#also check the fucking inbox and actually answer things

[landofalwayswinter]

Coworkers you can't leave things like "landofalwayswinter does X, I don't need to worry!" You know I'm part-time we're all part time I can't do X all the time because sometimes I'm not fucking here.

[wonderlandwalker]

Two can play (but three's more fun) | Steve Harrington x reader x Eddie Munson

stranger things masterlist / inbox

summary: when Steve catches Eddie staring a little too long at his girlfriend, he doesn’t throw a punch—he extends an invitation. And as Eddie quickly learns, Steve doesn’t just share; he teaches, with slow, filthy demonstrations.

word count: 5.2k

tags / content warnings: smut, just pure filth really, posessive steve, desperate eddie, a lot of swearing, I couldn't help it, maybe some repetitive words but smut vocabulary just has it's limits

a/n: I got insanely stoned and wrote this so if it came out too horny i'm sorry, also im ovulating oops. I've prolly been very inconsistent with grammar tenses but I can't be bothered to check it. I usually correct my grammar after i've already posted so the masterlist link has significantly less errors than earlier versions

The living room was bathed in the flickering glow of the TV, some forgotten horror movie playing on low volume—The Thing, maybe, or was it Halloween?—its eerie soundtrack warping under the weight of the thick, sweet-smelling haze curling through the air. 

Eddie had outdone himself with this new strain, something sticky and potent that left his limbs heavy and his usual sharp edges dulled into something languid and warm, his thoughts perhaps a bit too syrupy.

“—I know I talk a big game, man, but fuck. I have no clue what I’m doing when it actually comes down to it.”

His voice was a low mumble, words slipping out like he hadn’t meant to say them at all. He tipped his head back against the couch cushions, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold answers.

Steve blinks at him, slow and rhythmically, before snorting. “What, like… at all?”

“Yeah, man. Like—”  Eddie waves a hand vaguely, the silver of his rings glinting as he moves. “How the fuck am I supposed to know what sounds are real and which ones are fake? It’s fucking Russian roulette.”

The next reaction from Steve is immediate, no hesitation. Just a lazy, knowing smirk as he stretches his arms behind his head. “Huh. Well, once you know the difference, it becomes pretty obvious.” He pauses, just long enough to take a quick glance over Eddie’s face. “If you really need some pointers, I can ask my girlfriend if she wants to help you out.”

Eddie nearly comes crashing to the fucking floor.

Because fuck. He’s had a crush on you for, like, forever. Not that he’s ever admitted it out loud — not when Steve Harrington has a reputation for rearranging the faces of guys who so much as look at you wrong. Eddie has seen it happen: some poor asshole at a party, fingers skimming your ass as you passed, and bam — Steve’s fist in his jaw before anyone could blink. There’s even a rumour some other idiot once stared just a little too long at the way your lips wrapped around the neck of your beer bottle and then slurred, “Wanna spin the bottle?” Word is, Steve dropped him in one hit. No warning. No theatrics. Just pure, primal instinct.

So yeah, Eddie’s kept his mouth shut.

But now? Now Steve is watching him with this lazy, half-lidded expression, like he hadn’t just detonated a goddamn bomb in Eddie’s head.

“You’re fucking with me.” Eddie pleads, his voice rough.

Steve just grins — slow, deliberate — his eyes dark with something Eddie can't name. “Nah, man. She’s actually really into that kinda stuff.” His voice drops, gravel scraping over each word, and Eddie’s stomach flips “And I’d do anything for her.”

The air feels thick as Eddie’s pulse roars in his ears, his throat suddenly bone-dry. Was this a test? A trap?  Christ.  Harrington was going to be the death of him, and worse—Eddie knew he’d fucking thank him for it.

His fingers twitch at his sides. “...Yeah?”

Steve’s smile only widens, but his eyes soften. “Yeah.”

When Eddie shows up at your place the next night, he’s strung tight enough to power Hawkins twice over, his pulse hammering in his throat. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours convincing himself he’d imagined the whole conversation, that there was no way Steve Harrington just offered— 

And then you open the door.

Dressed in nothing but one of Steve’s old band tees, the fabric riding high on your thighs, you greet him with a smile that damn near stops his heart. “Hey, Eddie.”

His mouth goes dry. And before he can choke out a response, Steve is behind you, hands sliding possessively around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. And then — Jesus Christ.

The kiss Steve gives you isn’t just heated — it’s filthy. All tongue and teeth, your fingers twisting in his hair as he backs you against the doorframe, his hands already under your shirt like it’s a regular Tuesday afternoon.

Eddie’s knees nearly give out.

“Watch,” Steve murmurs against your lips when he finally breaks away, his gaze flicking to Eddie over your shoulder. His voice dark and commanding. “And pay attention.” 

Then, right there in the doorway, Steve pulls the shirt over your head — meticulously slow, like he wants Eddie to memorise every second. And, well — Eddie does.

He memorises the way your breath hitches when Steve’s fingers brush over your ribs, the way you arch into his touch, the soft, real sounds spilling from your lips as Steve’s mouth finds the top of your breasts— 

Eddie’s throat protests as he swallows, fingers twitching at his sides like he can’t decide whether to bolt or drop to his knees.

Steve notices —of course he does— and his lips curl into something dangerously close to a challenge. “You just going to stand there, Munson?” His hands slide down your hips, squeezing just hard enough to make you softly gasp. “Thought you wanted to learn.” Eddie manages to get control over his brain just long enough to answer “I— Yeah. Fuck. Yeah. I do.”

Steve hums, pleased, and spins you around to face Eddie fully, his palm splayed possessively over your stomach. “Then get over here.”

It’s not a request.

Eddie moves like a man in a trance, close enough now to feel the heat of your skin, to catch the intoxicating scent of your perfume. His gaze darts between your face and Steve’s fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your collarbone.

“First lesson,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to nip at your earlobe.  “Don’t just touch. Listen.”  His free hand reaches out, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and dragging it toward you. “Feel how she reacts.”

Eddie’s fingertips brush your waist—hesitant at first, then firmer when you shiver under his touch. His breath hitches as you lean into him, lashes fluttering when his thumb grazes the delicate curve of your ribs.

“Good.”  Steve’s voice is low, eyes locked on Eddie’s every twitch. “Now kiss her.”

Eddie’s head jerks up. “What?”

Steve’s grin is all teeth. “Unless you don’t—”

“No, I—fuck.” He surges forward, crashing his mouth against yours like a man starved. It’s messy and desperate, and he barely gets a taste before Steve yanks you back by the waist, eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.

“Jesus Christ. Not like that.”

Eddie stumbles after you as Steve kicks the door shut behind them. “It’s like you were raised by wolves.”

Eddie opens his mouth to protest—then snaps it shut. Because Steve’s right. He’s a wreck.

“What are you waiting for, a written invitation?”  Steve’s voice is rough with impatience. “Kiss her again.”

Eddie hesitates—just for a second—before lust wins the war. This time, when his lips find yours, it’s still hungry, but it’s also aware, his movements more controlled. For a heartbeat, he’s terrified Steve will deem him unworthy of you altogether and kick him back to the curb—until you moan into it, until your fists twist in his shirt and drag him closer.

Steve groans in approval against your shoulder. “That’s it,” he rasps, pressing you forward just enough that Eddie can feel your heartbeat against his chest. “Now slow down. Make her want it.”

Eddie whimpers, but obeys, pulling back just enough to tease your lower lip between his teeth before licking into your mouth like you’re water and he’s been dying of thirst.

The sound you make — the soft, wanting whine—it's the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Steve pulls you back again, but this time, there’s satisfaction in his grin. “See?”  His thumb swipes over your kiss-swollen lips, smug. “She likes it when you take your time.”

Steve doesn’t let go of you—not really. Even as he nudges you toward the couch, his palm stays glued to the small of your back, steering you like he owns every inch of space you move through. Eddie doesn’t need to be told to follow; his pulse hammers in his throat, fingers flexing like he’s already imagining the weight of you beneath them.

“Sit.” Steve’s order cracks through the air, and Eddie drops onto an armchair like his strings have been cut.

You don’t get the chance to join him. Steve catches your wrist, yanking you back against his chest instead. His mouth brushes your ear, voice a low, possessive hum: “Nah, sweetheart. You’re staying right here.” His fingers trail down your arm before guiding your hand to Eddie’s jaw. “Let him earn it.”

Eddie’s breath stutters. Christ. Up close, you’re devastating. The way your eyes shimmer with pure lust, the way your lips part—just slightly—when Steve’s fingers skim over the lace of your bra. The syrupy moan you let out when he pinches your nipple over it, just enough to make your back arch—

“See that?”  Steve’s voice is rough against your ear. “She gets loud when she’s turned on. You just have to know how to listen.” Eddie nods, swallowing hard. His hands hover over your hips like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve under his touch. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, Munson. You’re not going to break her.” He grabs Eddie’s wrist, pressing his palm flat against your stomach. “Feel how warm she is? How fucking desperate?”

Eddie’s fingers twitch. He can feel it—the rapid rise and fall of your breath, the way your skin burns under his touch.

“Now”, Steve murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder, “show me what you’ve learned.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice.

This time, when he kisses you, it’s relaxed—calculated. He licks into your mouth like he’s savouring it, one hand sliding up your ribs while the other tangles in your hair. And when you moan, when your hips jerk forward like you just can’t help it, Eddie groans against your lips like he’s just discovered fucking religion.

Steve watches, eyes dark with approval. “Better,” he rasps. Then, with a smirk: “Now get on your knees.”

Eddie freezes, and Steve arches a brow,“got a problem?”

“No—fuck, no.”  Eddie’s already sliding to the floor, knees hitting the carpet with a thud. His hands find your thighs, gripping just tight enough to feel the muscle tense under his fingers.

Steve’s smirk widens. “Good.”

The praise goes straight to Eddie’s dick.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp—and God, Eddie’s never been so hard in his life.

Steve’s voice is a murmur as he trails a path down your throat, bruises already blooming under his mouth. “Now, make her beg.”

Eddie’s breathing is ragged as he looks up at you—fuck, the way your pupils are blown wide, the way your chest rises with every shaky inhale. Steve’s fingers are still tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a tenderness that feels domestic. Your eyes meet Eddie’s just before they flutter shut, and it’s all the permission he needs. His mouth finds the inside of your knee first, lips dragging slow and hot up your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm. Steve hums, tracing your ribs and sliding your bra strap down your shoulder. His palm cups your breast as it spills free, kneading with a lazy possessiveness that has your hips jerking forward — but Eddie holds you steady, determined. 

His tongue traces past the waistband of your panties like he’s trying to memorise the shape of you, and when his eyes flick up to Steve, all he finds is lust, raw and unfiltered. So Eddie hooks his fingers into the fabric and pulls, dragging it down your legs as he kisses a trail after it, reverent even in his hunger. His fingers work you with surprising precision, his gaze desperate for approval — and when he curls them just right, you gasp, arching into his touch with a moan loud enough to make Steve’s smirk falter. He wasn’t expecting that.

The slip in Steve’s control sends a thrill through Eddie, and he murmurs against your thigh, voice rough: “You sound so fucking sweet — bet you taste even better.”  Steve’s grip tightens on your hip, hard enough to bruise, but you don’t seem to mind.

He’d meant to teach. Now, he’s learning.

And the way you’re unravelling under Eddie’s touch stirs something awake inside of him. Eddie’s got a musician’s dexterity, his fingers able to coax sinful melodies from you with every twist. When you whimper Eddie’s name, Steve’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t stop him. Just watches with a gaze darker than the midnight sky itself as Eddie’s breath ghosts over you, your thighs trembling. “Please—”

The word barely leaves your lips before Eddie adds another finger, crooking them until your thighs squeeze around his wrist. He groans against your skin, resting his forehead against your leg as the vibration tears another broken sound from your throat. He fucks you with his fingers — slow and deep, then fast and relentless, like he can’t decide whether to savour you or ruin you.

Eddie, drunk on your praise, dares to glance up at Steve with a smirk. Steve’s nostrils flare, but instead of shutting him down, he drags a thumb over your cheek and growls, “You gonna cum for him?” You can’t even answer. Your back arches, toes curling, and Eddie drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. The moment you shatter, he loses it. He’s not sure what destroys him more — the way you choke out his name, begging him not to stop, or the filthy, approving rumble of Steve’s voice as he speaks, “Good girl.”

Eddie finds himself at an impasse, torn between begging for more and staying silent as the two of you decide his fate. His fingers twitch where they grip your thighs, his breath ragged, his entire body coiled tight with anticipation—and fear. Steve detaches himself from nipping at your collarbone when Eddie wavers, his movements faltering. A reprimand flashes in Steve’s darkened gaze, sharp enough to make Eddie shudder again. “Didn’t you hear her, Munson?”  Steve’s voice is a low, warning growl. “She told you not to stop.”

But Eddie freezes. The reality of where he is—what he’s doing—hits him like a freight train. He has no idea how to continue.

But Steve doesn’t tolerate hesitation. His hand fists in Eddie’s hair, yanking him forward with a rough, “Stop thinking.”

Eddie obeys like a man possessed, and the moment his tongue drags over you, his whole body jerks—holy shit. You taste even better than he could’ve dared to dream. Sweet, addictive, and the way you gasp when he flicks his tongue over your clit?  He’s ruined. Forever.

Drunk on you—on the way your fingers tighten in his hair, the way you’re so wet it’s coating your thighs—he laps at you like his life depends on it. Steve watches with drowsy satisfaction, his palm sliding possessively up your stomach to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple just to hear you whimper for him again.

“Listen to how she sounds when you do it right,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with contentment. “Isn’t it the most beautiful sound in the world?” He doesn’t wait for Eddie to answer. Instead, he tilts your jaw toward him, locking you in a searing kiss. You moan into Steve’s mouth as Eddie continues, his tongue relentless, his own desperate noises vibrating against you. Steve chuckles darkly when Eddie whimpers, his cock straining against his jeans just from tasting you. He hasn’t even touched himself, but he’s so close he’s shaking.

