#ITS THE ONE THING KEEPING ME GOING THIS YEAR

[pucksandpower]

Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he���s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

[footygirl114]

Soldado (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

One of the prompts inspired me, so here ya go. It's definitely rusty but please let me know what we think!

Prompt: “Don’t just say that and then walk away!”

Walking up to the front door of the Putella’s home was one the most nerve wracking experiences you have ever experienced in your first 18 years of life. This home had become your sanctuary in the last 3 years, the family had taken you in and made sure you were loved and cared for and in return all you did was ruin the best and only friendship you ever had. 

You had grown up with an absent mother and a drunk father, to say your childhood had been rough was an understatement. You were able to fend for your self by the age of 6 and you knew to hide whenever your father came home after 8pm. When he wasn’t drunk he was a half caring father, but you could never shake the black eyes and bruises you learned to hide. The only good thing he ever did for you was to make sure by the age of 15 you had been a good enough football player to be in the training with the Espanyol team. 

This is where you met Alexia Putellas, she was this young superstar but she still befriended you. It didn’t take her long to see through the lies of where the bruises came from, and one late practice where you avoided going home she got you to spill the truth. From then on she made sure that holidays, school vacations, and everything in between you were invited to stay with her family. 

Her mom became like a mother you never had, and Alba was the sister you never had. But Alexia she just always remained Alexia, you never knew what that meant until you turned 18. You had finally realised that she was more than just anything to you, and that you were madly in love with her. Never being able to keep a secret from her, you confessed your feelings to her 3 weeks ago and you haven’t heard from her since she walked away without responding. 

Which brings you back to today, trying to work up the courage to knock on the door of the only place you would ever consider a home ready to say your goodbyes to the family you wish you still had. The last 3 weeks have been a whirlwind, and it took your drunk father almost breaking your arm and sending you to the ER to finally realise you needed to get out. You had walked the streets of Barcelona aimlessly trying to find a solution, and when the universe showed you a sign you jumped at it. 

Shaking your head you gained the courage to reach up and knock at the door of the house. While you wait for someone to answer you hope that you can get this out without breaking down. 

When the door opens you come face to face with Alba and you say softly “Hola, Albs.”

Alba smiles softly and leans against the door, blocking your way in, and she asks “what are you doing here Y/N?” 

“I need to talk to Ale” you tell her deciding not to drag this out. 

She crosses her arms over her chest and asks “Why would I let you do that? She shut down and hasn’t said anything for the last weeks and we haven’t seen you, you must have hurt her Y/N.” 

Shaking your head you tell her “I never meant to do that Alba, but I promise I just need to tell her one thing and then I am gone.” You know you sound like your begging and you hope the desperation in your voice helps. 

Before she can respond Alexia shows up at the door behind her sister and says “Alba its okay I got it.” 

Alba turns and looks to her and then turns back to you and says “if you hurt her again I will hurt you.” She finishes with a glare and then moves back into the house. 

Alexia steps outside on the porch with you and softly shuts the door. You take a moment to take her in, knowing this will be the last time you may see the women who has your heart. She’s in her most comfortable state, a pair of footy shorts, a soft hoodie (you note is one of yours) and barefoot.

You both stand there in silence for a minute and she finally breaks it and says “I am not ready to talk to you about it.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I came here to tell you one thing and then I will be out of your hair, you wont need to worry about avoiding me” you tell her softly. 

“what? Y/N whats going on?” she asks softly stepping closer to you. 

You take a step back and say “I’m leaving, I quit the team and I joined the army. I know you don’t understand it but I need to not be here anymore, and I need to do something thats for me, and will ensure I get away from him.” 

She stares at you and doesn’t say anything but a soft “Y/N.”

“No, don’t do that, this isn’t about you this is for me. I love you Alexia and I will always be in love with you but I cant stay on the side line of my own life anymore, I need to become the best person  I can be and get out from this dark cloud that is hanging over here. Its for the best, I cant wait to see you become the superstar I know you will be, but I cant do that here, watching it and knowing that you don’t love me back, that you aren’t in love with me. So this is goodbye Ale” 

You slowly move down the stairs and move to wipe the tears under your eyes, and you make it to the end of the walkway when she moves and says “Don’t just say that and walk away from me Y/N! Thats not fair.” 

You pause and turn your head towards her and says “what’s not fair is losing everything I have ever wanted because I have never been able to lie to you, I am doing something for me and you have to understand that.” 

You don’t let her add or say anything else as you turn your back on her and move to your car, you hop in and start the engine driving away to your new life without looking back. 

8 YEARS LATER

After 8 years of being a proper solider and training to better your self, you were finally able to settle down, and of course Barcelona would always have a hold on your heart. During your basic training your superiors noticed how easy it was for you to learn and communicate in many languages, add in that you knew how to fight and take it hit it made you the perfect soldier for a special ops team. 

During your 8 years of active duty you spent 3 tours in Iraq, Afghanistan and other War torn countries. And when you were not on tour you were either in the UK or the USA learning and bettering your skills to be a better help for the team. It was a long 8 years of constantly being on the go and when an offer came up to go back to Barcelona and be no longer on active duty you took it. 

They wanted your skills to help teach younger inexperienced soldiers and you craved the freedom and your bones ached for a stable home for your self. The Barcelona Police force hired you and were more than happy to have you work for them and also assist the army in their training. 

Barcelona was where you had your own personal demons, and you knew after 8 years of running it was finally time to slow down and face those demons head on. It helped you were much stronger and mentally tougher then when you were 18 and you knew you needed to face them head on. 

What you didn’t expect was to have to face one of them only a month into your new life in Barcelona. You had been out on patrol with your partner and were called to an assault at one of the smaller beaches in town. You got out of the passenger seat of the car and did a scan of the surroundings and you noticed a small crowd gathered at the edge of the sand and one person lying on the ground. 

You met your partners eye and you both walked over, you with your military training on high alert, one hand on the hilt of the gun at your hip, your eyes roaming the surroundings. When you got closer to the crowd you almost stopped, when you noticed who was standing off on the edge of the crowd but you pushed through when you saw the guy on the ground get up and start to run at someone else in the crowd. You and your partner both sprang into action and got in between them and the guy you were holding tried to take a swing at the other and you easily subdued him and had him on his back with his hands locked behind his back in the blink of an eye. 

Once he was secure with the handcuffs on your hip you hopped up and hauled him up with you, you turned and met your partners eyes who nodded at you and had his guy also in cuffs. He turned to the crowd and asked for any witnesses to what happened, as you moved your guy to the car and sat him in the back seat. 

You sat him down and asked him his side of the story. After listening to his side you closed the door and left him in the car as a second patrol car rolled up for the second guy. You nodded to them and mentioned the guy int he back of your car and you walked back to the crowd. You took a deep breath and readied your self to face the first of your demons. 

“Who’s next to be interviewed?” you asked your partner as you walked up beside him, and he pointed to the group of 3 girls to the left.

Moving towards them you introduced your self “Hola, I am Officer Y/L/N and I will need to see your IDs and then I can take your statement.” They all handed their IDs over and as you were matching them and recording their names and information you couldn’t help but take a peak at the women who held your heart. 

You hadn’t seen her since that day 8 years ago on her mothers front steps, you had followed her career and you knew she was in the middle of a miracle season and she was on track to win everything. Seeing her on the computer screen through a grainy stream wasn’t the same as seeing her in person. Just looking at her was slowly igniting that spark inside you that you thought you had buried 8 years ago. 

“Can one of you tell me what happened?” you ask them ready to take notes and keep this professional. 

“so basically, we were lying here and the guy in your car came up and started to give us a bit of a hard time, but were used to it. SO we told him to leave us alone, and then the guy there with your partner walked up and tried to defend us, and the other guy just threw a punch at him.” You had their IDs so you knew this was Maria Leon who explained it. 

“they started going at each other and thats when Ale called 911, the commotion drew more people over and they stopped fighting when they had a crowd and then you guys showed up.” Jennifer Hermoso explained the rest to you. 

“thank you, so to be clear, the one in the back of the car threw the first punch and harassed you?” you asked wanting to finish this up. 

Maria smiled and said “I wouldn’t say harassed, we can take care of ourselves, but yes he started it and threw the first punch.”

“And you both agree?” you ask.

“Yep, he did” Jennifer agrees. 

Alexia just nods and remains silent through the whole exchange. You nod and say “okay this clears things up, someone may be in touch but you are free to go.”

The two of them smile and say their thanks and move to leave, but Alexia remains standing in front of you silent. 

“ale you coming?” Jennifer asks her and it seems to shake her out of it and she nods and moves to gather her stuff. 

You nod at nothing and move to go back to your partner, you both agree you to the statement you got from different people and then you move to walk back to the car together. Before you can get half way there you turn back and look toward Alexia and you meet her eyes, as she’s still watching you. 

It takes your partner nudging you for you to break contact and you move to get into the car. before you can fully sit you hear “Officer Y/LN” yelled out behind you and you turn and see Alexia moving quickly towards you, you close the door and step towards her and away from your partner hearing the exchange. 

“Yes Alexia?” you ask her softly as she stops a foot from you. 

“You’re back?” she asks you to the point. 

“I am” 

“for good?” she asks you again straight to the point.

“I think so yeah” 

“okay then.” she says and moves to walk away. 

“thats it?” you ask her confused. 

She shrugs and half turns to you and says “How does it feel being on the other end of someone walking way from you? It sucks, being left to wonder what they mean and what they are going to do.” 

You can feel the pang in your heart listening to how broken she sounds and you ask her “Can we talk about it?” 

“now you want to talk? What happened to talking 8 years ago?” she turns on you half shouting and you know that she’s drawn and scene. 

“ale, please can we talk somewhere not here, and not when I am on duty?” you ask her. 

She looks around and shakes her head and says “you know where to find me, if you even want to.” As she finishes she jogs away towards her friends and you are left standing there wondering if this is a demon you will be able to tame, or if you were doomed to be in love with someone you can never have. 

[barcaatthemoon]

be like water || fridlona rolfo x reader ||

you try to pull away from frido when your feelings become too much to handle.

you didn't think it was possible for you to be so stupid. there had never been a doubt in your mind about following frido and ingrid from wolfsburg to barcelona. they were your best friends, and it made ingrid feel a lot better if she was close enough to really look out for you. what you couldn't believe was how quickly you managed to fall for frido once mapi came into the picture.

in all actuality, you had always had feelings for frido. she was kind, caring, and gorgeous. however, she had always ever spoken about boyfriends. you knew that didn't mean your crush was completely hopeless, but you also had trouble imagining a reality where frido liked you back.

you could think of a million reasons why frido wouldn't have felt the same way about you. there would always be so many things standing in the way of your happy ending. you were fairly certain that frido was straight since she had never shown an interest in any of your other teammates before. if it wasn't that, then the age gap was sure to get you. you had been barely 18 whenever the two of you had met, and it didn't help that ingrid had introduced you as "the baby" of the norweigan team.

'baby norway' was what they had been calling you since your call up to the national team at the tender age of 15. you had been a super sub back then, but it had only taken you a year and a half to become a consistent starter. you'd been blessed with practically no injuries, none that required rehab or surgeries at the very least. however, all of that came crashing down around you at barcelona.

it had started with a little tweak of your ankle during practice. frido cursed herself for not noticing it earlier whenever you went down at the next game. you knew that it wasn't her fault, you had already begun to pull away from her. still, she sat with you in the trainer's room while it got checked out.

"frido, you don't have to stay here," you told her. ingrid was out on the pitch and mapi was sitting in the stands with the rest of the injured players. you had hoped that frido would have stayed on the pitch, but instead, she had been insistent on coming with you. it was hard for you to avoid your feelings whenever frido openly showed how much she cared for you.

"jona has already subbed me off. am i just supposed to leave you here all by yourself?" frido asked you. you opened your mouth to tell her that was exactly what she should do, but she cut you off first. "don't be ridiculous. you and ingrid were there for me whenever i got hurt. i want to be here for you too."

"frido, please. this is the last thing that i need right now. just, go take a shower and calm down," you said. frido couldn't come up with a reason to argue with you, so she reluctantly left you in the trainer's room. once she was gone, you laid back and took a deep breath. it felt like a weight was lifted off of your chest once she was gone, only to be replaced by guilt clawing its way through your throat. frido just wanted to be there for you, but you couldn't get over your stupid feelings for her long enough to let her.

…

"so, tell me again why i'm the one picking you up from the hospital when i know for a fact that frido asked to do this?" ingrid asked you. she had been around countless times when frido offered to take care of you or escort you from appointment to appointment.

"we haven't gotten to spend much time together lately, and i missed you, that's all." it wasn't a complete lie, but ingrid knew that it wasn't the whole truth either. she pulled down a side street and turned her car off. you couldn't get out on your own, so the two of you were trapped there until ingrid got the truth out of you.

"did something happen between the two of you?" ingrid asked. you shook your head as you pulled your good leg up into the seat in front of you. you rested your head against your knee to keep it turned away from ingrid. "you still love her, don't you?"

"of course i love her, she's my best friend. i came all the way from germany for her, ingrid. i just didn't know that i couldn't be around her alone," you confessed. ingrid paused as she took in your words. you had always been adamant that you came for both of your friends, even if ingrid knew otherwise. she knew all about the secret feelings you kept for frido, just like she knew how conflicted frido felt about you.

"mapi is going to kill me for this, but i want you to stay with me for the next week or so, okay? neither frido nor i want you to be alone, but i won't force you to stay with her if you can't handle it," ingrid told you. you thanked her quietly as she started the car up again and drove off towards her apartment.

she didn't tell you about frido already being at your place. ingrid didn't tell you a lot of things, just like she didn't tell frido anything either. she kept both of your secrets until one of you were ready to come out with it. she wanted to help you desperately, but knew that it wasn't her place to put it all out in the open.

