#been needing to answer this for a fat while now don't know how long its been in the drafts rip

[nocofamilyau]

How does Mike feel about having adopted siblings?

I guess he'll never get as used to it as he thought he would...

[rationaliity]

mine now | gallagher x f! reader ( 18 + )

ill be so real with you my dearest freaky anon i'm not the biggest fan of cheating so plspls understand that if this kinda sucks,,, im sorry, especially since you were waiting for so long for this and then i drop the most lukewarm fic of all time. i also had to change the story around so that it was something that i was comfortable writing, sorry about that ! still the basic premise, i just am not good with ntr for some reason ?? weird. who knows man. tags : drug abuse ! dubcon, dirty talking, weed & alcohol mention, female anatomy reader but its sort of nonspecific idk, pw/op, voyeurism sorta, exhibitionism sorta, coercion almost, mentions of infidelity, comfort turns into sex, possessiveness, unprotected sex, gallagher uses petnames a lot, reader being drunk & high at the same time, reader gets on call with her ex boyfriend while gallagher fucks them words: 1.8k

gallagher's hand was in your hair, your head pulled back as he pounded you so hard into the mattress it made your hip hurt a little bit from the pressure, not that it was really what you were focused on. he'd promised to make you forget your shitty ex boyfriend who'd cheated on you, and you had agreed on that without a second thought. it was originally just a drink that the two of you shared together, with you ranting about this loser to gallagher, who was all too patient with you.

one drink turned into three, and drinks turned into smoking together. being crossfaded and half focused, those little rants went on about everything that had pissed you off about that loser since the moment the relationship started to decay. everything from how he refused to flush the toilet no matter how many times you reminded him, to how tiny his dick was. gallagher had laughed at your jokes about him, and it spurred you on to keep going, laughing about that loser's tiny shrimp dick. gallagher asked if you'd ever had a dick bigger than two inches, and you shook your head. you had no idea what sex was really supposed to feel like aside from what you knew.

then he asked if you were willing to see what it was like, and you swore you'd never felt more sober than that moment right then as you hesitantly nodded. was it still going to hurt if you weren't a virgin anymore ? the answer, surprisingly, was a resounding yes ! you learned that pretty quickly as gallagher's hips pistoned into yours, his free hand grabbing the fat of your ass, his body pressed against yours so he could whisper into your ear.

" don't be shy, baby, you can let your makeup ruin my sheets. it's been ruining my shirt all night now, " he purred in your ear, his sharp canines daring to bite into the sensitive skin of your neck completely without warning. when he finally did, you made a pathetic little mewl that you weren't even aware that you could make. " a little reminder of who can fuck you better than that fuckin' pathetic loser, yeah ? gonna go to work tomorrow n show off your mark for everyone to see, yeah ? "

possessiveness was driving him, only amplified tenfold by the weed in his system. it made you both feel everything so much deeper, so both in tune with your bodies and completely disorientated at the exact same time. you couldn't feel your toes anymore, and you weren't even sure you had a tongue in your mouth you were so far gone, but you could feel every deep stroke inside of you as he thrust, and the feeling of his nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

you were a disaster. you knew you should be somewhere else. it was in three the morning, you were three drinks and several shots deep, and with enough weed in your system to kill a victorian child before they could even understand what was happening to them. but you had no idea that you needed this so much, needed to feel him so deep inside of you that it brought you to tears, stretching you so well that you thought there was no way it was going to fit. and yet his cock buried itself completely inside you each time, his tip hitting against your walls in that special spot that made you cry out.

you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, and by god you wanted to moan so loud that your neighbors could hear you. and maybe you were doing all of those things, at this point you weren't entirely sure what you were doing, other than taking his cock. gallagher was like an animal, desperate to claim every inch of you, and you were so willing to give him everything that he desired without any amount of a fight.

