#Personalized rug solutions

[isfjmel-phleg]

😶

[julienbakerstreet]

Ranking Sherlock Holmes Adaptations by the Quality of Their Dressing Gowns

First, my qualifications: I'm a flamboyant fashion-forward femme who frequently wears dressing gowns.

Rubric: I am scoring based on color, pattern, textural intrigue, garment construction, and fit. In cases where there are multiple dressing gowns per adaptation, I picked my favorite one.

#12 The Seven-Percent Solution (1976)

I hate this one. It's so beige, and the corded details + drop waist ultimately make it look like a monk's tunic. The only redeeming value I can find in this is the slight angled detail with the cording on the sleeves.

#11 Mr. Holmes (2015)

Similar to the last robe with some slight improvements. For one, it has pockets! The pockets have a corded decorative applique, and if you zoom in on a higher-def image you can see that the fabric has an interesting textured weave. I could definitely see it styled well. This robe is ugly, too thin to keep him warm, and fits worse than a burlap sack, but this Holmes is retired and deserves to put comfort and practicality first.

#10 Granada (1984)

This dressing gown is BAD!!! Before you accuse me of being biased against mouse-colored dressing gowns (I am) let me assure you that color is not my only issue with this dressing gown. It commits the ultimate fashion sin- boring. The texture looks decidedly un-cozy. I even hate the construction! There's no belt, or even belt loops, and the pocket is sewn onto the outside of the gown! Nothing wrong with patch pockets per se, but on this robe it looks shabby. This is made all the more painful by the fact that Watson wears multiple colorful and well-textured dressing gowns in this show. I love Granada, but I can't excuse this.

#9 Cushing Holmes (1968)

I really wish I liked this dressing gown more, because I think that Cushing is one of the best-dressed Holmeses we've ever seen. But I simply cannot get behind this. I applaud the bold use of color and how on theme this gown is for The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle, but the red cording and blue looks odd together. In other shots, you can see buttons, but I think a dressing gown should have a nice belt, and I think the buttons are just a bit too formal for what should be a comfortable piece. I love that this is a Holmes who's willing to take a fashion risk, but in this case it did not pay off. 

#8 Soviet Holmes (1979)

While this dressing gown is boring, the fabric looks nice and heavy, perfect for curling up cozily in front of the fire on a cold night. Contrary to the Granada plain brown dressing gown, this one has a belt and pockets sewn into the gown. There’s nothing interesting about this gown, but it isn't offensive.

#7 Ritchie Holmes (2009)

Agh! This dressing gown is in tatters! As befits action-hero Holmes, I suppose. It might deserve the lowest spot on the list for its condition, but looking beyond that, I really enjoy the colors and the paisley pattern. It reminds me of a nice Persian rug. The hints of blue set off the reds and oranges nicely, and at one point it must have been a very nice robe. I like that the state of the robe tells us something about the personality of the wearer, but points are deducted because the texture looks a tad rough and it's in an unbelievably rough state.

#6 Basil of Baker Street (1986)

Now we're getting to the good stuff! The magenta dressing gown is set off nicely by the black cuffs, collar, and belt. Extra points for styling it with a green cravat, and because it nearly matches Dr. Dawson's vest. Great character design, and it makes Basil look like a snazzy little rodent.

#5 Rathbone Holmes (1939)

It's harder to judge in black and white, but I really like this dressing gown! The fabric looks like a thick cotton velvet, and the cording gives it a lovely contrast. It's distinguished, but it still manages to look comfortable for smoking a pipe next to Watson.

#4 The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)

Now this is nice! The velvet is very shiny, slightly green, and I love the quilted collar and pocket. However, upon further inspection, it's not quite a dressing gown, but more like a long smoking jacket, for which it loses points. Still, it's the closest he comes to wearing a dressing gown and perfect for this urbane and fashionable Holmes.

#3 Enola Holmes (2020)

Dare I say fabulous? I love the cerulean on this one! The fabric looks like a soft silk, which isn't exactly the warmest, but very comfortable. The pattern on the collar is very intricate as well. It's definitely not the dressing gown I would pick for a classic Holmes, but it suits this untraditional Holmes perfectly.

#2 William Gillette (1899)

For the man who popularized the deerstalker/Inverness combo, he can certainly rock a dressing gown. Definitely the most authentic on the list (this picture was taken in 1916), I love the quilted collar, pockets, and cuffs. The silky fabric and decorative pattern make for a very stylish sleuth. I particularly enjoy the shape of the pockets and cuffs. Points deducted for an awkward fit and the lack of a belt.

#1 Star Trek: The Next Generation (1988)

"But this isn't an adaptation, it's just an episode of Star Trek!" I don't care! It counts in my heart. And Data has my favorite Holmes dressing gown. Let's break it down. This looks like a velvet gown with a classically Victorian damask pattern. The velvet texture contrasts really well with the quilted silk collar. The twisted cord belt even has a tassel at the end! And to top it off, it's fully lined with bright red silk. It looks comfortable for lounging in, the fabric has a nice heft without being stiff, and the aesthetic is perfect. This is, to me, the ultimate Holmes dressing gown.

Let me know which ones I missed and what your favorite dressing gowns are!

[keyotosprompts]

sweet nothing ₊˚⊹♡

domestic prompts

⇴ person a being mad at person b, so person b gives them some alone time. only to find person a trying to drag them back to bed bc they miss person b’s presence.

⇴ ^ "i thought you wanted some space?" "i don't need space, i need you" (died)

⇴ going over to family dinner with either person a/b and their sibling/younger cousin is IN LOVE with their partner. like they follow them everywhere and get mad when you guys act like a couple.

⇴ "are you jealous?" "of a child? no way." and person a SMIRKS.

⇴ person a wakes up earlier than the other, but person b is latching on so tightly and their sleeping face is just so cute that person a just falls back asleep anyway.

⇴ that thing when you guys are in bed and your legs wrap around each other. but you're also so close that your head is resting on their bicep and you're caged in their body.

⇴ grocery shopping with their partner. "we do not need those." "but they're so good!!"

⇴ target shopping with their partner. there's something very domestic and sweet about just hanging out in target for an hour or two.

⇴ i'll do you one better: IKEA SHOPPING WITH YOUR PARTNER. the furniture shopping banter. "does this match our living room or do you think it's too much?" followed by "well if we get that coffee table we'll have to get that rug." holding hands throughout IKEA while looking for home decorations.

⇴ person a is blasting music in the shower and person b is singing to it outside the bathroom. person b is so used to it by now and they know all of person a's favorite songs by heart.

⇴ staying beside the other when one of them is doing something. person a is working relentlessly hard on this one task. person b is just sitting there next to them on the couch/bed holding their hand.

⇴ "do you think this looks reasonable or should i change it up a bit?" "maybe switch that up a bit babe" [followed by a kiss on the hand for moral support]

⇴ cooking a meal together in the kitchen with fun music in the back, with occasional messes on the other person's face. person a smears flour on person b's face and person b flicks water on person a's face.

⇴ reading a book together and person b is providing commentary while person a keeps shushing them. person b continues the commentary, because deep down person a enjoys their voice.

⇴ ^ "shh. it just got good." "which is why i have to gasp and voice my opinion!"

⇴ watching tiktoks while the other person is around. (is this niche?)

⇴ having a routine together. like, person a & b are brushing teeth together while person b wraps their arms around person a and leaning into the nape of their neck (they are tired and they want to go back to sleep with a).

⇴ ^ bonus points if person b is extra groggy and still has their sexy morning voice. "i think i'm already missing you," person b says while their head is literally resting on person a's neck. "you're literally right here with me."

⇴ OR alternatively... person a & b are both doing their skincare together, except person b's skincare routine is entirely based off of person a and person a was their "dermatologist"

⇴ sleeping in the same bed, except person a is a blanket hogger and person b is sick of it. so, as a solution, person b literally just holds person a so close to their body so that the blanket isn't stolen in the middle of the night.

⇴ trying to figure out how to defrost a car (i struggled my first time and i would have really enjoyed for someone to HELP)

[shinjisdone]

When You Have An Secret Admirer - And Doubt Them

A love letter was left at your door and now you are searching for that ‘secret admirer’ - but you doubt it's true. Perhaps you don't believe it yourself or are trying to push the obvious infatution under the rug...whatever your reason may be, your dear classmates do not believe you.

Been feeling sick so here's a spin-off of the spin-off of your classmates replies when you say:

"I don't think anyone would like me like that..."

Raising his brow, he scoffed. "Ya don't get it. Listen, the only reason someone would go out of this daaaarn big way is either 'cuz they're a total idiot dork or have a massive big crush on you. And lucky you! For you both option are the case!" Sweat rolled down his jaw as he winked. -Ace

"Uhm," His mouth became dry and his eyes avoided yours. "I-I don't think - I mean, w-why wouldn't they? Like, the roses and chocalates...the notes and...mirror, I guess...that's all romantic. Y-You're a great person and...I'm sure that admirer thinks so, too." He wishes to say more but his tongue was tied. -Deuce

"Whuat? Of course they do! Have you seen the talks and Hearts on MagiCam? Some totally envy you!" His hand lowers to his pocket but decided against fishing out his phone. Instead, he threw his arm around your shoulder. "C'mon, juniour! Have a bit more confidence in yourself! Y'know, if it wasn't for your admirer, I would have long sent you these lovey-dovey stuff. Maybe in a different way though, haha!" -Cater

A sheepish chuckle escaped him. "Oh, come on. Don't be like that. It's clear as that day that someone fancies you and there's nothing wrong with that. You get your senior's allowance to indulge in the attention!" Laughing, he hoped he could ease the tension through his lies. -Trey

He cleared his throat. Something like this wasn't his forte. "I...am not an expert in...love and courting - Well, what I mean is that anyone can see that you are very much admired by someone. You are...a very great person so of course you'd be liked. When someone goes out of their way to break several rules like that, their affection must be greater than the Queen's for her little King." -Riddle

Clicking his tongue, he rolled over to his side. "Why are you making a fuss about that? You're gonna break your little head over this, herbivore. Why don't you stop this belittling and confront that little admirer yourself and find out? If you have the guts to go into the lion's den, then you can go and ask a coward that, too." -Leona