…

"i don't get it. did i do something?" frido was practically tearing her hair out as she sat on the couch next to ingrid and aitana. your stay with mapi and ingrid had ended over a week ago, but you were still dodging all of frido's texts and calls.

"it's not you, i promise," ingrid reassured the older woman. "the baby just has some things to work out, that's all. this is a difficult time for her, she's going through a lot."

"but why is she pushing me away? i could help her, but she won't let me." tears sprung to frido's eyes. you had always seemed closer with ingrid because of your shared nationality, but it had never been an issue for frido before. "i need a minute."

"frido, wait!" ingrid shouted. frido was standing, but she didn't make a move to leave her place. "let me drive you to (y/n)'s. i think you two realy need to talk."

"she doesn't want anything to do with me. i'm not you, it's okay," frido said. ingrid sighed and pulled frido outside. the drive from your place was pretty short, usually just a ten minute walk.

ingrid felt bad about blindsiding you, but this conversation couldn't wait any longer. both you and frido were tearing yourselves apart trying to navigate feelings and your friendship. ingrid knew how easy it could be for both of you, and that was all she wanted. she just wanted her friends to be happy, even if the thought of making a move terrified the both of them.

you hadn't expected any visitors, so ingrid and frido's arrival had taken you by surprise. ingrid shoving frido through your front door and closing it for you was an even bigger one. ingrid knew practically everything, and yet, here she was forcing you to be alone with the person who had been giving you so much grief for the past few months.

"i think we need to talk, but i don't know what to say to you," you told frido. you hobbled over to your couch and sat down. frido just stood in front of you and paced around your living room. "fridolina, calm down."

"no, i can't. i am sick and tired of being calm about this. you've got me worried sick. i care about you so much, and i want to help you through whatever this is, but you won't let me. i know that i'm not ingrid, and i'm sorry, but fuck! let me help you." frido's voice grew as she spoke, but she never really got close to shouting at you. "talk to me, please. i miss the way things were in germany, it felt so much easier back then."

"trust me, it was never any easier. we just weren't alone back then like we are now," you told her. frido glanced down at you, a look of confusion on her face. "i don't want you to be ingrid, frido. i love you for you, and that's the problem."

"your problem is that you love me?" frido asked you. you nodded, unable to look up and meet her gaze. you kept your eyes down as you felt her approach you. the couch dipped down as frido sat down next to you. you shuddered when her arm wrapped around you, even though you had been craving her affection since you started to distance yourself. "look at me, (y/n), please."

"i can't," you whispered. frido sighed as she pressed a kiss to the side of your forehead. "i can't do this. i have to talk to jona. i have to go back to wolfsburg or just somewhere else."

"don't run away from your feelings. just look at me, please," frido pleaded with you. she was on the verge of getting on her knees and begging you to look at her. you didn't know why, but something in her voice compelled you to go against your instincts.

your eyes met tearful blue ones, and you nearly broke because of it. frido gently caressed your cheek, rubbing her thumb along your cheekbone as she stared at you. there was no disgust or pity in frido's eyes, which caught you by surprise. all you could see was relief. your friendship didn't implode on the spot because of your admission, which filled you with a relief that you couldn't even begin to describe.

"i love you too," frido told you. she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against yours. her eyes flicked down to your lips before coming back up to meet your eyes again. "can i kiss you?"

frido barely managed to finish her sentence before you were lurching forward. she caught your body in her arms, allowing for you to practically lay on top of her as the two of your lips met in a passionate kiss. frido began to push you back a bit to catch her breath. you let out a whine as her lips moved off of yours.

"i've wanted this for so long that i don't ever want to stop," you said quietly. frido smiled as she pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "i thought you'd hate me if i told you how i felt. i had tried for so long to be cool and casual, but i couldn't. the more time we spent here without ingrid, the harder it became."

"i wish that you had told me how you felt, but i am not sure that i would have accepted it at first. i think we were both going through something, but that's over now. we have each other, and if you're willing to give me a chance, i'd like to see where this goes." frido's words made your heart swell a little with happiness. it was an odd feeling, finally having your feelings reciprocated. you didn't know what to do with yourself. you didn't know where things were going, but you hoped that they flowed as easily and naturally as your friendship with her had.

[penguinbuttcheeks]

Three's a Crowd - ghost x reader

summary: you’re the latest addition to the 141. price and gaz have each other, ghost and soap vice versa. you start to realise that you’ll never be able to gain the attention of your comrades - let alone your lieutenant - the way you so desperately crave.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

cw: angst, typical cod violence, character death, mw3 spoilers

word count: 2,318

A/N: feeling angsty so have this :D (FURTHER PROOFREADING IS NEEDED !!! but im eepy and impatient its 2am)

also i genuinely can't live without music, so i always end up adding a song that kinda reminds me of my fic. its not something that needs to be listened to - simply any song i find that kinda suits the vibe of the story and also just sharing some good music for others to enjoy !! idk, just something i enjoy doing (im rambling)

Being the latest addition to the TaskForce 141's ensemble had its downfalls.

While you were immensely grateful for the opportunity to have been recruited by John Price himself, there was still the lingering discomfort of trying to fit in with a new group.

It was childish really. Such a minuscule concern whilst in the midst of fighting a war.

It had been several months since you were enlisted, yet your relationship amongst the four members seemed to lag in comparison to the camaraderie they each shared between one another. Years of companionship amidst the terrors of combat had strengthened the bindings of their connections, forcing them to rely on one another when faced with life and death. It was something that you had yet to experience with them.

You know that these things take time - especially given that fact that it was so common to lose comrades in this field of work. Everyone was terrified of getting attached. 

Over the coming days, the five of you had been preparing for an upcoming mission. It was crucial that everything panned out perfectly. Price wasn't leaving any room for fault, not when the safety of thousands were at stake. thousands of civilian lives. Men, women and children.

While Price and Gaz - with the assistance of Farah - had set out to Urzikstan to lead an infiltration on a Konni base they believed Makarov was operating at, you were assigned to Verdansk with Soap and Ghost. 

The task; stop Konni from destroying the Gora dam.

The three of you were currently grouped at the meeting point, scoping the area before setting off to defuse the bombs scattered across the site. With the little numbers you had, you were going to have to rely on stealth. You hated stealth.

Stealth required trust. Trust in your comrades to complete their designated tasks without fault, trust in your comrades to stay alert. 

You had none. 

You were determined to change that succeeding this mission.

"Be advised, Konni personnel are grouping near multiple locations below you." Laswell's voice snaps you from your thoughts, her voice ringing through the comms. 

Ghost and Soap look up at where you were perched. You were their sniper for this mission. They were relying on you to keep them covered and you were not going to let them down.

You raise your hand in the air, giving them a thumbs up to alert you were ready and in position. The two men send a curt nod in return before setting off to track down and defuse the explosives.

With Laswell over-watching the operation, and you giving the duo support from a higher vantage point, the low numbers were of little concern. The four of you knew that you would be able to carry out the mission smoothly. Besides, 

Failure wasn't an option.

You watch as Ghost silently takes out several guards, advancing his way through the facility as he tries to locate the bombs.

"Bagged 'em" Laswell confirms another kill for Ghost.

“Two guards, on your three by the barrels” you alert Ghost, watching as he stealthily approaches the guards. “I’m lined up, I can get them in one”.

They’re on the ground before Ghost can even blink.

You grin as you peer through the scope of your sniper. This was going to be cake.

“Good to see you in one piece, Johnny” Ghost huffs, splayed on the floor of the heli alongside you and Soap.

“Haven’t felt better, LT.”

It was a scramble trying to meet with Nikolai and board the aircraft, lifting off amidst the enemy's gunfire. You ensured there were no men left standing by the time you all were long out of sight. 

Price would be pleased. 

“Yeah, I’m okay too. Thanks for asking” you huff out in annoyance, watching as Ghost lends Soap a hand, lifting him to his feet with a small grunt. 

You get up by yourself, a simple side glance sent your way from Ghost before both the men turn to Nikolai. At least Soap had the decency to return a relieved smile.

“Mission accomplished, Bravo. You three took down an army and saved lives tonight” Laswell congratulates through the comms, her usual monotonous voice doing little to praise the successful operation that the three of you had completed. “Makarov will not take this well.”

“He’s a big boy,” you respond with an amused grin. “He can handle it.”

“Don’t underestimate the rage of the Russian’s” Nikolai chuckles back in response, looking back at you momentarily to ensure all three of you weren’t seriously injured.

“Speakin’ from experience, Nikolai?” You smirk back, walking over towards the front of the heli where both Ghost and Soap stand, your sniper left discarded on the metal floor of the military carrier.

“Firsthand” Nikolai simply snorts back.

The rest of the ride back is silent, Ghost and Soap sat beside each other, a singular empty seat distancing their proximity. You? You sit across from them, alone on the empty bench. 

You don’t mean to let your guard down. You were simply exhausted and finally allowing yourself to stare aimlessly into space as the adrenaline in your system slowly drained from your veins.

“Don’t.”

The harsh voice has you crashing back to reality, eyes focusing in place to meet dark hazel ones, narrowed and directed at you. You hadn’t realised you were staring at Ghost while you silently decompressed. It was a rude startle from your meaningless thoughts.

“Sorry, I zoned out. My eyes were just comfortable” you respond awkwardly, adjusting your seating position and clearing your throat. “Didn’t realise I was staring”

Ghost simply glares back at you, his usual cold and emotionless stare making your hands clammy and stomach flutter. You quickly avert your gaze, turning your head away to stare at the metal tread plate flooring, instead focusing on the loud hum of the aircraft you were all seated in.

It suddenly grew too hot, too cramped in the helicopter. It was claustrophobic - suffocating almost.

You’re the first to scramble off the heli, exhaling in relief when you’re no longer boxed into the hunk of metal you had just spent the last hour travelling in. With your sniper draped loosely over your shoulder, you make your way inside the small safe house nestled on the outskirts of Verdansk. You don’t bother to wait for Soap and Ghost.

It’s late at night. Your body is near spent. Your only goal in mind was getting the heavy military gear off your body to finally allow yourself the comfort you crave. 

It’s a small shack, only the bare minimum provided. An old, tattered couch and rickety square dining table with four chairs on each side, each varying in design and wood finishes. They evidently didn’t come as a set. There is a small room off to the side, various camping cots packed and stacked against the furthest wall, at our disposal for when we choose to retire for the night.

Ghost, Soap and Nikolai soon enter after you, Nikolai retreating into the small room to set up the cots and get some much needed rest.

You keep to yourself while Soap settles on the small couch, Ghost taking a seat at the dining table to clean and check over his equipment. 

You hastily peel the stiff fabric from your body, vest and outerwear folded on the floor in the corner of the living room, your sniper. Resting atop of them. Your aching body can finally breathe now that the extra layers were finally discarded

“Ye did good today” Soap finally speaks up after a beat of tense silence. You turn to him in slight surprise, not expecting him to initiate any sort of conversation with you. “We’d have been fucked without ye” he continues, Scottish accent thick as ever.

You can’t help the small smile that creeps on to your face.

“You guys did the dirty work. I simply scoped the area from above” you assure modestly, not wanting to come across arrogant.

“Aye. Saved our asses several times. We owe you.”

Ghost simply scoffs quietly, standing to move outside where there would be less chatter. He was tired and didn’t want to indulge. 

Your smile is wiped from your lips, replaced by a slight frown at Ghost’s exit. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the Scot.

“He’s a crabbit old man. Pay him no mind” Soap assures you, voice low and seemingly unaffected by the Lieutenant’s departure. “The lad’s not one for meaningless blether.”

You nod, evidently disappointed

Soap observes you silently, taking in your defeated expression, a low hum of acknowledgment absentmindedly leaving his tight lips.

"Ye like the Lieutenant" he voices aloud. There was no room for argument in his statement.

Your head darts to Soap in stunned horror, mouth parted in shock. You're unable to respond, Soap speaking up before you're able to form your words.

"Keen een."

You immediately shut your mouth. There was no point in arguing. He knew.

Soap chuckles, a bitter and amused sound that leaves you feeling uneasy.

"Foolhardy choice"

You watch as Soap leaves to the makeshift bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone with your thoughts and anxieties. You don't get much sleep that night.

Returning to the 141 base was a relief in itself.

Touching down on British soil allowed you to finally relax. You were finally familiar with your surroundings once again.

You sigh happily upon entering your private quarters, throwing your bag carelessly to the ground. A shower was in order. You waste no time in stripping down bare to prepare yourself for the best shower of your life.

When you emerge from the shower, hair still damp and leaving small patches of dampness along the fabric of your fresh shirt you immediately make your way to the rec room. Some caffeine was in order if you were going to set your sleep schedule back to its usual.

You inhale sharply when you see Ghost sat alone, immediately on edge.

He turns his attention to you momentarily before wordlessly resuming back to the reports in his hands.

Message received.

You quietly walk over to the coffee machine, pulling out a mug as you put the kettle on.

You keep your eyes trained on anything but Ghost, not wanting to anger him again. You can't help but lose yourself in your thoughts once again as you wait for the water to finish boiling.

It wasn't anything more than a physical attraction that you had towards the aloof man. You didn't know the slightest thing about him. You did know however, that he was loyal. Just from your observations alone - it was obvious just how passionate he was about the 141. He would lay his life down without a second thought to ensure a mission was successful, to ensure his teammates were safe.

All of his teammates, save for you.

He was a machine during training, a monster on the field. Rippling muscle and deadly speed, accuracy that rivals even Captain Price himself.

