sonofa b-“ he covers your mouth, trying not to draw attention of the other adults in the room. You warily looked around and saw many parents having coffee, catching up on the latest football matches, the works.

“Don’t be mad.” He grinned, slipping a poorly rolled blunt out of his sleeve. “Anything works right?” You eyed the adults in the room, consumed by their own companionship. Slowly your eyes shift back to him as you hit him in the shoulder.

“fuck yes.” You whispered, quickly shoving him out to the back door to ‘go on a walk’ for the next 20 minutes. This was your favorite kind of night. The kinds where you can find at the best people to talk to with one unifying factor.

Alcohol and weed was abundant in college.

Small groups there doing shots, others tossing pens around like the football teams newest slut, and many, many blunt rotations. 20 minutes later you stumble back in behind Jesse, to which he caught you, awkwardly shying away. You turned only to see Ellie staring at you again… differently. You shivered and immediately went to go get a drink. Compared to the cool weather outside, the fraternity’s golphing house was hot as hell. Cottonmouth had struck again. Quickly finding your way to the drinks, you reach for your favorite drink when you're high, Gatorade. You frown when a tattooed wrist and hand reaches down for the same flavor. Your throat immediately seems drier, fuck you were too high.

Fuck fuck fuuuuuuuucccck.

You immediately back off, letting Ellie take the drink. “Sorry-“ you mumbled, as she stared unwavering. How long had it been? 10 seconds? 20? You can’t remember, you can only remember her. Maybe flirting several days prior was a bad idea.

“No it’s fine-“ she holds the drink you to you. “I heard your speech earlier this week, it was good.” When the fuck was Ellie into marine biology??? You nod slowly before snapping out of your haze.

“Sorry, yes uh- thank you” you felt dizzy now, heart beating dangerously fast. No biggie. “You scored the last three winning points, you won the championship.” You pause smiling, “for the best player and stuff.” You grin, feeling sheepish again. She was indeed attractive… in a strong kind of way. Menacing in a hot way. Her brows furrowed.

“You think im the best?” She asked in a sarcastically flattered kind of way. Fuck she was hot. You giggle nervously. Get away like now. You shied away, stumbling backwards, thankful that someone called her elsewhere. She didn’t leave without eyeing you up and down. You swear your heart fell out of your ass when you realized you were wearing one of Jesse’s old hockey jerseys with his number on it.

So maybe in your close time with Jesse you’d had a few flings. What could you say? Hockey players are hot.

The night was a blur, talking to people, hiding from Ellie, walking outside with hopes that the frigid air would sober you up, hiding in the bathroom. A loop. Around 12:35-ish you stumbled into a dark hallway, slumping against a wall. Your eyes were puffy, you’d spent all night acting sober to parents and counselors, and did so in brightly lit rooms, you felt hot and stuffy. Footsteps echoed from the front door, blowing in a cold breeze that soothed the heat. You let out a soft groan, “fuuuuuccccck-“ rubbing your eyes and neck, savoring the coolness of your skin.

“Cold?” the person asked, apparently they’d decided to stick around in the dim hallway.

“Fuck yes- are you not?” You mumbled back, rubbing your neck, eyes still closed.

“Winners don’t get cold-“ the person teased. The voice sounded nice. Sharp but in the softest way possible. Your words in your head finally caught up to you -Ellie. Your head whips up, staring right into the piercing green eyes that had been eyeing you all night.

“Sorry-“ you mumbled, “I’m high.” You stand up fully and realize. She’s taller than you by a few inches. Shit. She smirked, putting the back of her hand on your forehead.

“You do feel hot.” She murmurs, guiding you outside and to another dorm room. She rooms with Abby but as far as you both knew she was blackout drunk on the couch at another party.

“Come lay down okay?” She tuts, eyeing you before slowly leaving to go resume the party in her honor. You then spend the next ten minutes trying to find her phone number in the sea of text in your college group chat and when you can’t, you swing out of her bed and back to the party, being slightly more functional. Fifteen minutes later, you feel an arm snake around your waist. Ellie. A softer thought of her. “Did you green out?”

“Thought I was gonna get laid again.” You mumbled without thinking.

“Oh really… that why you were slung on Jesse’s shoulder earlier?” Your eyes shoot to the floor. “Right.” She whispers. “He went with the boys to the ice rink to play some celebratory hockey. Besides…” she turns you towards her. “ We should talk. You can stave off being a whore right?.” She teased again. You felt so embarrassed to be referred to in a vulgar manner. Shrugging, you slipped out of her grasp and outside, feeling your temperature ease. She’s right behind you though, a hand eventually pushing you by the small of your back in the direction of her room. You felt blissed out. Comforted by her. You didn’t reject when she invited you inside, offering you a drink as you slumped on the couch. You lazily nod and soon a nice cold glass of juice is brought to you in a mug. You eye her afterwards, “Apple Juice?” You giggle and she immediately smiles. After a while a movie was turned on, and you slot yourself by Ellie on her couch. The movie was long forgotten, something about a sassy fox stealing from old rich men and destroying things in the process. You were busy staring at her. “ Wanna talk princess?” You wrinkled your nose.