"Huh," For a moment, he avoided your gaze and the corner of his lips twitched. "Well, I dunno. Why shouldn't anyone? If no one liked yer guts, then they would have looooong ripped you off or something - good thing I was there all the time but nothin' happened even when I wasn't there - what I mean is, no, you are likable, dummy. Shihishi..." He cackled nervously. -Ruggie

"I wouldn't know anything about that." Quickly clearing his throat, he tried to hide his flushed face, "As in...I don't know if I would agree with you. Someone wouldn't just do this for fun...I don't know anyone, in and outside of NRC, who would do this for fun, so..." He scratched his neck and hoped you'd catch his intentions. -Jack

"Wha," Sheepish laughter rang, "Oh, why...of course you'd be! Why wouldn't you be...why wouldn't they..." His hands reached for the papers on his desk as he failed to sort them, "If there are any doubts...Monstro Longue can also provide solutions for that. But only for doubts...after all, you are l-likable..." -Azul

"Nonsense. I think you are quite charming. Or, could it be that you are playing the humble one? Trying to fool the rest while you are indulging in all the love your admirer provides?" A smarmy giggle. "I jest. But even so, that would make you even cuter." -Jade

Cackling rung. "Huuuh? Actually, yeah, you're right!" He giggled and squeezed in closer into your personal space. "You are such a lost cause, Shrimpy...ya should stick with peeps like me and Jade! Rather just with me, yeah? That admirer-schmirer has been gettin' on my nerves recently and I barely got any time to squeeze you...give up on this landpeople mambo-jambo and stick with me~. -Floyd

At first he blinked in confusion yet his shining grin came a second after. "No way. You're so great! And so interesting and fun and cute!" He almost seemed like his usual self until he noticed who you two were talking about. At that, his grin vanished. "Oh...well, if I can see that, then the admirer totally too! Maybe even more than me since they shower you in so many gifts..." -Kalim

"Well, obviously not since you got a good old secret admirer like from a rom-com." His smile crooked, he hoped you'd at least chuckle but he quickly corrected himself. Best if he doesn't continue to be this nonchalant. "I'm just kidding...though not about you likable. Give yourself more credit...you deserve it." -Jamil

"Huh? What's with that...self-pityin' party - I mean, as in, that ain't true. Yer a...fine and dandy person, I mean - why wouldn'tcha be??? That kinda talk is only gonna bring you down and yer better than that. Far, far, better. Hell, you got a flyin' mirror-" -Epel

Laughter echoed and you weren't sure if it was mocking at first. "Cher Trickster, could it be that these grande professions of love are not enough?! How can you still not see that you are the apple of someone's eye? Not even I could top that! Tell me, my dear, shall I be your second admirer to prove to you how lovely you are?" -Rook

He raised a brow. "Bring me my phone for a second. Should we go over the amount of attention I get from millions of people and compare them to the over-the-top admiration of your one and only admirer? They went out of the way to insult me to compliment you. You are someone's diamond, potato." -Vil

For a moment you wondered if he even heard you. Staying still as a candle, he tried his best to avoid your gaze while his face was flushed red. "...W-W-W-W-Wha-What do you ask m-me that...??? I-I mean, if there is someone unlikable here it would be m-me...y-y'know...?" He hoped you get what he means. -Idia

"According to data I collected requested by big bro - I mean, happened to collect, there is a 0000000.01% chance that you are unbelievable, unequally unlikable." -Ortho

"You think so?" He scratched his chin, "That kind of mindset is not going to get you far. In fact, I believe you do not understand how much comfort you bring by your mere presence. If you doubt it, I can always remind you of it." -Malleus

Laughing, he slapped his knee. "Seriously? You get the exact cookie-cutter version of a highschool secret admirer sweetheart! I read those in old-school manga! And you still doubt that?" He sighs, "Trust me, be a bit more confident. Amazing things can happen if you let them." -Lilia

"Hm? But...you are being admired. By afar, by someone who truly seems to treasure you. You are like a treasure if you see it that way...ah, nevermind me. Please, believe in yourself more. I do." -Silver

"Ugh, really now?! IF I can see it, then you should see it too! It's like you are covering your own eyes! You! Are! An! Object! Of! Affectioooooonnnn!!!" -Sebek

holy shit im never doing something like this in one post again hhuuuuuaaaaaaahh

[inbarfink]

Okay, so, I know this is kind of a Stupid Thing to Focus on but… I’ve been rewatching ‘Friends Forever’ (still one of my favorite and most complex and most heart-wrenching Ice King episodes) and I’ve been thinking about the bit where Ice King tries to research how to be smart…

We can see him reads from what very much seems to be part of Simon Petrikov's journals. Considering that it details the aftermath of the Mushroom War.

In addition, while the shelves are made of ice, much like the bookshelves Ice King has in his throne room, this is clearly a much... robust archive

which much more resembles Simon Petrikov’s library/research room.

The table IK uses also seems to be a match to the one in the research room. At least in terms of colors

So, it might be a different Room Full of Books that Simon placed in his Castle before he truly 100% lost it, or it might be the same one we see in 'Betty' but with a minor continuity error when it comes to what the shelves are made from. Either way, from the aforementioned journal, we know this library probably contains books Simon had personally written

But considering the Amount, probably not all of them. (Especially if you assume there are two separate library rooms). Maybe he came back to his old house to gather up all the prewar academic books he owned, but that still seems like an Unusually High Amount of Books. I think he probably kept gathering and writing books as he was slowly turning into Ice King. Like, by the time the show started he was basically totally gone - but a couple hundred years ago he’d have brief moments of lucidity and start writing again or searching books that could help him deal with the curse.

Which makes me wonder about this book.

I know that it’s just a silly funny joke, but…

Like, a Big Undertone of ‘Friends Forever’ is Ice King’s insecurities and frustrations with his own stupidity and lack of maturity. And with Simon’s library showing up in the middle of the episode like it did, it’s hard to forget that Simon used to have the intelligence and maturity needed to speak with all of these living furniture on equal terms, but his mental facilities have been eroded by the madness of the Crown and now he can’t and these frustrations manifest even though Ice King isn’t fully aware of that fact.

And this book, I know that the title just playing directly into Ice King’s insecurities is just the Joke but also…

I’m thinking about Ice King/Simon when he was a bit more lucid. Aware that he’s going mad and it's getting harder and harder for him to think clearly and that makes it so much harder to find a solution and expressing a lot of that same anger that Ice King expresses outwards towards the Living Furniture - inwards.

I’m wondering if Simon specifically sought out that book because he felt like he was ‘turning dumb’.

I’m wondering if Simon could’ve written this book. Some sort of last final act of impotent rage against the person he was turning into, frustration at his growing inability to think like he used to, even though he couldn't even remember his own name anymore - only that he was the 'Smarty McBrainypants' part of his old identity.

That would explain why it’s such a worn and rugged book...

[love-quinn]

— COLLECTORS' GUIDE

summary — you love books, and spencer can't figure out why you don't have a single one inside your apartment. his only solution is, of course, to buy you some.

warnings — swearing, reader has a toxic ex

pairing — spencer agnew x fem!mythical reader

pronouns — none (you/yours)

featuring — spencer agnew, nicole enayati, vianai austin (mentioned), kiana parker (mentioned)

word count — 1.8k

note — as someone who LOVES mythical kitchen i've been toying around with the idea of spencer and someone from that show or even just mythical in general, also she was speaking to me she told me she's a bookworm i don't make the rules sorry. thank you so much for all the love on my last two spencer fics <333 hope you enjoy

LA’s a big city; it’s loud, it’s dirty, and it’s busy. Working in the industry you do, you don’t have a whole lot of calmness in your life, which is why you make it your personal mission to make your apartment as soft and cozy as possible. 

You pile your couch with throw blankets and pillows, you have lamps where you can control the brightness, you hang art on the walls and you love it there. You layer your rugs and you keep candles on every shelf. Your apartment is one hundred percent yours, and that’s the reason Spencer likes spending time there as much as he does. 

You and Spencer are a fairly new couple, you’ve only been together a few weeks, and he still can’t quite believe the two of you are together. You work in the Mythical side of the office as a producer and sometimes on-camera for Mythical Kitchen so the two of you see each other fairly often but not every single day.

He likes to think he knows you pretty well – he is your boyfriend. But one of his favorite parts about being in this relationship with you is getting to learn more about you. Neither of you are shooting anything today so he decides to drop by your desk during his lunch break. You’re on yours too, you and Nicole are chatting across your desks, you have half a wrap in one hand and a folded over paperback novel in the other and Spencer brightens at seeing you.

“Hi, babe,” he drops a kiss on your hairline, leaning over and peering at what you’re doing. “I was gonna see if you wanted to go for lunch with me but you seem to have it covered.” 

You tilt your head back to look him in the eye, face lighting up. “Hi! I didn’t know you were coming over here.”

He shrugs, leaning on the back of your chair. Nicole excuses herself to go meet Vi for lunch like they planned and offers Spencer her chair while she’s gone so he doesn’t have to hover. Spencer watches you smile up at her as she leaves and can’t stop the frown from making its way onto his face. 

“You’re not going with them?” From what he knew, the three of you were really good friends, at the very least close coworkers. Seeing Nicole talk about her plans with your mutual friend right in front of you without inviting you felt… not wrong, but definitely weird.

You just shake your head. “No, Thursdays I usually eat by myself, they go out somewhere.” You catch the look on Spencer’s face and amend yourself quickly. “They do invite me, I just prefer to eat my lunch at my desk, I can get a chapter or two in before they get back.”

Spencer looks down at the paperback in your hand again. “What’re you reading?”

You hold it up for him. It’s an older book, with frayed edges and a peeling vinyl cover, a grainy lighthouse on the front. He takes it when you offer it and flicks through it, careful not to disturb the bookmark. “I was gonna take it back to the library on Saturday and get a new one, but I can come over after that?”

Spencer shakes his head, only now just seeing the Los Angeles Public Library sticker on the back cover. “Can I come with you? Unless that’s like, something you wanna do by yourself or whatever? I didn’t know you went to the library.”