So many times you've caught yourself staring, admiring from the peripherals of your vision with your lip caught between your teeth. You felt like a lovesick teen in high school. It was absolutely infuriating.

"It won't make itself"

You jolt in alarm, head whipping towards the voice. Ghost simply stares at you, eyebrow raised. His skull mask was replaced by his usual black balaclava he wore around base, the prominent shape of his brow bones underneath the knit fabric the only giveaway of his expression. His thick thighs are spread lazily in front of him, large feet planted on the floor as he leans back against the dark leather couch, papers still in hand.

You quickly tear your eyes away from him once again.

"I know." You internally grimace at your response. Stupid. So stupid.

Ghost chuckles, still eyeing you as you stare dumbly down at the now finished boiling kettle and empty mug.

"You're an open book" he speaks up, shaking his head slightly in disapproval, lowering his eyes back down to his reports. "You need to keep your head in the game, sergeant. This is a war, not a dating reality."

You glimpse over at him from the corner of your eye, fighting down the heat that tries to spread across your face.

"I'm well aware of that" you respond sternly, hastily making your coffee.

Fucking. Soap.

"Start acting like it, soldier"

You swiftly leave, coffee rushed and head lowered in shame. You didn't bother drinking the sloppy coffee, instead tipping it down the bathroom sink and watching as it swirls down the drain.

Makarov was defeated - the 141 finally accomplishing what they had chased like hell hounds for months - finally at its end.

Ghost stares down at your lifeless eyes.

What should have been Soap’s life was instead replaced with your own.

It was a selfless act of bravery.

No one was fast enough to respond. One minute you were here, yelling out to Soap in alarm, the next you were motionless. An instant death after Makarov lodged his final bullet in your skull.

Ghost knows that he should feel something - anything for the life lost. His teammate stolen from life too soon, but he can't find it in himself to care.

Price places a large hand on Ghost's shoulder, pulling him away from the scene.

The Taskforce retreats. They would send reinforcements to retrieve your body, to be able to send something back to your loved ones waiting anxiously on your return.

It was a shame really. The potential you had was evident, destined to continue fighting for your country alongside Ghost, Price and Gaz.

Ghost turns on his heel, following after his comrades and boarding the heli, your empty seat bringing a deep sense of impending doom, the reality finally setting in for the four men.

Ghost scoffs, shaking his head.

Three was always a crowd

[theoldsports]

Spontaneous.

Art Donaldson x Reader

oops. it’s gonna be a series. i’m developing Lore. let me know what you think and where to go next.

warnings: 18+ please, drug use mention, drinking (underage), kinda sexual content.

Fancy parties were loathsome. [Y/N] thought so, at least. She hated being told to stop calling them fancy parties and shindigs and to call them by their proper names: galas, benefits, balls, whatever. It was exhausting. Her feet weren’t meant to be elegantly jammed into spike heels. [Y/N] liked the height she was, thank you very much.

Did supporting charitable causes have to feel so degrading?

Capitalism at its finest.

[Y/N] had been attending these things since she was a little girl. Seven or eight years old. So young, in fact, that she now can’t remember what demographic or ailment-research, or political party this goddamn yearly spring shindig was for. Mr. and Mrs. Zweig were always nice to her when she was a child. She wasn’t just a family-friend, she (and her parents) felt like friends that were family.

What made the lavish Zweig parties tolerable was Patrick Zweig. She had known Patrick as long as there had been parties to get dressed up for. He had scraped her off a marbled staircase step as a little girl when her polished pleather mary janes didn’t have the traction to keep her upright. She had cried when she fell. He had said: “you’re really loud, you know that?” And she had laughed. So they were doomed to spend eternity hiding in coat rooms and getting tipsy together at these things.

Patrick was never one of those boys that felt the need to turn his back on [Y/N] during the cooties years, or the so-she’s-your-girlfriend? years. The pair of them always managed to be simply themselves and that was enough. He was merciless and unapologetic, but he made a hell of a best friend.

[Y/N] was two months older than Patrick, and had been taller for their first two years of friendship. When his shift in stature occurred, it happened fast.

Patrick went away to boarding school and came back a gangly beast. [Y/N], though they hadn’t spent every waking moment (weekends and school days) together since he had left her for a racket and a tennis ball, was always pleased to see Patrick was still himself every time he came home. Louder and stupider each time, but still Patrick.

Though, one spring break was different. Eleventh grade, if [Y/N] recalled correctly. Patrick came home, tall and stupid as ever, toting a boy named Art Donaldson.

Art Donaldson was considerably smaller, and debatably less stupid than Patrick Zweig. [Y/N] understood that day why all the girls in her grade giggled about boys. [Y/N] could never tell Patrick that. He would have been insufferable about it.

Actually, [Y/N] felt jealous. That was also a secret. Because Art, unlike she and Patrick, was nice. Everybody liked him. Nobody ever talked shit about him. Adults loved him and his small-town boy manners. He actually was a rambunctious little jerk, but nobody else saw that. Everyone else got yes sir, yes ma’am, I’m well, how are you? He could turn that charm on and off like a faucet. Infuriating, right?

[Y/N] was also jealous because it was clear she had been replaced.

Patrick lit up like a Christmas tree when he was with Art. He never looked at her like that. Art must have been a better friend to him then she was. Patrick called her once a week to talk for years, but Art slept, like, six feet away from him. It simply wasn’t fair.

Because of that, [Y/N] remembers spring break was really hard. [Y/N] was acutely aware she had lost something she didn’t know she could lose to the human version of a fucking beagle.

[Y/N] couldn’t remember the grade they were in exactly, but she did remember the dress she wore to the Zweigs’ party that year. It was light green and had spaghetti straps. It was longer and more form-fitting than what she was used. Most of the girls her age had settled for lots of tulle and cheetah-print so [Y/N] looked more mature by comparison. It was the first time [Y/N] remembered feeling grown up at all.

To think she thought that all her excitement and contentment was wasted. [Y/N] sat in a plastic pool chair in the backyard curled up with her cork wedge platforms resting dangerously close to the water. She nursed a bottle of vodka she had swiped two months ago from her parents liquor cabinet to surprise Patrick. Meticulously, she had waited for them to be out of town and found the key to the liquor cabinet. A whole bottle just for [Y/N] and her best friend. [Y/N] had barely managed to keep it a secret that she had taken it. She had been so proud of herself and thought Patrick would be too.

Now, she was the only one around to drink it.

Patrick had put his warm, familiar hands on her shoulders and told [Y/N] to wait right there and that he and Art would be back in a sec. The two boys had vanished upstairs presumably to Patrick’s room with laughter spilling from their mouths. [Y/N] sat at the base of the stairs alone for twenty minutes.

According to the garish clock on the wall, at twenty-one minutes, [Y/N] disappeared to the pool. She officially hated Patrick too. He had left her alone at parties plenty of times, and she him. They’d dance with others, or sneak off for a makeout session with a pretty stranger. It had never been a big deal either way. This felt like deliberate abandonment for no good reason. That was a first.

“Whoa, save some for the rest of us.” A reedy voice called out. Art Donaldson. [Y/N]’s head glanced over her shoulder so fast at the sound that she almost made herself dizzy. It took little time to realize there was no Patrick with him.

[Y/N] pulled the bottle closer. “That was a really long one sec,” She replied. She planned to say that eventually in the wasted minutes she waited, but it sounded less cool now than it did in her head. [Y/N] sounded plain mopey and that was a shame. “What’d you guys do anyway? Where’s Patrick?”

Art shrugged and walked further into view. He looked a bit sheepish. “Being Patrick,” He didn’t answer the first question she asked. There was a half-smile tugging at his lips. Art looked nice. Brown dress shoes, navy jacket, white shirt. No tie. She could have sworn that had been a tie at some point earlier. His shaggy blonde hair was mussed, but she had yet to observe it being neat. It was fustrating how effortlessly nice he looked. [Y/N] thought that everyday from day one. “It’s getting kinda cold. You wanna head back inside? I was looking for you—“

“I’m alright here, but thanks,” she slurred slightly. “You head in. I’m not here to ruin your fun.” It had sounded bitter. She hadn’t meant for it to.

Art sighed and glanced away from her. He paused a moment and sighed. “I’m not here to ruin yours either, y’know.”

“You don’t have to make this into a thing. It’s fine.”

“Well, too late. Patrick’s being an ass. I don’t want you out here feeling like I’m some homewrecker. I’ve been on the receiving end of shit like this from him, too. He’s not trying to be nasty to you, ‘promise. Come on, I’m not gonna let you freeze out here.” Art said, stepping in a bit. The glow from the pool left green and white wiggly lines across his cheeks.

“It’s spring, It’ll warm up. Get back up to that party, man. Patrick’s waiting for you.”

“You’re being impossible.”

[Y/N] set the half-empty bottle down beneath her chair. “Nuh-uh.”

“Jesus… if you’re gonna be a jerk about it, at least take this.” Art frowned, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He seemed disappointed.

“Oh, Art, please—“

“No, no! You made your choice. Don’t let me spoil your fun with you and the… the vodka,” Art said, making a show of taking the jacket off and throwing it over to [Y/N]. The balled up lump of fabric landed in her lap with a soft thud. Her stomach churned. “All hunky dory now,” He said, holding his hands out to show he was no threat. Art’s brows were lowered protectively close to his eyes in what [Y/N] thought was an effort to mask slight hurt or rejection. He turned to walk away as [Y/N] clutched the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. Art turned back to to look at her for a moment. [Y/N] didn’t know what that expression was meant to mean. “Be careful, okay? For what it’s worth, you—you look lovely tonight. It would be a shame for such a, uh, such a pretty girl in a pretty dress to end up face down, stuck in the pool drain. ‘Night [Y/N].”

[Y/N] was glad for the dark because she felt her face heat up and dopey smile start to form at the compliment. Maybe she was drunk, but that had to be flirting. In the most fucked up way possible, but still. Why? Art Donaldson didn’t even like her.

Art had only managed to take a few steps into the dewy grass when [Y/N] begrudgingly called out: “Art, wait!”

She hated that she liked the smirk on his face when he turned around. He could tell what she wanted by her tone. What kind of fucker takes no for answer happily and still sets himself up for a yes in the end. “Yes?” He asked, trying not to smile.

“Listen, you’re right—“ [Y/N] stood up confidently, sliding Art’s jacket around her shoulders. And she stood up too fast and knocked her sandals into the pool. “Shit!” She cursed. She was still an age where cursing felt cool and unfamiliar. [Y/N] stood on her unsteady feet and watched her sandals bob out to the middle of the pool, propelled by her kick. She was embarrassed now as well. The stakes of everything felt so much higher than sandals in the pool of her best friend’s backyard. Booze will do that to the sanest of folks. [Y/N] dropped her face heavily into her hands. Great.

Quickly, Art cut his eyes between her and the shoes and back again. “Where do they keep the pool net?” Art asked calmly, without missing a beat.

“The shed.” [Y/N] said miserably and pointed a few feet away. Art bounded across the pavement around the pool to the shed. He tugged once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “It’s locked,” He reported to [Y/N] from practically halfway in the pruned hedges. Art started the walk back to her. Once he was beside her, Art placed a hand gently at her elbow. “Come back inside with me. Please. Patrick may be able to get us a key and we can…”

But [Y/N] looked so sad from behind her hands. Even though all of this was so childish. She was also wearing Art’s jacket now and that did things to his brain. Her dress wasn’t not low cut and he froze for a second. All he could do was stare.

“Just do what I would do,” Patrick said. “It’ll be fine, man. She’s already into you, I can tell.”

“Well, if she’s into me, why would I do what you would do? That’s an awful suggestion, Patrick.” Art protested.

Patrick spun around in his desk chair to face Art as he rolled a joint. “I’ve known her since before I knew you. Just, like, be spontaneous. That’s what I mean. Spontaneous. She’s into that because she’s like that too. And she’s… wicked mean, so don’t start shit. She’ll surprise you, but like, in a good way. What I said before makes me sound like a jackass,” Patrick paused to laugh. “Be in the moment. Don’t get in your head about it. Which you’re doing right now— I can tell, Arthur…” Patrick drew out Art’s full name (which he hated) to get under his skin.

Art stood up from the floor in frustration. He glanced at his watch. Too much time had passed. The window was metaphorically closing. Hastily, Art dashed to the door. “I’m going down there. Poor girl’s been waiting all this time because you, my friend, are a shitty advice-giver.”

“Spontaneous!” Patrick called after him with a grin.

Art stared at [Y/N]. Then he blinked. Then tilted his head to the side. Spontaneous. Before he knew it, he was tugging his shoes and socks off and diving into the pool. Art had been right, it was getting decisively cold and the pool water reflected that. Art swam out to where the wedges had floated too, which had actually been fairly far. He wasn’t sure if the net would have gotten them that easily. Art nicked the shoes by the ankle straps and shook his wet hair out of his face. As he paddled back, he glanced at [Y/N]’s expression. She smiled wide with joy and surprise at Art’s sacrifice.

“Art! Thank you so much!” She said when he flopped the waterlogged shoes onto the concrete. Art looked up at her from the water and he only looked up her skirt a little bit.

“It’s no trouble. Repayment’s in order, though.”

“Repayment…? What do you—“

Art wrapped his wet, callused hands around both of [Y/N] ankles and flipped her into the pool. She screamed as she splashed into the pool. Then laughed hard. Art wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of his life.

“Wait, fuck, you can swim, right?”

Fortunately, [Y/N] could, and that’s the move that won Art Donaldson his wife.