“Don’t call me that.” You mumble. She smirks and mutes the movie, turning fully towards you, almost crawling towards you.

“So stubborn.” She slowly, oh so slowly, pushes you back. “Are you okay with this?” She murmured, ready to pull away in the blink of an eye. You nod a little too fast. “Words baby.”

“Please Ellie.” She smirks, laying you on your back, running a hand over your hip and up to your ribcage.

“Sweet.” Her eyes narrow closing the small gap between the two of you with a dry mouthed kiss. Pulling back after realizing, she took several gulps of Gatorade, offering you some smirking. “Gatorades for winners.” She teases. You go to shove her shoulder playfully but she catches it, pulling it and licking the spilt liquid on your hand. You gasp and she takes the initiative to lean forward and kiss you again, her wet, cool tongue sliding over your own. The breath has been knocked out of you. Fuuuuccckkkk.

“You're alright.” She tuts, dragging you down by her knees. “Wanna know a secret?” Of course, you nod and she pokes out her tongue to show off a small ball. A piercing.

Your face reddens and your arms immediately cross your boobs, even though you were still fully clothed. She raised an eyebrow and gently pulled your arms away, sliding layer by layer off.

“Feel okay?” You nod, smiling at her consideration. Her eyes narrow as she finds the reason you’d been covering yourself. Two little balls on either side of each nipple. Ellie could’ve come right then and there. Gingerly, she takes one between her thumb and index, rolling the bud back and forth. You on the other hand were shaking and whining in pure ecstasy from it. “You don’t do this too often do you?” You shook your head no gently.

“Not with a girl before.” You murmured, panting as your eyelids fluttered. A flip switched in her head and she was immediately softer. She wanted your first time with a girl to be ruined for all other girls.

“Oh baby-“ her voice was syrupy and doting in all the right ways. “Am I just a dip in the water to you?” She teased, pulling a piercing gently. A quick shake of your head and some begging turned her legs into jelly. “Like that’s huh?”

“Hah- feels so good- Ells- fuck” you whined, grasping for any control you had left.

“You’ll get what you want. Just let me have my fun first okay?” She murmured, tracing a peaked bud gently with the pad of her finger. You again nod in submission, waiting for her to advance again in this fucked up game of chase. “Good girl-“ her voice vibrated in the shell of your ear. Fuck. Your mind was mush, begging for her.

“Ells- please” you clawed at her sweatshirt, which she ever so slowly took off. Bruises and scars from hockey and on the ice fist fights littered her skin ever so often. She was lean, yet so damn sturdy. Strong was the best way to sum her up now. “Wanna see you.” You whine, to which she quickly picks you up and carries you off to her bed. You felt so special being in her room. No one ever did. It felt like you were doing something taboo. She gently set you in the center of her bed, hands tugging softly at your pants.

“Want these off?” She grinned, knowing any answer would be a version of yes. What she didn’t expect was a little sigh to escape you. Then it dawned on her. You were still very high. Well lucky her. Without waiting another second she had your pants off, the pad of her thumb circling over your clit through your lace underwear. You hadn’t intended on really making it this far and didn’t think about the color or type of underwear it was. However now there was a horny teenage girl between your legs begging to touch you. Softly of course. Between gasp your hands gently pull her hair and guide her face to your mouth. “Good girl,” she mumbled.

“Ells… wanna feel you… now” you whispered to her in a soft whiny voice. Her heart naturally melted as you lay, limbs tangled like that of a newborn deer.

“Alright baby, take a chill” she murmured to you, wrapping her soft, slightly chapped pink lips around one of your nipples. A sharp gasp arose from your throat and Ellie’s eyes nearly rolled back. She loves hearing you. So pretty for her. All sprawled out and high in her bed. “Wanna feel these?” She murmurs, wiggling her fingers. You whine and sit up to paw and pull at her arm. She spat with a air of superiority, “words baby.”

“Please Ells wanna feel your fingers please,please,plea-“ you were shushed with a hand on your mouth as Ellie pushed you back down nodding.