“Are you going to come just from this, Munson?” Steve drags him off you by his hair, grinning at the dazed, wrecked look on Eddie’s face. “Fuck, look at him, darling. He’s a mess.” Eddie’s lips are slick, his chest heaving, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look black. Steve doesn’t give him a chance to recover. He pushes Eddie back into the armchair, his grip firm, dominant. Then he guides you onto the couch with a smirk.

“You did good,” he tells Eddie, voice dripping with condescension. “Now let me show you great.”

Steve doesn’t waste time. In one smooth motion, he hooks his hands under your knees, spreading you wide —putting you on display— before dragging you to the edge of the couch. His gaze locks onto Eddie’s, making sure he’s watching as he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, a shudder running through you at the sensation. “See how she shivers?” Steve murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, laced with something Eddie can only describe as devotion. “It’s because she knows what’s coming—” Then he devours you. 

Unlike Eddie’s frantic, eager strokes, Steve’s tongue moves with precision — deliberate, decisive licks that have you arching off the couch within seconds. He teases you, circling your clit until you’re gasping, then he pulls back with a cruel smirk.

“Steve—” you whine, fingers scrambling at his hair. “Patience, sweetheart,” he muses — before sucking your clit between his lips, hard. Your cry echoes through the room, and Eddie’s hands clench into fists, his hips jerking helplessly as you overwhelm his senses without even touching him. Steve doesn’t let up; he works you with his mouth until your thighs tremble, until your moans grow longer and heavy, until you’re right there—, and he pulls away.

“No, no, baby, please—” you beg, but Steve just clicks his tongue, amused, sliding two fingers into you without warning. “Look at her, Munson,” he orders, curling his fingers just right, making you sob beneath him. “This is how you give her what she deserves.” His thrusts are ruthless, his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. You’re a writhing, whimpering mess, your nails digging into Steve’s shoulders as he fucks you on his fingers, his eyes locked onto Eddie’s the entire time.

“She’s close,” Steve taunts — he doesn’t even need to look at you to know, too busy watching the way Eddie’s jaw clenches.  “You want to see what happens when she comes on my hand?” Eddie can’t even speak. He just nods, frantic. Steve smiles wickedly and makes do with the response. “Then watch closely.”

He crooks his fingers again, pressing deeper, and you don’t just shatter — you explode. Your back bows like you’re possessed, broken screams tearing from your throat as you squirt, and Eddie swears he’s seeing stars. Your hand finds Steve’s bicep, clinging desperately, like you’re afraid he’ll stop. Eddie can’t look away; he doesn’t dare blink — if he misses a single second of this, he’ll never forgive himself.

Steve works you through it, drawing out every last spasm until tears streak your face, until you’re oversensitive, trying to squirm away. Only then does he finally relent, licking his fingers with a satisfied hum before brushing featherlight kisses up to your neck. The moment you feel his proximity, you meet him in a kiss — not heated like before, but purposeful, delicate, like Steve is guiding you back to reality with it. He doesn’t rush you; he just lets your fingers weave through his hair until your breathing steadies. Then, he speaks again. “That”, he says, “is how it’s done.” He meets Eddie’s stunned gaze. “You shouldn’t even be thinking about getting your dick wet until she’s clenching around nothing.”

Eddie’s so hard it hurts. His cock throbs against his jeans, neglected and aching, precum soaking the fabric. He’s never been this turned on in his life—and the worst part? Steve knows it. The bastard smirks, dragging a thumb over your lower lip. You suck it in eagerly, tongue swirling, before he pulls away and stands. It’s a fucking performance. Steve undoes his belt like he’s savouring the way Eddie’s eyes cling to his hands, the leather slipping free with a final, damning shush. You whimper, still boneless from your orgasm, but your eyes flutter open when Steve’s palm slides up your thigh, squeezing. “Please, Steve?” you breathe, and his grin turns feral. “Not yet, love.” He glances at Eddie, whose throat bobs under the weight of his stare. “Munson hasn’t earned it yet.”

Eddie’s stomach drops. Fuck. He’s dripping in his pants, his hips twitching like a fucking teenager, and Steve’s going to make him wait?  But then— 

Steve grips Eddie’s chin, forcing his gaze up. “You want her?” he asks, voice rough. Eddie nods, greedy. “Then prove you can take care of her.” And just like that, Steve shoves him onto the couch with you. “Do it like I showed you.”

For a heartbeat, Eddie can only stare—at the way your breath hitches when he touches you, at the way your eyes lock on Steve, who’s sprawled in the armchair like it’s a fucking throne, lazily stroking his cock. Your lips part, and Eddie swears he sees your mouth water—fuck, it’s obscene. His hands tremble as he touches you—really touches you—this time. His mouth finds your thigh, kissing up the sensitive skin, trying to mimic the way Steve had worshipped you earlier. But when his tongue drags over you, your breath catches—wrong—and Steve’s low chuckle cuts through the room like a knife.

“Christ, Munson,” Steve sighs, his grip tightening around his cock. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Eddie grits his teeth. He is. He’s thinking about the way Steve had made you scream, the way your back arched off the couch like you were trying to fuse into him. He’s thinking about the fact that Steve’s watching, lazily stroking himself while Eddie fumbles like a virgin.

And the nail in the coffin? You’re watching Steve too. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes heavy with desire—but not for Eddie.

“Fuck,” Eddie rasps, pulling back. His voice is wrecked.“I can’t—I don’t—” Steve leans forward, fingertips ghosting over your throat as you keen toward him. “You can,” he growls. “Stop trying to perform. Just feel her.”

Eddie’s breath comes in sharp bursts. This time, when his mouth finds your cunt, he doesn’t think. He listens. To the way your breath catches when he licks a slow, experimental stripe. To the way your hips jerk when he sucks just there. And when your fingers fist in his hair—finally—it’s not to guide him, but to hold on.

“There,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with approval. “Now you’re getting it.” Eddie moans against you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat. Fuck. He’s dizzy with it—the taste of you, the sounds you’re making, the way Steve’s gaze burns into him like a brand.

But then Steve stands. Eddie barely has time to register the loss before Steve’s dragging him up by the collar, spinning him around to face you—really face you. Your lips are swollen, your chest heaving, your thighs slick with Steve’s work.

"Look at her," Steve growls, his voice a dark scrape against Eddie’s ear. "Don’t just glance—really look."

And Eddie looks. He sees the damp flush between your breasts, the way your hips lift like you’re already chasing it, the way your pupils blow wide when Steve’s thumb swipes over your bottom lip. "She’s not yours," Steve breathes, dragging his teeth over Eddie’s earlobe. "But fuck, look how bad she wants you to try."

Eddie’s pulse races. Then Steve steps back, gesturing like a king permitting a subject to kneel. "Go on. Make her forget my fucking name."

So he closes his eyes, trying to drown out the noise in his head, to sync himself with the thrum of your heartbeat beneath him, to dissolve into every breath you take. He wants to belong here, in this moment, where Steve’s approval hangs heavy in the air and your pleasure is the only thing that matters — success. A satisfied hum from Steve when Eddie finally finds the right rhythm, a broken moan from your lips. But your eyes — your eyes stay locked on Steve, even as Eddie’s mouth works you over.  It’s still him you want. Hunger battles with pride in Eddie’s chest. He hates how badly he craves this—how much he needs Steve’s approval—but god, he longs to pull those sounds from you himself, to unravel you with nothing but his touch. And so he moves like a man possessed, single-minded in his mission to play you like an instrument, to pluck every string until you snap.

Your taste is intoxicating, something he’s already addicted to, something he’s not sure he can live without anymore. Your eyes scrunch shut as pleasure blooms, so lost in it that you don’t even notice Steve speeding up his strokes, his grip tight on his cock. Eddie gets close—so close he can practically taste your climax—but you linger on the edge, just out of reach. He’s aware he’s missing something, some final piece to send you over, but he can’t find it. Then your eyes flicker open again, searching for Steve’s gaze like it’s the only thing that can save you. And Eddie knows—he’s pushed his luck too far. Steve’s patience snaps—not with his pleasure, but with Eddie’s failure to give you yours. Next thing he knows, he’s being dragged back, the warmth of you ripped away too soon. Steve looms over him, a predator in human skin, annoyance rolling off him in waves. “If you want to get a chance to fuck her,” Steve growls, voice dripping with challenge, “you’re going to have to do better than that.” 

Eddie’s brain becomes the mental equivalent of a dropped Wi-Fi signal—because did Steve just imply—?

Every touch, every taste Steve has allowed him, Eddie has devoured with insatiable hunger. But now it hits him—this is more than just a demonstration. Steve might actually let him fuck you. Or he would have. Now, Eddie isn’t sure he’ll ever get the opportunity again. A sharp, breathy cry from you yanks him from his thoughts. Steve has already turned you over, guiding you onto your hands and knees, one foot perched on the armrest behind you like a damn king claiming his treasure. Eddie is so close to your face now, your slick still glistening on his chin as you blink up at him, dazed. Steve teases your entrance with his cock, just enough to have you pushing back, begging for it. And for one glorious, heart-stopping moment—you look at Eddie.

Not at back at Steve.

At him.

Your gaze is pure, primal desperation—like he’s the one you need. Steve drives into you in one brutal thrust, and your eyes screw shut in ecstasy. You sob Steve’s name, but your eyes flicker back open as you you look at him.

“Baby, please—” And it dawns on him—you are begging Steve, but not for Steve. No, you’re begging for permission, your gaze locked onto Eddie like he’s the only thing anchoring you to earth. He doesn’t know what you’re asking for, but Christ, he already knows he wants it just as much. 

Steve, of course, does understand. He drags his cock into you agonisingly slow, pressing tender kisses along your spine even as his voice comes out harsh. “You think he deserves it, honey?” You whine, desperate, but Steve doesn’t need more than that. He leans over you, his thrusts deliberate, sinful. “How could I ever say no to you?”

And fuck, Eddie gets it now—gets why Steve turns possessive, gets why you love it. He’s watching the two of you move like a single entity, Steve’s hips rolling into you with a precision that rewrites Eddie’s entire understanding of sex. And the real tragedy? He’s pretty sure you’re only getting started. Your fingers fist in Eddie’s collar, yanking him down hard. His breath stutters as your lips take him in, hot and needy, and he doesn’t think—just reacts, his hands tangling in your hair as Steve’s thrusts rock you forward, forcing Eddie deeper into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations nearly undoing him right there, but then your hand tugs at his belt loop like it’s personally offended you, and Eddie’s thoughts fry into static. What do you want? He glances at Steve for answers, but the bastard just laughs, driving into you harder like he’s savouring Eddie’s confusion.

And God help him, Eddie looks. It’s downright pornographic. Steve’s cock glistens as he pulls out, your body clinging to him like it never wants to let go, and every time he sinks back in, you clench, a broken noise tearing from your throat.

As Eddie freezes, you take matters into your own hands, undoing Eddie’s belt with ruthless efficiency. The zipper’s barely down before his jeans pool at his knees. He looks at Steve again—helpless—but Steve just shakes his head, smirking. “Jesus, Munson. Keep up.”

Your fingers brush the straining outline of his cock through his boxers, and his hips jerk. Your mouth finds the spot beneath his ear, teeth scraping, and—fuck—it nearly sends him over the edge right then. You’re not gentle. You know exactly what you want. In seconds, his dick is in your hand, your grip perfect, and the first stroke has him grinding his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. He wants to keep his eyes open—to watch, to devour every detail of every second—but his body betrays him. A shudder wracks through him, his lashes fluttering helplessly before his head falls back, lost to the crushing wave of ecstasy."

“Fuck—!”

Steve’s voice cuts through the haze, dark with amusement. “That’s it, sweetheart. Show him how good you can be.” His hand tangles in your hair—not guiding, just holding—like he wants Eddie to see he’s the one in control. That every gasp you make, every shudder Eddie can’t suppress, is because Steve orchestrated it.

“Bet he’s never felt anything like you.” Eddie’s thighs tremble, his cock twitching against your tongue. He’s close, too close, and Steve knows it—fuck, he’s enjoying it. “Look at him,” Steve murmurs, dragging his cock out of you just to slam back in, punching a moan from your lips.  “Already shaking for you.  Bet he wishes it was him inside instead.” His thumb swipes over your clit, and you whimper, your rhythm on Eddie faltering. “But he’s got to earn that, doesn’t he?”

Earn it? Eddie’s vision blurs at the edges. He’d shamelessly beg if it meant— Then your tongue swirls over the head of his cock, and he chokes, almost falling forward into you.

“Steady,” Steve warns, though his voice is anything but calm. “You cum before she does, and I’ll make you watch while I fuck her twice as hard.”

Eddie’s groan is nothing short of pure agony. Steve fucks you more slowly then—cruel, like he’s savouring Eddie’s torment—dragging his cock almost all the way out before sinking back in, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to make your eyes water. But your dedication doesn’t waver; if anything, it burns hotter. “Shit—”  Eddie’s hips jerk involuntarily, but you swallow him deeper, humming around the salt-bitter heat of him. His fingers scramble at the cushions, knuckles white. “Jesus, sweetheart, where the hell did you learn—?”

Steve’s laugh is a dark, knowing thing against your neck. His hands slide up your thighs, spreading you wider as he presses inside, slow, letting you feel every fucking inch. “She’s full of surprises,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. “But you’re not going to last long enough to find out, are you?”

Eddie’s groan disintegrates, the way you swirl your tongue around him, the slick pressure of your throat—it’s nothing like the groupies who’d thrown themselves at Corroded Coffin. This is ruination. This is worship. Your mouth works him with practiced greed, and Eddie’s vision blurs.

“Fuck, I’m not—I can’t—” 

“Yes. You can.” Steve’s voice doesn’t leave room for argument—this isn’t a suggestion; it’s a command. His hand moves from your scalp to your nipple, pinching just shy of pain until you whine around Eddie’s cock. His other hand slips between your legs, circling your clit with filthy precision. “You going to come for us, sweetheart?” he rasps. You nod frantically, lips stretched lewdly around Eddie. “Good. Let him see.” You break with a cry, muffled around Eddie’s cock, and Steve growls as your body clenches around him. “That’s it,” he grits out, hips snapping harder, “that’s my girl—” Eddie’s spellbound.