—

“Honey, you have to get up so you can get ready…” Art’s mouth moved against the shell of [Y/N]’s left ear. His arm was tossed over her middle. Normally, it was Art that dreaded getting out of bed, but clearly they enjoyed switching roles once in a while.

A nap had turned into two-and-a-half hours of [Y/N]’s soft snores while Art held her. He couldn’t sleep much, but luckily he had something beautiful to look at. She ripped into him about his staring problem all the time. Art couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. “No.” She mumbled.

“Please…” Art’s hand trailed under her shirt and climbed up, up, up.

“No,” she sighed. Art’s hands groped her left breast and [Y/N] didn’t particularly mind. She shivered at the contact. Art had known every inch of her body over years. Neither was bored yet, though.

“It’s one night. One party. We don’t have to stay all night… He’s not going to be there, Lenora told me when I RSVP’d.”

They had an unspoken rule. They did not name Patrick in conversation when sober. The wound was too fresh still.

“Don’t talk about him, or his fucking mom when you’re touching me like that,” [Y/N] all but moaned as Art’s left thumb circled her nipple. “‘Thought we had to get up…”

Art smirked. “We do. At least you’re awake now.” He teasingly withdrew his hand entirely from out of her shirt and scampered out of bed in one agile zip of a motion.

“Art!”

She groaned. Rolling on her back to look at the ceiling, she glanced over at Art walking through the master bathroom doorway in his briefs. What an incredible ass that man has. “Motivation to leave the party early.” Art said and popped off into the shower.

Maybe it was selfish. Patrick and [Y/N] and Art hadn’t spoken in almost a year. It was no surprise to the Donaldsons that Patrick was an addict. He had been addicted to almost everything and everyone that crossed his path. What they hadn’t expected was him becoming so out of control that he missed the wedding of his two best friends and was sent into rehab once he was declared medically stable. The one person that both Donaldsons had fought to have in their own personal half of the wedding party. And he wasn’t there. And the wedding was expensive enough to go through with it amid all the bad feelings over Patrick.

Still, they were invited to the Zweig family’s charity or whatever gala. They would go like they always had, too. But it would be their first time alone, so to speak.

[Y/N] regretfully got out of bed while Art showered. She moved to the closet and unzipped her paper thin dress bag. The gown itself was beautiful, but not all too expensive. The year had been tight in terms of money. The wedding and the honeymoon were pricey enough before you added in rackets and competition entry fees and coaching. Art was an expensive husband to have. He made up for it. He was playing at his best too, so [Y/N] hardly cared. Who could put a price on seeing Art smile like that?

[Y/N] cringed if she had to pay more than two-hundred dollars for shoes or a dress anyway.

The dress was green. She’d worn a lot of green since she met Art. [Y/N] dreaded wiggling into shapewear and spending too long on her hair. Art had it easy. A tie, a jacket and trading his nasty watch for his nicer one. It wasn’t fair. It never was with Art.

She got ready all the same. The straps rested on her shoulders, thicker than the early 2000s straps she had been dumped into the pool in. It was longer than that dress. Almost floor length instead of mid calf. It was elegant for its price tag.

Once the dress was on, [Y/N] tumbled into the bathroom to do her makeup. The shared counter was way too small for both of their shit to sit nicely on. She would complain about that when there was more money in the bank account to do something about it. Art was taking longer than normal in the shower. Boner, [Y/N] thought.

As she started to put her face on, she could see Art’s face in the foggy mirror behind her. The sound of the water stopping and the shower curtain being tossed back had gone unnoticed. He was smiling slightly. “You look nice.” He said softly. Art toweled off his shaggy hair harshly behind her. He kept looking at her.

This is how Art was. He made these remarkable heart eyes at her every time he saw her. [Y/N] could be wearing a potato sack and she would feel beautiful. That look, that staring problem, was worse a hundredfold when she was dressed up. He kept glancing at her. She could see him in the mirror. He wanted [Y/N] to see. The blue and brown of his eyes cast further and further down her body.

“Staring.” [Y/N] said simply. She didn’t even look away from her own face in the mirror.

“Yeah. And?” Art smiled cheekily. His face was bright red not from the warm shower water. He wrapped his towel around his slim waist. [Y/N] applied too much concealer and less blush. “I, of all people, am allowed.”

“Idiot.” [Y/N] said. Art dried his hands profusely on his towel, knowing she would squawk at him if he left wet handprints behind on her dress.

Art’s hands wrapped around her waist. Great pains were taken to prevent other wet spots from splopping up her dress. So, so gently, he kissed the left side of her neck from behind. “I was thinking—” Art was always gentle in his own way.

“Ooh, dangerous.”

“Shut up. Y’know, this is the first Zweig party where your placecard is going to say Donaldson on it…”

[Y/N] nodded softly. “Huh. Yeah. That’s true.” She said, smiling a bit.

“I’m really, really excited about that. On the seating chart, we’re the Donaldsons. Isn’t that so crazy…?” Art whispered into her plush skin. “Plural. Two of us.”

Teasingly, she nudged him back with her elbow. The smile was still wide on her lips. “You’re being such a girl about it.”

Art didn’t let go or relent. He pressed feather-light kisses between [Y/N]’s ear and collarbone. “Am I? Hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re going to be late to this thing you want to go to so bad, Mr. Donaldson, if you don’t stop.” [Y/N] whispered, incapable of doing more. She did set down her makeup sponge and pot of foundation with a clack.

“Would that be such a bad thing? Only a couple minutes, right? We could-we could cut out some of the boring small talk and…” Art said, daring boldly to drag his tongue up her throat as the steamed up mirror cleared some. He never finished his sentence verbally.

[Y/N] gasped at the feeling. That was a brave move for Art. “You drag me out of bed early so we can be late anyway. You don’t make any s-sense, babe.”

He huffed impishly. Art spun [Y/N] around to face him. His face and shoulders were damp from the water collected in his hair, which desperately needed a trim. Carefully, Art brushed [Y/N]’s hair away from her face. “You’re right… I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you?”

“How?”

Then, Art’s mouth quirked into that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Please.” Art said in a hushed voice and boosted [Y/N] smoothly onto their rickety counter. “Give me ten minutes.”

“You can do better than ten.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Clock’s ticking.” When she said it, she heard Art’s knees hit the tile in front of her.

[canmargesimpson]

Spring Cleaning

I believe that Steve's mom was a bit of a control freak. I mean, she went on business trips with her own husband to make sure she wasn't cheating on him. so she clearly likes to have her own rules in her house. 

i mean she went on a trip with her husband to make sure he didn't do anything sus. So I feel like she would also be this clean freak, every spring, she would tell Steve to clean his entire bedroom and get rid of the things she didn't need. After a while, this became a bit of a habit for Steve, so, when spring arrived and the sun started shining once again, he would clean his entire room and re-organize everything.

Later, when he is about to move in with Eddie, he realizes his room is a complete disaster. So he went full on mom mode. He summoned the entire party, put on an apron that said “Mom’s kitchen!” and bought a bunch of cleaning products (most of them he knew for cleaning after a party). At first Eddie thought Steve was messing with him, but when he showed up with the kids and the offer for them to clean his room, he was left with no choice but to say yes. And so they got to work.

First they took off all of the posters, in which Eddie was very whiny about, saying that if they broke them or even wrinkle them, he was going to sue. Then went to the closet, in which Steve, Robin and Nancy took care of. Lucas took the records and boxes of music outside to organize them next to Max, who was just sunbathing. Will, Dustin and Erica took care of the books that were everywhere. Like… Everywhere. 

“Why would you leave a book in the oven?” Dustin exclaimed as he took the collection of Sunglasses After Dark books

“Cuz i had no place to leave them” he shrugged as he turned around and kept trying to keep calm at everyone touching his stuff

Mike and Eleven were in charge of collecting the plates, empty beer cans, and food which were laying around. Finally, Argyle and Jonathan were in charge of organizing what was for donations, trash, and to keep. BUT, Argyle was lucky enough to find some edibles and weed treats and they both ended up high as hell on the couch watching looney toons. They weren’t much help at the end of the day, but at least they didn’t stand in everyone’s way. After organizing the clothes from the category, they sat and tried to see which ones were appropriate to keep, which were clean, and which were… actually clothes.

“Oh I missed this shirt!” Eddie took it from robin and raised it to see the cover of a weird ass band album cover.

“Mama’s boy? Really?” steve raised a eyebrow at his boyfriend

“Hell yeah! in 1985, they opened for Joan Jett and The Blackhearts, it was a hell of a night. I got the cassette too! Hold on” he ran outside to find lucas and max laughing

“Red, Lucas, Mama’s Boy, Power and Passion” 

“Let me- god where did I leave the M…”

“Third box, right after Malice” Max said nonchalantly, leaving both boys astounded and she just smiles “just because im blind doesn't mean i can’t see anything” 

Lucas took the cassette and handed it to eddie who was quickly inside and went to the trailer and placed the cassette in the player and connected it with the speakers, and pressed play, and the music started ( lol this is the link of the album, since its not in spotify, it should tho, their music is great tho)

“Wait…” Robin called as everyone turned to her “Why do you have like… four of their shirts?”

“Well…” eddie bit his lip and looked away trying to come up with an excuse… but at this point, he had no option but to tell the truth “I MAY have… slept with the drummer, and i might have stolen them”

“You what now?” steve smiled a little confused

“It was like, 3 years ago Stevie, don’t worry, he probably doesn't remember.” he reassured

“You slept with a drummer from a famous band?”

“Well i have fucked more famoust people, Tommy McManus is a particle compered to what i have gone through” he shows off but when he turns to his boyfriend with an un amused face

“Who then?

Eddie started laughing nervously, looking around for help, but robin and nancy were trying not to laugh while Dustin and Erica were clearly enjoying this.

“Joey Tempest… from Europe…”

“You fucked a Eurpoean?”

“ i mean, he is from sweden, and his in the band called Europe, but yeah”

“Do they sing a song we may know?”

Eddie’s cheek turned bright red as Steve looked at him with such an intimidating stare, it was too pretty for Eddie to say no to.

“You know… It the final countdown, tanana, tananana, tanana, tanananananana aaa” eddie sang in a low voice, pretty embarrassed of the situation he’s in

“Oh my god” Steve rolled his eyes and groaned

“You slept with carol perkins while she was dating tommy!” 

“Don’t you dare play the carol card on me right now!”

After a long discussion over each other's sex lives, they got back to cleaning and organizing, till the sun was setting.  They all ended up on the couch, in front of the tv, discussing which movie to watch. Their options were Howard the Duck, Mary Poppins, and Lawrence of Arabia, in which they chose Mary poppins. Steve ordered a pizza for everyone, and when Wayne came back, he could help but to join the kids watching the childish movie. They eat everylast pizza piece, and they all fall asleep on the couch munched together, and it was too cute not to take a picture, so wayne grabbed Eddie’s polaroid, snapped them a picture, which ended up the first frame that was hanged in the Munson - Harrington flat.

[ladykailitha]

How I would do a sugar daddy/sugar baby AU. (I hope this doesn't awaken anything in me *side eyes the omegaverse*)

I've seen this well done in this fandom, I'm not saying I haven't, but of the ones I've seen they tend to be omegaverse or mafia/shady sugar daddy.

And I want thirty year old rockstar!Eddie with twink Steve. I said what I said. I think we forget that for the most part Steve isn't beefy. When he's "bulked" up, it's his clothing (Eddie's vest) or its his thighs that are "thicc". But Steve (Joe Kerry in particular out of the role) is thin.

So we have rockstar!Eddie with Corroded Coffin touring the country and doing a couple of dive bars because that's where they got their start and hitting up The Hideout, because again that's where they got their start.

Steve, who recently got kicked out of his parents house because he came out with liking men (gay, pan, bi don't care) and lost his job because again with the liking men thing (small town homophobia for the loss!)

So with his last twenty dollars, he decides to hit up on the local bar and drink away his troubles and maybe even get laid for a warm place to sleep tonight.

He gets dressed in his sluttiest clothes. Crop top, cut off booty shorts, sparkly blue sneaks.

Only he shows up on the night that Corroded Coffin is playing. After paying what he thought was a stiff cover charge (was actually a ticket to see the show) he gets in. He has less money than he hoped but he can only hope that someone is willing to buy him drinks.

He settles in next to the bar and realizes his mistake. The rest of the patrons are dressed in metal gear. Leather, black denim, and lots of chains. Steve doesn't just stick out, he sticks out like a prep in a metal concert.

But he can't afford to go anywhere else, and hopes he doesn't get too harassed tonight. So he keeps he head down and hopes of the best.

Only what he doesn't know is that he has caught the eye of the frontman and lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Eddie Munson. The fact that Steve stands out isn't a detriment, it's a perk.

He wants to find out everything about this boy who stumbled into his enclosure.

The rest of the band is rolling their eyes.

Eddie sends out one of the PAs to make sure that all of Steve's drinks go on Eddie's tab and spends the whole concert watching this guy.

After the concert Eddie sidles up to him and they get to talking. Immediately he picks up that Steve is not old enough to be there. So now he's worried he's under age.

They head out for a smoke and Steve admits that he's not twenty-five like the fake ID says, but nineteen. He shows Eddie his real ID as proof and Eddie is relieved.

They start making out and Eddie takes him to his hotel room to have sex.

In the morning, Eddie asks if he can take him home and Steve starts sobbing. He tells him about his shitty day with shitty parents and shitty boss.

And Eddie's bleeding heart immediately goes out to him and tells him to stay at the hotel for as long as he needs, order room service. Just no booze.

Steve pouts at that but agrees. That as long he stays at the hotel he won't buy booze on Eddie's dime.