You take the book back and put it on your desk, out of the way. You and Spencer have wordlessly begun to split the wrap that you’d packed for lunch, something you’d made at home that made his mouth water. “Yeah, of course you can come. I go most weeks, I try to read a book every week but sometimes, y’know,” you gesture around the office.

That’s how Spencer finds himself on the steps of the LAPL for what he believes to be the first time. He’d been to libraries before, obviously, but not since leaving Florida, and not for a long time. He knows you like to read, there’s often a paperback in your hand or your purse or your car, it’s your quiet time activity. He just assumed you bought your own books, but getting to walk hand in hand with you through the stacks as you browse, he definitely sees the appeal. 

You find your new book of the week and hold it up to him gleefully, and you don’t even have to pull him along to the desk for him to follow you dutifully. Spencer would let you stay in there for hours, gazing lovingly over at you as you talk familiarly with the librarian. 

Eventually, you cut yourself off and excuse yourself to return to your boyfriend, knowing that his ideal weekend plans probably didn’t include letting you drag him around the library. You really like Spencer, you don’t want to hijack all of your time together. 

Spencer hasn’t even considered that. In fact, he is actively planning the next time that the two of you can come back, desperate to see you so happy again. Desperate to make you that happy. 

It becomes almost a routine. The two of you begin your weekend by going out for breakfast somewhere, Spencer follows you around the library and then the two of you go home and spend the rest of the day quietly in one of your apartments. Usually it involves him playing Zelda on the couch with your feet in his lap while you churn through your book.

You fold around each other comfortably. You have your separate friends, your separate jobs (well… technically separate), and your separate hobbies. But as the weeks turn into months, Spencer sinks right into your little oasis in your apartment. 

His clothes end up in your drawers, he starts going in to work with homemade meals that are obviously made by someone who graduated culinary school (i.e, not him). Love pours endlessly out of every crevice, and Spencer feels like he’s drowning in it. Spencer loves his apartment, it’s his home, but as somebody who also loves you he loves your apartment a lot as well.

It feels like every single time he goes over he finds out something new about you and the way you love, which is why he’s not quite so sure why it took him so long to notice the empty shelves in your room.

You’re on your phone, lying on your stomach with your feet by the head of the bed. Spencer is just coming back from the kitchen, your coffee order in his hand when he notices it. “Are you gonna put something on that shelf?”

You look up from your phone to see the shelf he’s gesturing to. Spencer can’t pretend not to notice the way that your face falls. “Uh, sure. I can if you want?”

Spence shrugs as he comes to sit down beside you. You wriggle up so you’re sitting and take the coffee out of his hand. “I don’t care, babe. It’s your room.” He plants a kiss on the side of your face and swiftly moves on. “I just remembered on Saturday I made plans with Kiana, so I’m gonna have to skip the library, I’m sorry.” He does seem genuinely sorry to be missing out on the time spent with you, you deflate subtly.

“That’s totally fine,” you return his kiss. “Tell her I say hi. I’m not done with my current one anyway, so I might just stay home.” You love the library, you spend a lot of time there, but you’re looking forward to a nice morning by yourself at home. Then, you remember the date and groan quietly under your breath. “Never mind, I have to go in to renew it anyway, or else I’ll get another late fee.”

You’d only ever returned a library book late once in your entire life, something that Spencer found completely adorable. Especially so the fact that you viewed it as such a big deal. 

“I guess that’s the price you pay for them being free,” Spencer points out. 

You hum, “I wouldn’t mind having one or two that I get to keep,” you say it so concretely, so nonchalantly. As though it’s not actually something you’re able to do.

“Why don’t you buy a couple?”

You glance over at the empty shelves. “‘Cause it’s like, childish?”

Spencer frowns, sitting up straighter. “Babe, do you think I’m childish?”

You rush to fix your mistake. “No! Of course not, that’s not at all what I meant-”

Spencer takes your hand, putting the empty coffee cup on your nightstand. It’s filled with his things and that makes his heart swell. “No, I know you weren’t calling me childish. But do you think I am?” When you shake your head, he continues. “I have like, video game bullshit all over my place. You’re not childish for having things that you like in your apartment. Plus, books are like the most normal out of all collectibles.” His eyes are deep and sincere and you roll your heels underneath you, moving so your legs are spread out in front of you. “You want books? Buy a million fucking books, babe.”

You sigh, biting your bottom lip. “I know, it’s… I used to have stuff on that shelf,” you admit. “I had a bunch of books, I’d been collecting some of them since I was a kid and everything. My last boyfriend he, well. Doesn’t matter, long story short, I came home from work one day and they were all gone.”

Spencer is probably the last guy you’d expect to see involved in a fistfight. He’s 5 '6, he loves Hawaiian shirts and there is video evidence of him Fortnite dancing. But more than that, though, he loves you, which is why his first instinct is to go find whoever it was that did that and fuck them up.

“That’s so messed up?” He can’t even wrap his head around it. “Babe, what? No, oh my god.” He can’t even formulate a coherent sentence. You love so liberally, so generously, that the idea that someone had thrown away something you love made him physically sick.

“I’m so sorry that he did that to you, that’s fucked. Not your fault you know how to read and he doesn’t.” That makes you laugh, your chest shaking as you lean into him. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your temple, rubbing your forearm gently. 

He and Kiana have plans on Saturday, and he has no intention of bailing on them, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling out his phone and texting her, asking if she’d be willing to make another stop with him while they were together.

The next Saturday, you get home from renewing your library book to find your boyfriend waiting out the front of your apartment. He beams at you as you reach him and you don’t have to look inside the box to know that once you stop kissing him you’ll find the beginnings of your next book collection. 

[uknowmesblog]

Waking up was a bit rough for you, scuffed by a masked man and hauled out of the car making you shriek like a banshee. You pleaded, yelled that you're kidnapped and hold against your will. But who will bat an eye at the man that emanate danger and got a palm wrapped around the back of your neck? Not the soldiers around the base that's clear. 

He manhandled you with no effort on the hallway and pushed you in an office making you sit on a chair in front of a desk. 

“She’s annoying.” He grunted, taking a few steps back. 

“You brute”  

“Thank you, Ghost.” A voice made you sit straight, shivers dancing along your back and demanding attention. You looked at him, old and rough around the edges with blue eyes that could melt ice. A rugged beard neatly trimmed enveloping his warm smile, but your eyes continue to travel down. Muscles covered by a dark shirt, making him look as deadly as Ghost. 

Ghost.. 

Your fantasy now has a nickname, isn't that cute? 

“I don't want to be here” You snapped, even if the definition of “Daddy please” was making you squirm under his intense gaze. 

“Hmm, but you enrolled yourself.” He smirked, making you huff “Name’s Price, the Captain.” 

You pursed your lips, mumbling your name under your breath and he nodded writing something. He got a speech about you honoring your father’s legacy, being a brave soul and so on. 

“Sorry, did you hear her wailing on the hallway?” Ghost interrupted him, saving you. 

“I did, good lungs what can I say” He chuckled low.  

“Look, I have an agreement for you.” You rushed, ready to try and plead your case.  

“Go on” 

“Let me leave with no repercussions.” You smiled sweetly, doe eyes watching from under long lashes that fluttered a little faster. 

“And what’s in for me?’ He leaned over the desk, watching you closely. 

“Saving you a headache.” Shrugging a shoulder, you leaned back against the chair. 

“You underestimate my patience.” He laughed, Ghost sighing behind you. 

“I can be very annoying, a nightmare.” 

“We are soldiers, nothing is too nightmare material at this point.” Oh, he is challenging you with that smirk, isn't he? 

“I am spoiled rotten”  

“Nothin’ that military can’t shape.” He looked behind you and nodded. “or Ghost” 

“I have tummy aches often” 

“We got an infirmary and a good nurse”  

“I’m weak” 

“We will train you”  

“I don’t have stamina” 

“Oh, we can build that up pretty easily.” He winked, causing a blush to make its way up your neck and your cheeks. That’s a double meaning meant to disarm you. 

“I will-” Hand raised, halting you. 

“Enough. I have your father word that’s there some faith in you. We wasted time with your application, we are already past the whining.” He pushed a formular in front of you and a pen, one finger pointing the signing line. “Be an adult and own your responsibility, you brought this upon yourself.” 

“Or you can beg and we can find a solution love.” You whipped your head so fast, bone cracking while your gaze burned a hole in his head. 

“Why, you like it?” You asked sarcastic. 

“Verry” Mouth open, you couldn't believe how such a stoic facade can spew so much bullshit. You looked at the paper like it’s personally offending you, grabbing the pen and getting mentally ready to sign away your whole life.  

“I will be the worse person you ever meet, sir” You bite, signing furiously over the line. 

“Looking forward grumpy, now go and unpack. Later you'll meet the other two muppets” He took the paper, Ghost already waiting in the doorway with a bored expression. 

You got up, dragging your feet and mumbling profanities loud enough. You stopped next to Ghost, looking at him with intensity. 

“Your mask is stupid.” He quietly laughed and wrapped his palm around your neck again, dragging you. 

“Stupid will be if we need to discipline that dirty mouth, now shut up.”  

“I can walk!” 

“And also, you are sulking and slowing me down.”   

You didn't say anything, letting him drag you and kind of enjoying the heat of his hand. Once both of you stopped in front of a door, your troller already waiting with your backpack next to it, you looked left and right. 

“This is our space, only 5 rooms and a common room with a tv and kitchen for us. Make yourself comfortable.” He mocked you, opening the door to your room.  

Tears burning behind your eyes, watching the dull room. Or prison room? White walls, one dressing, one bed, one desk and one chair. The bed didn't even look comfortable, thin mattress, a harsh looking comforter and one plain pillow. One! 

“This is a prison or a joke” You gasped, entering the small space, seeing another door.  

“At least you have a bathroom, make the most of it. Home sweet home and shits like that.” Ghost said disappearing behind another door next to yours.  

Your mind already working to ask Daniele, your childhood best friend, to have some kind of faith and send you a lot of necessities for this dungeon.  

The bathroom of course it wasn't much, the basic with a shower and all that. Everything is so white, harsh and bland. 

“Fucking bastards” You grumbled, starting to unpack your things, putting mr. Bubbles on the bed, making the room look less hostile.  