 Steve fucks you through it, your tears smearing Eddie’s thighs. His breath comes in punched-out gasps, cock twitching against your tongue—

Steve loses control first. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he spills inside you, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.

Eddie’s hips stutter when you whimper, oversensitive, as Steve grinds into you one last time—claiming you like he wants to brand the feeling into your skin. And then— “Fuck!”  Eddie’s back arches, his cock jerking as you pull off with a slick pop, begging Steve for mercy. He comes untouched, frustration and relief searing through him as he gasps your name like a prayer. Steve laughs, low and satisfied. Eddie’s too wrecked to care, chest heaving—until Steve’s next words send him tumbling straight back into want.

“Let me know if you’ve got any requests for the next lesson.”

[crimsoncandy04]

Have u ever thought of Scara w tentacles😳 like he was an experiment and we are the one in charged of cater for him, then one day he escape and take us with him to breed cause' he really likes us... Idk if it's possible but might lay eggs for him. Please try writing it one day!! Tysm for those fics u feed uso(≧▽≦)o

I should really check my inbox more often than I do. This is literally such a hot idea.

(also just a heads up, I'm absolutely blasted right now while writing this so if it's not perfect I'm so sorry. Cannabis gummies are a double edged sword for me. On one hand I get the BEST ideas to write but then on the other I forget how words work)

Hope you like it;)

You had seen some weird stuff in your 25 years. It was expected though. You WERE working for the fatui and under one of the more deranged harbingers known for fucked up experimentation too.

However, being put in charge of one of the less important projects involving the sixth harbinger had proven to be more than you were prepared to handle.

A LOT more.

You had no idea why he allowed this to happen or if it was just a bizarre side effect of another failed experiment. But one thing was for certain, the sixth harbinger had been altered physical and now needed to be restrained at all costs. He had actual tentacles growing from his back. Like REAL ones. And for some reason they seemed to have minds of their own at times.

Thrashing around and hitting the thick glass of the containment room as if trying to break out while the young man at their base sat on the cold concrete ground and refused to look at you each time you went over to slide him food through a small opening in the wall that your hand could barely fit through.

You weren't important enough to know the details of what went on in your boss's lab but you had to admit that the sentient tendrils were a bit pretty to look at.

They were a deep indigo. Almost black with small barely discernable silver accents along the sides.

They appeared almost metallic in the right lighting and you had to make yourself look away and stop staring sometimes because you didn't want to be rude.

You were here to complete a job and that was all.

Until the night everything went to shit of course.

You were summoned sometime after midnight along with two other subordinates to check the lab for accidents after a security alarm was triggered for unknown reasons.

You rushed in and immediately you felt your blood go cold at the sight before you.

He had escaped.

Shattered glass lay at your feet as well as blood presumably from the guard who was now nowhere to be seen and most certainly dead.

You heard a yell from the room next to you.

"Stay here!" The other man with you insisted as he drew his gun and took off after the source of the cry.

You didn't need to be told twice.

Because right now you were confused but also rightfully scared.

What happened to the sixth harbinger? He never once gave you reason to believe he was distressed or restless before. He never even spoke to you when you fed him and checked the condition of his holding room.

Did you perhaps miss something?

What caused him to suddenly lash out and attack the guard?

And most importantly what happened to-

*PLOP*

You hear something hit the ground next to you and slowly turn your head to look.

You shriek.

On the ground next to you was the decapitated head of the subordinate who had just left to search for the other man.

You immediately tried to run but were stopped in your tracks as something wrapped around your waist and hoisted you into the air.

You tremble and go silent. Preparing for the worst when you look down and meet eyes with the sixth harbinger.

One of his many new appendages coiled around your middle and rendering you helpless as you silently prayed to every archon you could remember that if you were to die here it would be quick and painless.

He narrows his eyes up at you.

"You. You didn't want to try killing me as well?"

You struggle to answer as you shake violently.

"No sir. I see you nearly every day. I assumed something was wrong and that you were seeking help. I didn't feel like it was right to murder you."

"Are you scared?"

You felt your heart race.

Something about his tone seemed off. Different.

Did he...enjoy the fact that you were clearly terrified?

You closed your eyes and sighed.

Alright.

Every life had its end. This was surely yours.

Don't think about it. Go to your safe place Y/N.

You suddenly feel more tentacles slither around your arms and legs.

You immediately open your eyes as you feel them spread your knees apart.

What the FUCK!?

There's a chuckle from underneath you.

"I must admit... I am enjoying your terror immensely."

Obviously.

You feel an indigo tendril slowly slide up your shirt and wiggle underneath your bra. coiling around one of your breasts and squeezing it roughly as you feel your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. It was cold and slimy but thanks to what you assumed was the natural power of the young man before you, the tentacles emitted a gentle electro current throughout their entire lengths and the sensation caused the muscles in your limbs and stomach to relax unwillingly as you were fondled.

The entire stimulation was now sending jolts of unwilling arousal through you. Scaramouche's eyes darken as he feels your nipple stiffen against one of his slick, muscular coils which had wrapped itself tightly around one of your tits and was now rubbing its head against your delicate peak. Making you struggle to stay quiet.

"Your body is betraying you. How does it feel existing in such a delicate and worthless form? I'm not even trying yet-."

Another tendril snakes up your thigh, sliding beneath your skirt, the cool slickness a shock against your bare skin as you didn't expect this so quickly. It inches higher, brushing against your clothed sex.

Scaramouche chuckles darkly at your soft whimpers then, his voice a sinful caress in your aroused mind as you're made to enjoy this against your will.

"I can still feel you with these. You're so wet already. Does it feel good being teased in such a disgraceful manner? Or were you always this much of a slut?"

He grins wickedly, a predatory gleam in his indigo eyes. The tendrils tighten their grip, squeezing and kneading your most sensitive places, stoking the fire within your core. The air crackles with his power and reeks of your excitement.

A small tentacle hooks into the waistband of your panties and suddenly rips them off completely, baring your glistening sex to the cool air. Another one quickly begins to rub against your slick folds, teasing your wet entrance.

"What a cute little hole~ hmm. I wonder what would happen if I-"

The thick tentacle at your entrance instantly rams itself inside in one painful push, stretching your tight pussy and curling in to rub against your sweet spot as it began to thrust quickly. You could only gasp and cry out as you felt another tentacle slither up your thigh and rub your clit at the same time.

Your eyes widened.

It hurt yet it felt like you had ascended to Celestia all at once.

You force yourself to cry out before you went insane.

"S-Scara! Please! It's too big! You're... stretching me!"

Scaramouche smirks up at your quivering body as he feels your tight walls clenching desperately around his invading tendril. He grinds it deeper, relishing your breathy moans and gasps, the electric current making your body shudder with every caress and thrust.

"Too big? Ha. Your greedy little cunt is taking every inch like it was made for it. Like it was made for me."

He pulls back slightly, then slams the tentacle in deeper. The wet squelching sounds of the violation fill the room, mingling with your increasingly wanton moans and whimpers.

"Listen to yourself, enjoying the feeling of being so ruthlessly defiled. You can't deny your true nature Y/N. You're a weak and disposable creature. I've seen how you go out of your way to try and care about me. How you act so..."selfless" and "considerate" when forced to tend to me knowing damn well it was all only to delude yourself into believing you were making a difference. Tell me, was it tiring?"

Tendrils squeeze your breasts harder, the electric shocks making your nipples stiffen into aching peaks. Another then pushes into your mouth, silencing your cries and leaving you gasping around the slick intrusion.

"It must have been exhausting. Pretending like you actually cared so much. Did you enjoy your little charade? Was it nice pretending like you weren't worth less than the dirt on my shoes because you were "helping "?"

Scaramouche's voice is a dark, lustful growl as he crosses his arms and continues to watch as his tentacles ruin you. The tendril pistoning into your cunt speeds up, the electric shocks growing stronger, pushing you closer and closer to a reluctant release.

"Come for me, Y/N. Come on my tentacles like the wanton slut you are. You wanted something like this right? To be seen and "loved"? Well let go then."

As Scara speaks, another tentacle snakes down to your puckered rear entrance. It teases the tight ring of muscle, the electric current making it relax. Slowly it pushes inside, stretching your virgin hole around the slick invader.

"Such a tight little asshole... I will enjoy breaking this in as well. You'll be my perfect little fuck toy, ready and eager for me at all times. How does that sound?"

The tentacle in your mouth begins fucking deeper into your throat, making you gag and choke a little. The one in your ass pushes deeper, stretching you impossibly further now as everything borders on pleasure and pain now in an overwhelming way.

"That's it, just like that. Take it all. Take every inch, every inch of my desire. You'll learn to crave this, to need this, to be nothing but a set of holes for me to fill and use. I'll give you a purpose. A reason to exist. Just like you always wanted."

Scaramouche's eyes blaze with sadistic lust as he watches you try to writhe and struggle, your body shaking with unwanted pleasure, your mind clouding with shame and need. He knows he has you now, knows that he can shape you, mold you, ruin you for all others.

And it's driving him insane.

You had caught his attention long ago but of course you were too stupid to notice. You always thought his tentacles were just being "aggressive". No. He had been trying to get you to say something to him. But every time you just stared at him, gave him a stupid little tray of food that he didn't even need. And then just left.

You couldn't blame him for getting a little frustrated and impatient. You had practically forced him to make the first move here.

A couple of minutes went by and suddenly you feel something else being stuffed into your stretched cunt alongside the enormous tentacle already buried inside.

Two smaller and practically microscopic sized tentacles wiggle in and begin to tease your cervix opening. Slowly coaxing their way into your womb as you feel yourself climaxing from the intrusion.

The tentacles writhe and squirm in your womb, painting your inner walls with their slick, tingling essence.

You suddenly feel a deep pressure as something is pumped directly into your womb. You wince and cum again as Scara begins to forcibly impregnates you with his offspring yet instead of your earlier nervousness or shame, you now feel oddly at ease. As if your new reality finally set in for you.

It was kinda enjoyable.

Scaramouche chuckles darkly as he feels your womb trying instinctively to reject his eggs. But the tendrils hold fast, forcing the small yet soft jelly-like lavender eggs deeper, stretching your most intimate space to its limits.

You had finally accepted your place it seemed. Utilizing your body's full potential from here would be far more easy with you now more willing to endure the process and transformation.

The tendrils continue their relentless assault, pumping more and more of the eggs into you, each one a cruel mockery of a seed, a promise of the countless times he will fill you after this as well. You had one purpose now. To be used, bred like a bitch in heat. All for the singular goal of birthing a new army for Scaramouche and his future plans.

You were important for this reason alone.

"Welcome to your new life, mortal. Welcome to eternity as my personal fuck toy, my breeding bitch, my eternal plaything. And you will love every moment of it. I promise."

A few hours pass and your belly swells quickly. During this short incubation period Scara manages to stretch your holes even further almost to the point of beyond recognition. Three tentacles now thrusted in and out of your ruined asshole and Scara had decided to reposition you both to keep an eye on you and to jam another thick tentacle deep into your pussy and continue to ravage it while he silently marveled at your swollen belly from where he now stood over you.

His hands roam possessively over the stretched skin of your stomach. He can feel the eggs he's planted inside you, each one a testament to his dark triumph, a promise of the future that he envisioned where he was untouchable by absolutely anyone. God or human alike.

"Look at you, already so round and full. And this is only the beginning, my dear. I will fill you again and again, until you know nothing but the feeling of carrying my offspring."

He leans down, his lips brushing against the taut skin of your stomach, his voice a dark, mocking murmur.

"Such an easy bitch to breed, so quick to take my eggs, to let them take root inside you. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were meant to be my incubator, my vessel. And now, here you are, already looking like a proper mother~"

The tentacles continue their relentless assault, stretching you impossibly further, The one now sucking on your clit pulses in time with your racing heartbeat, pushing you to yet another orgasm.

More tendrils move to your heavy, aching breasts again, squeezing and kneading the swollen flesh. They latch onto your nipples, suckling greedily, the electric currents making milk drip faster as it's quickly consumed.

More time goes by. You aren't sure how much exactly but then.

You feel movement in your belly and an uncomfortable shift as the eggs begin to hatch within you. The tentacles in your pussy immediately slide free and smaller ones seize your battered lips before rudely pulling on them to reveal your now loose and sloppy canal in its entirety.

Within seconds a small writhing indigo tentacle pushes its way out of your cervix and begins its descent.

Scaramouche's eyes widen with a fevered, manic light as he watches the first of his offspring emerge and fall to the floor with a small thud. He leans in closer, his breath coming faster as he watches the next little and writhing indigo tentacle push its way out, covered in fluids and its own natural secretions, a grotesque parody of a newborn.

"Look at that... your womb was actually able to grow these things without issue, your body has given life to my creation. I knew I made no mistake when I chose you for this."

The tentacles in your ass begins to writhe and pulse at that moment, easily pulling free from your body to make room for more of the "children " to emerge. Within seconds they start slipping out of your abused holes like nightmarish serpents and forming a horrific pile beneath your deflated body. Their movements are jerky and erratic, their beautiful flesh glistening in the dim light as they slowly start to slither up your legs in search of the warmth they once knew moments ago.

"Such a good mother, so efficient in your purpose. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were meant for this. And now, look at you... a true incubator, an ideal vessel for what is to come."

Scaramouche reaches down, his fingers brushing against the writhing mass of tentacles, stroking them like a proud parent would a newborn. They pulse and twitch at his touch, as if recognizing their creator, their master.

"They will be the first of many, the vanguard of a new age, a new era of power and dominance."

Your belly continues to churn from inside, more of the eggs hatching, more of the small tentacle creatures slipping out to join their brethren. The floor quickly fills with their jerking, twisting forms, a nightmarish scene.

Scaramouche's maniacal laughter then rings out, echoing off the walls, a sound of pure, unhinged joy at his dark triumph. He knows that he has won. Because with this plan now in action, no one would be able to oppose him for long.

And the world would be his for the taking.

[iamhereforfunnzies]

I'm thinking that blind readers are developing their clicking to the point that they can ride a bike in the busy street of Gotham. And with how traffic is bad and how people don't respect the rules- haha Bruce having a heart attack.

Also think it will be cool if the Reader is in blind school and the Batfam found how the Reader acts more muter and relaxed around people who treat them like a person. It'd make them realize some things.