Eddie gives Steve his phone number if he needs anything. He transfers the hotel room over to Steve's name, gives him a sultry kiss goodbye and leaves to finish his tour.

Steve doesn't have anywhere else to go and is not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he stays at the hotel. He gets to spend time in the luxurious bathroom with it's fancy shampoos and conditioners and hot tub like bath.

He finds that Eddie keeps sending him clothes and jewelry and suddenly the rich life style that he had with his parents pales in comparison to the extravagant lifestyle Eddie is providing for him.

Through all this Steve is still looking for a job as he doesn't want to overstay his welcome. But news hadn't gotten around town that he was gay and even people he thought he could trust are telling him that they can't hire him.

Eventually he gives up. He talks to Eddie all the time and whenever he feels discouraged Eddie will send him something pretty to cheer him up.

Finally Steve catches the fairy that had been leaving things in his hotel room when he's in the shower or out on the town.

Her name is Robin Buckley and she's a summer intern. Her uncle knew a guy who knew a guy that got her the job. She actually loves it, but she has one more year of high school and her parents won't let her drop out to be a PA for a rockstar.

They're concerned that he'll take advantage of her. Robin thinks it's funny because she's gay. Steve thinks it's funny because Eddie's gay and not into under eighteen year olds.

He tells her his story and over the summer they become best friends. Robin had heard that the Harrington boy had run off so imagine her surprise when Eddie's management had her deliver things to his hotel room. Staying in a hotel room in Hawkins is hardly running away.

Eddie comes back and just continues to throw money and gifts at Steve but doesn't ask for sex again. It's not until Steve tells him that he didn't fuck Eddie for his money or even for a warm bed at that point when he went back to the hotel with him, it was because Eddie cared. And god was that sexy as hell.

When Robin graduates Eddie hires her to be Steve's PA and the pair of them get to travel the world with the band as besties.

[ganondoodle]

I probably still wouldn’t have been a big fan of the game, but I don’t think I would have been NEARLY as upset about TotK if BotW didn’t seem like it was so obviously setting up plot points for a sequel. Like, you’re very clearly MEANT to wonder what malice is, and how Ganon became the Calamity instead of just the Demon King. Fi is awake again, where are they going either that? What’s the deal with the Triforce-shaped symbol on Zelda’s hand? There were a LOT of other things like that, and many of them had to do with overarching lore for the series.

I get it if they want to reboot the series, but “BotW 2” was the single worst game you could have done that with. It could have been an amazing conclusion to the original continuity.

EXACTLY, you, you get it

botw felt like the introduction to a vast world with secrets and hints to things that were planned to become a bigger thing- a big giant game as a big giant set up, and then ... like totk likes to do alot, it lacks a pay off, and that is something it even does within itself, cosntantly, set up and no pay off, or set up and the most boring and uninspired pay off you can really not even call that, from the bigger things like the whole dragon thing being hammered into your head as irreversible and then it IS reversible.. out of nowhere without you having to do fuck all, the whole thing with the ancient hero beign a big mystery with lots of interesting ideas attached and then its some weird ass dog creature that doesnt resemble any other race with, of course, sonau armor, bc there nothing that isnt sonau in that game, even finding the old treasure maps you can find that then lead to amiibo stuff from botw id call that

botw wasnt that great with rewards either but exploring the world and wondering about those, surely intentionally, placed mysterious and intriguing designs and places did alot for making it so interesting to think about, totk fumbles it all and even the new stuff doesnt even come close to that environmental storytelling botw was so great at, sonau ruins? ha they look entirely different than in botw actually, bc those were built by hylians you see, the actual sonau stuff is in prime condition considering the time thats passed and its all the same blank blocky blocks that serve no purpose but to be a place for you to find a thing or exchange some currency- the most you can think about it is ... that the sonau hollowed out the entire underground of hyrule, every inch of the map, ... which is WEIRD and doesnt exactly make them look that good but ... thats all there is

at least with the shiekah it made somewaht more sense and it felt much less .. invasive? and you didnt have anyone from that time to talk to, other than dead monks whos only purpose is to give you their last piece of their own spirit, but in totk ... raurus ghost and mineru too are both just there to talk to but DONT tell you shit but vague hints that were already clear, the sky islands used to be on the ground? oh you dont say, you see them there in the stupid memories! and dont get to know how they got up there and theres nothing that can clue you in to that, its just sonau magic yet again i guess

dont even get me started on the whole malice/miasma thing, it made so much SENSE that there was a source of it, someone that has keep kept in a horrible place just between life and death for thousands of years trying to break free by their hate and anger manifesting to such a degree its literally spilling out and building creppy eyeballs, mouths and ribcage like structures like they are trying to rebuild themsleves outside of their awful prison no one knows about is so damn compelling, but no, actually, the guy trapped there was the msot evilest evar, was sealed bc him evil and no other motive, and the previously mentioned stuff is pretty much utterly unceonnected, and his magic beign miasma with red instead of pink and no creepy body parts was the true version of it, that pink one was its own thing heehooo SHUT UP argh

it doesnt help that really, i dont feel like the sonau were set up either, they were a tiny part in botw, really only serving to make the world seem more ancient and more full of history, having ruins from a past civilization there you know nothing about and cant find out more is so good, its compelling and sad and makes the world feel more real, just shoving them into everything, being the center of attention all of thes udden and not even the architecure fitting feels so ... forced, i really truly believe the og sonau werent meant to be more than that, but in their fear of the game being too similarly looking like botw they took the sonau to replace the shiekah with them- imo the shiekah were the ones set up to be deeper explored in botw, with their whole misstreatment by the royal family in the past, monk miz kyoshia reacting the same way a yiga commander would was deliberate and brings up even more interesting ideas, the comments about where the mysterious energy the ancient shiekah used to power everything being concentrated in certain regions?? thats a big ass set up, the fact that the center of what is signaling everything to reactivate being below hyrule castle? the fact the whole arena thing was BUILT INTO THE CASTLE or it on top of it is so??? cool??? and sso damn intriguing, we are scratching the surface of their history- but then no, actually, the sonau are the cool new shit those other ones just uh ... disappear, also the sonau did everythign the shiekah did but even better wayy before them haha

its like they didnt want to tackle the more complicated stuff with the shiekah, their relationship to the royal family and how the yiga ... have a point and a good reason- so they replaced them with entirely new purely goodest good guys that did the same stuff before them with none of the history attached :))

this is why im so insistent on it not really being a sequel, thers no follow up on anything that was set up, NOTHING, and no, a couple having a kid now or whatever isnt a follow up on an interesting set up, how hard is it to understand that-

.... listen to me rambling, you probably know all that already nhjdfkbnkd

(i know i always bring up the shiekah but ... they were so central in botw, while also not taking up every single corner- unlike some other ones >_____>, with so much interesting stuff to connect and think about, i cared about them so much i felt kicked down the stairs by their treatment in totk)

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part three

part four: say the one thing i've been wanting

Steve had been dreading actually talking about this with Robin. He hadn't wanted to put her in a position to feel like she had to come out or stop using him as a plus one to industry parties to fuel rumors. Even as he and Eddie pretty publicly dated Robin's agent and most tabloids still thought Robin and Steve were a couple some even going as far as insinuating Eddie was Steve's side piece or their third.

"Steve, you're kind of scaring me, what's going on?"

"Birdie, I'm only telling you this because I can't not anymore but I want you to know nothing is your fault and I literally don't need you to do anything. I just need to be able to talk to my best friend and in order to do that I kind of have to get through this uncomfortable part," Steve answered.

"Anything, Steve. Whatever you need," Robin said.

"Okay, so Eddie and I kind of broke up because Eddie assumed I was cheating on him with Nance when she came to visit earlier this year. He got really upset and kind of blocked me from any way of contacting him so there was no way to clear anything up after he left but he definitely assumed I was cheating on him and he wrote that fucking song and I just need to talk to you without leaving out this really huge massive reason why Eddie left and why I still feel like total shit," Steve rushed to cover the main points.

"Steve, hun," Nance comforted. She probably guessed something else was going on but had been understanding enough not to press Steve for more.

"Steve, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," Robin started catastrophizing.

"Can you please stop saying my name. It's kind of freaking me out," Steve joked, "Robs, it's totally not your fault at all. It was a shitty situation I could have handled better and so could Eddie but there's really nothing to do about it know because I can't explain it to him and he clearly doesn't want me to so we are moving on, all right?" Steve attempted to keep the energy light.

"If that's what you want, sure babe," Robin said.

"I just want to stop going down Tik Tok rabbit holes of Eddie's stupid song without being able to complain to you about how fucking tired I am of not being able to do anything," Steve said, "and also I want so much ice cream and a really stupid TV marathon with my best girls and maybe roast Eddie's new song a little bit."

Nancy had already pulled up doordash and they were soon on their way to eating a smorgasbord of snacks and ice cream while watching reality TV and eventually dissolving into a karaoke session initially overdramatically singing along to Eddie's new single and ending with some old school Taylor (her version of course). Steve was feeling better than he had in a long time and started getting out of the fog he'd been in since Eddie had left.

Eventually, Steve started answering his agent's emails again and submitting tape for different roles. He'd gotten a part in a small indie film in Italy and Steve was pretty ready to take it. It was an interesting part, it was literally away from everyone he knew, the director was kind of weird and didn't let his cast use socials while filming and encouraged only phone calls and old school letters to really get into the period mindset. It was honestly kind of a perfect next project and it helped that the script was actually kind of great.

"As long as you aren't going because you're running away, Steve. You know I don't want you to leave and you shouldn't feel like you have to," Robin said as he was starting to pack his bags.

"I really like the project. It's a good script and I get to get out of my own head for a while. Kind of perfect honestly. The shoot is pretty short its only like four weeks so I won't be gone that long and you and Nancy can keep holing up in my apartment without me getting in the way!" Steve answered.

"You're never in the way, dingus," Robin nudged him and then brought him into a hug, "we'll just miss you kiddo."

"I'll miss you too, Bobbie. Now let me go so I can pack." Steve pulled away with a bigger smile than he'd had in weeks.

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

[honeytonedhottie]

HONEYS IT GIRL MAGAZINE april edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the april catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. this particular addition's collaborator is @pinkpigtailsprincess and its an HONOR. so pls look forward to the magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

SUMMER WARDROBE PREP ;

as we've talked about in this post right here, summer is right around the corner and we need to make the fashion count. april fashion is all about the transition from spring -> summer and in doing so gracefully there MUST be preparation.

for any season i think that camisoles r amazing because in the colder seasons like autumn or winter, u can wear camisoles underneath zip up jackets. in the summer and spring time u can wear camisoles as they are and they're so cute either way.

the key to camisoles is the length and the color and for the spring to summer transition, i advise u to steer clear of darker colors or thicker textures and go for more light/flowy, colorful pieces.

FOR THE BLOG ;

i haven't been very active on my blog (or at least thats how i feel) as much as i usually am and thats because school has been kicking my ass. now that the school year is wrapping up i have something that i'd like to introduce to the blog.

MY MASTER CLASS - i wanted to formulate a class that rly went in depth about manifestation so i decided to make a google class in which i hopefully simplified manifestation. just like in my blog, except in the class i formulate challenges, assignments etc.

the post where i go more in depth about the master class is coming out on wednesday (may first) so i hope that u guys look forward to and take advantage of this new resource 🍭🎀

FOR THE WELLNESS GIRLIES ;

if theres one thing that i tried to keep central this month was my health, so there r two things in particular that i honed in on and they are mindfulness and stress management.

MINDFULNESS - i wanted to focus on being more present in my emotions and just focus on the now more than anything. just kind of putting things into perspective. i've had time to ponder a lot of things and kind of tackle the big questions that i like to avoid and once u sort that out it feels like a weight has been lifted off ur shoulders.

STRESS MANAGEMENT - idk whats going on but my emotions have been all over the place and i've been feeling particularly stressed and overwhelmed so what i've been doing to manage that is mindful breathing and affirming affirmations that remind me that im safe, im fine etc.

and later on once im in a clearer headspace i'll journal thru my emotions and kind of sort them out that way im not harboring anything negative yk? and thats usually what helps me.

DOLLY'S SECTION, @pinkpigtailsprincess "SOME OF MY FAVS AND WHAT WE CAN LEARN FROM THEM

Some of my fav it girls What we can learn from them!!🎀 

The Boss

Whitney Gilbert + Rihanna + Lil Kim

The Smart Sweethearts

Jang Wonyoung + Elle woods

The Glitzy Dolls

Kimora Lee Simmons + London Tipton

| 𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖ The Smart Sweetheart !! 🎀

...📧 : Wonyoung & Elle are absolutely perfect for self expression and not letting other peoples opinions get too you both of them are unapologetically Super Feminine & Sweet even people

talk down about them, they always rise up and prove them wrong no matter how much people talk all while sporting their extremely feminine personality and fashion taste no matter how much they get stereotyped as a “dumb blonde” “pick me” or “air head” they know themselves

and thats all thats matter to them!! 🎀 Now all three of these women are incredibly smart thats have achieved major academic

success let’s look at what we can individually learn from them!!