“Alright baby.” She smiled, cupping your cheek. Her fingers press gingerly to the now soaked lace and she smiles, prying the fabric away from your stick folds. “All wet for me?” She teases into which you only stare back, a nervous ball sitting in your stomach. When her fingers press in it’s a whole different story. For starters you hadn’t been laid in a while. Like several months. So to say you were tighter than usual was an understatement. Her brows furrowed. “Will my strap even fit in you? God you're perfect.” She groaned, curling and pumping her fingers at a pace that had you seeing stars. You were keening, crying, begging for release. You wanted her so bad. You didn’t know how to ask, this was your first time with a girl. You pout, hands clamped around her wrist to which she looks in curiosity.

“I wanna do this Ellie- now. I want you.” You slurred, as if her fingers weren’t inside you. She nods, giving you a peck on the cheek before ramming her fingers inside over and over. “Got it baby. I’ll make you feel so good such a good girl-“ she doesn’t finish, your loudest moan slips about, back arching. Oh. Praise is lovely when under the influence. She quickly catches on, teasing you and giving you pet names. Just when you think she’s done, you feel her tongue on your clit while she’s fingering you. You shriek, head thrown back and eyes rolled into your head. Fuck this was lovely.

“I’ll take perfect care of you.” She murmured, swiping her tongue over your core, again and again to collect your juices. Ellie was in heaven. A cute girl, all blissed out on her bed after a well fucking played hockey game. She swelled with pride. “Do you wannna…” she asks softly, pinning you down, her crotch inches from you, yet still clothed. You were confused but relented. Seeing the haze you were in she ground down her hips onto your, your clit catching on the lip of her pants.

“Shit- shit fuck-“ you whimper out, grabbing her arms again, nodding eagerly. She didn’t waste a second setting the two of you up to scissor properly, your leg resting on her shoulder and her leg, almost twisting to be behind you to hold you closer to her. You were slightly confused and ashamed of being inexperienced. “Yknow I’m not particularly experienced in thi-“ she ground against you- hard. With a whine you shut up as she mumbled to you.

“Your perfect. Don’t care if you hooked up with Jesse or if my ex fucks with you. This means you're mine.” She murmurs, fingers tightening around your neck as the both of you continue. “Good girl.” With that she ground and pushed you onto herself with a record pace, making a hot white flash behind your eyes. Ellie drank up the image like it was her last meal. “Your so fucking pretty.” Without another word she pressed a kiss to your shoulder and stood to get something. You’d assumed it was over and this wouldn’t be a reoccurring thing. Nope. Ellie stumbled back towards you with a black strap and a shiny, silicon dick that vibrated against her clit. “Ready?” She asked softly, leaning towards you. When you nodded she immediately changed again, dragging you down the bed to hang your legs off so she could get a perfect angle as she slid in. Your entire body seized at the intrusion to which she calmed you down and coddled you until you were functional again.

“Fuck it’s a lot-“ you whimper, body not used to being stretched like that.

“You can take it baby. You're doing so good.” Ellie cooed, slowly thrusting back and forth. Another 15 seconds passed before she picked up the pace and you could feel the lighting traveling up your spine. “Fuck baby-“ she groaned, pistoning her dick into you.

“Close Elli-ahhh” she only went faster.

“Be a good girl and cum for me okay?” She panted, the vibrator bumping against her clit would send her to her climax. She didn’t care though, she only wanted to see you. “Please baby- please cum for me-“ she begged softly, rutting in a more sloppy manner. You nodded, almost screaming when she played with your nipples again. “Come on baby-“ she rasped in your ear and you were gone. Shaking and crying and too blissed out to do anything but watch Ellie cum with a strangled groan.

“Thank you Ellie.” You mumbled, sitting up slowly to pull her down to cuddle with you. With an arm wrapped around you she sighed, closing her eyes for several minutes before getting up to clean the two of you off. The night ends around 1:30 ish, allowing the both of you to rest in each other's arms contently.

“Any time princess.” She murmurs back, wrapping her arms around you. Maybe being near Ellie wasn’t too bad.

[spinningalbinoturtle]

LGBTQIA Middle Earth headcanons that might make Tolkien roll over in his grave but its pride month so here we go

In other words why would homophobia or transphobia exist in a fantasy world?

The Shire

Okay hear me out…all hobbits are lowkey nonbinary. There aren’t really assigned gender rolls in hobbit society. Parents are equally involved both in raising kids and maintaining an income. “Household tasks” are shared by both hobbits regardless of gender as all hobbits like to garden, cook, clean, sew/knit etc.

And lets magine for LINGUISTIC DIVERSITY (just for you jrrt) that the hobbit dialect of Westron because there is not strict social gender divide has only two third person pronouns; one for objects, and one for people. You’re an intersex hobbit? No biggie it doesn’t matter. Clothing is based on personal preference and fashion of the time not gender. Because its a farming society most hobbits wear pants but some like skirts or dresses (I think Pippin is one of these)! Sure if you have tits you may want to wear corset or bra of some kind but that’s just for comfort and support not societal expectation. Hobbits don’t really have any reason for a strong gender divide or binary so you just present however you feel comfortable!