Also imagine if Reader and their friends made their version of Mores code, where they speak it in clicks and write it in brile.

Funny enough I imagine it was Jason who actually saw you ride your bike as he was also ridding his bike he had give you a Second look.

Like what the fuck. He snitched to Bruce and he wouldn’t have believed him if he didn’t check Gothams traffic light camera. He became even more overbearing now always personally driving you to school.

He started notice how your personality shifts every time your friends are near by. “CAN YOU NOT I WANT TO GO GET ICE CREAM IS THAT DO WRONG-“ a girl calls for you. “(NAME)! Something wrong?” Your face changed to a cute smile.”Omg hi girl just talking with my Dada” you say sweetly as Bruce cannot comprehend that you called him Dada you haven’t called him that since you were 4.

This cause him to always drag your friends everywhere just to see you behave. Since all of them are mostly blind it’s adorable to him how all of you interact and worst part. Your friends ADORE HIM. Like they see him (hahaha) as a kicked cat trailing behind you , even if he is a bit much.

Bruce see’a your friends as puppies that he hold everyone leashes to make sure no one is lost. If he could he would adopt all your friends.

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LONG I WILL BE ANSWERING MY INBOX😭😭❤️❤️💕

[angelpointe]

“ You’re Already a Twink , e .. ”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ A blog for my shenanigans ! and Art , I guess . .

࿐ ♡ ˚ . Hi ! My name is e or Ink ! Though you can also call me Angel if that makes you comfortable !

I’m AceAro , identify as The Binary , He / She , and am in a loving QPR with both Jamantha Sira Sprinkle and Cynothy Bicicleta Cycle !

Check them out ! @sirasketches @cursed-creationist 💕

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Stating some things about myself for transparency ;

・ I am a College Student , I make art as a hobbyist !

・I am Hard of Hearing and have frequent problems involving my ears . I was deaf for a majority of my early years , please be aware of that when it comes to audio content .

・I do not see myself as a part of the Kin community ! I respect kins and I think they’re neat , but I am not a part of the community and do not like being grouped in with them . .

・For personal reasons , I don’t openly talk about or engage with many controversies , issues or serious mental health talk . At most , I will like or reblog things on my side account — but understand I am not in any place to discuss topics like these .

Thank you . .

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Mini QnA ! ;

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ What things do you like ?

.

I really adore content centered around general cutesie and girl-ish material ! Especially when that is turned on its head , creepy cute , cutely misleading horror , etc.

Generally ‘coquette’ aesthetics make my brain happy , especially with Porcelain dolls and angels ! Something about the melancholic nature of ‘purity’ is something I’m drawn to and identify with .

I like Art ! Especially illustrations with deeper meanings - I love performance art , things like ballet , musicals , plays , choir , ( band not as much ) but I treasure art !

I love love LOVE interacting with others and talking about different fandoms , characters and medias ! I could listen to people ramble on and on about the stuff they enjoy for HOURS - bouncing ideas back and forth with people is just really fun ! ( Can you tell my love language is quality time ? Hshsjhsss,, )

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ What things do you NOT like ?

.

Cheese . Cheese . I hate cheese .. most dairy products actually - and most things that come from Cows at all ..

I don’t like yellow , it’s the worst color . (Take this with a grain of salt , I’m colorblind)

Whatever the fuck is going on with today’s children’s clothes !! Politely , BE NORMAL .

Targeted harassment - harassment in general ! Even self-proclaimed self-righteousness people - that is not the way to solve problems nor get anyone to agree with you ..

Generative Ai . From what I’ve already stated about my love of art and expression , you can likely gather why !

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ What Fandoms are you in ?

.

I’m in the Utmv fandom !! ( Shocking , I know .. )

I also am in at least 2 Sanrio fandoms , Aggretsuko and Onegai My Melody .. I LOVE PRINCESS TUTU !! In the Vocaloid fandom and other Voice Synthesizers ! I avidly play Royale High ,, I’m very passively in the Mario Fandom !! Avatar: The last Airbender , Death note . . . I also used to be big into Ena , which I’m hoping to get back into after a while .. lurking in a few spaces , but generally I’ve been everywhere !

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ Do you have any rules for Asks/Requests ?

.

Yes ! Very general rules — Do not send me weird or freaky things !! I’m okay with most questions , I don’t mind answering things about myself as long as they are respectful ! And for requests I ask , please , do not ask me to make fetish/nsfw/overly disturbing content !! This blog will only be vaguely suggestive at most , any and all inappropriate content will be deleted from my inbox .

Also please be aware I am a very busy individual ! Requests may be completed out of order — depending on availability and motivation — or not completed at all ! Don’t be discouraged if I haven’t drawn a request of yours , I may have simply ran out of the energy or motivation for it ..

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ What’s with the spacing thing ??

.

Force of habit !! I learnt it passively somewhere and just never stopped — Some may call it a typing quirk , which it could very much be ! I don’t notice it much and it just makes it easier for me to see the punctuation better .. you may notice in any fics I make later on , it will disappear - I still wrote it all , I just didn’t want the silly little habit to detract from my writing .

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ Can I use your art to . . .

.

- Use as a Pfp , banner or graphic ? Yes ! Just please credit me

- Use as Inspiration for my art/fic ? Yes ! Feel free to let me know in some way as well !! I like seeing things people make !

- Use for a comic dub ? Yes ! Just please credit me

- Edit/Adjust/trace over ? Please do not Post modified versions of my work ..

- Repost on another site ? No !! And do not trust any other account claiming to be me ! Tumblr is my only active social media at this time and I don’t wish for my art to be posted on anything else at the moment .

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

DNI ;

- Y’know the drill , basic dni criteria

- Pro/com/darkshippers , any other variants of the term ..

- Enablers

- Ai “artists”/ Ai bros .. side note , I do not wish for any of my art to be used for Ai image generation

- Hazbin Hotel centric blogs/Asks/comments , its personal , I don’t care if you follow me or like my stuff , just please don’t speak to me ..

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Tags for navigation :

#e whispers — Just me yapping , text posts

#Pointeblank Answers — Ask tag , requests and whatnot

#Angelpointe Art — My art tag !!

#Vellum Papyrus — All posts about or with my little Au Papyrus

#Pointeverse — Everything to do with PointeVerse , my little original multiverse

#Underbucks — Everything to do with my shitpost Starbucks au

#Friable Utmv — . . Coming soon , actually . All the content for my ‘Domestic’ au , be weary of content warnings .

#Ink sans — All of my Ink content ! Don’t get lost !

#Errorink — All my Errorink content .. there’s a lot

. . . More on this later ! Maybe .

Bye bye ! :3

[yellowocaballero]

i see you reblogging aa, is this a sign an ace attorney fic is on the horizon 👀

I resign myself to the fact that any reblogging spree of one work inevitably results in people in my inbox asking if I'm currently writing fanfic about it. I can't complain, because the answer is usually yes absolutely of course I am.

I will say that the Great Phoenix Wright Trilogy Playthrough Of 2024 was this summer! It was very much a tether to sanity and I'm very grateful towards @lazuliquetzal for letting me watch her play and for making the experience so much fun. A very intricate bedrock of lore/in-jokes developed. Edgeworth thinks he discovered homosexuality and younger sister figures are mandatory in a court of law. We found it extremely well-written, very funny, and really interesting in character dynamics. I also got her to play Ghost Trick, which was awesome as usual. We're currently both obsessing about different things - and my fanfic to-do list is already VERY long - so no fanfic is actually in the works right now.

Of course I've already written some, who do you take me for. I wrote this just for us, so it's unfinished and rife with our in-jokes, but somewhat shockingly it probably has the densest joke-to-word ratio that I've ever written. Sometimes I want to continue writing something, but I look at it and I'm like, 'This is too good. I can't keep up this level of good. I can't reach this high again'. The short fanfic - sourced from our recurring jokes/efforts to figure out [SPOILERS FOR ACEATT3] how blind Godot is exactly, and what I would have found the most interesting - is, believe it or not, too good to keep writing.

Zany fanfic and spoilers for Ace Attorney 3 under the cut.

           As it turned out, there was a prosecutor’s lounge.

           Like a lot of Phoenix’s least favorite facts, it was both obvious in retrospect and deeply disturbing. The defendant’s lounge had an obvious purpose: confer with your client, beg them to tell you simple facts that would determine if they were sentenced to death via electric chair, let your coworkers blow off steam by making fun of you. Gumshoe is useful at the least useful second. None of these banal and extraordinarily stressful events had anything to do with a prosecutor.

           That was why Edgeworth had always wandered into the defendant’s lounge and made vague yet affectionate threats at Phoenix. If he had his own sterile room to stand around awkwardly, he surely would have done so. This felt so obvious it ought to have gone without saying. There couldn’t, like, actually be a real lounge. That would imply a lot of things about Edgeworth’s choices. 

As a result, when Gumshoe tossed Phoenix the updated coroner’s report and asked him to run it to the prosecutor’s lounge, Phoenix’s first instinct was to contemplate suicide. His only remaining link to sanity was the knowledge that running Gumshoe’s errands to an imaginary room was better than the alternative of staying here.

           Much better. Gumshoe was looking at Maggey, Maggey was refusing to look at Gumshoe, Phoenix wanted to be nowhere near any of this, and he was taking the out. Gumshoe might as well have asked him to go check if his refrigerator was running. Call him a mechanic, because he grabbed both Maya and Pearl and high-tailed it out of there.

           He had to ask for directions three different times before he even found the place. It was a place that could be found. In real life. Phoenix better go catch his fucking refrigerator!

It was also right next door to the defendant’s lounge. Had this really been here the entire time? Could Phoenix have been wandering into Edgeworth’s lobby and making vague yet affectionate threats at him? He could have even stood in front of the door and blocked Edgeworth’s ritualistic escape from his feelings. His was a life of missed opportunities.

           “I bet they have free coffee,” Maya said grimly. “I bet they have tacos.”

           “With free avocados,” Phoenix intoned. “As much as they want. Maybe caviar.”

           Pearl blasted her large and doleful eyes up at Nick. “Why don’t you put avocados on the tacos you make for us? I love them…”

           Poverty, but he couldn’t tell her that. Nick settled for patting her on the head. “Avocados are as immoral as the prosecutors themselves, Pearly. It’s a matter of ethics.”

           “Ethics are so overrated,” Maya said mournfully, kicking the doors open. “Let’s go evil, Nick. For the sake of the children.”

           The cops inside did not appreciate Maya’s dynamic entry, but nobody ever did. Disappointingly, the prosecutor’s lounge was identical to the defendant’s one – down to the cops, cheap sofa, and ugly-ass art. The only difference was – son of a bitch, they did have coffee!

           Entirely possible that Godot refused to step foot inside the courthouse unless they installed a coffee machine. But it was the principle of the thing, goddamn it! Nobody ever cared about Phoenix’s hunger strikes!

           Potentially entirely due to coffee, Godot was sitting on the scratchy sofa with his head tilted back and one earbud in his ear. Its cord snaked onto the cushions of the couch, attacked to some small black media player. Was he awake? Was he asleep? Was he dead? If they were really quiet, would he sleep through the trial and leave Phoenix to win by default –

           “They have a chartreuse board!” Maya screeched. “Those rat bastards!”

           Pearl gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Is that sushi? Free sushi!? I love sushi!”

           “Get my purse, Pearl-chan! Grab much as you can!”

           “So it’s hereditary,” Godot growled. Phoenix winced, instinctively checking for coffee cups in his vicinity. The familiar cheap coffee table seemingly only had one, but on closer look Nick could tell that they were carefully stacked into each other. How tidy! “How did you even know this place existed, Trite?”

           One of these days Phoenix was going to start pronouncing his name “guh-dot”. That would show him. He hadn’t mustered the courage yet, but one of these days! “How could I not know it existed?” Poker face, Phoenix. Look condescending. Evoke Edgeworth. Show him what’s what. Literally nobody else you know is scared of him, therefore you are not scared of him, we are manifesting absolute zen in the face of the tallest man Phoenix had ever met in his life. He was sitting down. This shouldn’t be hard. “It’s right next to the defendant’s lounge, how could we miss it?”

           “Is that so?” Godot slowly leaned forward, like a great beast awakening from a mighty slumber. His movements were stiff and disjointed, like a fat bear waking from hibernation. “The spotlight of truth must be like a floodlight to the most enlightened defense lawyers. Illuminating all. Hiding nothing. But shadows cling to the undersides of society, and true darkness lurking underneath the charcuterie board –“

           “I have the updated coroner’s report,” Phoenix said, flapping the envelope loosely. “Gumshoe wanted you to have the other copy.”

           “Yeah, give it here.”

           “If the charcuterie board is evil don’t tell me.” Maya was plowing through a hunk of goat cheese like a rabid coyote. “I don’t wanna know. None of my business. Put the wasabi in my coin purse, Pearl-chan.”

           There was something inherently evil about having a cheeseboard at the workplace, but the legal system couldn’t get much worse. Godot didn’t stand up from the couch – he just thrust out a hand, making shockingly childish little grabby hands, forcing Phoenix to cross the entire room and put it in his hands. Pearl ran up to Phoenix and helpfully smeared wasabi on his hand.

           Godot took the coroner’s report and dropped it on the table. He leaned back, reaffixing his earbud in his ear. “Charmed. Clean us out of the nori, girls, it’s Payne’s favorite and I want him to experience suffering.”

           Pearl helpfully tugged at Phoenix’s sleeve, dying it a light green. If he lost this case because the judge thought he smelled bad… “Can you pour me the last of the coffee, Mr. Nick? I wanna be a big girl and do it for me but the big jug is too heavy.”

           “Are you kidding? You’re way too young for coffee.” The last thing they needed was a nine year old bouncing off the walls. In a courtroom. During a murder case. Phoenix turned to Godot, who was biting his tongue and barely restraining himself from cursing out a nine year old. Was that blood? “You’ll want to take a look at that, Mr. Godot. There’s a new piece of evidence that could change everything.”

           “Save the dramatics for the courtroom.” Godot leaned back again, waving his hand absently. Yeah, that was definitely blood on his yellowed teeth. Phoenix had to admire the restraint. “What’s this new tidbit that’s so important, then?”