🎀 ; Jang Wonyoung The Successful K-Popstar thats has gotten global success who has the perfect princess beauty

has inspired an ongoing lifestyle trend by the Name of “Wonyoungism” a trend inspired by the beautiful fans of Jang Wonyoung where her fanbase practices and promotes Taking care of them selves and being the best version of them selves and taking inspiration from won young to

⁃  workout

⁃  eat healthy meals

⁃  take care of their skin

⁃  practice good habits

⁃  attaining their goals

⁃  ambition & hard work

⁃  being nice & inspiring others to also joij in on becoming the best version of themselves and have an unbreakable mentally inspired by her famous quote “No Problem I don’t care you’re you i’m me!” and taking after won-young in having a high self concept and hard work no matter what!! and never letting opinions get too you even when she was getting dragged on the internet she gave them more reasons to hate on her even though they know nothing about her

Sources say The Chic Princess is also incredibly smart with some extremely impressive academic achievements including

⁃  took GED & got a perfect score in Korean,english & math

⁃  Won a Science Fair

⁃  Won Match Contest

⁃  Was her Class president 3 years in a row

⁃  willing joined sports

⁃  always putting time into her studies and ever wanted to be a news anchor +lawyer!!

no speaking of Lawyers...We must talk sbout the most fashionable lawyer out there..🎀 ; Elle Woods!!The Peppy Blonde Barbie From Bel-Air is Undeniably one of the most loved it girl characters out there!! she inspires many girls & women to do their absolute best in academics and maintain their authenticity and being charismatic and kind to those around her even with people who don’t like her!!, She’s literally the Pioneer of femininity in the work force bringing her girly & hyperfeminine personality + style while also studying law and becoming a lawyer

...but it’s not always glitz and glamour for Elleseeing as early on in the movie no one seems to genuinely taker her seriously and judging her too quickly because of her girly style,chipper personality & being a classic sorority queen but as elle and had more and more people on her back about her “being a ditz” “not being smart enough” she makes her own one women revolution on a quest to prove them all wrong! and when doing this she still doesn’t stray away from her bubbly personality and trendy style and with doing this proving thats girls can be girly and hyperfem and still be smart and pursue a career but even with doing this she can’t seem to shake the image of the stereotypical “Dumb Blonde” as we see in the movie when her professor seems to only hire ell because she’s pretty and not because of her academic success.

now obviously this makes elle spiral and think shes not good enough to where she ends up giving up becoming a lawyer because she feels as though because shes the stereotypical blonde rich girl from bel-air that she can’t be anything but a pretty face but still after the fact elle picks herself back up in one of the final scene of the MovieShowing up to the courtroom sport her ICONIC Pink dress and Bedazzled Pink Pumps and using her knowledge in fashion,beauty and cosmetics to ultimately win her case even withhaving the hard ship of not taken seriously!! 🎀

these two of literally in my top 3 favorites theyre just perfect and amazing and no matter what they do people are always talking about them no matter what rather good or bad they are truly it girls now What can we learn from these two dazzling women...

⁃  Hard work pays off

⁃  You can have beauty and brains

⁃  Never Dumb yourself down too be someone everyone else wants you to be

⁃  Always work hard no matter the circumstances

⁃  Take care of yourself

⁃  People opinions on you don’t Matter because at the end of the day you onlyhave to prove yourself to yourself

⁃ You’re So weird, Never change that!

| 𝜗𝜚݁ ˖ The Glitzy Divas !! 🎀

🛍 : The Glitzy Diva Type is my FAVORITE!! Im literally Obsessed with Kimora and Sharpay They Inspire me so much and theyre like soo iconic so ofc we have to start of with Mother Herself Mrs.

Kimora Lee Simmons 🛍 : The Mother of Baby Phat How made her breakthrough in the modeling industry at only 15 And Being Signed with Chanel She is Known for Her Love of

Fashion Glitz and Glamour The Fashion Maven coining her brand Baby Phat in 1999 rose to fame without question i mean her clothes are literally so iconic you name she has it !!

⁃  phone cases

⁃  jackets

⁃  jeans

⁃  Body Suits

⁃  Denim Jackets

⁃  Boots

⁃  Hats

⁃  Tank Tops

⁃  Buffer Coats

⁃  Lip Gloss

⁃  PerfumeSHE HAD IT ALL!!

Because she is literally just FABULOUS she has always had this love for the glitz and the glamour and always hold her self too a high standard if she wanted it she would get it and thats just the way its gonna be!!! she had a habit of running up Phone Bills,Credit Card etc. truly princess activities now what can we learn from this ICON!I can do everything by myself, the only person I have to look out for is myself - Kimora Lee SimmonsPersonally

i think she is trying to say she is only supposed to be validated within her self and Only Her Opinion Matter No Matter What and its so true because at the end of the day you know you best and all you’ll is yourself!All the hard work in the world won't get you anywhere if you don't powerfully project your personality and style. How are you going to differentiate yourself from them? - Kimora Lee Simmons

BE YOURSELF!! literally being your own authentic self is literally the ultimate it girl secret and you can literally see for yourself not all it girl are one in the same they are authentically their own and that makes them all special!!People want to throw things at you and make you fall off because you're at a certain enviable height. - Kimora Lee Simmons. Like honestly she such a philosopher and i don’t care like this is so true with all it girls people are always talking about them no matter what because they feel a certain sense of jealousy

towards them for no reason when these women are literally like the best people LOVE to hate on it girl so much they end of loving them They Love to Hate them and Hate 2 Love Them!! 🎀

Now lwts talk about another favorite of mine the FABULOUS ...

⭐ : Sharpay Evans !!

The one and Only Sharpay Evans The Queen Bee that everyone tried to tear down but if were being honest she will NEVER Fall She hold her self to princess standard with her fabulous self concept

“Everything Has to be Perfect for me” Fabulous by Sharpay Evans

Having Everyone always hating in her never stopped her still always being the school Queen Bee She is constantly talked about bye everyone!! i mean yeah she is quite snobby but she is still CRAZY AMBITIOUS. and shes willing to do any and everything to make sure she gets her way Shes The Princess and that will never change

No matter what people say about her own personal style she doesn’t care only her opinion matters Because she’s FABULOUS everything around her HAS to be Fabulous as well

⁃  Wardrobe

⁃  Hair

⁃  LockerEverything

She Believes that she is better than her peers and tbh.. She kinda Is i mean Their Vocals and performance were mediocre compared to SharpayShe stands about too much i mean her fabulousness was too much for them to handle shes

Her Iconess is

Stylish Pretty Iconic Talented Ambitious and Hardworking too much for them they can’t tell can’t HANDLE IT!!

Now what can we learn from these two FABULOUS ICONS

⁃  Only Your Opinion Matters

⁃  Always Put Yourself First

⁃  Keep Working Hard for what you want

⁃  If Something isn’t up to your standards don’t settle for less

⁃  No Matter how much people talk and knock you down you’re still gonna be above their Judgement!!

⁃ Only Conform too your own standard

CELEBS ;

i wanna start off this section strong and talk about jojo siwa's new release "karma". i've linked the music video there so u can watch it and feel free to share ur opinions in the comment section but shes been receiving lots of mixed reviews from netizens.

most of the backlash comes from interviews that shes done like when she said that she was the first person in her generation to have this major of a rebrand. a huge shift in all this drama tho was when people found out that she did NOT in fact write the song like she claimed she did, which does NOT look good for her

she bought the song from brit smith and its like, WORD FOR WORD. and people feel some kind of way bcuz jojo could've just straight up been honest and say that she bought the song, which a lot of artists in the music industry do and theres nothing inherently wrong with it.

but the problem is that she tried to make it seem like she wrote it and even goes as far as to claim that she did in fact write it. and now that its shown that she bought it from brit smith, it kinda just blew up in her face.

PREP FOR NEXT YEAR ;

as we know the 2023-2024 school year is coming to an end very soon and if ur anything like me, ur feeling FATIGUED. and rightfully so of course, school can be super taxing sometimes.

this is ur sign though to take a BREAK, spend a day just for you and for rejuvenation bcuz to keep going u need to have strength. school is almost done U GOT THIS. what helps me is to count down the days until school lets out so that i can be excited 🍹✨

now is the time tho to plan out what courses ur gonna take next year, wrap up whatever u need to for this school year so that u can walk into the next school year ready to dominate. make plans for the summer and hype urself up to have an amazing time!

thats all for this months catalog, there will be a new edition each month with new content and it'll be updated on a monthly basis so if thats something that interests you or if you like these kinds of posts stay tuned for the next, till next month girlies✨

[mammomlette]

OBEY ME YOUNGER BROTHERS AS SOULMATE TROPES!

Includes: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, GN!Reader/MC

Warnings: Spoilers for lesson 16 in Belphies (not explicitly said but obvious foreshadowing for a twist), implied manipulation (Belphies) (not sure if that needs a warning but better safe than sorry)

Notes: I’m still quite new to fanfics and Tumblr, and honestly just writing in my free time in general so constructive criticism is defo encouraged!! Also I won’t lie to you, Satan did seem a tad ooc erm…

SATAN: writing/drawings on hands appear on eachother

* As soon as you turned 18, you noticed small phrases and notes appearing on your right hand

* It started off with small things like “page 562” or “British shorthair.” Just things to keep as a reminder or to be able to search it up later

* However, as time went by, the notes became a bit more… concerning

* Concerning book quotes from old literature, sometimes in other languages, and nefarious plans to prank someone called ‘Lucifer’

* Your soulmate plans to prank the devil himself. Haha. What a great idea.

* You brushed it off for a while, appreciating the occasional cat fact or chapter reminder and just ignoring the angry words about Lucifer.

* Eventually, you began to build up the courage to respond. Small things relating to things your soulmate wrote, like cat doodles (good or bad as your art skill may be) or going over the writing of the reminder when you notice it started to fade

* Not knowing if it was your place to write down your own notes or just not quite having that amount of bravery, you still did those little things to let your soulmate know that hey, you’re there and you’re always reading what they have to say.

* Satan thought he was hallucinating.

* Thousands of years spent just jotting things down to remind himself of things at a later date, frequently on his hand, and suddenly things started to change?

* He had wrote “British shorthair” on his palm in hopes of being able to look it up later, and a few minutes later he looks down to his palm to search it up and sees a… cat?? It’s really not clear. It’s round, with two points on the top of its head… yeah thats a cat.

* He’s become so obsessed he’s hallucinating badly drawn cats, which is probably a cause for concern, so naturally he confides in his brothers about this and is comforted that no he’s not hallucinating, however cats are just randomly appearing on his hand.

* They continue to appear, circles with two triangles, some looking better than others and some with more odd features likes birthday hats or weird outfits

* He finally decided to read up on what could be happening and was quickly met with the term ‘soulmates’

* He had heard of this a long time ago from one of his brothers while he was still young (for a demon) and brushed it off as a fairy tale. Why had his soulmate only started communicating with his just now?

* He moved on eventually and time passed, a new human being introduced to his home and his family.

* It took an embarrassingly long time to realise that his human was also his soulmate, it wasn’t until you were both just chilling in his room and you were doodling something next to some words on your arm that he noticed a cat appearing on his own arm.

* “Look! The cat thing is happening!” He shouted, a lot more emotion out into it that he would’ve liked due to the sheer shock

* You stopped what you were doing and look at his arm, the cat drawing having ceased its being drawn while you stared at the cat, face turning into shock and then seriousness. Because that is the cat that you just drew.

* “Satan.” You said, just staring into his eyes without any expression

* “Yes, MC?” He responded, worried at your monotony. His mouth then gaped open and you showed him your arm, cat half doodled next to the words “page 236, sticky notes needed”

* You both just made dead eye contact for a second before your eyes both began to flick back and forth and your lips slowly started to quiver

* Both of your sweet laughters filled the room, how ironic that such a common book trope would be what flew under Satan’s nose for so long.

ASMODEUS: soulmate telepathy

* Ever since you turned 18, you had been hearing a voice in your head.

* Not necessarily in a concerning way! In the way it happens when you and your soulmate have both turned 18 and can finally communicate.

* At first, you thought that you were hearing things. Things like “Ooo, this would be a great touch to my outfit! ♡” and “Can’t believe my bath wasn’t 3 hours long today…” flooding your mind. Since when were you SO picky about your clothes and hygiene, even when not in the process of dressing or washing? And since when were your baths 3 hours?

* Quickly though, you realised that this voice wasn’t your own. It was a melodic sounding voice that felt like honey and most definitely did not belong to you.

* You had heard from your family growing up and your friends recently that once you had become an adult you would be able to communicate with your soulmate through your thoughts, proof of the bond your souls shared, thoughts intertwining together.

* You found that whenever you were deep in thought and rambling to yourself you’d be met with a “hon, slow down” in your mind or that whenever you were trying to figure out an outfit your soulmate would chime in to offer their expert advice without hesitation

* No hesitation at all, because Asmo had waited his entire life for this.

* Thousands of years of life believing that he had no soulmate, destined to forever be a player

* So long spent reading and gushing over cute romance stories where soulmate meet and finding comfort in romcoms about that very topic, and here he was finally with his own soulmate in his mind

* The way you would thank him for his advice before his mind went quiet from your thoughts again until you later told him how well everything went and the way you would ramble internally to him without even realising you were connected to his mind made his heart flutter, even without your face your voice and soul were beautiful

* One day he had been summoned alongside his brothers to the student council room to welcome the new human exchange student. It was a hassle that could be spent doing something more productive like his skincare or extra time in the bath, but he was still just so excited he had to tell you how excited he was to meet the new human!

* “New human?” You thought, but had no response from your soulmate before you appeared inside of a council room in front of 5 attractive strange men.

* You panicked and were kind of in autopilot mode as a tall man in all red introduced you to your situation and a slightly-less-tall man in black started to introduce you to his brothers

* You still had small responses in your shock, and a certain demon recognised your voice.

* You were immediately snapped out of autopilot when you heard the voice of the second brother you were introduced to, an admitted handsome man with slightly-pink-tinted light brown hair and stunning orangeish eyes said “Oh come now. Really? You should be that you get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!” And you froze.

* You looked like a deer in headlights to lucifer who was trying to introduce you to a blonde demon, but to Asmo, you looked like the most beautiful creature to ever walk the three realms (asides from himself, naturally) and the only person worthy of him.