You are stuck here for a while, so you better make the most of it. You have a few weeks in front of you to convince everyone that your presence here is a mistake, a big one. 

Good luck Soldier! 

Yippie

I love that people enjoyed my lil word vomit, I'm an anxious girlie and everyone is so sweet omg!

@nes-kopi this is for you <3

@brxghtlxghtz hope you don't mind the tag, I like hearing your opinion! <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for ignoring my friend? [🐝]

TL;DR: friend been overly negative, I ignore him. No effort in the apology and haven't talked to him since.

A week ago, I (19F) sent a doodle of him (20) with cutesy stuff like bowties and hearts because I knew he despises that.

After joking about it for a while, he said he isn't in a joking mood, which is understandable. He told me he was about to go, but after that the conversation led to talk about the upcoming pride month and he started to rant about it.

We got into a discussion about celebrating or not and yadda yadda, I didn't want to keep going so I just told him that "if you aren't up for jokes, I'm not up for a rant, cya". I ignored his next message about working on a personal project.

The next day he messaged me again about doing a Google Meet, which I accepted despite having to study for an exam and forget about yesterday. We were cool, he admitted he kinda exceeded himself about yesterday's discussion. However, later he ranted again about other stuff and I just straight up told him I didn't want to hear his twitter complaints. I quit after he kept going.

Two days of silence later, he texts to check on me. I was like sure, except for what happened.

To sum up the next days of taking a while to respond, he just apologised in a lazy way (just sorry and "I felt like a hater"). "Sorry for what?", which he replied "being an ass ig?". I asked if he is even sure for what he is apologising for, and he then asked if it was about the Google Meet thing.

After saying yes, he just says "well, sorry for that then". I was getting frustrated, so I addressed him what happened. I only got short responses like "alr" or "yea that's fair". The next day he texted me to pretend like nothing happened, but I just ignored him again.

I am already tired of him sweeping every inconvenience under the rug and me just follow the same thing. I do not expect a big response, I just want him to contribute to the conversation properly, find a solution and then we can do our usual stuff.

I'm conscious I might be wrong, so advice is appreciated. AITA?

[dev1lm4n]

all glory

masterlist | kofi (support me here!)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel has been feeling insecure, finding it hard to come to terms that he's indeed aging. tommy suggests a clever solution: a post-apocalyptic glory hole

word count: 4.8k of pure filth

warnings: minors dni (18+), post-outbreak, joel is 56 here hehe hot old men, insecurities, glory hole, fingering, unsafe piv, slight breeding kink, no pregnancy stuff tho cuz im terrified of that, reader calls him sir, pet name (darling)

note: i decided to create a kofi bcs im a broke college student lol. anyways hope yall enjoy this, do COMMENT and REBLOG if you enjoyed this :)

Joel Miller had always been a man of confidence.

Being left as a single father for Sarah at an early age, he’s been through thick and thin, trying his best to make ends meet so that they wouldn’t have to end up in one of those run-down shelters. But never once did he question his ability to attract women. 

He’s always had it in him. With a mere glance from his expressive eyes, he can ensnare hearts and leave an everlasting impression on anyone fortunate enough to encounter him. Rugged masculinity and striking refinement; a deathly mix that kept girls swarming after him like bees. After the world descended into chaos, he’s not much different either. Perhaps the bone-deep trauma had left him looking eternally exhausted with sunken eyebags, or that gray filaments started becoming a welcomed addition to his beard, but all in all he’s still charming.

He didn’t have to seek, because people seek for him. Joel had plenty of erotic rendezvous in times where society crumbled and the rule of law eroded, more so now that everyday could be his last and he didn’t have the privilege to take it slow like a true Southern gentleman. He’s done it everywhere. Inside a stuffy closet while hiding from a clicking monstrosity, behind a thin wall while her husband sat cluelessly on the other side, and even taking sexual compensation for his little business. Joel Miller wasn’t a saint. Neither he one for God and he’d like to make it obvious.

Nowadays though, within the tall foreboding walls of Jackson City, that type of attention has faded away. He’s no longer getting those longing stares from across the floor, no longer being begged to corrupt just for some extra wad of cards, no longer being flirted and fawned over like a goddamn stud. Joel didn’t have any problem with it at first. He’s growing old. Instead of those naughty strands of white peeking out of his head, he’s now a complete mix of salt and pepper. Instead of just having a fun smile line, forehead rolls and crows’ feet are now imprinted deep into every crevice. Joel wasn’t the man he used to be. 

He’s weathered away, he thought, unsuited for fun and adventure.

Perhaps it had something to do with his daughter as well. Even when Ellie’s not from his actual blood, everyone in town viewed her that way. He’s her father. Thus, everyone seemed to perceive and treat him as merely a father and not as an actual person that has his own needs and wants. Joel loved his daughter. Terribly so in ways he couldn’t decipher. A part of him has made up his mind that this would be how he should spend the rest of his life: in celibacy. Though the retirement of his sexual and romantic life has slowly taken a toll towards his self-esteem. Tommy, who’s always known to be rather slow and imperceptive, was surprisingly the first one to take notice of his gradual change.

“Maria told me you might be here.”

Tommy’s gruff voice brought him out of his trance. Joel looked up, meeting the familiar figure crouch to get into his little workshop. It was his newfound hobby these days, becoming a hermit and isolating himself from the community. He’d craft a wooden figure or two each night while he relived each and every one of his memories. Good and bad. Of death and of birth. Then by the end of the night he’d feel mildly satisfied with a wooden sculpture shaped like memorabilia from the old world. Joel couldn’t admit it outloud, but insecurity had taken over him. It festered deep into his soul that he couldn’t even bear looking at himself in the mirror anymore or present himself to society.

“Yeah, just..” he paused to ponder on a better way to answer. “Just doin’ my own thing.”

“You skippin’ dinner again?” Tommy’s curiosity sounded oddly suspicious, enough that Joel already knew he’s about to say something obnoxious or entirely uncalled for. The older quirked his thick eyebrows in return.

“Made myself my own plate,” Joel cocked his head towards where a lone plate sat. Judging from the crimson stain smeared on top, it must’ve been one of those canned pastas that he picked out.

“Brother..” Tommy started out, visibly nervous of how his brother would take it. “Is there something wrong?”

“With me?”

“Yeah, with you.”

“No, not that I could think of,” Joel hummed. “I ain’t bitten or anythin’, why are ya asking such a dumb question anyway?”

“You’re just different these days,” Tommy reasoned with a small frown. “You barely come out of your house and if you do, you’re huddled up in this place, carving things for hours on end.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with wanting to be alone. Is there?” he challenged.

“No, but you’re.. different. Almost like your mind’s troubled for once.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong, Tommy,” he insisted.

Joel was actively avoiding the accusations. He stood up from where he’s been perched upon for hours on end, bringing his half-carved wooden slab with him to set it on one of the displays he had. He’s grown quite the collection. It’s been going on far longer than he’d expected, the crippling fear of being undesirable and hideous, and it brought up an immense feeling of embarrassment. He couldn’t possibly admit such things to Tommy, could he? Tommy was different from him. His first child was on its way to be birthed, but girls still chatter about his charming smile and strong figure. They’d still gossip and make dirty guesses about his size. How long he endured such activities, the position he enjoyed best, and how sweet he was to his partner.

Tommy couldn’t possibly understand his fear.

“You can’t help me even if I told ya,” he grumbled.

“Put some trust in me, will ya?” Tommy chuckled as he spun around his seat to follow Joel’s every move. “Tell me what’s troublin’ you, big brother.”

“They don’t look at me the same way.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“The ladies,” Joel muttered.

His words were barely above a whisper. It almost seemed as if he saw the phenomenon as something humiliating, up to the point where he couldn’t even look Tommy in the eye in fear of having him laugh. He’s never talked about this with anyone else. It didn’t help that he truly didn’t have anyone to talk to in general aside from the few acquaintances his brother introduced him to and well.. Ellie. But none of them seem to be the right person to talk to regarding this. 

Regarding his failure in masculinity. His unspoken worries that he didn’t have any of the strong, chiseled jawline or any of the tightly packed abdomen with six separate squares to admire. He’s grown old and weak. Five years ago, he could’ve probably still sweet-talk his way into a woman's heart, but now he couldn’t even look one in the eye without the fear of being put to shame.

“They still do, Joel,” Tommy assured him. He’s telling the truth. Joel knew that Tommy didn’t have it in him to lie, he’d have sounded like a strangled bird or a squeaky dog’s toy if he did. But his mind couldn’t believe it one bit.

“I don’t know, Tommy..” he muttered. “They don’t look at me the same way. They don’t look at me at all even.. and I’m fine with that I 'spose. I ain’t a whorin’ bastard who couldn’t accept that he’s agin’..”

“But they do, Joel.”

“I’m old,” he sucked in the air. “Lately there are these moments where I.. where I’d look a girl in the eye and all I could feel was humiliation.”

“Humiliation?”

“Like they’re lookin’ at me as if I’m some.. some sort of repulsive creature,” he whispered. “I feel like I could hear ‘em gigglin’ with their girlfriends on how shameless I am.”

Tommy was deduced into silence. Time ticked by as he cranked up his brain to figure out the best way to aid his older brother out of his misery. It’s all in his head, Tommy knew that Joel knew that as well, but it’s easier patching up an oozing wound than a troubled mind. He brought his hand together on top of his jeans as he waited for the younger to make another comment, whether of comfort or of a harsh reality.

“I’ll offer you a solution,” Tommy spoke up. “But you gotta promise not to lose your head over it.”

“It ain’t drugs, is it?”

“No, no..” Tommy chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m open to anythin’” Joel dropped his arms to his side as he curiously eyed Tommy.

“Have you ever heard of a glory hole?”

Joel’s expression contorted in such a way that the younger Miller couldn’t possibly read what he’s thinking any longer.

“I ain’t goin’ outside those borders just to go to some sketchy brothel, Tommy. That’d be pathetic.”

“Well, the thing is this whole operation ain’t sketchy,” Tommy reasoned. “The girls were tested and approved by the local doctor before..”

“Local doctor? You tellin’ me this is happenin’ within Jackson?”