And in regards to same sex partnerships they similarly would not care. I think hobbits are probably a very sex positive culture given how they feel about other stuff like food, drink, and weed. Its normal to experiment when you’re young and when you do settle down with someone it doesn’t really matter who. Hobbits tend to have a lot of kids so its really helpful to have gay aunts and uncles who will help with the childcare of your 13 kids! Similarly I think poly relationships are excepted. The only thing hobbits may have a hard time with is the ace spectrum (see Bilbo and Frodo being considered “odd” for not marrying) in the same way they might be confused by a hobbit who doesn’t like to smoke pipeweed or drink. Like they’d be fine with it just like kinda confused.

Dwarves

On the other hand the dwarves (and elves but we’ll get to them later) are very accepting of anybody on the ace spectrum. As for the rest of it again hear me out… all dwarves are intersex.

We know they are not sexually dimorphic and I think this applies across their whole bodies. Like in our world there is a wide variability within this spectrum but all dwarves have both male and female traits and anatomy and take whatever role in sex they choose! I think Khuzdul similarly only has one third person pronoun.

Elves

Similar to hobbits I don’t think there is really any gender divide in Elvish society beyond who carries the babies but again coparenting is strong. Most if not all elves are bisexual because they don’t have sex til marriage and other than genitalia all elves present the same regardless of gender. However there are sometimes trans elves and I do think they have gender reassignment surgery in valinor and rivendell that is better than anything we have in our world.

Men

Okay here’s where I think the patriarchy kicks in. I think with a few key exceptions (the Dunedain and the Wild Men) human society is relatively patriarchal in the same way ours is (as evidenced by Eowyn’s experiences) HOWEVER Aragorn son of Arathorn is THE BIGGEST ALLY YOU WILL FIND and once that bitch gains the thrown you can bet your ass there is a major turn around. Divorce? Legal under any grounds. Abortion? Legally and available at all medical facilities. Legal and medical gender transition? Absolutely. Gay marriage? Legalized day one he had to officiate Gimil/Legolas and Sam/Frodo.

Maiar and Valar

CANONICALLY AGENDER OR GENDER FLUID ITS IN THE SILM GO LOOK IT UP.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for putting in a fake negative review for my workplace? (👾👾👾 for easier search and recognition)

So I've worked at this local hardware store for a little over a year now. So far, it's been the most chill job I've had and has paid a bit better than the last one I worked at. The current staff, for the majority of them, I'm pretty chill with, except I (and a lot of the others) has had issues with two people: One of the managers (let's call him Reggie, 40sM) and one of the associates (we'll call him Cider, 40sM). Reggie is a recovering alcoholic and he's been keeping his sobriety by using marijuana, while Cider is an old friend of Reggie's that used to be a bartender. Reggie was hired on as a manager a couple months after I started, and a month after Reggie hired Cider.

From almost day 1 everyone has had some sort of issue with the two of them. For one, Reggie is always casually breaking the rules by wearing slippers to work (safety hazard, it's a damn hardware store and the floors are concrete), leaving for several minutes to even HOURS without saying anything to anyone while still on the clock, and worst of all he often hotboxes in his car so he comes back with a literal cloud of weed clinging to him. He's taken money out of the safes and store deposits for his own personal stuff, and then goes to replace the money later, and it took him over a year to actually start doing some of the basic manager stuff on the computer. I, and two other people, were taught some of those same manager stuff within 2 weeks. Mind you that we're still sales associates, but because we were taught this stuff Reggie would sometimes have us do some of the more tedious manager stuff under his code. So, when it looks like he's done a ton of work, in reality he was doing something like reprint sales tags and leaving the plaza to go home and walk his fucking dogs.

Cider on the other hand has been found smelling like alcohol, evidently being drunk on the job in front of customers, and we've had to clean up after him more than a few times in the bathrooms. Hell, Cider came in actually drunk on his first day working, and the manager on shift at the time (who wasn't Reggie) wanted to turn him immediately out the door.

The other two managers have both reported all this to the store owner, and even the store owner's son who co-owns the place has seen some of this stuff first-hand (He came up to one of them asking if it was just him or if Reggie reeked of weed). The both of them have even experienced Reggie's incompetency during truck orders when the other managers were on vacation. The store owner still hasn't done any sort of reprimanding to Reggie, despite that if the other managers did anything similar they'd be fired on the spot. Neither manager can say anything to Cider about his drinking, because then he'll just say something like: "Oh, I'm getting in trouble for having a little drink, when Reggie can be here every day smelling like weed?" Dude can be a good worker, but only when he's occasionally sober.