* Asmo saw beauty in everyone, but everyone else paled in comparison to your face in this moment and your voice every other previous time he had heard it.

* He looked at you with knowing eyes and your eyes finally softened from your shocked face, finally understanding what he meant earlier by “new human”

* It would take time for you to get used to being in a new world with a demon as your soulmate, it would take time for him to get used to loving someone more intimately than as lust, but you both had eachother and the bond that ties your minds together and that’s all you needed.

BEELZEBUB: you share (some of) your soulmate’s pain

* It was growing unbearable.

* The slight yet constant ache in your stomach, a pit that was never quite full.

* For years you mistook it for your own hunger, not sure if you should be eating more or not

* It was always there, always something that disctracted you whenever you were left alone in silence or trying to sleep at night, always waiting for you to finish a meal just to make you feel that familiar ache again.

* It was just insufferable.

* It wasn’t just the hunger, though. There would be times where your muscles would ache like you had been working out without a proper cool down or your arms felt like they had bruised from defending or blocking against something

* You inquired with your friends about this and were just told that it would be your soulmate. You shared pain with your soulmate, and your soulmate always seemed in pain

* It wasn’t a pain that came from attacks or falling, just a pit that always felt so empty it hurt but could never be filled.

* Was your soulmate starving to death? You wished there was a way to help them, to soothe the pain, but without knowing who they are there was no way to fix it.

* As of present, you had been sent into the devildom a few weeks ago and had began to slowly feel adjusted to the devildom and your roommates and you had grown fond of one in particular: Beelzebub, the avatar of gluttony.

* You sympathised with him and his constant hunger since you yourself always felt a small bit of this hunger, even if you’d learnt by now that it wasn’t yours to fix

* So naturally, you hung a round him more

* You spent time with him whenever you could just because you wanted to, accompanying him to the gym or treating him to Hell’s Kitchen or even just sitting with him when he was lonely and missing his brother who had gone to the human world

* And it felt like every time you gave him the food you were craving so much, that pit in your stomach was filled just a bit

* Always there, never going away, but it felt just that bit more bearable and ignorable for a short while

* Who knew you were such an empath?

* Of course it crossed your mind of that Beel could be your soulmate, but what are the chances? You dismissed the thought whenever it appeared, not wanting to get your hopes up

* However, your hopes were validated one night in the kitchen with Beel.

* You were preparing him a small snack, just cutting up some devildom-style bread for him when you accidentally put your finger down at the wrong time in the wrong place and cut it

* You hissed at the pain, putting down the knife to look at your finger and you thought you heard Beel grunt.

* “MC, are you okay?” He inquired, approaching you to look at your finger while slightly cradling his own for some reason

* “Uh, yeah, I just need a plaster or something, would you mind..?” “Yeah, of course.” He continued to clutch his finger while reaching for the cabinet, letting go for a second to open it and grab you a plaster

* “Are you okay? You’re holding your finger too.” You were slightly worried by his mannerisms even though you didn’t see a cut on his fingers.

* “Yeah, my finger just hurt all of a sudden. It’s fine though. Here, I’ll put the plaster on for you.”

* You fell into comfortable silence as he opened the plaster and began pressing in down, but he pressed down a bit too hard which hurt you, causing both of you to hiss.

* “Seriously Beel, are you okay?” He nodded. “Yeah, it’s just like whenever you get hurt my finger hurts too.”

* Lightbulb. You realised finally that those slight considerations were valid and the connection you felt with Beel was real. The hunger you felt wasn’t yours and the reason it was numbed when you gave him food is because it was his.

* He seemed to have realised this too, because he paused and looked at you, slowly smiling.

* “MC, I just realised something. I think that-“ you cut him off with a kiss, smiling now too.

BELPHEGOR: you have a countdown until your soulmate’s death

* Surely there was an error in the system.

* Call you crazy but you didn’t quite think that 378,691,205,018 seconds is applicable to the human life span.

* You had come to the conclusion that your soulmate was either non-existent and the universe was fucking with you or they were some kind of non human entity and obviously both of these answers were stupid but at least the former was possible.

* You’d grown accepting overtime that you didn’t have a soulmate unlike how most of your friends did and that you’d never have that sort of unconditional love

* Not having a soulmate wasn’t unheard of, just uncommon.

* And you got the short end of the stick. That’s all there was to it.

* UNTIL you got randomly abducted one day into literal hell where pretty much all beings there loved for thousands of years.

* ‘Maybe I have a chance now?’ You crossed the thought out from your mind. First of all, these were demons and most of them had made attempts on your life at some point or another, and secondly almost all of them either a) didn’t have a timer, which meant no soulmate, b) had an insanely high timer that you’d never be able to reach or c) had already found their soulmate

* You sighed to yourself and began to lose hope again, walking up the stairs to the attic

* A short while ago, you had found a human locked in the attic, who had asked you to help him. You clicked, something in that moment just felt like it had been put in place like the final puzzle piece so you trusted him without really knowing why

* But you had even more recently found out from his brother that he was bulshitting you and that he was probably the demon Belphegor, so now you just wanted to figure out what was going on

* You continued to march up the stairs and finally arrived at the attic to confront him or at least question him

* “Are you Belphegor?” You cut to the chase not wanting to bother with any more of his lies.

* He was silent for a second before grinning, devilish look that you’d expect from the decent ruler or the underworld gleaming in his eyes as he said “Aww, so you’ve already figured me out, have you? Well, you’re no fun at all.”

* You glared, and tried to decide whether declaring he was a liar or asking why he was a liar would be a better idea

* But he spoke up again before you could decide.

* “That timer on your neck, what does it say?”

* You paused, not knowing the exact number. “Um, like, there’s hundred billion seconds-ish? Why?”

* “Because I’m a demon. I’m going to live long enough to fulfil that. Look at my timer, here. It has 13,140,014 seconds. No demon would live that short.”

* “And is thirteen million a lot of time?”

* “About a human lifespan, bit under.”

* You hummed. It made sense to you looking at it at the moment, though you could’ve sworn it was a little bit under your guess, you trusted him.

* Why? He lied to you about being a human, so why do you trust him?

* Because he’s your soulmate. There’s no doubt in your mind. The click, the need to trust him, even seeing him in your dreams. It was right.

* So you believed him, and didn’t give the thirteen million seconds much question. You were going to save him, save your soulmate.

* Because thirteen million seems like a long time, and I guess it was long enough for you to save him. Just not enough to do much more.

[elrxiel]

"Bonus chapter ended Elriel!"

But here's the thing - it didn't have to.

If SJM had a change of heart during writing ACOSF or even before and decided that Gwyn and Az will be the final couple, she could have easily simply ignored writing anything about Azriel's feelings towards Elain. She could have not written about stolen glances - she could have written a scene where they have a conversation without any subtext, just a friendly encounter so the readers would get a clear sign - they are just friends, they are not interested in each other in any way. She could have switched the narrative - making Az behave towards any other character the way he behaves with Elain and making Elain not care, not look at him, not practically dying for him to kiss her.

But she did not.

Instead she wrote paragraphs saying Azriel cannot stand the smell of the mating bond between Elain and Lucien (which is alarming on its own, given the fact that he should not be able to smell it in the first place), that this man spent the last year almost sleepless because he keeps thinking about that girl and the gift she picked for him. She wrote Azriel questioning the Cauldron itself and Elain willing to risk it all even tho her mate was sleeping upstairs. SJM said directly with all of these "look, those two WANT each other, those scenes in previous books DID indicate that there is a mutual wanting between them".

Place yourself as an author for a second - would you really spend three books placing hints and scenes foreshadowing a couple only to "end" them in the bonus chapter, which most of the readers won't even know exist? Would you, knowing that you plan for other couples to be an endgame, wrote about things that literally point that those two characters are so into each other they don't give a single fuck about bonds and religion? Would you write another male guessing something only a mate should be able to guess, the same male being the only one noticing the woman is missing and going on a suicidal mission to get her back? Would you write "you came for me"? Would you write a full scene of this woman emerging from the shadows (the literal power of said male), using the blade he let touching only her? Would you write her buying gifts for him but not for any other man?

And finally, if you plan to make those two end up with different characters anyway, would you really write them like that? Az being the person pining for someone for 500 years and being the one knowing for ignoring orders, only to slowly develop feelings towards someone else who wants him back, would suddenly forget about it and move to a new girl in a heartbeat just because somebody said so? Elain being the person who stated blankly "I don't want him" indicating to her mate, being someone who shall wed for love, suddenly deciding "yes, you know what, I don't want this man who showed me nothing but kindness and who was the only one who actually saw and listened, who saved my life and then gave me a weapon to defend myself, I'm gonna be with my mate now, even tho I'm shrinking with discomfort whenever I'm near him". Even if it fits your fantasies, it does not fit the way characters were written. And at the end of the day, it's not the fantasies that matter. It's what has been written and given us to read and see ourselves.

[tcfactory]

Thinking about an AU where the manual did cause Binghe to qi-deviate and ruin his cultivation potential exactly one year after he's taken in as disciple. Seeing that anyone would have suffered the same fate, it wasn't some kind of karmic punishment directed at Shen Qingqiu for being an unpleasant, hateful little thing (the self-hatred and projection is Real in this one) settles something in him, like a broken peace of him is suddenly jolted back into its proper place. It makes him lose interest in torturing Binghe any further.

That does leave him with a disciple that's not suited to his peak in any way shape or form, so clearly the next step is to have one of the other peaks take him off his hands. He subtly puts out word while Binghe is on Qian Cao recovering, so that anyone who might want the brat can take him after the next peak lord meeting, but there really is only one choice.

Out of the peaks with a physical cultivation style, Bai Zhan is out of the question on account of Binghe's ruined potential, Ku Xing doesn't take children this young and, in his opinion, Binghe is just too stupid and trusting to make it on Qiong Ding or An Ding, so clearly that only leaves Zui Xian. If the little beast is fortunate, eating all the spiritual food might even help him recover a little.

Perfect plan!

All he needs is to make up a good enough excuse as to why he allowed the little beast to cultivate from a faulty manual or let him be bullied. And he knows already how he's going to do it: he will let Qi Qingqi make the excuse for him.

"Qi-shimei," he says, the very picture of nonchalance, as if Liu Qingge didn't have a sword at his neck. "I know you assume that any disciple of yours returning to secular life will do so at the side of a powerful husband, but if that was not the case: how would you test if someone of lowly birth and no connections could survive the court environment?" Qi Qingqi thinks about it for just a moment before her mouth twists into an unhappy pout, eyes lighting up with understanding. "Let him go, Liu-shidi. It was not an attempt at murder, merely Shen-shixiong being a crafty old dog who made a test too harsh for Luo-shizhi." "But-" "Scholars, like my girls, are intrinsically linked to the mortal courts, as much sages and exemplars in the four arts as advisors in politics. If one has no allies, then connections must be made. Bullies that can't be fought head on must be outwitted or circumvented." She gives the fake manual a disgusted glance. "Ill intent and sabotage must be recognized, regardless of its source. Without these qualities, someone without proper backing will be dead the week they set foot in court." "Quite. Disciple Luo has failed each and every one of those criteria: he bent obediently to the whims of his bullies, made no friends or sought no help from anyone on or off peak, and kept cultivating from the faulty manual with a bullheaded stubbornness that surprised even me. I fully expected him to realize at least as much, but he proved too simple even for that." He resists the urge to smile when Liu Qingge reluctantly withdraws his sword. It's a sweet, if easy victory.

So Luo Binghe goes to the food and wine peak, where he can make friends, his heart (and to a degree his cultivation) can be mended and his trust in his higher ups isn't scorned or abused, but he never forgets that Shen Qingqiu sent him away because he found him too stupid for his peak. Shen Qingqiu picked him, only him, from dozens of potential disciples and was disappointed. He keeps striving, even years later, to somehow get Shen Qingqiu's approval, taking every opportunity to loiter on Qing Jing with food offerings and all sorts of excuses. He's almost as bad as the sect leader! They do, indeed, bond with Yue Qingyuan over being the frequent targets of Shen Qingqiu's ire.

Then one day when Binghe is around 17 a qi deviation splits Shen Qingqiu into two: the scarred, sharp-tongued and vicious Shen Jiu and the sickly, soft hearted and kind Shen Yuan, and Luo Binghe suddenly feels vindicated in his dogged insistence because the soft Shen Qingqiu likes him! It's literally the best thing in the world!! And maybe sect leader Yue helps him a few times to steal Shen Yuan away on some absolutely-not-a-date picnics, so it's really only fair that he helps him reconcile with the sharper Shen Jiu (Binghe can't see the appeal, personally, but as long as Yue-shibo doesn't want to take his Shen Qingqiu too then he's fine with those two doing whatever).

Everything seems to be going perfectly (QiJiu have reconciled, BingQiu are almost inseparable), but then Binghe leaves the mountain to gather ingredients for the very special meal he wants to propose with, trips and stumbles straight into the Abyss and the rest is SVSSS-typical miscommunication and demon shenanigans.

[greenandsorrow]

~Her man child~

Headcanons 📺

Vox is the definition of a manchild and I think it's kinda obvious.

He's the mean kind, acting with so much spite, sometimes without it being necessary or justified.

He NEEDS to be taken seriously. He tries so hard, blurring the lines between respect, fear and tolerance.

But when you two are alone... the telly-head man is a whiny boy.

He complains like it's a form of art. You can't help but roll your eyes playfully when he lets out a too loud sigh, but after doing so you're always ready to give him all the reassurance and attention he desperately craves.