“I operate it, Joel,” he sighed, knowing he’s about to be bombarded with a handful of questions. “And before you ask, no this ain’t considered prostitution as there’s no material exchange.”

“You mean..”

“Yes. The girls do it for free. Volunteers. They do it for their own pleasure and I help make their dreams come true.”

Joel looked at his own brother as if he was a mad man. Who wouldn’t? When he’s just told him that they had an actual glory hole installed without most of the public knowing. Or perhaps they knew, they were just not talking about it in front of Joel.

“Ten to twelve. There’s a small house across the sheep field. One girl every Friday night.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy. Maria knows about this?”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

“No, but it’s better off she doesn’t.”

Joel felt his morals set askew for a second. This sounded like a terrible idea, despite the fact that he’s confirmed it himself that it’d be the safest a glory hole could possibly be. He scratched his beard and took it into deep consideration.

In the quiet stillness of a winter’s night, the world was wrapped in a soft, white blanket of snow. The moon hung low in the dark sky - a beacon towards those who chose to travel in the deepest hours of nighttime. Joel blew puffs of warm air onto his gloved fingertips, hoping it’d satiate the coolness that made his joints ache and his skin itch. The air was crisp and biting, each breath producing a frosty cloud which quickly amalgamated into the air. He watched as gentle snowflakes, alike to elegant ballet dancers, fell from the heavens up above and twirled and swirled into an intricate pattern. He’s been waiting for way too long.

“So what are ya sayin’? Are you gonna let me take you tomorrow night?” Tommy broke the silence.

Tommy promised to meet him on the edge of the sheep field, where they’d herd livestocks all throughout the warmer times of the year, but he’s yet to see his tall nose and dark hair from any of the cardinal directions. He’s been waiting for too long to keep the same mindset Tommy’s trained him into, that this was simply a beneficial exchange for every party involved and that he shouldn’t feel shameful for something so instinctive. Waiting gave him time to weigh out the cons, how this was naturally an act of debauchery that wounded both his moral values and beliefs. He ain’t a God preacher, but he’s sure to keep some of those Southern manners.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

None of Tommy’s ideas are ever well thought out. Starting from his sudden gravitation towards the military, to his desires to hand over his entire life towards the Fireflies, and now this. He knew his younger brother wasn’t the brightest of men, but creating an entire glory hole to keep the town’s morale up might be the stupidest one he’s heard yet. Especially when Maria’s not aware of it. He feared for the day when the beans spilled out of its jar, but tonight wasn’t that day. During the time in which he contemplated his decisions, Joel didn’t notice the crunching of snow against thick boots. Tommy was here and he looked far too calm for a self-made procucer.

Tommy beckoned him to follow the path his boots had made. Joel sucked in some of that painfully cold air into his lungs, before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started trailing along. There were a few street lamps across the field, a ruddy glow emanating from them as they were adorned with a light dusting of snow. He kept his guards up while he scanned through the whistling field of crop, that traumatized part of him always keeping in check of abrupt movements and unsettling sceneries. After a quiet walk for a good three minutes, they finally arrived. The house fronts looked dark enough, and the windows even darker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs.

There was snow piling up outside as well, dirtier ones whose last deposit had been plowed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons. He scrutinized over the tracks, wondering if this was meant to be used as a makeshift grain tower. If it was, then Tommy must’ve been a great scheming asshole to turn such a place into his own little heaven. Not one soul was around, which confused Joel even more. Wasn’t this supposed to be a public glory hole? Weren’t it supposed to be disgustingly packed with sweating men, adorned with walls covered in left-over spurts of cum and other bodily fluids, and smelled like sex itself?

Joel continued to pursue Tommy even when he’s overly skeptical about this entirely new scene. His boots were scuffed as he was dragging his feet through the front door, a fight against his defense system that’s begging him to flee out the door at the unfamiliarity. The establishment consisted of a long narrow hallway that eventually led up to an imposing door. Wooden, large, and mysterious.

To his surprise, what was beyond that door wasn’t some tacky sex dungeon with rattling chains and leather whips, it was a modest looking box. Square, he’d assume one meter wide and half a meter tall. He took in the wood it was made from. His pointer finger slowly traced the circumference out of habit. Oak, he concluded, making it sturdy and cool even in the warmer weather. What he failed to notice from the get-go was a pair of legs that were stretched open, chained onto the wall from the considerably-sized gap. Joel’s heart dropped to his stomach, he forgot for an entire minute what he was planning to do, and he’s starting to get cold feet.

“Darlin’, I’ve got someone for you,” Tommy cooed.

“You do, Tommy?”

Normally, people acquire hobbies in order to soothe their brief but occasional boredom, though you have discovered a unique way to tackle long hours of the night. This brilliant discovery of yours was birthed from a fated moment. One where you accidentally stumble across the conversation Tommy had with one of his patrol friends. It began a fantasy in your head. One you didn’t believe could come true until you overheard a passionate storytelling session one of the barmaids gave their friend. Only then did you gather enough courage to talk to Tommy about it. Despite his initial disapproval, saying things like you look too good and gentle to be doing such things, you managed to convince him with a week's worth of nagging.

“Mhm, one of my good friends here,” he hummed. “You’ll let him use you like a good fucking girl, won’t you?”

Goosebumps trailed from your backbone down to where your legs spread wide. Your nervousness made you flinch, effectively causing your legs to rattle against the metal restraints.

“Yes, I will, Tommy.”

When did you get so.. obedient?

“Alright then. I’ll see you in um.. twenty?”

“Thirty,” the foreign voice spoke up, masculine with a twinge of accent.

“Thirty it is.”

The entire room went quiet for an entire minute, only then did you finally hear the door slammed back shut. You swallowed back the throbbing fear in your heart, pushing back those persistent thoughts constantly warning you of the dangers. Even if you trusted Tommy with all your life, you didn’t trust the random strangers Tommy’s picked out. How could you trust them when you didn’t know who they were for sure? They could’ve been someone you see on the daily. The friendly guards, the cafeteria guy who’d always beam a sweet smile your way and give out more bread than standard, or even.. Tommy’s hunk of a brother. The same one who wouldn’t even spare you a look when you’re obviously sending heart eyes his way.

“Darlin’ is your name, ain’t that right?”

There was something so.. alluring about his voice. The type that makes your knees buckle inevitably, despite your best efforts to push it apart.

“That’s right,” you squeaked out.

“Darlin’, it’s been a long long time since I’ve done this, so let me indulge in you alright?”

“Okay,” you breathed out unsurely.

Your eyes instinctively followed the direction of the hushed voice, but all you could see from the dim box was a piece of dark fabric that was hung from above the hole. It was to keep your identity a secret so that the patrons across from you could only see you from the belly button down. Though now you felt more inclined than ever to pull on the draping and meet this man’s eyes. Your thoughts soon diminished when you felt a large hand over your inner thighs. Nowhere dangerous, just resting below where your kneecaps sat. You closed your eyes to try and envision the kind of hands touching you.

Were they soft and unsullied like a baby’s bum? Or were they rough and ridged with years of work?

That large hand traveled down South, inching with an irritatingly slow pace down towards where you ached the most. He was a fair man. He treated both of your thighs in the same manner before the two gathered together in a v-shape over your cotton panties. You wondered if you should’ve worn something more enticing, something which suited a person like you - someone willing to spread their legs for a true stranger. But the man on the other side didn’t seem to have a problem. He didn’t seem like he was bothered by the simplicity of your presentation, instead he was keen on pressing his thumb down the center.

They were the latter. 

His fingers were textured and it felt too good to be true. At the briefest touch, you followed after his movement, hips reaching further up to chase after his departing touch. You whined. Frustrated that he’s cruel enough to press your sensitive clit and leave you all hot and bothered. He let out a deep chuckle, one that came out from the depth of his stomach as he placed his thumb back where it belonged. Your hole clenched and unclenched at the stimulating sensation. Your cotton panties seemed to be a great aid for your needy clit. It felt similar to grinding over a pillow, just this time, it felt a lot more real and animated.

“How long have you been doin’ this, darlin’?”

“Doin’ what, sir?”

So polite. It’s laughable the fact that you’re so soft spoken. Your lips spilled out a gentle moan as his thumb dug deeper into that sensitive spot.

“Lettin’ strangers fuck you,” he was frank with his words that’s for sure.

“This is my first time.. in the box that is,” your voice cracked almost immediately under pressure. “Been thinking of this for a long long time though.”

The gruff man hummed noncommittally as he continued to please you with his thumb. You used to be shy when it comes to being reactive during intercourse, but with the box, it almost felt like you could finally be your true primal self with your utmost carnal desires. He slowly eased your stained panties to the side once he saw an increasingly growing wetness, knowing that it’s time to move on to his next way of torture. Your pussy was exposed to the cool air immediately, it felt like the air was nipping at the sensitive skin all around. He took his two fingers - his middle and pointer finger being his favorite choice despite the controversy - and slowly dragged it atop the slick canal.

“A pretty girl like you gettin’ all wet from a little touchin’,” he chided. “You haven’t been fucked well or somethin’?”

What a considerate man. He called you pretty when he could barely tell what you look like.

“No, maybe, I-” you were flustered. You’ve never had to exchange proper talk when someone’s touching your dirty, wet cunt. “None of Jackson’s men did good. That’s why I hoped..”

Your voice trailed off into a garble of nonsense when he teased at your entrance, trying to decide whether you’re soaked enough to push a finger in comfortably. You whined, louder this time, as your legs fought against the uncomfortable metal cuffs wrapped around your ankle. He decided to play nice for once and made your dreams come true by inserting that thick finger of his. Fingering has never felt good for you, it always felt like an intrusion rather than a welcomed feeling, but he’s making it feel like heaven on earth.

“Hoped a stranger would fuck me well enough,” you took awhile to finish that statement.

He let out one of those noises of disapproval, at your skewed moral direction perhaps or at the tone of desperation your voice must’ve let out. You could only suck in a shallow breath when he started making proper, continuous motions with his finger. He pushed upwards to poke the tip of his finger onto that squishy part, playing around to find out where exactly made you react the most. You loved how he’s patient. You’re half-expecting the men to just stuff their cocks in you like you’re some sex doll instead of taking their time, which you don’t mind either. Half the pleasure was from being treated like nothing.