Basically, I want to create a throw-away google account and leave a 2~3 star review as customer saying that some of the associates smelled like weed and alcohol and seemed like they were under the influence. I know it sounds like a dick move to do this, but maybe if there's a public thing about it then the store owner will start addressing it. Maybe put in one every couple of weeks to make it really stack up and make an impact.

What are these acronyms?

[missamyrisa2]

I don't have a makeup fetish but I totally get the vibe. Idk what to call it to but I have a fetish for being washed by a machine or a place like a car wash with tickling heavily involved. And your thing sounds similiar if that makes sense. It's very niche but the way you always talk about buffers on machines or makeovers while being tickled just gives me the same exact feeling.

-💙

ghhh!~!! yessss you know exactly what I meannn it's that like~~ pampering sort of attention that skirts the line of affection and teasing in such a ~sparklyyy~ way right? I loooove the cleaning machines toooo I was going to work that into the post but I was already so far off into the weeds on the makeover stuff hehe~~ it's likeee mmh there's something soooo hottt about a machine's soffft fluffy spinning buffers coming for your stripped wigglyyy body and there's nothing you can do to stop ittt and the machine is gonna do it's thing whether it tickles or turns you on ~

I mean that's whyyy there needs to be a carwash with the upper level where while your car is being tugged in, a machine plucks you out and takes you upward to go through a very similar process except, person-sized and designed where you go through buffing brushes and swishing fluff curtains with detail jets of water and tinglyyyy soap sprayssss~ and of course, technicians with scrubby brushes to deep clean alll those goodie spotsss~<3

[henghost]

Hey, I wrote all of this in a PTSD and weed fueled haze of madness.

Can I marry your dad?

Wildbow thinks the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden was an apple or something that gets worms in it.

That is what the title is. If Taylor died she would be a saviour figure who was born from evil (Coil was Danny early on, but then he flinched in front of his readers being like "But he so evil, child abuser!" like a FUCKING COWARD).

I have torn down the first word of this work and I have no will to see the last. Taylor is in heaven in the end and wants to see her mom. Or she is in hell with child rapist Danny. Whichever is worse for you. But wibbles is an inferior God who cannot simply let people have FREE WILL because he is a stemlord fuckhead who wants his cool religious feelings but won't fucking commit to the bit.

I get all of this because we are reasonably similar people in terms of tastes.

Or, I was. I deflected into liking queer literature instead of being a dick about it and deciding to make Santa a transgender lesbian rapist.

To be clear, I do not think Amy is actually trans, she was just wearing a Santa suit with her family when she had her trigger event. They were doingg a photoshoot that turned into an assassination attempt on the aparrent leader of the New Wave, Mrs Clause (Victoria's costume is a lady christmas outfit). Amy was the Santa because she is the hideous orphan of the family that needs to be covered up ("like a burqa wearing freak" is how Wibbles would do this. Me and my high school friends had a whole thing about this kind of a joke when we were playing Rogue Trader once).

I actually made a setting that is basically Parahumans once, but my three God Tiers were Ciara but a Guy (the passive one), Alexndria but she's Storm (King of the Game), and The X Threat (Eidolon without the 3 power limit, was killed by Ciara but a Guy).

The whole story was about being in Detroit and having to deal with BROCKTON BAY STYLE SHIT. I do NOT think Wildbow stole this stuff or anything, I think we are just similar kinds of people. Except I like drugs! Tulip🌷 — Today at 1:45 PM• she/it ||fae/faer if you wanna|| But yeah, I was always weirded out by how I had somehow come up with a remarkably similar setting.

Funny thing: one of my players used something like Grue's power as a kind of move once, and I had to explain to him that this meant that he was causing at least 3 or 4 people to die in car accidents since he was blanketing several city blocks.

Yes, this was a public discord message at first. I would correct the typos, but they are kind of stylistically important imo.

compels me tho

[lqtraintracks]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @maesterchill @danpuff-ao3 and @nv-md for the tag! <333

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

314

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,295,054

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter is the big one. I've also written some Captive Prince, Locked Tomb, and one Call Me By Your Name fic