you heard a noise in the background, but you honestly didn't think much of it at that point. it was so unimportant, you didn't really care what it was, although you recognized the sound. " baby, your phone is ringin', you wanna answer it, or should i ? "

you made a pitiful little noise, and he took that as a perfectly valid answer, grabbing your phone and sliding it up for you. " hey, yeah ? oh, man. " you couldn't hear what was going on on the other side of the phone, but you could hear gallagher chuckle, and you swore he started to fuck you even harder now, the lewd noises of your skin slapping together undoubtedly able to be heard through the phone. " yeah, sorry you're a fuckin' loser, but they've got some new dick. thank you for keepin' them so fuckin' tight f'me. "

you don't know why your ex hadn't hung up the phone yet, but also on the other hand it made complete sense. if he had a way to argue, he was going to argue, even when all of the odds were against him, and the answer was blaring at him straight in his face. you buried your face in the pillow, trying not to make so much noise, but finding it impossible with the way gallagher was thrusting inside of you like he owned your body. and maybe he did, who knows at this point ? you just knew that you'd never felt this good, not with yourself, or any other partner.

" you wanna talk to them ? oh, man, be my fuckin' guest. i just hope you know you ain't gonna like what you hear. "

without a warning, the phone was pushed against your ear, letting you speak and say whatever you wanted to, but you couldn't find the words to say anything to him in between the moans spilling from your lips. " i-i- hh- fuck- " you whimpered, trying to think of something to say, but your mind was completely blank and filled with so many thoughts at the exact same time. there was only a brief moment of time where there wasn't anything coming from the other line, your ex so stunned that he couldn't find anything to say, but then came the barrage of insults, ones that would make you cry if you weren't being fucked so well by a man like gallagher, who was able to take your mind off of a pathetic man like your ex.

" put him on speaker, doll. let him hear you cummin' your brains out on my cock if he's so inclined. shit, i'll send him a video if he wants. whatever gets him to understand that you aren't his anymore, " gallagher growled behind you, one of his hands coming to snake around your waist, rubbing the sensitive nub between your legs with his thick, calloused thumb. you could only nod in response, sitting your phone down and turning it on speaker. you wanted him to feel horrible about everything he did to you, and you were hoping this was exactly the revenge you needed to finally get over him.

with the phone out of your hands, it was like it was entirely forgotten, especially with his finger rubbing your clit in tiny little circles. everything was building up to feel so strong inside of you, you had no idea what was happening. was it the drugs in your system making your body act up like this ? you had no idea, completely unsure what was going on. you felt this feeling in your tummy tightening as gallagher fucked you senseless, exactly like how he had promised to.

" ga-gallagher- " you whimpered out, your breath hitching in your throat. even in your fucked out state, you still managed to say something coherent, and of course it was his name. that thought only brought a satisfied grin to his face, and the older man couldn't stop himself from responding, clearly putting on a show for the person on the other end of the phone.

" what is it, my sweet ? gonna cum ? ya gonna cum on my cock like this 'nd forget all about him ? you take me so well, it's like you were made for a big, fat cock to stretch you out 'nd rearrange ya. " he was going so hard he needed to grab the headboard, his nails digging into the wood so hard that he wasn't sure if it would splinter or not, not that it even mattered. a little blood wasn't going to hurt him, and it certainly wasn't going to make him stop fucking your divine body into the perfect little cocksleeve for him. " is this your first orgasm on a cock ? you don't even know what's happenin' to ya, that's fuckin' adorable. you aint got no idea why you feel all tight down there, huh ? "

all you could do was nod helplessly against him, drooling onto the fabric of the bedsheets that was so soaked from your slick just dripping down your legs and pooling underneath you. " gonna- gonna cum, gonna cum, gallagher- pl-please- " you didn't know why you were saying please, you knew he wasn't going to stop now, not when he had a point to make of giving you the best orgasm you've ever had in your life.