“Dirty gal,” he degraded, which you found both surprising and exciting. “Just wanted her pussy stuffed with any cock she could have, hm?”

Your hips thrusted up at a larger interruption. This time, the man managed to insert two of his thick fingers inside your eased cunt. He twisted it one-hundred-eighty degrees to the left, then back to the right, before he curled it in a come-here motion. The motion had left you dumb. A combination of ah ah ah’s and unfinished pleads for him to keep still. The man never once fully removed his fingers out of you. He’d slowly pull back to only have a single knuckle stuck inside before pushing it all the way in once more. For once, someone didn’t finger you like you’re a pizza dough waiting to be pounded.

“A-ah, sir. I really.. mmh- I really like that,” you moaned out shamelessly. “Feels really good in my.. in my pussy.”

“You like what, darlin’?”

“Like your fingers.. fingers in my ah- ah pussy!” you whined when he deepened his reach by rotating his wrist upwards. “Something- fuck- something’s coming! Please.. Please don’t sto-”

You warned him like a goddamn virgin and there it was, you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the way your pussy squelched around his finger at the new wave of sticky fluids. The noises were filthy and lewd that you were embarrassed for the first time that night. It coated your throbbing cunt and slowly ebbed out of your hole, dribbling down onto the wooden floor boards under. Strings of almost translucent thickness proof of his success. It’s pretty. The way you gaped around his fingers, tightened and relaxed at his fingers that still kept you full.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

He must be experienced, because he was quick to rub your clit precisely as you went through the throes of orgasm. His broad palm never missed where that bundle of nerves were, until you’re dripping all over the place. Only when you’re right towards the end did he land a small smack atop your pussy, keeping pressure where your womb is to maintain the pleasure for as long as you could. It felt like this wasn’t a shit place for once. It felt like this stranger could surely turn the flesh-eating monsters into a field of rainbows and flowers from how good he’s making you feel.

“You taste sweet,” he muttered. “Someone ever told you that?”

It took you a while to notice that his fingers weren’t there to stuff you full. He was busy tasting you. You could imagine him on the other side of the room, rough fingers deep in his mouth, drenched in your arousal. The thought made you squirm, growing wet once more. You shook your head as his hand slid back up. His fingers ran over your clit with one long stroke before they stayed there. His thumb sat right atop the throbbing spot, unmoving. 

"Perfect little thing, ain't ya?” he asked, and you nodded, your muscles tense as anticipation ran high. "Gonna fill you up real nice."

As soon as the dull tip of his cock prodded against your entrance, your whole body convulsed. Tears slowly crept into your eyes, frustrated, you might as well cry out a pathetic plea if he kept on stalling. Your palms banged flat against the side of the box. Overwhelmed and on the verge of tears when he purposefully missed your weeping hole. His length slid upwards, the warm tip rubbed against your clit from below before it shied away once more. Your toes curled and he must’ve taken the hint from behind the curtains.

The perfect stranger pushed himself up to where his mushroom-like tip ended, allowing you to adjust to the dimensions of his cock before he eased himself deeper.

You let out a strained moan. 

You almost bump the top of your head on the oak boards when he forced his way in. His cock was fully inside you at last. You were ecstatic. Eyes shut close as you bit into your bottom lip, flesh tearing beneath your canines. It was too much all of a sudden. Too good. Too large. Too full. You could hear the loud squelching noise your spongy hole made as he pulled back and stuffed himself back in.

“Fuck,” he groaned silently. “Don’t squeeze around me, darlin’. You're gonna get me in big trouble.”

He chuckled and fuck did it sound so hot.

You felt his fingers gently reach for the width of your hips. His grip was tight and harsh as he guided your every movement with them. He thrusted like a man on a shooting range, with much precision and prowess. You liked this. Liked feeling as if you’re just a doll for people to use and dump their loads in, especially when it's for someone like him. His cock made you writhe and fight against the metal cuffs holding your legs up. Eager to have him speed up to meet your desires yet he was persistent in keeping a stable speed. The sensation was growing. Slowly but surely.

“A-ah.. mmph.. oh God!”

“God ain’t here to save you, darlin’. It’s just this old man right here,” he cooed crudely. 

He made sure to keep you full at all times. Never once did his perfectly-sized cock leave your sloppy hole, it just kept on twitching and growing in size with the help of your warm embrace. “You like this, don’t ya?”

“Oh- oh yes. I like it. Love your..,” he stopped your lewd confession by placing his thumb back atop your once neglected clit, drawing lazily with what’s left of your wetness. You could feel him starting to seep. A tinge of his own arousal mixing in with yours. “Cock! Love your c- cock.”

His heavy pants started to intensify in volume, such a lovely melody when combined with your pathetic whimpers. He’s close.

“Gonna cum in you, darlin’” he muttered out breathlessly. “Gonna make sure you’re all fucked out with my cum.”

You couldn’t think straight. Not when you’re on a highway to heaven. Your little hole tightened, so eager to milk him dry.

“Yeah, you’d like that, won’t you?”

“O-oh.. oh yes. Please.. fuck,”

“Please?”

“Please fill me up.”

His tip started oozing out ribbons after ribbons of cum, quickly filling you up relentlessly. Though he hasn’t stopped bottoming himself up into you. His load sloshed around, coated his length a perfect milky shade, and dribbled down your rear deliciously. Did you really just let a complete stranger fill you up to the top? Did you truly just let him pour his seed up your needy hole?

Maybe you did.

And maybe it’s reckless.

But oddly enough, you don’t feel too bad about it.

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Take A Rest

Request

PAIRINGS: Poly SKZ x Gender Neutral Reader WARNINGS: Shitty managers and fans. Mention of a creepy band member. Lack of communication which leads to last minute solutions. Male reader requested but I don't think there's any reference to the reader's gender. I think that's it.

Everything had gone to shit. The venue, missing band members, last-minute replacements, and a ton of other issues. All of them were swept under the rug by your manager, Tony, until the day of the concert.

The venue didn't have enough seats. The replacements for your missing band members didn't know the songs. Your lead guitarist and drummer weren't there. Tony decided he didn't want to tell you that the props were broken.

Your drummer got sick after being overwhelmed with stress from practice and her finals. Your lead guitarist said something about having a baby, but you knew that was a lie. That man has been a creepy virgin since you've known him.

Some fans didn't understand the stress you were under. With a recent flux in fans, the demand for a full album instead of songs was higher than ever. And with love comes hate. 

No matter what you did. More music, less music, or different genres of music. Everyone still felt the need to put their 2¢ in where it wasn't needed.

Fortunately, those who attended the concert were understanding of the current situation. None of the issues happening were under your control.

"Remember when I told you all that communication is the key to almost everything?" 

The crowd's screams of agreement echoed in your ears. Every outro on a video, a concert, a fan sign, or other event you exit with a similar speech and farewell; a signature in your fanbase. 

"It appears my manager didn't listen and failed to communicate," You sighed in disappointment. The crowd's mummers of irritation quiet down when you raise your hand to continue. "Nothing is prepared. And I know you paid money to see me and the guys perform."

"This time the concert will be a bit like a fan event-" You wave at those sitting closer to the stage and they scream greetings back. "When we reschedule a concert for you guys, and I'll make sure they do, you can see me perform." 

"How's that sound?" Your grin is showcased on the big screens behind you. Everyone cheers and the impromptu fan event begins.

With a sigh of relief, you walked off stage with the sound of people laughing and cheering ringing in your ears. Your manager was talking with one of the staff, waving his arm around as he shouted at them. With a tearful nod, the staff member left and disappeared into one of the rooms.

Tony followed the girl with his eyes before turning to look at your approaching figure. He glared at you from behind his iPad. "What's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong?" You scoffed, moving past him and into your dressing room. 

You're greeted by your boyfriends scattered around the room. Hyunjin, Felix, and Changbin sit on the couch watching edits of you in your recent music video. Jisung chases Jeongin around the room, narrowly avoiding Seungmin and Minho from their spots on the floor.

Chris is the only one who stands from his spot in your chair to greet you. He catches you as you flop into his arms. Before Chris can speak, your manager busts in and calls you back out.

"Since you want to give away free tickets, you can help schedule them into another concert," Tony grins, a malicious glint in his eyes. 

You need to nap and then find a new manager.

Even in bed, your shoulders were tense and your brain was in overdrive. Thinking of the damage last night's not-concert has, and will, cause. Helping your team to comb through each person who attended the event so you could squeeze them into another concert at a later date. The scolding your manager gave you wasn't helpful.

Tangled in the sheets and limbs belonging to your lovers, their scents pressed into the covers. You were warm and so very, very tired with a sprinkle of guilt seeping in. This was supposed to feel nice. It was supposed to help ease you. 

But why couldn't you relax?

"When are you going to let someone take care of you?" Chris asked, wrapping the curls on Y/N's head in a scarf and bonnet. "It doesn't have to be one of us or someone we know."

"Just let someone in." Hyunjin's hands were warm against Y/N's cold face. His plump lips press butterfly kisses against your eyelids, forehead, and temples.

With Changbin and Hyunjin calling dibs on your sides and Chris laying you between his legs, so your head pressed against his stomach. You're pretty sure Seungmin is asleep, curled onto your legs with his hands gripping your calf. 

Jeongin is sprawled behind Hyunjin with his arm over Hyunjin, and hand on your chest, over your heart. 

Felix and Jisung were somewhere in the dorm causing chaos in the kitchen with Minho supervising. You could hear Jisung yelling at the pots for burning him, Felix's laugh, and Minho shouting about melted plastic.

You'll probably have to clean the kitchen at some point.

"For once, just relax and let someone care for you. Please," Changbin whispered with arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"Don't hog him," Jeongin whined, pulling you back into his and Hyunjin's arms. 

Changbin grumbled as he yanked you back giving a chain reaction of Hyunjin and Jeongin pulling you and Changbin fighting for you to stay in his arms. Poor Chris with him latched onto you, he was tugged in every direction with you.

So, this is what the rope felt like in tug-of-war.