           Was he everyone’s errand boy? “The report’s right there, read it yourself.”

           “Seems like I was correct in pegging you as the lazy type, Trite. Look at you refusing to do a simple task.”

           Pearl made an ‘ooo’ing noise behind her hands. Maya broke a cracker in half, giving her the smaller piece. “Don’t say that world, Pearl-chan.”

           “What wo –“

           “You can’t insult me into doing the most basic aspect of your job. You read it.”

           “I’m a busy man. I’m hard at work actually making justice.” But he was sleeping?! “Defense attorneys clearly have nothing better to do than eat our precious cheeses. Show me that you can do the most basic element of the job.”

           Talk about a turnabout! This man had cranked the hostility meter up towards eleven and broke the knob off. Francizka had spent most of a year almost gnawing his face off, but she had never made Phoenix feel so specially hated. “Sorry, Godot, I’m not falling for it. But you’ll definitely want to read the report yourself. It has essential information for the trial in literally five minutes.”

           “If it’s so important than why did we give it to him at all?” Maya garbled, spewing pita chips everywhere. “We could have hid it and won this case!”

           “Because that’s unethical –“

           “You never let anything go! You and your silly ethics –“

           “Silly?!”

           Godot leaned forward and swept his hand over the table with incredibly unnecessary drama. He swept the folder into his hands, yanking the crumpled police report out. He ostentatiously snapped the paper and held it up to his visor, reading it closely. He nodded several times. He even hummed once.

           Finally, Godot straightened and tossed the report on the table. “Boring! So much for crucial evidence. You’re looking at the shadows in the cave and calling them innocent of heinous crimes, Mr. Trite. Turn away from illusions and overcome your cowardice by entering the deepest depths of Plato’s cave, facing your inner demons and reckoning with the truth of –“

           “Boring?” Phoenix cried. “The window for the potential time of the murder is completely different than we thought? And I’m the one living in a fantasy land?”

           Godot stared at him. “Really?” Phoenix made a garbled noise of outrage. Godot ignored him. “What’s the new window, then?”

           “Read it yourself!”

           “Hm.” Godot angled his head to the side, facing away from Phoenix. “Hey, little girl. I bet you can’t read.”

           Going for the throat?! Pearl clearly didn’t know whether or not to puff herself up in indignation or start crying. “I am such a good reader!!!!”

           “Really? Prove it.” Godot picked up the crumpled page and wave it at her. “Or are you a liar?”

           “Being a liar is for bad girls! I am a very good girl!” Pearl reached up on her tip-toes and nabbed the paper out of Godot’s hands. She scanned the page seriously, eyebrows furrowed. “Here! Right here! The new time of death is –“

           “Are you making a nine year old read a coroner’s report?!”

           Maya slurped slivers of ginger with pitying eyes. “She channels the dead, Nick.”

           “And that’s the time,” Pearl finished smugly. Phoenix hadn’t even heard her say it. She held out the papers to Godot again, who ignored her. “Now you know the time, because I am such a good reader.”

           “You’re a diamond in the rough, kid,” Godot told her seriously. “Never let these dullards dull your shine.”

           “My name’s not Diamond,” Pearl informed him, equally seriously. “It is Pearl Fey. Don’t feel bad. It’s a very common mistake.”

           “I don’t make mistakes, kid. I’m just one step ahead of reality. Count on it.”

           “You don’t have to be prideful, Mr. Godot.” Pearl smiled brightly and encouragingly at him, as if she was trying to connive a pit bull into a doing a trick. “It’s okay if you aren’t a good reader. Or if you aren’t a good speller. I’m a bad speller but that doesn’t make me a bad reader. Being a bad speller has nothing to do with being a good reader. I am a piece of decisive evidence about that.”

           Maya looked grimly at Phoenix, who was contemplating suicide again. “We’re ruined her vocabulary.”

           “We let her sit in during murder cases, Maya.”

           “And it’s ruined her vocabulary.”

           “What’s ruined your brain?”

           “Do you need me to read more things for you?” Pearl asked sweetly. “I like practicing my reading. I’m always practicing with Mr. Nick’s court records. They’re lots of fun and very educational. I can read ‘five counts of manslaughter’ very well. Do you want to see me spell it?”

           Godot looked at Maya. He looked at the coffee table, where the papers were not. He looked contemplative, maybe. Finally, he said, “How are you at serving coffee?”

           “If the jug is medium sized I can be very good at it!”

           “You’re hired.”

           Alright, that was enough. Phoenix had a lot of responsibilities, but his responsibility to Maya and Pearl came before every single one. That conviction had been put to test during that awful Engarde case. Phoenix almost sacrificed his integrity as a lawyer for Maya’s sake - he was not going to lose it now!

           “Absolutely not,” Phoenix said. It didn’t matter how insanely tall this guy was. Phoenix was taking a stand - right here, right now. Granted, the stand would go to his shoulder, but it was the conviction that counted! “Child labor is against the law, and her legal guardian does not give consent for this.” Phoenix made dangerous eyes at a cowed Maya, just to reaffirm that her legal guardian was not giving consent. “Don’t you have your own co-counsel? Make them do your chores, and stop stealing mine!”

           “I wasn’t planning on paying her,” Godot said affably. “That’s a violation of child labor laws, you know.”

           Maya appeared to be seriously considering his proposal. Which shouldn’t have been a big deal, but please refer back to the legal guardian wrinkle in this case. “I don’t know, Nick. Don’t you think it’s time Pearl flew out from underneath your shadow? It’s not exactly as if you pay me either.”

           “You’ll get paid when you do something helpful that gets me paid,” Phoenix said instantly. Maya glumly accepted this reality. “There’s no paycheck in moral support, Maya. Godot can use his own co-counsel –“

           “I don’t have a co-counsel,” Godot said. “Do I look like I’ve received an ounce of moral support in the last four years? Of kindness? Hell has no comradeship.”

           Phoenix flapped a hand. “Yeah, whatever. Your plucky imouto, co-counsel, whatever. Just get her to do it.”

           For the first time, Godot actually gave him a baffled look. Maybe. It was insanely hard to tell. “What would I do with a – younger sister, is it?”

           Everybody froze. You could have heard a penny drop. Maya and Pearl’s eyes practically goggled out of their heads.

           Godot just stood there, ignoring Pearl and Maya but clearly unsettled by the silence. “Cream and sugar undercuts the delectable bitterness of the black coffee. A life without siblings is a satisfyingly dark roast.”

           Slowly, Phoenix said, “I’m sorry. You’re a lawyer with no plucky female sidekick?”

           “I’ve had kouhai,” Godot said defensively. “I have a certain talent for mentorship –“

           “Mentorship? What makes you think you’re qualified to give any sort of mentorship? You’re a rookie!” Phoenix said the word ‘rookie’ like how Edgeworth said ‘polyester’, which was deeply satisfying. “And haven’t you lost every case you’ve ever taken?”

           Maya looked close to tears. “No wonder he’s such an awful lawyer…he doesn’t have a single imouto.”

           “Is that the ‘hell’ Mr. Godot talks about?” Pearl asked, voice wavering. “A world with no women?”

           “You’re projecting,” Godot snapped. “Just because you’re surrounded by teenage girls all day doesn’t mean any other lawyer is obligated to do the same.”

           “Any good lawyer. Why do you think Edgeworth has an imouto.” The thought of Edgeworth with no Franciska to hone his…edge…how sad. “And Franciska has Edgeworth as an imouto. This is law one-oh-one, Godot.” Phoenix propped his hands on his hips, grinning. “Hah! No wonder you can’t beat me! You don’t know the first thing about law, do you?”

           “And he can’t read,” Maya said sadly. “Maybe Mr. Godot isn’t exaggerating when he tells us how sad and pathetic he is…”

           “You thought he was exaggerating?”

           The tragic sight of the thoroughly baffled man clearly tugged at Pearl’s heartstrings, but she quickly found her resolve too. She rolled up her sleeves, as if they were at the office and she was ready to attack Phoenix’s toilet with a scrub brush. Once she had almost fallen in. “That does it! If Mr. Godot doesn’t have an imouto, then I’ll - ”

           “Nope. His problem, not ours.” Frankly, Phoenix was just trash talking a little. If you pretended Edgeworth and Franciska didn’t exist – impossible for Phoenix, but he could stretch his imagination – then Godot was a pretty good lawyer. To be a pretty good lawyer without the massive handicap of no young girl…Phoenix better stop giving the competition a hand like this. “Come on, the security guard’s started glaring at us again. It’s definitely time to start the trial.”

           “Your face will freeze like that, you know,” Pearl seriously told the security guard. He didn’t visibly react to her words at all. Maybe Pearl was onto something… “Mr. Nick, I have a duty to my fellow man -”

           “You can practice your reading with picture books, like a normal kid.” Pearl indignantly opened her mouth, doubtlessly about to launch into a meandering and breathless rant about her favorite Newberry Award winning children’s book author. “In English, not Japanese. Reading in English is your problem. At this rate you’re going to know how to read legalese and nothing else.” Phoenix yanked open the door, shepherding both girls out. Maya quickly stuffed more California rolls in her sleeve. “Bad enough Maya’s neglecting – Jesus Christ!”

           “You can’t give me a hard time about that,” Maya said reproachfully. “I’m Shinto.”

           Obviously, goddamn Gumshoe was at the door, one fist raised and clearly about to knock. His fist fell at the exact moment that Phoenix opened the door, and Phoenix only barely avoided a royal smack on the head by via Gumshoe’s meaty fist. He really couldn’t afford another concussion at this rate! CTE was a very serious brain disorder!

           “Mr. Wright! Hey, I thought I’d find you here! Right underneath my fist too! How’s that for some detective work, huh!” Gumshoe laughed uproariously, as if his crush wasn’t about to board her kayak and start doing the death row. And as if he hadn’t told Phoenix to go here. “Well, enough playing around! It’s time to get back to it! There’s no excuse for slacking off when Maggey’s life is on the line, you know!”

           “You’re the one who sent me on an errand!” Phoenix snapped. He shut the door tightly behind him. The last thing he needed was Godot adding his two cents. Or, knowing his wordiness, his two dollars. And change. “Did you forget telling me to give Godot the coroner’s report? It was five minutes ago!”

           “What? Why would I do that?” Gumshoe paused a second, creaky and rusty gears churning in his brain. Maya made demonstrative kissy noises. “Oh, yeah! Did you read it out to him?”

           Phoenix was going to have a fucking aneurysm. “Is there some reason why Prosecutor Godot is incapable of doing his own work? I’m already doing half the prosecutor’s job in the courtroom anyway!”

           “Some reason? Uh, yeah.” Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck, quirking an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly as if he can read the thing, you know.”

           “Oh my god,” Maya whispered, “he really can’t read.”

           Pearl’s eyes were brimming with tears. “A lawyer who can’t read…he’s so brave!”

           “Brave is one word for it,” Phoenix said flatly. How could he have ever been scared of this guy? No imouto, no literacy…the only thing impressive about him was how he’d even gotten this far. “It’s not my problem if Godot dropped out of fourth grade. He’s giving me enough problems, tell him to solve his own.”

           For some reason, Gumshoe outright glared at Phoenix. Phoenix was getting used to his misplaced ire over Xirneohp, but what did Maggey have to do with this? If anything, he should be thanking Phoenix for refusing to help the competition. “That’s out of line, pal! Haven’t you heard of basic human decency?”

           “In a courtroom? No.”

           “He’s got you there,” Maya said wisely. “When Nick’s putting the ‘Nick’ in ‘panicked’, then he can do some pretty sketchy stuff –“

           “And you call me the narc?!”

           “The courtroom doesn’t matter.” Gumshoe was still scowling at Phoenix. Of course it’s only Phoenix who gets treated like this. Edgeworth insults Gumshoe all day and he’s still his biggest fan. “I told you specifically to read out the autopsy report so Prosecutor Godot could record it into his PDA. Then he always labels it with that funny little label maker of his. You gotta get your ears cleaned out, pal.”

           Phoenix turned to Maya and Pearl, silently pleading for backup. Gumshoe was making Phoenix doubt his own sanity. Normally he just made Phoenix think he was losing it.

           But Maya just looked tragically disappointed in him. “Nick…you didn’t even let Godot label it with his funny little label maker?”

           Desperately, Phoenix rounded on Pearl. He was ready to fake tears. But Pearl just looked ready to whale on him with her little fists. “How could you, Mr. Nick? I didn’t get to see Mr. Godot’s cassette recorder! I’ve always wanted to touch one!”

           “Ah, Prosecutor Godot’s things are always super fun to touch!” At least Gumshoe looked sufficiently cheered up. “His bumpy labels make no sense to me, but I think they’re super cool. Like a secret code or something. But Prosecutor Godot always dumps coffee on my head when I mess around with them…makes me put ‘em back in order, then he says I’m doing it wrong, and…I won’t say I miss the whip, but prosecutors can be so rough sometimes.”

           Wait. Hold on a minute. Several different small pieces clicked into place, and Phoenix’s familiar trusty intuition began to churn its gears. Phoenix raised one finger, and Gumshoe instinctively ducked. “Detective…that label maker wouldn’t happen to be a Braille label maker, would it?”

           Gumshoe brightened, nodding voraciously. Then he apparently remembered he was angry at Phoenix, and started scowling instead. “Yeah, that’s what he called it! And I’ve just caught ya in a contradiction, pal! You said I didn’t tell you about the bumpy label maker. But you obviously knew what it was, didn’t you? You really were lacking human decency on purpose, weren’t you!”

           Cool. Phoenix wished he was dead.

  Both girls looked at Phoenix immediately, correctly deducing the return of his consistent suicidality but uncertain of the cause. Phoenix pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. “Braille is an alphabet for the blind. You read it by feeling little bumps with your fingers. Apparently Prosecutor Godot is some level of blind. And apparently nobody saw fit to tell us this.”

“Did we gotta?” Gumshoe asked blankly. “Mr. Godot doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Yes, you gotta! Now I look like some kind of - you know!”