" cum then, sweetie. i'll ride you through it. i'm gonna cum in this little hole of yours, okay ? you okay with that ? " you didn't give him a verbal response, just a nod of your head, but he couldn't stop himself from gently slapping your clit, making you cry out in pain, the sharpness of the sensation leaving you breathless. " say it, doll. say you want me to cum inside. you can do it, baby. "

" please- cuh-cum inside of me, gallagher- " you begged, earning you a tentative kiss on the side of your neck where he had bitten you earlier, and his finger started to rub circles around your sore clit again, perfectly timed just to make you cum.

" we're gonna cum together, okay ? let go, baby. i'm right here wi-with ya, " he couldn't stop himself from letting out a low groan, letting go of the headboard to grab your hip, dragging you on his cock as he fucked himself on you, chasing your orgasms together. with a low, animalistic growl, gallagher let go inside of you, shooting hot ropes inside of your walls as you clenched helplessly around him, the duo orgasm making you feel like you were able to blank out at any second, but you were entirely aware of your situation. he rode out the sensations with you, slowing down into gentle thrusts as he milked both of your orgasms at the same time.

when he pulled, gallagher laughed to himself, kissing the side of your neck and your nape several times as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his body against yours. " he hung up. guess we gotta call him back when we have a round two, yeah ? "

— ♡ rationaliity 2024

[eddiemunsonbignaturals]

just a pinch

summer ends way too fast; you and Eddie surprise each other.

includes smut, as in 18+ 6k words somehow lmao? most of it fluff  best friends to lovers, and it gets a little gross in an arguably unsexy but very intimate way. you're not supposed to put anyone's mouth on your new piercing until at least two weeks out don't be dumb listen to your piercer

content: boob fondling, dry humping, jean nutting, some mild threats of violence, mentions of piercings but not piercing play to my understanding

reader is described as fat, dark skinned, and referred to gender neutrally, mostly (tough guy, man, angel, sweetheart).

comments (yes, even short ones,) reblogs all v much appreciated, take care :*

So, the heatwave had been a fake-out. 

You had both expected more swim-days. Just a few more sweaty, sticky nights— sat too close and tangled together sharing a bowl of Moose Tracks by moonlight, in as little fabric as you could manage and with as much ice as one freezer bucket could hold.

But alas, the fall sneaks in one cloudy morning and makes you regret ever even thinking the word “winter.” 

You’re shivering as you shock awake and roll clumsily to the nightstand. Reaching blind for the blaring landline, your hand cringes away from too-cold plastic, and you groan long and low in mourning— it's definitely over.  While you were asleep, Summer had packed up her bag and ducked off in the dark before you could send her off properly. Goodbye, dog days.

Hello, caller. You know it’s Eddie before you pick up; he knows it's you before you speak.

“Can you believe this? Shit fuckin’ sucks,” he croaks, right off the bat and into the receiver.

“And blows—“ you sigh back, punching one satin-covered pillow and your headscarf off the bed. “We couldn’t even get, a like, temperate couple of days? It had to go straight to freeze-my-dick-off immediately?”

“ha! Please. The end is nigh, sweetheart. You know it better than I,” he almost sings. His sleepy lilt catches on the pet name, and that gravelly morning timbre gees up your morning wood like nothing else can. You kiss your teeth, honestly annoyed at how he affects you this early, and when Ed’s answering chuckle rumbles through your ears and down your jaw, it's like you can feel his breath through the phone. 

God, he sounds good. You hum into a long sigh as he talks. It warms you, everywhere, hearing his voice first thing, and if your non-phone hand drags down your chest and reaches lower to rearrange the pillow between your legs, he doesn’t need to know.

You hear Eddie fidget, as he does, and he switches the phone to his other ear. Then, there’s the rattle of the earrings against plastic– a few chunky hoops he got at your suggestion, and one with your first initial that he definitely plucked off of your desk, though he had lazily denied it. You feel a smile fight its way to your face, suddenly giddy about him, about his call. 

A snapshot of him talking himself awake is as clear in your head as the grey in the sky: a grumpy Munson, emerging from the mess of gifted homemade blankets and ancient, flat pillows. Just a pair of doe eyes, framed by a cluster of chocolate curls and a scowl. Picture-perfect.