"You need to go to bed," Minho's voice comes from the doorway and everyone's heads turn in sync. He stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips, Jisung and Felix peeking around his shoulders.

"Who?" You ask.

"All of us," Minho answers, carefully curling up in an empty spot on the bed. 

Minho's attempts not to wake the sleeping boy are futile as Jisung dives onto the bed. He sandwiches himself between Changbin and your side, scaring Seungmin awake. He grumbles as he adjusts himself and falls back asleep.

Felix lingers at the end of the bed, looking for a spot to sleep. The moon shines on his milky skin and his eyes reflect the light. You turn so your back presses against Chan's chest, and Seungmin huffs as he turns away from you and tucks his face into Minho's neck. Felix was lying atop you amidst the commotion.

"Go to sleep, Y/N."

You hum, your eyes slipping close. It's warm. It's peaceful.

©️DEANAMEANTAE2024

[itsnothingofinterest]

The implication that society at large hasn't learned a thing from its Original Sin (Shigaraki's backstory) is making me ill... Between this and Touya/Dabi's ending, I feel like I'm reading the ending of a tragedy from an Outsider POV or the bad ending path in some video game and being told to Suck It Up Buttercup, because this is a Good Ending Actually!! I've never felt more insulted reading the ending of a story...

Oh same here; a part of me is even beginning to wonder that you might be on to something labeling the whole story a tragedy. The more closely you look into things, the more it looks like every aspect of this ending is a tragedy underneath a thin veneer of “well things are happy and the day is saved now.” I’m almost suspecting if it’s on purpose.

Dabi was beaten, and now Touya is stuck in cenobite cosplay in prison as he lives out the rest of his single digit days letting his abuser talk at him while the rest of the Todorokis wait to hear that the eldest son has died once again.

Anyone considering that the next AFO or Tomura could be out there is taking the exact opposite approach from correct; saying they need to not be sympathetic and instead close their hearts to such a person to better persecute them, driving such folk to villainy faster.

We don't know what happened to Toga but the faces we've seen on Uraraka these past few chapters do not fill me with hope.

We started out with a 4-digit, maybe even 5-digit hero figure when this all started, and the only solution we’ve seen anyone think of (and only as a joke) is to fill the streets with more heroes. Otherwise you can’t fix this; Deku’s talk with AM and Taukauchi ends concluding that you can’t prevent these tragedies.

That sucks when the end of humanity is coming sometime in the next century; just far enough away that no one cares, just close enough that no one can stop it. And though a cure was developed, Deku smashed it to dust and scattered it to the winds alongside the guy he vowed to save; and when the end comes, likely no one will know that Tomura could have prevented this.

It feels poetic how much this reflects hero society as a whole, how much it repeats everything Tomura said in real time. All this present tragedy and future disaster swept under the rug of “but the big bad villain is dead, smashed to pieces by the next symbol, the day is saved, isn’t it?” I once thought MHA was supposed to be optimistic. It has not turned out that way. But it might turn around my opinion on Hori’s writing if that turned out to be on purpose.

...But that might be too much to hope for.

[drivinmeinsane]

COLT SEAVERS {Scene Partner}

{ drabble } ※ { masterlist }

※ Pairing: Colt Seavers x GN!Reader

※ Summary: The stunt guy gets recruited to stand in for your scene partner during a sex scene for a highly anticipated blockbuster.

※ Rating: 18+ for highly suggestive content (simulated sex)

※ Word count: 1,157

“If I’m not going to be the main focus of the lens, then forget it! I spent too long in the gym to get sidelined like this.”

You’re leaning against a headboard on the movie set watching as your co-star throws another tantrum. This is just another one of the many that he’s had over the course of filming. It’s been a rough two months and you’re already behind schedule as it is due to his theatrics. You groan and sag against the mattress. You hadn’t even particularly wanted to do the scene with him, but at this point you would gladly let him flex and posture all over you just to get it done so everyone could move forward.

The director desperately tries to talk him down, but he keeps shouting at her. Finally, he throws his hands up and loudly announces that he is not getting in bed shirtless with you because it won’t be a glamorous sex scene. He actually walks off set entirely.  There are a few tensely quiet moments while his agent chases him down and tries to beg the actor to set aside his arrogance and come back on set. The moment the agent returns empty handed with a defeated shake of his head, chaos erupts around you. 

They scramble to find a solution. Two of the crew are sent to find another blond man who could plausibly stand in as a body double for the scene. While they are away, the director and the writer desperately think if there is any possible reworking they can do for the script. Can they make this a solo scene? Edit your partner in later? And on and on they go.

The crew members come back shortly and they’re not alone. With them is a blond man, taller and broader than your co-star. He introduces himself as Colt from the stunt department. He’s distractedly handsome in a rugged sort of way. The stuntman is nothing but polite when he shakes your hand and greets you personally. His eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. You instantly agree to work with him.

The two of you get into position after he’s been prepped by the intimacy coordinator and had a brief explanation of the scene’s requirements. Your hands are on his waist, resting on the leather of his belt. He, for his part, has his fingers pressing into the arc of your spine, coaxing you towards his body with the lightest of touches. He looks almost shy. His hair is falling into his eyes in a way that makes you want to brush it back for him.

“Be gentle. It’s my first time,” he jokes.

You don’t have time to laugh before the scene director is calling quiet on set. You wipe the smile off your face and relax. Colt sobers up as well, looking deadly serious, like he is about to do something life threatening.

“Action!” The clapperboard snaps closed.

The scene starts with the two of you all but lunging towards each other. You meet in a kiss and your scene partner’s beard is rough against your face. His mouth is soft, he’s kissing you like he means it. Your hands clench on his waist and he moves things right along. The stuntman walks you back into the door that is pivotal for the scene. He kicks it open, hard, too hard. It slams into the wall with enough force to knock a hole into the plaster. You gasp into his mouth. A quiet groan answers it. 

Once in the room, you break the kiss and start fighting to get his shirt off. His hands meet yours and you’re working together to pull it over his head. The minute the garment is off and tossed aside, Colt is crowding against you, catching your mouth in another kiss while your hands splay across his chest. They're going to have to edit out his piercings, you realize faintly. If you were touching him under different circumstances, you would explore him in earnest. Learn everything there is to know about his body.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and your mind short circuits when Colt wraps his hands around your waist and tosses you back onto the mattress like you weigh nothing. That had not been in the script. You’re not sure if you’re breathless from the impact or because he is suddenly crawling onto the bed after you. Your legs fall open automatically at the sight of him. For the scene, you’re wearing  modesty undergarments and an oversized shirt that suggests that it’s actually the only thing you have on. 

He slots himself easily between your spread legs and braces himself over you. He rests his forehead against yours and rolls his hips. The pressure is barely there from all the intimacy padding but all the same, the action has you clamping your thighs tightly against him. Irrationally, you wonder what he would feel like for real. You’re barely aware of the cameras, barely aware that this is a scene. It feels too real, too good to be acting. 

The blond man tucks his face against the side of your neck, hiding it from the camera’s eye. You feel the press of his mouth against your skin as he kisses the juncture of your shoulder. That wasn’t a necessary action, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You bring a hand to the back of his head to encourage him, clenching your fingers into his hair. You feel more than hear the moan he makes when your nails scratch lightly over his scalp. Heat floods you at his indication of pleasure and-

“Cut!” The director’s voice cuts through whatever was building. “Excellent work, everyone. I think we got it.”

Colt lifts off of you and rolls to the edge of the bed where he sits for a brief moment before standing. You catch the barest glimpse of a scar on his back before the stuntman is on his feet and getting decent. By the time the director and supervising staff let you get dressed and off set, your impromptu scene partner is nearly out of sight. 

You take off running, ignoring the startled looks of the crew. You might be a total fool, but it had felt like there was something between the two of you in that fake bedroom. Weaving through the milling production staff, you get within yards of him before you slow down. 

“Hey, stunt guy!” You yell, winded.

He stops, startled, and turns to look back at you. He’s not the only one staring. It feels like everyone in the vicinity is watching the performance you’re putting on. You close the gap even further, coming to stand in front of him.

“Hey.” His tone is soft, questioning.

“I think we probably should have had dinner first, but will you accept after?”

He laughs, eyes squinting with the width of his answering smile. “I would like that.”

[existence-is-a-liminal-space]

rant time

This is so disappointing, and the worst part is I have no one to blame but myself. I've always sorta seen the writing on the wall. Hori has always had a really weird track record with his writing; dropping plot points, being purposefully cagy and noncommittal to certain themes etc. However I do think there is a difference between something being an objectively poorly written story and just a story that, while well done, might no be something I personally enjoy (or even a overall fine story with a few flaws). For awhile I thought, like many people that mha was going to be a scathing critique on hero society and Deku & Co. would have to reccon with their places in it: how the hero-villain dichotomy does not help anyone, scapegoats those deemed undesirable, allows heroes to get aways with murder, and perpetuates the complicity of the masses leading them bring about some sort of systemic change with the help of the antagonists . When I realized it wouldn't be that I thought "OK" then it is a story about saving the have-nots and proving why they are going about things the wrong way and offering another solutions while working within society–a bit sanctimonious but sure–they become the greatest heroes because of their compassion and willingness to save. And then when the villains bring up their issues with society their continuously told to shut up or that their wrong with no further elaboration, better yet that they just dealt with what happened to them the wrong way as if was somehow their fault for reacting badly to being treated badly and given no real recourse. And then the All For One reveal happened. And god. the last minute reveal (right before he's 'killed') that all of Shigaraki's family issues and quirk were the direct result of AFO? It's a really nice way to further invalidate all the criticisms he's ever made now that nearly everything bad that's ever happened in his life was because of some really bad guy, doubling down on making everything an individual problem rather then a social one–because that way you don't have to challenge your characters core ideologies right? or think of actual solutions? And that's where I feel like MHA crosses into being an objectively poorly written story overall; to establish all these issues and themes and back out on them at the last minute for a simple solution.