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Right Hand Red; Hung Like a Horntail; Slip Into My Lover's Hands; Weeds or Wildflowers (written with the very talented @unmistakablyoatmeal); and check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try. I'm seriously behind. The truth is, I'll never get around to replying to them all. I will someday die with a thousand unanswered comments. But I do try. And I read each and every one and they touch my heart. I'm so very grateful for all the wonderful comments I've received and continue to receive!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oof. I hardly ever end things badly. But there was one wee ficlet; lemme go hunt it down. (*plays elevator music*) Ah, here it is: Not-Forever Is Still Forever. It's not MCD or anything. Draco just leaves for Argentina for two years. *shrug emoji* But I like to think I've gotten pretty good at baking some realistic angst into the middle of things, if not writing angty endings. I prefer it that way.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them except for Burning the Ground, which is an open ending. I'll be honest, I don't like the word fluff. I'm never trying to write fluff, which, to me, denotes a level of uncomplicated sweetness. Maybe others define it differently. But I don't think happy endings are necessarily fluffy. I want my happy endings to put tears in your eyes, to move you. I want to evoke different things with different sorts of happiness for different phases of life. RHR's ending is about a feeling of freedom mostly, of getting to face the next part of their lives without dread. Take You Home has a similar vibe but with them a bit older; they've experienced the painful and mundane disappointments you have to weather in this life that have nothing to do with fighting a dark wizard and everything to do with existential questions about who we are, how we go on, what do you do when it doesn't work out, when you've changed and you don't know who you are anymore. I loved ending it with all their friends, at a march for trans rights. Heart Like Neon has an ending that makes *me* the most happy. I modeled it after an episode of Grey's Anatomy where you find out at the end of the ep that two important characters got married. The whole ep, none of their friends know, then at the end they play 'Bones' by Josh Record, and you go back in time by a few weeks and you see it. When I wrote the end of HLN, I had that song playing in my head from the end of the party at the Weasley's, to jumping three months earlier, to Harry and Draco in Paris. That's a pretty goddamned happy ending. It makes me cry. <3 (Also the art that @bluebutter-art made for it makes me bawl happy tears!!!)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I was going to say hardly ever but then I *just* got some last week! LOL. Still, I'm very lucky that it's not even once in a blue moon. That stuff is so arbitrary too. I'm going to quote my good friend @elrhiarhodan: People... they're fuckin nuts. :D

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

LOL yes. A lot of different kinds? I want to try a little of everything as a writer.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No. I mean, I probably have a couple times over the course of my literal decades in some fandom or other, but they're not worth noting.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, several, and into multiple languages. I think that's so cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Definitely! In HP I've written with sdk, @the-starryknight and @nv-md, plus I once did a wild round robin with a big group of people. I'm not good at round robins, I've realized. Too much of a control freak.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Drarry, totally. But right up there is Harry/Teddy and Harry/Teddy/Draco. Then Ginny/Pansy, Charlie/Teddy, James Sirius/Albus Severus (with Teddy too sometimes). In CaPri, I love Damen/Laurent, but @linecrosser had totally made me ship when Damen lends Laurent out to Nikandros for a threesome and also Auguste/Laurent. I also hardcore ship my own original characters from my novel. <3

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't do WiPs really.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oof, this is tough. Pacing? Interpersonal relationships? Smut, for sure. LOL. I think I do well writing things that are transgressive or maybe even filthy with a lot of tenderness and compassion and deep, deep love mixed in. And I think I'm getting really good at making people cry when I want them to. Readers, that is. :D

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Convoluted plots. Can't do them. I wish I could. I can't write a mystery to save my life. I'm also pretty bad at heavy angst. I also wish I could write something nonlinear, but my brain just doesn't work that way.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's interesting that this is a question because it's meaningful to me not because of fic but because of my novel. I have a Spanish-speaking character, fluent in English, but sometimes he says things in Spanish. I'm very VERY lucky that @capiturecs read my novel both as a sensitivity reader for Latinx/Latine/Latino aspects but also to correct my Spanish and make it realistic and conversational! I'll be forever grateful! I also now really REALLY want to learn Spanish! <3

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Sorry, I don't share this publicly.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Oh this is mean. This is cruel. I can't possibly answer this! RHR has got to be in there. Heart Like Neon. Blood and Fire. Phoenix in the Fire. Take You Home. Wonderful Electric (cover me in you). A Pain of Our Choosing. My Name in Your Mouth. Bloom. collarbones like a bow, skin an arrow to the heart. I'll stop there!

Okay, this was fun! I'll tag @corvuscrowned @ruinsplume @floydig @sweet-s0rr0w @lettersbyelise @magpiefngrl @skeptiquewrites and Elr! <3

[0-solshroom-0]