You’ve been nursing this damn crush forever, and with the effort of punching it off the bed and out of sight with that headscarf, you’re long past exhaustion. But, in the safety of your chilly room, and with the comfort of his voice in your ear, maybe you’ve enough strength for now to entertain a butterfly, or ten.

You had worn his ring to bed— a little bat hugging your ring finger the way it had been hugging his before you’d snatched it off as payment for a dare gone unfulfilled–and you’re twirling it now, like some lovesick sap. You’re written all over each other, and you’ve been itching to do something about it. But, that’s not the issue right now.

Right now,

“I know, life is over, the globe is warming, there are only a few summers left, et cetera. We’ll still have fun.”

(the dare? you had challenged him to snatch some Hawkins PD pig or another’s goofy little ranger hat as he had passed the two of you on the street. Eddie had suggested maybe he couldn’t float past an arrest on boyish charm this deep into his twenties, and acquiesced without a word when you had held out your hand for his own. 

You’d pretended not to notice the blush creeping up his neck; he had let you hold his hand a bit longer than necessary. It had been an even trade, as always.)

Across the line, Eddie’s still snickering at you, voice fathoms deep– all crackly– when he speaks again. 

“Hold on to your dick, angel, I'm pretty sure there’s options. Like, uh, maybe clothes? Clothes usually work for me.”

“Don’t get cute! I'm fat, you clown, I sweat-- I don’t need clothes. And, I belong in the water, Munson. Its beyond fun, its—“

He cuts you off completely, ignores your scoff, and finishes for you.

“—fulfilling, healing, its what and where you were in every past life, the brain sludge is already building back up as we speak, and ‘I’ll die, I'll just about fuckin’ die, Munson,’ once it drops below 40, I know, stop bitching,” he laughs. His tone? Pure fond; your stomach somersaults. 

You hear the smile widen when he goes on to remind you, “but I guess it's fall now. IE, your favourite.”

“Say ‘bitch’ to me again, I’ll shave your peanut head.”

He takes it back, giggling something about his favourite tough guy, but you know he’s got you there. You definitely are bitching, and—

Halloween month, cider season, big soft sweater weather, rain? It is the best, but it's never too early to argue. 

“You’ll love it, angel.”

You give up, melting again at his affection verbalized. You’re humming assent as he keeps the ball rolling, asking what you’d like to do today instead of going for a swim. Come over and take turns reading the new discount novel he found? Start that mead recipe you made last year? Drive over to Stobin’s—see who can sneak in and scare the shit out of them first? 

All great ideas, you assure him, but you decided long ago that the End of Swim also marked the beginning of piercing season. Your safety moratorium on body mods of all kinds has been lifted, now that you can’t dip your fresh wounds into scummy lake water. 

You've been planning a particular pair for some time. You also decided that it would be a surprise. Your Eddie is observant, dialed in, and sure, maybe you like to play the odd game here and there. He notices you, and you notice right back.  How long, do you think, will it take for him to note a new set of nipple piercings if you don’t warn him first? You figure it’s time to test it.

So, you break his heart a little, and decline to hang out today after all. You’ll see him on your next day off, you promise, and make plans for “four days hence, Munson, quit bitching. I just remembered something else I need to do,” before hanging up on his protests and pulling on your first pair of sweats in 4 months. 

ID, water bottle, and a sweet breakfast in tow, you head for the best (note: only) tat shop you know, braced and ready for a world of pain, going boldly into the cold.

—---------

And there had been almost no pain, at first. You had yelped girlishly before the first needle went in, then felt embarrassed about how easy and quick it had been. Before you had even realized, it was over, and you grinned big at the unique beads framing each pert, dark nipple. You loved them. You loved the piercings, and more than ever, loved your tits. Couldn’t wait to go home and check them out from every angle, actually. 

Then, a malicious towel snag, a careless door-jamb bump, and a hateful sweater-thread later, you were fearing for your life. Over the last few days, you had taken to crouching around them a bit, arms wrapped loose around your stomach as a reminder and for protection. Your nipples were insanely sensitive, now more than ever, and you had never understood ‘til now how often you simply walked through and into things instead of just around.  