Sure enough, Maya was giving him the most judgmental look he’d ever seen. Her face when full-ass adult Maximillian admitted that he had asked a sixteen year old to marry him was nothing in comparison. “You were bullying the blind, Nick? I can’t believe you!”

What was it, bully Phoenix for something that was not his fault week? “It’s his fault for not saying anything -”

“Victim blaming?!”

“I thought he was just being an as - jerk again! It’s not exactly out of character!”

“Ableism,” Maya denounced. Phoenix drooped. “I can’t believe it. I expected better from you, Nick.”

“I’m literally ADHD, don’t give me this -”

“Who isn’t autistic?” Maya said frankly. “That doesn’t count.”

“Plenty of people in this world are neurotypical, Maya.” 

He’d had to explain this multiple times. Sometimes she even made him doubt himself. It wasn’t as if he knew neurotypical people. The people in Phoenix’s life either knew they were neurodivergent or thought that normal people were the freak. Most fell into the later category. Unfortunately. Lana wasn’t winning sister of the year, but Ema’s diagnosis and Ritalin prescription was probably his sole link to sanity during that case. Phoenix had a conspiracy theory that Gumshoe plus Ritalin would produce a shockingly competent person. Like everybody else on the prosecutor’s side, he had no idea.

There was no way Edgeworth knew he was autistic, but Phoenix was softening him up for the revelation. He had to take it slow. Couldn’t afford for him to run off to the Philippines to find himself and then come home acting as if he invented autism. Again. Like he did with homosexuality. Shut up about the German discotheques, Edgeworth!

“Mr. Godot is blind?” Pearl gasped. Horrifically, Phoenix was relieved that she knew what blind people were. “Is that why he couldn’t read? And you made fun of him! That’s bullying, Mr. Nick!”

This was a thousand times worse coming from Pearl. “I wouldn’t say I made fun of him,” Phoenix said evasively. “If anything, I really think he’s been bullying me.” This did not impress Maya and Pearl, who somehow only looked more disappointed in him. Phoenix began to sweat. “I got nothing against the disabled, guys. They’re - like, they’re fine! Some of my best friends are -”

“Autism doesn’t count,” Maya said frostily. “You’ll never get your Disability Awareness and Inclusion Girl Scout badge at this rate, Nick.”

“I - am I a nine year old girl now? Seriously?”

Pearl straightened, eyes widening. “I’m a nine year old girl!” Phoenix gestured towards her, emphasizing the handful of differences between them. Gumshoe nodded vigorously. “Can I get a disability aware badge? I’m aware of disabled people!” Left unsaid: unlike Phoenix, apparently. Yet another difference between him and nine year old girls.

“You aren’t a Girl Scout,” Phoenix said, exhausted. “If that’s something you’re interested in, we can sign you up -”

“Girl Scouts! That’s a great idea. I was a Girl Scout way back when. It was awfully rewarding.” Gumshoe gave Pearl a big thumbs up, as if he hadn’t casually dropped the most insane bomb of all time and promptly moved on. “You’re probably overqualified for the Legal Expert and Fortune Teller badges. You could really make it!”

That was it. They had lost her. Pearl rolled her sleeves up, puffing out her chest with pride, and before Phoenix could react she had already turned around and pushed the lobby doors open. They swung open with a theatrical flair, revealing -

Godot, just on the other side of the doors. Judging by his somewhat harried look and unbalanced stance, he had also just barely managed to avoid door-to-face impact. Or, more likely, door-to-visor impact. 

Pearl either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She jabbed a finger at Godot, who still seemed dazed from the unintentional assault. “I’m taking your case, Mr. Godot! I’ll be your co-counsel! I’ll find you innocent of all charges - um, not that!”

“I lost all innocence a long time ago,” Godot said darkly. He pushed past them, flagrantly brushing off everybody. “If you wish to scout for something, scout for that. It ought to distract you from standing around and wasting time with meaningless gossip.”

Phoenix winced. He didn’t seem very happy. But he never really did - cheerful and amused, frequently, but almost never actually happy. “Uh, hey, man. I’m really sorry about - in my defense, you were actively hiding it -”

“Classic defense attorney,” Maya announced. “Always defending himself!”

“Mr. Edgeworth says that the attorney who represents himself has a fool for a client,” Pearl said helpfully, blissfully unaware of that one time Phoenix had to defend himself against a murder charge. Edgeworth had known. Obviously. 

“Save your pity, Trite. Save it for the courtroom. So you can pity yourself.” Godot held up one hand, not even bothering to aim it in Phoenix’s direction. “Out of all of your victims, of course you would pity yourself the most.”

“Dude,” Phoenix said, “did I, like, ghost you the morning after or something? I’m sorry about it, but becoming a lawyer because I didn’t text you back is a little weird.”

“A little weird?” Gumshoe said, baffled. “That’s a crazy accusation, Wright. Who would become a whole lawyer because of a guy?” Phoenix looked at the ceiling. Godot coughed. “I don’t like the sound of that cough, pal.”

“For whom does the bell toll, Detective?” Godot said. Maya looked actively distressed as she attempted and failed to decipher what the fuck he meant by that. “I’ll see you all in court. Prepare yourselves. I don’t intend on losing to the likes of you.”

He turned on his heel, striding down the hallway and escaping them all as quickly as possible. Pearl gasped, and she immediately let go of Maya’s hand so she could set off barrelling down the hallway. “Hold on! Wait for me, Mr. Godot!”

Godot didn’t look back. But he did slow until Pearl caught up, and when she shoved her little hand in his large one he didn’t pull away. 

Gumshoe scratched his chin. Maya squinted at the departing duo, obviously wondering how Godot knew where to take a left turn at the hallway. Phoenix made a mental note of it too. For a blind guy, he was really familiar with the courthouse…which meant that Phoenix’s mistake was perfectly reasonable! Anybody would make it! “Just double checkin’. You two are actually cool with sending off a little girl with the sketchiest grown man ever? Completely unsupervised and stuff?”

What, seriously? Phoenix and Maya glanced at each other before shrugging. “If you can’t trust your coworkers,” Maya intoned seriously, “you can’t trust anybody. Nobody’s more trustworthy than a real lawyer.”

“And Edgeworth recommended him,” Phoenix pointed out. “Good enough for me. The state of California would never have certified him as a defense attorney if he wasn’t trustworthy.”

“That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about the law to dispute it,” Gumshoe said cheerfully, displaying a chain of logic that had proven extremely convenient for Phoenix over the years. Maya had once tricked Gumshoe into letting them into a crime scene by pretending that there was a legal holiday once a year where every law and police procedure was inverted. “Don’t we got a trial to hit, anyway?”

“Shit!”

Pearl’s inaugural performance as the prosecution’s co-counsel/imouto went off without a hitch. Phoenix couldn’t be prouder of her efforts. She played her part perfectly: from the well-timed timed motivational encouragements to tension-relieving funny quips, she was a natural. Her only experience co-counseling with Phoenix had been very stressful for her, so Phoenix was happy to see her shine with confidence. Pearl Fey was truly suited for villainy.

She even went above and beyond into the role of personal assistant imouto. She carefully managed the presented evidence, holding up the right photograph or blood-stained object for the purview of the court. Pearl read out any written reports, described the evidence that Phoenix presented, and reported on any notable body language. Phoenix wasn’t sure if Godot knowing that ‘the Defense looks like you ate the last onigiri he was saving for lunch…’ was remotely helpful, but it was cute. Godot better realize how lucky he was to have such a top-quality imouto at his side today. It confused the judge, but what didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” the judge said, as Pearl carefully withdrew a generic white coffee mug from a large box underneath the table. Seemingly…filled with more mugs.  “Doesn’t that little girl belong to the Defense?”

“The Defense is loaning her out today,” Phoenix said seriously. Pearl began wrangling a coffee pot the size of her head. “Don’t worry, it’s not a conflict of interest.”

“I see!” Pearl carefully tipped the large pot into the white mug. It spilled everywhere, but coffee was poured. “And what is a ‘conflict of interest’?”

“Obscure old legal term. Don’t worry about it.” Pearl reached over the table and attempted to slide the mug towards Godot, as the unlucky draftee from the audience always did. He just pointed at a random pot in the crowd and told somebody that they were in charge of his coffee today. Terribly unorganized way to do things. 

“Watch it, you senile old man. The Defense is distracting you with outdated legal concepts. Focus on the most important aspect of this case!” Why was only the prosecution allowed to insult the judge! Why were they the only ones allowed to get away with that! Seriously unfair! As if Phoenix didn’t want to strangle the judge with his own two hands too?!

The mug scooted forward a little, but barely moved. Pearl scowled and tried again, sliding the mug forward a few inches and sloshing coffee over the side again. Pearl huffed in frustration before carefully cupping her hand around the mug and pushing it forward as she walked down the table. 

Godot cupped his hand on the table and let Pearl push the cup into his hand. Then he slammed the table, throwing his head back and chugging the entire mug of steaming hot coffee in one go. He slammed the mug back on the table. Pearl carefully retrieved it. 

“The fact that the old man and this fake Frenchman saw the accused put poison in the cup!” Godot announced. “That’s one fact that can’t be denied! Not by a reliable witness!”

Pearl clapped. Godot patted her on the head. Phoenix groaned.

Phoenix got his way - as usual - by the skin of his teeth - as usual. He was going to have a heart attack before he was thirty at this rate. Phoenix and Maya waited in the courtroom lobby for almost fifteen minutes before Pearl finally came running up to them. She was beaming, cheeks flushed red with pride. 

“Great job out there today, Pearl!” Maya cheered, clapping her hands. Yeah - a little too good. Godot’s performance in court was way smoother than last time. Maybe he was just getting his sea legs, but Phoenix never underestimated the power of young girls pursuing merit badges. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Nuh-uh! Mr. Godot said he’s gonna take me out for ice cream!” Pearl thrust her hand out, shining the biggest, wettest gaze directly into his eyes. “Can I have money for ice cream, Nick? Please?”

“Typically speaking, when you take people out for food, you’re the one paying,” Phoenix said flatly. “Mr. Godot’s on a prosecutor’s salary and I’m representing a waitress. He can pay.” 

“Mr. Godot doesn’t get paid,” Pearl said frankly. “He said he does it for the love of the game.”

This was somehow the most surprising thing he’d heard all day and completely predictable. 

Maya frowned, tilting her head. It was a gesture he’d seen in Mia a thousand times. Even after all this time, Maya still hurt him in those little ways. “Prosecutors get paid by the government. How do you legally work for the government and not get paid?”

“Maybe he’s a volunteer?” Phoenix suggested. “People volunteer at places, right? Like…in zoos?”

“That makes sense!” Maya said brightly, clapping her hands together. “Zoos, a court of law…what’s the difference, right?”

“After we’re done with it, not much.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t meet the parrot,” Pearl said, crushed by the immovable weight of the world’s injustices. “I wanted to make friends. We have so much in common.”

Maya sympathetically patted Pearl’s back. “You do! You’re both so good at imitating voices! Maybe one day Phoenix can cross-examine you too, huh?”

Nope. No. No way! “Not happening. I’ve accused every imouto I’ve ever had of murder on the stand. Pearl’s merciless enough, we can’t take that chance. She wouldn’t make it a day in prison.” 

“Sounds like a you problem,” Maya said, unimpressed. “Godot would never accuse an imouto of murder. He’s a bro like that.”

“He’s a prosecutor, it’s not his job -”

“Apparently being a prosecutor isn’t his job either.”

“You’d make an unemployed man pay for my ice cream?” Pearl demanded. “For shame, Mr. Phoenix Wright!”

Phoenix sighed and pulled out his wallet. He didn’t know why he wasted time pretending this wasn’t going to happen. Pity he wasn’t in the habit of accepting the inevitable. His life would be a lot easier.

[plaidos]

as a trans woman who used to live in *really* bsd environment ive never really heard of this stuff before

do you know where i can look to like actual use and stimulate it? for myself?

check out the zine “fucking trans women”. but also, genuinely even googling “sexually stimulating perineum? trans woman” will legitimately get you better results than asking somebody on tumblr. as a rule i basically don’t like answering things that make me feel like a sex education page because it quickly becomes my entire inbox.

[valeisaslut]

BABE. I have your notifications on and you’ve been answering these for 7 STRAIGHT HOURS. You’re a legend.

I didn’t manage to send it in before you closed your inbox but now I finally can. I’ve been checking it everyday RELIGIOUSLY.

It took me soooooo long to actually put my thoughts together so I wouldn’t sound like a complete mess overwhelmed with emotions after reading that. Also, took me another reread of the whole epilogue all together to get into the right headspace. But I did promise and I finally deliver.

Val, for starters, you’re a pure menace for making us face all of that. Honestly, your work has got me so enamored with it to the point where for the last month everything around me was bringing my thoughts back to it. And, like with everything that you have to have inner patience to see it unfold, I couldn’t and went back to reread some of the happiest parts as well as the most devastating ones. You are one of a kind.

I first found Collide when you posted it on AO3 and I’m so fucking glad you did cause I wouldn’t have ever seen it if it stayed on tumblr (also, you got me back on tumbler at the age of 26, feeling like I’m 16 all over again, don’t know if it’s a thank you but it’s definitely a love-filled ‘fuck you’). Your writing is so unique in itself that I couldn’t get enough. From the first chapter it felt like something that would find its resonance within me, the way you describe the infatuation with a person, the euphoria of falling in love so instantly but coming to terms with it only along the way, it had me on the edge of my seat from the start.

Why I wanted to actually give you my feedback (the word seems superficial to me since I’m not some high up critic, but I couldn’t find a better one sorryyy) is because of the way your work has found its place in my soul as a person with BPD with the history of addiction. To me, this is less of a story of love though pain but more of one where pain only grows the more you love, where the amount of pain is aligned with that of love. The way you wrote of how it feels to be so enchanted with a person you don’t notice their ‘flaws’, you don’t notice really anything and even when you do, you’re ready to fight for it no matter how long or how hard it might be, is impeccable. How perfectly your words have put me back in the position where you know that the stronger you feel that euphoria with a certain someone, the harder and the deadlier will be the fall, and when it happens, you never know if you’ll come back from that. I think that’s why I knew when I read the first part of Collide that something so painful is going to follow, because that kind of infatuation never goes without consequences, because the more you feel that the person you’re with is perfect, the more it affects you when they’re not. A couple times in your replies, writing those prompts, you used ‘feral’ in regards to their feelings and that’s when it also clicked for me, that edge you were describing and so perfectly succeeding. I suppose it wasn’t the affect you were chasing or maybe it was, I don’t know shit honestly, but the way you put me through the spiral again just proves that your work is something to be admired.