Your man prefers being the little spoon. He's like a lap cat.

If anyone finds out about his cuddly nature, he's gonna die a second time...

Vox feels the need to constantly prove himself to Velvette and Valentino, but with you he feels safe. He can be overly emotional. And weak. And needy.

Very needy.

If you're not somewhere behind the camera admiring him and boosting his confidence, his day is ruined.

Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy.

In the mornings he doesn't even turn on his screen... settling for the protection setting instead.

You have to be patient with him.

Bring him a steaming cup of coffee and hug him from behind and he might as well start giggling like a schoolgirl.

He's too sensitive for harsh jokes. Being in Hell means ONLY dark and cruel humour, but Vox can't take it sometimes.

His ego is fragile.

In order to feel loved, Vox has to be showered in extravagant compliments on a daily basis. Whether it's about his appearance, his job, his amazing and very interesting personality... He needs them.

When you tell him he's better than the radio demon.... he literally gets rock hard.

Vox is in a constant dilemma between showing you off for all Pentagram City to know you're his, or keeping you secret.

It's the same as a boy with his favourite toy. If other kids see his toy, he's gonna have to share.

What if someone steals his favourite toy?! Or even worse... BREAK IT?!

That being said, he doesn't objectify you, but he's terrible at showing affection or appreciation.

He's gonna be there for you, help you with anything you need, laugh with you, spend quality time with you. Still, deep communication is a difficult subject for him.

Thank god you're observant enough to catch all the messages he tries to pass to you.

Such an attention seeker though.

Have you ever seen a six year old trying to impress his crush?

Just look at Vox trying to woo you. It's the same thing.

But he's not that bad... His self-esteem is an obstacle alright, but he becomes a rug for you to step on and use as you wish most of the time.

Vox would definitely go out of his way if you asked something from him. You're his rock. It's the least he can do.

The guy even whimpers in his sleep.

Vox loves to fill his hands with your thighs when it's bed time. They're warm and soothing to him, like stress toys. Being a walking television has its disadvantages temperature wise.

He would bend you over and take you in front of a mirror so he could see himself while at it, but he hasn't done so yet. He wants to ask you beforehand and make sure it won't make you feel weird.

Vox is easy to rile up. A breathy compliment and a squeeze of his thigh and he's more than ready to go.

He doesn't actually feel dominant, but he tries to act like it. This Vee member has the stereotype man = dominance engraved in his subconsciousness and so he fights to live up to it.

But between you and me... Treat him like an inexperienced and innocent boy and he'll be crying out in pleasure.

Aka... be a femdom. Even a soft one. You won't even have to try that much.

Another thing. Vox is loud. (Like his name implies 🫣)

He also pants a lot. Almost like he's hyperventilating.

Unlike Alastor, this man is very insecure about both his performance and... size.

I'm not saying he's lacking in either though. It's just how his mind works. Always comparing himself to his opponents and in this case, his opponents are other men that could perhaps satisfy you more thoroughly than him.

Allow me to say that he fucks in an anxious way. Hands shaking and his mantra "Does that feel good to you darling?"

You just need to praise him a little. (A lot)

He doesn't last that long but he'll be sure to rub your clit so you don't either.

When it gets too real, he tears up at the end, like a baby that's holding back from crying. But you're there to hold him until he calms down.

He's usually too tired (and still nervous) afterwards for proper aftercare. Vox likes to be babied though. It's more personal attention after all.

Oh to be cleaned up and tucked to bed! Only then will he feel comfortable enough to run his fingers through your hair and mumble a faint thank you.

Vox's head has a bit of an awkward shape for cunnilingus. However, he has a surprisingly long tongue that can reach more than enough to have you moaning out how good of a boy he's being.

He usually cums in his pants while eating you out.

And when you return the favour it's usually to relieve his stress at work. He feels like a teenager when you do it. It's an act of service, really.

He low-key fucks your face, not enough to choke you but you do gag around him. It makes him feel in control. It makes him feel like a man.

To sum up, Vox is a bit dependent on you and on your validation, but he would never hurt you or become too overbearing.

He's needy, but not stupid.

He is the definition of a manchild and I think I proved my point.

But he's your manchild sis!

Support a struggling university student! Thank you so so much🫶 CLICK HERE (PayPal link)

~~~

my masterlist || Hazbin Hotel masterlist 🦷

Vox divider by @rubra-wav

Support divider by @cafekitsune

The explicit content one... I don't remember :(

~~~

[scorpioriesling]

I Look In People's Windows

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warnings: angst

Summary: It's been years... years since the breakup. He is no longer yours. He never really was, always keeping you at a distance. But, there were some good times. Maybe that's why you keep hoping to see him again, anywhere. Just one more time.

SR’s Note: Cannot get this song out of my head, and yes I am doing an Eris story! I love writing him. This one ends happy, just trust.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The day he left was the day you'd changed.

He'd tried to reason with you, to make you see why you couldn't be together anymore; it was the day his father killed his younger brother's lover.

Perhaps, he changed on that day too.

"You have to go," he'd said. "You have to get out of here. Now." You remembered it like it was yesterday; there was no option for questioning or changing his mind this time. You'd already started crying, before the argument began.

"I don't care, Eris! I love you, I can't just leave..." You could still feel the way your heart broke, split right in two. Eris had been frenzied, frantically gathering your things and packing them in a backpack.

"And I love you! Don't you see that? I mean, really -- don't you get it?" He threw the backpack on the bed, and you'd watched from the doorway, water dripping from your chin and onto the expensive oak flooring.

"I know you're afraid, but-" He charged over to you, taking your wrists in his hands.

"I am not afraid. Of nothing. Of no one." He said, so close you could feel his breath on your nose. You narrowed your watery eyes at him.

"You are." Is all you said. He dropped your hands, returning to the bed and snatching up the backpack. His back had still been turned to you when he said:

"I won't have you end up dead like Jesminda." Another silent sob racked your body, and you tried hard to keep from shaking.

"You know I'd love you to the ends of Prythian, Y/N." He said, voice quieter now as he approached you and slipped your arms into the staps of the pack. "I would do anything for you." A tear slipped past his eyeline. "Hell, I would jump into the cauldron for you-"

"I don't need anyone jumping into anything," you say, brushing your thumb over his tear-stained cheek. "I just need you. Me. I don't want to not know you anymore." The last part came out shakily. "Does it feel alright to not know me?"

His hands pulled your waist close, and he wrapped his arms around you one more time. You remembered feeling his shoulders shaking, your tears staining his mahogony jacket as you buried your face in his chest. You inhaled deep, smelling his campfire and cinnamon scent one more time...

And now here you were, still addicted to the "if only"s. If only he'd let you stay. If only he'd run with you. If only he was still yours...

You hadn't realized you'd wandered out of your neighborhood, and into the town square. The sky was gray and dull; reflecting how you'd felt inside. When was the last time you'd truly seen the sunshine?

On the last day you'd spent with your love.

Meandering through the Autumn court streets was usually peaceful, not many people being out this time of year as the air had turned a bit chilly. You would constantly check inside shops, the big windows highlighting the guests inside. You don't know what you'd do if you saw him now; its been years since he told you to leave. You'd listened, and stayed away; but that didn't help your mind playing tricks on you. Thinking you'd seen him boarding a train; seeing him at the tables of Christmas parties you couldn't bring yourself to attend.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard the conversations around you, growing more and more as you'd ventured further into the square.

"I heard his kid did it."

"I can't believe the High Lord is actually dead."

"I was told that the oldest son slayed him, out of pure hatred."

What were they talking about? Certainly if they were discussing Lord Beron, you would have heard the news by now. If what they were saying was true and he was really dead, that would mean...

"Ahh, thank you Mariella. You always know exactly why I've come!"

Your body freezes, the whisper of sound drifting from an open doorway to a bakery on your left. You'd recognize that honey-dripped voice anywhere.

You break into a sprint, right for the bakery.

You knew you weren't decieving yourself this time.

Peering in through the storefront, you catch sight of his radiant curls, piled on his head. His genuine smile exposes his perfect canines; a smile you hadn't seen in so long. One you'd never thought you'd see again. He looked almost the exact same, just how you remembered him from all those years ago.

Your breath fogged up the glass, and you wiped it with your sleeve. The small squeak that came from the action caused Eris and the cashier to both peer out at you, and you felt an electricity bolt shoot through you when your eyes met his one more time.

He murnured something quickly to the woman, and raced out of the store. When he cleared the entry way, he stared at you in silence for a few beats, utter shock on his face like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. He took one small step towards you, and you couldn't wait any longer. You ran to him and threw your arms around his neck, his wrapping around your waist and twirling you around. When he finally set you down, you pulled back and met those whiskey orbs, solely focused on you. You didn't care who was staring. You didn't care what people said. You only cared about the male in front of you.

"Eris, what... what happened?" You asked, voice breaking as you tried to contain the happy tears running down your face. He only smiled back at you longingly, taking one hand in yours and placing the other in your hair, finally feeling your wispy tendrils he missed so much.

"I feel as though I've waited forever for this," he admits, pulling you in closer. When his lips meet yours, the sweet apple taste is back. One you'd missed for so long. He continues kissing you for a few moments, relishing in the fact that you were finally back in his arms.

"And," he says, pulling away and resting his forehead on yours. "I'm not afraid anymore."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[geese-in-a-frock-coat]

What's your evidence for Watts and Murdoch being autistic? (I totally agree btw)

Hello, internet stranger. Buckle up cause I've thought too hard about this.

Ok disclaimer I have not really sat down and watched the whole thing for a hot minute. Its past nine, you're just gonna have to trust me this one.

Credentials: Mega autisitc

Murdoch:

Does not understand social conventions. Like this ones pretty obvious. He doesn't understand why people keep dogs. Raises his kid in a completely non traditional way. Frequently doesn't get why people care about something that he sees as not being worth it (sports and popular trends and so forth).

Doesn't like small talk

Cares about justice NOT the law. The thing that really makes me think he's autistic is that he cares about things being just and is prepared to break the rules to do so. The main example being he lets that woman out of prison depsite the fact that he could go down for it. He turns a blind eye to Watts and lets Giles go even though they're both criminals in the eyes of the law. And on the flipside he sends George to prison because I think that's what he percieves as justice (if anyone's seen the bridge this really reminds me of Saga at the end of season 2)

Sees through hierarchy. There are so many epsiodes that play out like "I think Mr X is the killer." "But Mr x is extrememly important and influential!" "I don't care he killed her."

Interest in science and inventing. Look I know we joke about stereotypes but like, its a stereotype for a reason. He builds things with an autistic brain. He uses pattern repition through learning about previous inventions and applying them to his own devices.

Visual learner. This is not autism exclusive but he solves cases in such a unique way that it screams ND to me. Murdoch often literally builds a case. They make a joke about clue/cludo but he literally has to make the model of a house to picture where everyone is. He makes all those model of the ladies that were covered in metal. And let us not forget his famous chalk board.

Buzzkill. I say this as a long-term sufferer of leaves parties at 8:45 syndrome. He does 'boring hobbies' which autistic people often have because we don't feel the need to take up traditional ones.

Remember that scene where he attempts to read out his and Julia's book and just absolutely cannot tell that no one gives a single toss about anything he's saying.

Wears the same thing for nearly 20 years. If it ain't broke don't fix it.

Refused to let his wife cut his hair because he didn't want to change from the lady who used to do it.

breather. Part 2: watts.

Cannot read social cues: Frequently insults other station house four people. Pretty sure he called someone's baby ugly but I might have hallucinated that. "You're face is symetrical." Got chucked out of station house because he didn't get on with any of them

Disregard for societal norms: doesn't feel the need to be polite or tactful with anyone or to really follow police protocol. Acts very 'improper' a lot of the time. Only got one shoe shined that one time because that was all he needed. Puts his feet on the sofa, lies on the desk and leans over tables.

Makes limited eye contact.

The man will fidget with anything: Look this is clearly a character decision from Daniel Maslany but its an autistic character decision if ever I saw one. We're talking pencils, cups, fabric, anything. If it is on the set, he will find a way to play with out. And I don't normally like to assign autistic traits onto behaviour implemented by actors but it's basically stimming at this point. I dare you to keep an eye on this man's hands for any scene and I garuntee you they will not stay still.

Disorganised, but not: He always has tiny bits of paper and whatnot in his pockets but always seems to know where everything is. organised but doesn't have to time to be tidy. Same whenever we see his flat, it's equally disorganised. as an autistic person I find things end up all over the place because I don't have the capacity to keep them in order.

Bad handwriting and can't spell

Physicality: Most autistic people will have some sort of problem with co-ordination. He walks uneavenly. He has an odd posture. I always think about that scene where he steps in sick and moves around like a dear on ice. He's clumsy, can't sit straight and has a strange posture.

can't think when being interrupted

can't focus on two things at once.

George realised he'd been possessed by aliens because he was acting normally.

pretzels: dare i say safe food. If not, they're bland, usually the same everytime and take little mental effort to consume.

Strong sense of justic: see william murdoch.

SPECIAL MENTIONS:

Dr Emily Grace: didn't become a doctor becuase she didn't want to adopt a 'cheerful bedside manor.'

Dr Julia Ogden: Married to Murdoch (like calls to like) and sees through the bullshit of victorian society.

Susannah Murdoch: has those two as parents and I have the full confidence of genetics on this one.

In conclusion:

There's probably so much more I could talk about that I just don't remember because there is a lot more of this show than most others. But anyway. Murdoch is autistic because he has to be for the show to work and becuase he often comedic-foils far too close to the sun. And Watts is autistic because there is no way on God's green earth a man who stands like that is neurotypical.

Thank you, internet stranger, I am here all week.