I have to ask: What the fuck is going to change? Stories set in a fantastical world usually have something to actually fucking comment on in that world. We are shown explicit issues in the world of mha What has been deconstructed about the world of MHA? After all of this, what have any of these so called greatest heroes done to make an actual, tangible difference in the world they live in? The end of MHA is shaping up to be just a continuation of the same cycle it the begins with, all of it's issues going unaddressed or swept under the rug. People want to say that MHA doesn't need to address those things, that it's just a story about hope and redemption, where is the hope and redemption in killing off the people shown to be the most victimized by society? If it is a story about true heroism being intrinsically linked to saving then what does it say that some people just can't be saved, that are 'too far gone' that have to be fucking mercy killed.

In conclusion, the LOV deserved to be in a story which actually lived up to what it promised.

[democratthatlovesguns]

The Substance of the 2nd Amendment

A human being has a natural right to learn skills allowing him or her (they/them) to defend against attacks from others. By extension, a person has the natural right to acquire/possess weapons that allows one to repel attacks from others - especially in cases in which the offender(s) is physically stronger than the person (people) being victimized.

Case in point, this is the reason we (as democrats) feel compelled to provide Ukraine weapons and training, so that a smaller nation of free people can defend itself against a greater/stronger nation.

BELIEVE US: WE UNDERSTAND THE IMPORTANCE OF THE SECOND AMENDMENT.

IN AN IDEAL WORLD, no government would ever attempt to limit a person's right to possess ANY weapon they wish, as long as they had the resources to acquire it. IN AN IDEAL WORLD, no person would be obligated to register any weapon with any government.

IN AN IDEAL WORLD, the life, liberty, and natural right to pursue happiness of any person would be respected by every other person in the world. IN AN IDEAL WORLD, no item would have ever been developed or thought of as a weapon for one human being to harm another.

Have you ever heard the quote from Tibullus (c. 55BC): "Who was the first that forged the deadly blade? Of rugged steel his savage soul was made."

Modern day translation: Who was the first to make a weapon to harm another human being? That guy was a fucking asshole.

And that is precisely what gun control laws do: they keep weapons of unprecedented deadliness from assholes.

Gun control laws require that a person needs to possess an understanding of how dangerous guns can be before they can owe a gun. They also disallow people convicted of certain crimes from possessing guns until they demonstrate fitness to own guns again. A more comprehensive control would allow people to surrender their weapons when they feel they might do something stupid and would allow them to regain possession when they feel fit again - NO QUESTIONS ASKED.

Hell, we could even have public gun clubs for a day of fun with the family. Go out, check out new weapons, shoot some stuff, good times.

But we need to come up with a practical/workable solution together; when our children, educators and caregivers, don't feel safe in their respective learning environments throughout the day, there is no clearer sign that the status quo is not working!

[forsaire]

It could have been me

@solivagantingrebel

you said you wanted it with ghoap, so i wrote a very little something

The faucet beside them was leaky, just the occasional drip of water tapping softly against the porcelain sink. The two of them were shoved tightly into the bathroom that left even a single person struggling to turn around. It was quiet, a stark contrast from the roaring crowds they’d just been surrounded by.

With his shoulders curling in from exhaustion, a shirtless Ghost sat on the toilet seat, his eyes focused on the floorboards yet still a million miles away. He was no doubt still back in that cage.

The two of them had been tasked with infiltrating an underground fight club, keeping an eye out for the orchestrator which was their target. The atmosphere was rugged, performative, rowdy, and without mercy. Men celebrated the beating of one another in a desperate attempt to put those down deemed unworthy and weak. They laughed at the pain. They bet on the suffering. They revelled in the massacre.

Ghost and Soap were trying to blend in, something that new faces had a significant disadvantage with doing anyway. They watched, round after round. Things were going well, until they weren’t.

Eventually the whispers started, curious and scrutinizing eyes from the armed men falling upon the two of them. As soon as Soap caught wind of the changing atmosphere, he tried to lead them to the exit, but he wasn’t fast enough.

As the man stood before them, they had to prove they were meant to be there, prove they belonged there. They were offered only one solution – get in the ring or leave. Although the latter would most likely be through a bullet in the back of the head.

Ghost immediately offered, Soap keeping his hesitation and worry hidden behind the deceitful mask he wore developed from years of experience. Ghost was big, but his opponent was bigger. Had remained undefeated for three rounds now.

Soap was well aware that Ghost could take a hit, but he found himself wincing each time it happened, nonetheless.

As Ghost stood over his opponent’s unconscious body, panting and with blood dripping down over his eyes, they were officially welcomed. How could they not be when Ghost had just put on quite the show.

With a limp he was trying to hide, Ghost and Soap left the area, retreating to a safehouse a few blocks away.

This is where they found themselves as Soap riffled through the first aid kit opened up on the counter. Once he’d found all the materials he needed, he stepped in front of Ghost, easily situating himself in between Ghost’s open legs.

Ghost flicked his eyes up, tired beyond belief and betraying the amount of pain he was in.

“Steamin’ Jesus, Simon…” Soap murmured, drained, worried, and relieved all at the same time. He dabbed a damp cloth against the cut above Ghost’s eyebrow, gently wiping the dried blood away. “Now why did you have to go and do that, huh?”

Ghost remained still, ever so slightly leaning into Soap’s gentle touch.

“It was you or me,” he replied evenly, camly.

“It could have been me…”

“Didn’t want it to be…”

With a small sigh, Soap put down the cloth and picked up an alcohol swab, expertly tearing off the top of the paper packaging.

“This might sting.”

With that, Soap took the wipe and dabbed it against the jagged cut. As expected, Ghost gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath, his hand automatically coming up to grab at the back of Soap’s thigh, his fingers digging in tightly. After a second, the tension in Ghost’s body dissipated as the pain subsided, but still his hand remained.

Soap didn’t mind.

“You’ve just given Price more paperwork…” Soap joked quietly.

Ghost hummed. “Poor him.”

Soap reached over and picked up a handful of butterfly bandages. The two of them were peacefully quiet as Soap let his skilled hands smooth down the bandages across the cut. Ghost watched him carefully, ignoring what he was doing with his hands and instead locking onto his face.

It would have been slightly intimidating or nerve-wracking if it hadn’t been Simon.

Once Soap was finished, his hands lingering perhaps a little longer than necessary, he let them reluctantly fall. His eyes floated down to the blooming black and red bruises scattered across Ghost’s torso.

“There’s not much I can do about those right now,” he said quietly. He raised his hand again as he spoke, caressing one of the bruises on Ghost’s chest with a feather-light touch. His muscles were hard but his skin was soft.

With a sigh, Ghost slumped forward, pressing his forehead into Soap’s stomach. Like he’d always done it, like it was completely natural, Soap immediately started to sift his fingers through Ghost’s hair. He scratched at his scalp, taking in the way that Ghost appeared to melt into the touch.

He would take Ghost’s pain away in a heartbeat, but for now, all he could do was stand here, letting his wandering hands comfort the man in his arms. The man who always gave too much and took too little.

Soap was in no rush to leave because for a moment, just the smallest of moments, it was only the two of them, in a cramped bathroom in the middle of nowhere. And he wouldn’t change it for the world.

based on this post

[mageknight14]

I loved how NEO pulled the rug out with Rindo’s character. At first, he generally seems much more sociable and outwardly friendly compared to Neku and then the game quickly goes "yeah, nah, he’s a huge fucking mess too." He’s a good kid fundamentally at his core but he can also be whiny, hypocritical, passive-aggressive, and kind of insensitive at times. He has a tendency to be judgemental and harsh to the people around him while not acknowledging his own faults, like when he complains about Beat joining the team even though he saved their lives beforehand because he’s not Neku or when he gives Fret shit for fawning over Eiji Oji and Kanon while falling for Motoi’s BS. He’s so pessimistic about himself and others that not even a death game that heavily emphasizes the value of teamwork can get him to fully come out of his shell, which is where his time-travel powers come in AND EVEN THEN it’s a double-edged sword since on one hand, it forces him to actively step up to the plate and survey the situation to find the best possible solution, which leads to him slowly growing out of his shell, but on the other, it also leads to him becoming overly reliant on his time travel so that he can walk back from potentially life-changing decisions without having to worry about it since he has a magic reset button. Which ends up biting him in the ass. Hard.

He’s one of those types of people who is ultimately a thinker and planner instead of a do-er, but his being young and overly impressionable takes this personality quirk to such an extreme that he's foundationally useless to most groups. He’s the type of person who you have in a group project who sits around and does nothing, but then complains with the project does poorly because he couldn't be bothered to speak.

He's so unconfident and directionless that he uses effectively Instagram as a means to listen to someone who sounds like some 2deep4u philosopher post dumb flowery bullshit that effectively has all the meaning of "Drink water when you're thirsty." and he admits to finding such "deep" meaning in these posts that it supposedly helped him through life. Because he's 15 and doesn't know anything.

However, all of this makes him interesting as a character because he’s, again, still a fundamentally good kid at his core. While he’s shown to have a fuse, he is also the kind of person who has the ability to think his emotions through. That's what we ultimately see when he and Fret finally talk and drop their beef. The game depicting Rindo's capacity for self-awareness and emotional reflection is a positive revelation of his character strengths. He proves that he's capable of recognizing when he's in the wrong and knows how to apologize, a trait he shows quite a few times throughout the story, while also doing everything he can to set things right as well as be more understanding toward how his friends feels.

He’s kind of the guy who will drop everything to help a little kid out, even when there’s no tangible benefit to doing so and he and the others are shown to be on limited time, shows empathy to his friends/fallen enemies, and feels massive amounts of guilt for his actions, even if he didn’t know better at the time.

Hell, the entire endgame is fueled by his selfish yet understandable desire to save the people he cares about most from total erasure, to the point that he’s willing to risk thousands of lives to do so. But not only is he shown to be internally grappling with himself regarding his decision but he’s also willing to take responsibility and ensure that EVERYTHING goes right not just for himself and his friends but the people of Shibuya in general, in a parallel to Neku’s own selfish if understandable decision to put the bonds he formed in the original game (particularly with Joshua) over the actual city.

Characters aren't interesting simply by switching between 2 different character traits. They're interesting when all those traits are being expressed at the same time for reasons that are consistent within their internal logic. You gotta be a good writer to pull that off and you gotta know when to show off these dimensions during your story to achieve proper dramatic effect when the time calls for it and NEO I feel does this pretty damn well.