As I said, to me this was a story of how love aligns with pain and that’s why I was hoping for a bitter end, for an end where everything isn’t good and turned out right but for one where letting go might be the healthiest thing to do. It’s not that I wanted for them to not be together, but it’s because of the way it cut through to me emotionally and aligned with my personal experience. The way you made it though? Perfect. The end of the epilogue made me feel calm, made me feel like even though I go through my feelings so fiercely and devastatingly at times, that it might not always end up in a car crash. So, in a way, it might have mended something in me that I didn’t think could have been actually done. Thank you, so fucking much.

Also, the way you describe addiction, the feelings behind it, it’s one of the most accurate representations of what it really feels like that I’ve seen, especially the lowest points, where you drive yourself to the point of no return (as you think) but isn’t actually able to go through with it and it makes you feel weak, which is the worst fucking feeling in the world cause you know you’re a struggle and a problem to people around you, and you want to put an end to it but you’re too much of a coward in your head. That’s what it felt like and that’s how it actually is. And now, your work making me look back on how it felt in those moments, it gave me so much strength to never go back to it. I wish I was exaggerating, but I’m really not. I can feel how much research you put into it and it makes me appreciate you even more than I thought possible.

You definitely know, in every fandom, every pairing there’s THE fic that you think about every time you look back on it, every time something brings you back to the fandom even after years and years of not really being that obsessed. I still remember pairings and fandoms that I loved from when I was a teen and I could name you THE fic that stood out the most in every single one, after more than a decade. Val, yours is THE one in this, definitely, and I wouldn’t ever agree with anybody that says otherwise.

So much more that I want to say, so much fucking more, about your foreshadowing, which is the most amazing thing in the world, about how you use words in literal way of ‘show, don’t tell’, that’s a talent not many get to obtain, so much more, but my brain is too fried with work and I’m also sick so I’m squeezing out the last brain cell I have left to tell you that you should never give up on writing, I’m am so inspired by you and the way you’re able to make people feel so fiercely through your words. Never fucking stop, cause anyone can feel how much you love and enjoy it, and that’s what makes it so worth it. I’m so excited for what’s ahead while also scared of what to expect. You’re cruel in the best way possible.

(Reading this back I feel like a bitch cause of the way I write but I promise you I’m not)

You don’t know me but now you kinda do,

Katie 🖤

katie.

i had to sit with this. like really sit with it. read it twice, then a third time, and then once more in complete silence just to let your words land in me. because this wasn’t a message. this is a living, breathing proof that stories are more than just stories — they’re mirrors, they’re weapons, they’re tiny sacred places where we get to fall apart safely.

i don’t even know how to begin thanking you for this.

this is the kind of message a writer dreams of receiving once in their life. and the fact that i get to hold this one, from you? my whole chest is shaking.

you said something that broke me — “to me, this is less of a story of love through pain, but more one where pain only grows the more you love.”

and katie, that is collide. that’s it. that’s the secret. this whole story was about how tenderness can coexist with destruction. how love, real love, doesn’t save someone — but sometimes, sometimes, it stays. not to fix you, not to erase your damage, but to say, “i see all of it. and I’m still here.”

the way you connected it to your own experience — i can’t even explain what it means to me that you saw yourself in it. that the spiral, the grief, the helplessness, the feral ache of BPD-infused, addiction-shadowed love — all of it — felt true. not performative. not romanticized. just real. and most of all: that the ending gave you peace.

that line alone undid me:

“it made me feel like even though I go through my feelings so fiercely and devastatingly at times, that it might not always end up in a car crash.”

i want to hold that for you forever.

and then the way you described the experience of addiction, the cowardice you feel when you don’t go through with it — yes. god, yes. that’s what i tried to write. not some glossy suffering. but the real horror of surviving your lowest point and still hating yourself for not dying in it. i wrote that version of ellie with every ounce of empathy i had. and the fact that you saw that… you’ll never know how much that means.

and then — the final blow:

“val, yours is THE one in this.”

katie, i am honored beyond words. you could’ve never told me who you were and i still would’ve felt you in every reread. now i know you. now your voice lives with me, forever part of this universe. you are family to this story now.

i’m sorry you were sick when you wrote this. and tired. and squeezing the last out of yourself just to send this to me —but please know it didn’t fall on deaf ears. it landed in someone who read every single word with reverence. and who now carries you with her, always.

thank you, katie. for your letter. for your strength. for loving Collide with such depth and generosity.

i won’t stop writing. because of people like you, i can’t.

with everything in me, val 🖤

[deathzgf]

Dear sir, i hope this ask finds you in good health and all that and if you’re still into amrev/frev could i pretty please hear about your essay on the similarities between saint-just and john laurens 🥺

if not, feel free to delete this ask!

your obedt. servant,

mizumech

first of all I AM SO SORRY FOR LETTING THIS ROT IN MY INBOX for. checks watch. gulps. Dont even worry about it kitten. anyways. i have been so excited to answer this ask ever since receiving it i do not know why i have been neglecting it so much

second of all this whole thing is like 99 . 9 % a joke between my good friend @toastytrusty & i + ridiculous stretches so dont expect anything too serious LMFAO

ok ramblings of a madman time yay

so the saintlaurens towers were first hit by the similarity planes back in late 2023 which prompted This Fuck Arse Venn Diagram

dont worry if you cant read it because i cant either . will try to decode what i can ft updated commentary to start off this yapfest though !

little fifteen year old me put in the saint - just set :

french

fatherless mdr

, in the laurens set :

numerous of his letters still intact ( * ?? i think i was blinded by my grief of sjs letters getting burnt when i wrote this because laurens certainly had his unfair share of lost letters )

american

present father

in a musical ( * im pretty sure sj is in a musical too ( Not les mis ) but i did not know this back in 2023 )

, & in the intersection :

( almost ) 27 at death

gay

autistic

mentally unwell

artist ( * to a certain extent ... side eyes sj )

in love with major revolutionary figure

military twink

almost lawyers

tried desperately to escape home town ( * its been so long i do not remember what i was referring to with tried " desperately " to escape home town with regards to sj )

" babe come home from the war i miss you "

enjolras tbh

gay trio ( couthon , robespierre , saint - just / la fayette , hamilton , laurens )

& honestly Yeah . Ok . Sure . no idea what i was cooking with some of these but

we also got

actually this might end up a compilation of various bullshit screenshots because i do not know how to collect and redistribute the sacred knowledge they hold in any better format

also flowers. something something john sunflower symbolism laurens something something louis antoine " florelle " saint - just

oh theres also The Fire

+ The Hand Thing

and Before you jump me gentle reminder once again that this is fun & games and i am well aware those are two incredibly different things & one is just made up for the hell of it but i like fire trucks and monster trucks i like to play & draw

anyways. theres also also their , as poetically put by toast , " lack of runtime "

theres also also ALSO their fuck arse gay arse letters

AND SOCIALISM !!!

& after scouring twitter & discord w key words i cannae find any more worth sharing nor anything to jog my memory enough but if i think of anything else i will update this with more silliness & if anyone thinks of anything else feel free to add :3

thank you for the ask !!! im so sorry again for taking so long & sorry if this is underwhelming AJLKFJDLKSJFK

[lilliumrorum]

Soap with a stoner S/O

A/n: sorry I haven’t checked my inbox, I didn’t think anyone would see my account so I haven’t really been looking, but here you are!!

Soap x Stoner!reader

CW: use of marijuana, Alcohol. Sex is mentioned.

Before you both had even acquainted he could smell it on you

He thought nothing of it at first, believing that someone must have smoked next to you.

it wasn’t until he saw you being reprimanded for being under the influence during a mission that he finally understood.

When you both eventually talked to each other he noticed your glossy red eyes darting back and forth

After breaking the awkward barrier of being just teammates, he was more comfortable with your habit (He’d never really been around weed due to its legality)

He would snag you extra food if you had the munchies

Found it adorable the way you smiled when you ate the food he brought you

If you were ever too stressed he’d offer to pick up your workload so that you could get stoned and relax

The night your relationship changed was when you and the 141 had went out for drinks

Johnny knew you weren’t really a drinker, so he came up with a fun little dare

He walked over to where you sat and ordered you an old fashioned

When you went to question his actions he revealed his plan

He wanted to get as drunk as possible with you, and then once you two headed back to your room he would get high with you.

You didn’t just get drunk, you were hammered

Just kept laughing at your intoxicated state

When you both made it back to your room (he had to drag you) you couldn’t even get your bong because you couldn’t walk. You lazily clutched your hand towards the closet and whined

”What’re ye reachin’ for lass?”

You explained that the bong was too far for you to grab and that you were too dizzy to get up

He let out a laugh and got it for you

Looked at it like it was a fucking Scientific container and frowned when you giggled at him

Was mesmerized when you took it from him and showed him what to do

Actually called you an engineer (its literally the easiest thing and he still brings it up)

When you held it for him he looked into your eyes as you lit the bowl

As soon as he inhaled he almost coughed out his soul

You tried to explain how he can’t swallow it and how he actually has to inhale it

Once he did you made him take a long puff

Gagged at the taste

Snatched the water bottle off of your night stand

Within 5 minutes he was already zoned out

You decided to get baked as well, too drunk to count how many times you hit it

Your vision was still blurred and you were very light headed, words started spilling from both of your mouths

Many of them being things you would not say sober

Soap started babbling about demolitions

Asked if you’ve ever thought of being involved with anyone of your teammates

”I’m jus tryin’ to fill the silence Bonnie”

the silence was imaginary because he’d been talking your ear off

When you admit that you’ve thought of him being involved with you he almost jumped up and off of your bed

Had the biggest most shit eating grin known to man

“In what way lass!?” He asked energetically

”in every way.”

You were way too honest with that answer.

He was too high to even comprehend what you said.

Passed out on your thighs

Now it’s a routine, you both get drunk and high every weekend

Loves high sex

Is very soft during

Also loves cuddling and watching whatever is on if there is a tv

Another note: Sorry, I didn’t know whether to do HC style or to write a Drabble, so I opted for the HC Layout.

[soratonin]

inbox rules !! ‧₊˚

well hello there! ฅ^¬⩊¬^ฅ

❥ before you send asks in my inbox with thirsting and such, here's just some stuff to be aware of that i am chill with vs. what i'm not chill with ^_^ <3 !!

❥ always feel free to ask me if i am comfortable with something you do not see listed on here :> i promise i will not bite LMFAO

HARD NO'S

please do not send any of this stuff to my inbox!

❥ degradation, objectification

❥ mommy kink (reader receiving)

❥ pregnancy, reader being a parent/having kids

❥ psychedelics / drugs usage (regular smoking and drinking is completely fine, nothing else though)

❥ mom/son or mom/daughter incest (reader as a mom, not character)

❥ bimbo reader / dumbification / etc

❥ reader getting 0 pleasure/getting used ; getting cheated on by character

❥ cannibalism ; vore ; etc along these lines.

STUFF I PERSONALLY LOVE POSTING ABOUT

you will very likely see me post this stuff a lot!

❥ ISAGI YOICHI <3 <3 <3 THIS MAN IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE YOU WILL SEE ME POST ABOUT HIM 40 TIMES A DAY I DON'T PLAY ABOUT HIM. and (currently) he is what occupies my mind palace at 90%. i log on to talk about him and leave type shit. 10% is everyone else at like 1% tbh. 2% is iron fist. almost anything i wanna talk about is so eh and i'm relatively normal about compared to isagi because that is my bf my husband my prince my princess my babygirl my creature my love my pookie wookie shnukums wukums bear my honey bun HABIBI. THAT IS MY BLORBO OF ALL TIME. MY BOAT. MY GOAT. easily dropping any other character idgaf he's HIM. HIMSAGI!!!!!!!!!!!

like look at what i made i am serious i love him. my creature

okay now onto other stuff. that ALSO happen to include isagi if you are enlightened. because i'm that isagipilled. call it isagimaxxing.

❥ pussy eating <3 <3 <3 (in missionary, prone bone, facesitting, ETC) ❤︎_❤︎

❥ reader's pleasure always coming first <3 (no pun intended)

❥ character worshipping reader / possessive about reader / obsessed with reader / lovesick over reader <3 etc

❥ extremely fond of tsundere / mean / bratty / kitty-coded / maneater / hater reader <3 (also extemely fond of a sexually confident, hypersexual/nympho reader ehe)

❥ soft doms v_v <3 (character OR reader); lovesick soft sex

❥ brat taming <3 (reader never gets declawed tho ehe)

❥ free use: reader using character for their pleasure OR character making reader cum for characters pleasure (not character using reader to cum and it's just him lol. not for me! apolocheese)

❥ daddy kink v_v #daddy cw

❥ isagi cucking (and just isagi tbh LMFAO) other blue lock men and stealing you from them c: main victims are usually rin, kaiser, and oliver because i'm messy like that (i really am the fuck you guy for this because i actually also selfship with them. but as soon as isagi enters the equation it's gojover for them muehehehe).

❥ general non-sexual content warnings: blood, violence, gore, torture, murder, death, etc can be present in what i write. all of it will be tagged. + NONE OF IT ON READER.

❥ monsters/supernatural stuff: monsterfucking, omegaverse; werewolves, vampires, hybrids <3 all tagged, definitely stuff i post about

DARK / TABOO CONTENT YOU MIGHT SEE

i might write / definitely reblog this stuff. all tagged!

#dark content cw #yandere cw #noncon cw #dubcon cw #incest cw #age gap cw

❥ yandere character

❥ incest / stepcest (usually just dad/daughter or brother/sister)

❥ noncon / dubcon

❥ age gaps

to see which characters i post about, feel free to check my about + my tags !! i currently don't really have a masterlist, but you can check those out for the time being <3

ADDITIONAL INBOX RULES

❥ please don't trauma dump in my inbox because i don't know how to handle and respond to these things. i'm also not your therapist and Just Some Guy TM online, apolocheese

❥ if i don't answer an ask it can mean: i haven't had time to answer it, wanting to expand on it so it's taking a while, or it was something i was uncomfortable with!