I got encouragement from one whole mutual and decided i was gonna post it so here’s

roasting you based on your favorite les amis member

THIS IS A BIT AND NOT ACTUALLY MY OPINION OF YOU ITS A JOKE I SWEAR

enjolras - you really do have good intentions, but holy shit calm down the savior complex. it’s not all up to you, and you are really trying to take on too much but let’s be honest you do at least half of it for attention. and let’s be really honest you like the attention it gets you in the worst way. you probably only listen to like, mother mother now. used to be a hamilton kid TM

combeferre - you’re either incredibly anxious and not super book smart, or the most pretentious mother fucker i have ever met. you read a lot of books that make you look smart but you actually hate all of them and if it was up to you you would only read like, bad YA novels. please get a life that doesn’t revolve around impressing others

courfeyrac - calling myself out with this one, you’re not near as cool as you think you are babes. stop trying to be a whore and go to class. similar to combeferre fans, you’re either incredibly anxious or incredibly sexy in the worst way. burned out gifted kid but the kind that went fucking wild

grantaire - we get it, you’re sad. choose another personality trait that doesn’t involve you being sad please. it was almost funny at first, but now it’s annoying. other then that i love you and there’s not much else to say about you. you’re cute but you think you’re ugly and you make that very apparent.

jehan - look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t listen to glass animals and smoke weed. that’s right, you can’t. because it’s all you do. you like to pretend you’re very soft poet owo, but really you’re just as wild as the courfeyrac fans if not more and you probably don’t even fucking write poetry.

joly - a lot like jehan fans, except instead of being wild you’re just fucking weird. you pretend to be all soft and shit and then people get to know you and you’re a gremlin but not the fun kind. you probably think you’re all smart about medical stuff but you got all your information off of wikipedia and you don’t actually know anything

bossuet - i didn’t realize you guys existed but welcome to the party ig. you’re incredibly boring, there is nothing interesting about this character except he’s bald. are you bald, did you break one too many limbs and now relate to him, or do you just have really bad taste? and i love bossuet but why is he your favorite??

feuilly - (i’m trying but i don’t have very much bad to say about you guys) you probably are the type to complain about capitalism and money and then spend 300 dollars on clothes and other shit the moment you get paid, then whine about being broke. i mean, me too, and the system is definitely set up against us, but have you tried a savings account?

bahorel - i can see the appeal, but much like bossuet fans why is he your favorite? you probably had a very toxic view of masculinity until very recently, and now you project it way too much onto this character. you probably hit your friends as a sign of affection. except you hit way too fucking hard and it makes people cry when you’re not around. there’s really not a lot to say about you. you’re kind of mid but you think you’re hot shit

marius - he doesn’t even count bitch pick another one. i know you won’t because you’re “different” and “quirky” you’re definitely the friend nobody likes but everyone loves. like we love you but you bring a strange off-putting aura to the hangout and nobody really trusts you with any important information.

[phanyu]

story time

i had an odd upbringing which led to me not knowing a lot of things including things about weed and how to consume and dose and all of those nice things. when i gained the freedom to live how i wanted to live i went to a dispensary and bought a bunch of fun edibles to try. except i did not want to tell anyone i had never tried anything before and did not want to look it up because how difficult could it really be, so i would eat like a whole cookie meant for 8 servings and it led to some interesting experiences. i experienced hallucinogenic effects and ego death, and since i knew nothing about weed i certainly knew nothing about ego death. the first time i got high i got so high that i hallucinated and thought a higher power was communicating to me and showing me that basically everything is meaningless and a bunch of crazy shit and i cried for weeks after. then i got high again and had a similar hallucination experience except i was watching friends and their faces and the subtitles just got really weird and squiggly and changed so that was fine. and then that kept happening a few more times until a friend was telling me that he likes to get high and i said same except it’s weird that you can’t move and can’t speak and see things and he was like uh. what. and now i have a normal amount of weed and it makes me feel nice and floaty.

that’s my life! thank you so much for spending time with me

KJN4IO3J45FNJ923I404I39IO423L;4@"#$:LO#$P@#!??!?!??!?!?!??!?!??!?!???!??!?!?!?? i know im 800 years ols but ive never been high in my life and see it's because i can hear just people's stories like this instead and go damnnn. my god. okay at least you know how to keep it chill now 😭 heres my question when you bake weed into cookies and brownies and stuff are the baked goods themselves still good. or do people not gaf about the baking it's just a conduit. always wonder that. thank you for taking the time to tell me your crazy stories regardless.

[chrlotpony]

uhh, reading an old fic I never finished, apparently I hc that sunil smells like warm carrot cake?? it sounds nice but when I describe smells with "warm", it means there's a fleshy undertone to it. so if you pick up sunil after he's been sleeping for 4 hours and sniff him, he'd smell like an off carrot cake. big pro of having a pet, my chihuahua smells like doritos🙏

I actually love smell hcs cuz it gives me an idea on how the characters一 or how I think the characters live which leads to more ideas and such. no surprise, sunil likes things and himself to be kept clean. not as clean as russell but yk, tolerable and nice. takes great care of himself, too. I wouldn't say russell has a notable smell like sunil, he's so clean that he doesn't even have a smell. he's got a faint smell that is just russell... russell smells like his DNA. his house has that unique smell that can't be described, ykwim? and it's not bad either, I guess I would call Russell's faint smell as new furniture. yeah.

since I'm here now, ig I'll just explain the rest of what I think the main 7 smell like.

My mind immediately went to Minka, I think she smells similar to Russell except she has a smell that's actually notable. She smells like if you baked a potato pie using sharpies. "Sugar, spice, and everything nice" ahh monkey. It's not warm either, it's fresh. Like sharpie potato pie with a side of fabreeze. I don't exactly know what this means for Minka. I'd say she's doing fine. Living. Painting.

Zoe... I think she just smells like blanket. A well taken care of blanket, and not one that's sitting in a shelf or cabinet with other blankets for like 3 years, no, like a blanket you washed 2 weeks ago. Obviously she also smells like prefumes and stuff. A Sephora store, even. That is only when she is pampered up, though.

Pepper makes her own scents for herself but it majorly depends on how she's feeling. When she's not, she does have her own smell, and it's not anatomic skunk fart smelly, it's weed and mint cream smelly. If pepper doesn't have a mint smell, that is NOT her, that is a fake, don't go near her. And yeah, I did mention weed but I really mean more like a hemp cream. I do love both smells of weed and mint though, nostalgic scents. But here's the "smelly" part... she also smells a little like an abandoned meat farm. She just has to not be upset for that weed mint smelly smell to happen naturally, or else she is fish bomb stinky.

Vinnie smells, erm... Not the best. Could use deodorant more often, especially before dancing. I'm sorry😭 He doesn't smell sweaty all the time though, ofc. I think he smells like... minions kid perfume and olive oil. That's the smell I think reflects vinnies living habits. Are reptiles even capable of producing their own smells? (yes) Whatever, the gecko has hair. HIS HAIR, actually his hair does smell pretty nice. Coconut oil, maybe? It's not like Vinnie doesn't care about his hygiene, he just needs to work on that more. Mother never taught rahh

I think Pennyling smells the best, actually. She tries hard to smell good. Who'd wanna hug a fuchi panda? :( She learns from Zoe and Pepper about layering and what scents fit her best. Her smell is heavily based on what she puts on, so you'd less likely catch her smelling anything less than nice. So I'd say that she often decides to smell like Christmas-feel milk chocolate. It's a warm, cozy smell. While her natural smell is like leafy citrus. Very earthy.

[essencetale-ask-blog]

Essencetale is the world from a rp I've been in for YEARS, you'd think the characters, story, and designs would be rock solid by now and that I would actually know how to draw them but. No. Help.

This will both be an ask blog and just where I'll post content of it once in a blue moon. Please bear wirhme as I desperately try to figure out how to draw humanoids, but most of the time I'll probably be drawing their catified versions. And whether they're drawn as their pre-arc or post-arc selves will depend

Essencetale started off as an Undertale au like four years ago, hence the name, but has long since evolved into its own thing aside from a few similarities. I don'treally want to write out the story here since It's Long and this is pretty much just for my friends to ask stuff, and they already know the gist of it, but if anyone else wants to know it I might

The characters you'll probably see the most include:

Hope, she/her, she has my name bc she started out as a self insert and is still sort of me. Honest to godI couldn't tell you what her personality is if you held a gun to my head

Nicholas, he/him, Hope's brother. He's a menace and he would kin Sans Undertale, except he'd also kin Mettaton a little. He smokes what's basically weed, he's afraid of dogs, and he's also self aware and is the most powerful character but he's chill. Most of the time. He was a space-faring alien in a previous life (previous version of the rp), and can still turn into his alien form because of that. He also really likes science

Evangeline, she/her, leader of the Crystalkin (the species that Hope and Nicholas are). Pre-arc, she's a menace and evil, post-arc, she's a menace and debatably less evil. Afraid of cats. She would violently kin Starlight Glimmer if she knew who that was. She can both read and control minds. She's committed countless war crimes but it's okay. she's a girlboss

Axel, he/it, ancient vengeful ghost, similar in personality to Evangeline but he's committed So Many More War Crimes. He's actually very Melcore, he's a murderer. He's someone's babygirl. He's YOUR babygirl. I can't get further into describing him without getting into the plot actually

Lucas, he/him, Hope and Nicholas' childhood friend, except he's actually a Really Good robot built by their dad, Noah, to protect them (not that that worked like. At all). He's one of those robots that's so good they're just A Person With Cool Robot Powers. He's a sweetheart that likes drawing and that's pretty much it

MORE WILL BE ADDED PROBABLY BUT IM TIRED OF WRIIIITIIIIIIINNNGGGGGG