❥ either way, please don't think i'm ignoring you! sometimes i get overwhelmed with asks, and i promise it's not personal. i'm just a deadbeat pretty often to my notifs lmao (i try not to be but i get burnout QUICK lol) or i truly forget to answer. and sometimes i just wanna be on the dash and don't have the energy to answer my inbox; i'm allowed to do that ^_^

❥ please know i love you and appreciate you more than you know for sending me asks, even if i don't get to them (right away or forget to) ;v; <3

[lemotmo]

Hey, firstly let me say a huge thank you for getting me through the past year and keeping me sane in the whirlwind of BT bs. Its greatly appreciated.

Now, I wanted to say, the anon to Ali about spiralling being normal was kind of right, it is normal. Especially when we've been queerbaited in the past. HOWEVER, that doesn't mean you have to rain on everyone else's parade. I am a bit of a doomer, I can't help it. I have a lot of MH stuff tied to previous failed ships that has made it difficult to fully believe. But you know what I don't do? I don't go running to blogs every time I have a spiral doom attack. I don't post in the tag about how the fandom is setting themselves up for a fall. The way I see it, my dooming is a me issue, not an everyone issue. But also, it doesn't actually stop me enjoying the general excitement happening right now. Hell, I occasionally let the hope in and take part.

I think anon and others need to leave the rest of the Buddie fandom to their fate, and maybe even quitting the show all together. They can come back when it's all over. And if they don't want to leave, then fine, stay. But for everyone's sanity, (including mine because I'm tired of seeing the dooming posts as much as everyone else) keep it off the main and stop running to blogs for some kind of reassurance. You won't get it, because deep down, you don't want it. You can't, for whatever reason, let the hope in (which again, I totally understand because I'm right there) But please, just leave people to their happiness. And if you must doom, got to twitter or create a community where you can all doom together.

That's it, rants done. Sorry.

Again, thank you so much for everything and I hope all your dreams come true. 🧡

Thank you for the lovely compliment. I'm just here to provide some positivity, because this fandom desperately needs it. 😋

I agree. There is nothing inherently wrong with being anxious or even a little afraid what is going to happen on a TV-show. It's fine.

I used to have those moments too. In the 911 fandom, but also in other fandoms I have been a part of. Even though I admit that ever since the back half of 7 and especially 8a? The little fears I had just crumbled into dust. I am simply THAT sure Buddie is happening this time. 🤷‍♀️

But that doesn't mean that other people have to do the same. Everyone follows their own path and has their own thoughts about this show and that's more than fine. And yeah, if dooming is your thing, you do you! 🤗

It's just that there are times when my inbox gets filled with negativity, while I'm hopping around all happy, positive and satisfied with how an episode went. It's a lot sometimes and I admit I try to avoid the biggest doom posts. I often delete them from my inbox, because I don't want the negativity on my blog. I do answer some of them from time to time, hoping to instill some hope and positivity in the Nonny who sent it and the people reading it on my blog.

So no, there is nothing inherently wrong with doomposts. It's just that I'm so fucking happy with how the show is going right now. I'm loving all the episodes and I'm having a blast talking about them with my mutuals and followers.

I can't deal with constant negativity about it. I simply refuse to feel down about a show that I love this much, just because some people in my inbox tell me that I should. You know?

It's nothing personal, but yeah... Twitter is fraught with doom posters, so if that's the kind of thing some people vibe with, they should check it out. They might like it there.

Thank you for your lovely ask. I wish you all the best and I most certainly wish you peace of mind when it comes to 911 and Buddie. It'll all be fine. I guarantee it. 😋

[h-yellowfell]

UPDATE!

Heya folks! im alive!

it's been a while hasn't it? i'm very sorry for the wait, lately i've been struggling with wrist pain and a whole load of burnout (ouch) and only recently have been able to slowly get back into drawing

-So, what is in for the future?

I do plan on continuing the Yellowfell story, just with a diferent format thats a bit easier on my body, the upload schedule is also changing, i have yet to see what works best, but you all can expect at least a weakly post

I tried my best to keep a daily shedule, but that fucked me over not only physically, but mentally as well, i just couldn't get posts out with the quality i wanted them to have, and that bothered me a lot

that also means asks will take a while to answer as well, as i try to catch up with my ever growing inbox to the best of my abillities, im super greatfull to you all for being patient with me as i figure this out!

-When is the next post?

Soon! the comic itself will continue, but consisting of drawings on important moments of the story as a full length comic is simply too much for me right now, and that gives me more time to draw a bit for myself along the way, yay!

Things may move slowly, but is all for the sake of delivering something that im actually proud of!

If you'd like to support the au, you can check out my kofi, where i take comissions, i am currently trying to get better equipment to make drawing less exhausting ('-w-)

That is all for now, see you all (hopefully) soon!

[lily-alphonse]

sam and maru? when u think about it the vision is kinda there

Dear Anon, I want you to know out of the like 20 or so rarepair challenge asks I have gotten so far, this one stumped me the hardest I think. It’s been taunting me. Sitting in my inbox while I stare at it only to give up and come back later.

So gg on that lmao I’m not easily stumped.

It’s not like it’s hard to come up with something because there’s nothing there, it’s hard to come up with something because nuance. It also doesn’t mesh with my headcanons like Maru being lesbian and/or ace which is another mental hurdle.

Then there’s the issue that she is his best friend’s younger sister. That’s bro code. But also a little icky if he’s straightup watched her grow up (which, I'm not opposed to icky, I have a whole alt account on ao3 for that lmao but I'm trying to keep these ideas sweet).

So I guess what I'm thinking is Maru used to have a crush on Sam when she was younger. She looked up to her brother and his friends and he was just so damn pretty.

And then she grew up and hated herself for being such a cliché, pining after her older brother’s friend like that.

Then she grew up more and got past it, got serious in life and dove into her real passions head-on with no time for the more fickle passions involved with dating and crushes.

Despite how seriously she takes her career though, there’s a hidden goofiness to Maru. Sometimes, when she can get away with it, she wears fun little earrings to the clinic that the kids like to point out. Sometimes, (though she’d never admit it) she sneaks one of the toys from the prize chest to play with. She tells herself it’s a fidget device, not a slinky. It may as well be a stress ball.

A man comes into the clinic she hasn’t spoken to in years. He looks different now with his facial hair filling out, his hair long enough to pull back. It looks unfairly good on him.

He looks surprised to see her, actually blushing. Damn if that didn’t make him even more attractive.

But she keeps her cool. And he doesn’t.

Sam is stunned. He’d barely recognized the hottie behind the desk as Maru. And the way she looked right through him over her glasses and kept things professional made him wish there wasn’t a desk between them.

“I like your slinky,” he blurted before needing to go back with Harvey.

A crack appeared in her facade. She stammered, knocking the slinky off the desk in a panic, and he laughed.

And suddenly she was a teenager again, hearing his laugh through Sebastian’s door only to be eclipsed by the pounding of her heartbeat.

Fuck.

--

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

[kevinsdsy]

(Kevin and Renee anon again... Sorry) I agree with that other anon's hot take so much because it's true and I love how they pointed out the fact that he portrys his care via exy. And to expand on your point about the team for Jean, not only did he find him a team opposite to the Ravens, but he's been helping them help him adjust as well. He found Jean a team with people he trusts to be able to actually help him. Jean even protested it but Kevin knew it was what would help him.. And I'm always thinking about the scene of him asking for Jean's hand to check it, making sure he could still close it and mobilize it, I'm not sure if it's because of what happened to himself but augh, the way he knows Jean so well makes me ill. Any question Jeremy has about him, he's answered easily. His conversations with him are so tender and just....he really cares about Jean. Random head canon but I think his love language could be gift giving because of the trinkets and post cards he'd get Jean from his travels. Plus, in when he bought Neil the racket and I know it was with the team's card but I'm under the belief he just likes buying stuff because it's easier to express that he cares and notices those he loves through buying them things he knows they'll enjoy/like. Not to mention he allowed Neil to fully be sure of his choices instead of going by himself and just getting a racquet he deemed the best.

Somebody fucking talk about History with him right now, I just know he'd be so animated while talking about it. It's literally an important interest that's set aside exy and yet they ignore him to then complain he's "all exy" 🙂‍↔️.

I can write much more and more coherently but it's 7am and I'm running on 2hrs of sleep and m&m's myb 🙂‍↕️ I can't promise this is my last Kevin Day anon but uhm I'll stop being annoying for now 🧎

GODDD THE SCENE WITH HIM ANALYSING JEAN’S HAND AND HIM TAKING THE TIME TO PREPARE JEREMY TO JEAN’S ARRIVAL IS JUST SO !!!!! makes me cry just thinking about it actually ntm when jeremy calls him asking if riko broke kevin’s hand and it’s so noticeable how kevin is jumping around the topic a bit. instead of immediately answering he asks if jean has told them about it and then he finally admits the truth and tells jeremy it’s something he doesn’t tell people since the issue is resolved now anyways and it’s all just so !!!!!

his love language being gift giving/acts of service is also such a good headcanon and i think it fits him so well especially like !!! especially because he went out of his way to buy jean magnets & get him postcards whenever he was away

HISTORY KEVIN DAY IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME!!! like the nerd is reading history books for fun and watching every history documentary he can get around to and i think he will go through phases when he starts hyperfixtating on specific topics (but i’m not as familiar with a lot of history topics so i can’t really give my take on which topics that would be) which also leads to my headcanon of him needing glasses, but hiding this fact by wearing lenses, because why would we not want to make him a history nerd wearing glasses and carrying books around him at all times like

AND PLSSS you’re MORE than welcome joining me in my inbox i LOVE talking about kevin he’s fr the loml

[nothorses]

sorry to bring this to your inbox but i got nowhere else to bring it and i need a yell. I was going through the transgender tag for more information on the CEO's transmisogyny debacle and came across a post that started out by stating that transmisogyny has been on the rise on tumblr as a whole; reasonable and true. but they started their list of examples with "1. The entire concept of transandrophobia" and I just.

What the goddamn hell is wrong with you*? (not YOU you THEM you) Why the fuck are you throwing your trans brothers under the bus for the actions of a pissbaby CEO? There's a wave of false reports and deletions - TARGETING TRANS WOMEN - and your response is to try and shift the target to transmascs for... talking about their experiences? Your response to outside harassment is to try and spark more infighting? What's your fucking problem????? We need to be coming TOGETHER not picking a fucking target to spit on!!! Christ alive. And people wonder how it's so easy for terfs to turn us against each other. God.

Ok rant over thanks for listening

I just want to challenge your wording here a little bit; did you check this person's blog and how they identify? Do you know if they're a trans woman, a trans man, nonbinary, etc.? Even what they might have said on their blog about how they identify should be scrutinized- we don't actually know who this person is, and they could for sure be lying. It's really, really useful for people outside of our communities who want to stir shit up to pretend they're not outsiders at all.

The post you're describing is horrible either way, and you're 100% right that it's stirring up harmful infighting. I think it's really easy to see that kind of thing and think, "oh my god, people are falling for it! they're actually fighting each other now!!"

It's a scary thing to see, and it's incredibly hard to ask critical questions when we're afraid, or otherwise emotionally activated like that. And there's nothing wrong with being emotionally activated, either; of course you are! That's some really hateful, really wrong, and really dangerous shit! Sentiments just like that one have caused so much harm to our community, and so much harm directly to individual, vulnerable people- probably people you know. Certainly people I know.

But it's reactions from that state of emotional activation that lead to the success of these kinds of infighting campaigns. We get activated, we make assumptions and act from that activated place, other people get activated and do the same, and the cycle continues.

What's worse, you're the only person who saw the post in question; I can only react to what you're telling me. I can't go look at the post, check OP's blog, and answer any critical questions about the nature of the situation. I have no way of knowing whether this person might be transfem, or just a TERF trying to stir shit up. I don't even know if the OP was an anon ask sent to someone else. I don't know how many notes the post got, or how big OP's audience is; I can't really conceptualize the amount of harm the post has done. I don't know if anyone has debunked it in the notes, or if OP has since posted an update denouncing that original sentiment.

Again, that's not to invalidate your emotional response, or even really question how honest you're being here. For all I know, you did check all of those things, and this is worse than I think it is. It certainly seems pretty realistic to me, just based on my own experiences with these kinds of conversations.

I just want to push back on that wording a little bit because like... as much as it is a real problem that a lot of transfems really firmly believe that Transmascs Talking About Cis People Being Transphobic To Us is the most serious & urgent form of transmisogyny facing the transfem community today, it's also a real problem that transmacs will jump on that same line of thinking in an effort to paint themselves as "one of the good ones".

Cis women will often throw transmascs under the bus in the same way in order to avoid Cis Guilt, oftentimes avoiding talking about their cis positionalities- which leads people to assume that, because they're talking about trans issues so much, they must be trans themselves! Which, again, perpetuates this illusion that "the trans community is full of infighting" and that much more dangerous to various trans people.

(Granted, this is a complicated issue; I don't think it's wrong for cis people to talk about these things, and I don't think trans people should have to out themselves in order to do so, either- but I have absolutely seen this pattern taken advantage of by hateful anons, TERFs, radfems, and cis women who revel in being called "honorary trans women" for bashing transmascs frequently enough.)

Is this post demonstrating the success of cis people's efforts to stir up infighting in the trans community, or is it just an example of cis people trying to stir up infighting? And if you know it's the former, how do I know? How do all of my followers know? Is it better to understand it as one vs. the other?

I'm sorry this got so long and off-topic; I'm sure this isn't what you were looking for when you sent me this ask, and I'm sorry for criticizing your wording over providing the emotional reassurance you probably needed a lot more than this. And also, I do feel a responsibility to think about the people reading asks before I think about the people sending them (particularly if they're on anon), and I felt this was the message that most needed to be received from anything I could say in response. I hope you're able to find the emotional reassurance you need regardless, and I appreciate you bringing this to me in the first place. 💙