But, they were calming down, and with each prescribed saltwater soak you breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of visible irritation. The standard piercing boogers notwithstanding, they looked hot, you felt hot, but found yourself nervous for the big reveal. You thought you would hide them well, your mission made easier by the cool weather and baggier shirts it allowed. 

You’re in his room now. Eddie’s ideas had been good, but you had both decided on the usual– you, rocking up to his trailer and spending the day with him throwing food and trading theories, hours whiled away in artistic pursuits and cat-naps, never too far from one another. It’s been a good day– you’re doing such a good job with the piercings, you forget to hide how entranced you are by Eddie's hands. 

“Aren’t you hot?” 

You count the veins and tendons as they flip pencils and drum against whatever surface they encounter, try to guess how long he can go before he bites that right pinky nail too short again, wonder if he’s running hot today. He’s tactile, your Eddie, but you’re sitting on the floor, legs sprawled, and yeah, a little too warm in the hoodie you came in as he lounges on the bed– too far for his idle touches to distract you into admitting anything. 

You love those hands. You want to taste them one day. He’s looking at you.

Fuck, wait, he’s looking, and you haven’t answered him. You cut your eyes away, to the floor, to your nails, like an idiot. That wasn’t at all suspicious, sure. You’re reasonably sure Eddie hadn’t noticed the piercings themselves yet until, as you snack and he chats again about his sketch, he suddenly drops the pink eraser you’ve been watching his square fingers systematically tear apart.

“N...Noooooo.” He takes in your belated answer and eyes you for a second, then starts talking again. You tug your hands gingerly into the hoodie you’re in and slide the thing over your unwrapped cloud of hair without snagging anything, then toss it away, wiping the light sheen of sweat you realize is cooling on your nose.

 Fuck, here we go. You hadn’t considered you’d have to hide in conversation, just that you had to keep him from seeing. You try to keep your cool, but answer too quickly. This wouldn’t last long.

“Have you been eating weird shit again?” Eddie asks, cutting himself off from explaining the lore of his latest campaign villain. He’s sitting up more since you last looked at him– leaning back on one elbow as the other arm drapes comfy across his belly– and watching you fidget in that weird posture you’ve adopted since the piercings. 

“Eat– We–, me? Weird? What’s– What?” Nailed it. Smooth, like butter. Too player. You thank God or Dolly or whoever’s watching that your blush isn’t visible, because you can already feel your face heating up.

He stares, eyes squinted. You watch your plate, then look back at his lovely hands, fingers pale and impatient, thr-r-r-rumming in sequence against his now-closed notebook.

“What’s with the air-head act? And why are you clutching your tummy and moving like you fell down the stairs?” Okay, that one’s easy.

“Cramps.” Your reply is stiff, but reflexive. The pink in his fingertips as he drums is entrancing. Maybe you’ve saved it– you think you sound sure. He’s silent for beat, and you pick up a cracker and look out the window. Maybe you’re a genius. The fuck’s he gonna do? Argue?

“Hm. Bullshit?” You look up to challenge that, and catch him peering behind you to the stuffed possum you had gifted him when his favourite, real, live, wild possum friend stopped her brief shuffle through the fire pit behind his trailer one drizzly day. 

(Eddie had called it the best week of his life, then declared that he’d never love again.)

After another beat, as if the scruffy thing has read the room and confirmed its answer, Eddie nods once, curls bouncing, then swings his neck dramatically back to you to assert, “bullshit.” 

It's panic creeping up your throat now, because he’s going to see you,  see them, this isn’t– well– it is– but you didn’t think it through, and you aren’t a good enough liar to dodge the impending question. You hem for another moment, hands hovering over your torso, and he looks between them and your face before snapping his bulk upright so fast that the bits of pink littering his lap and thin muscle shirt fly up in the flurry.

“What’re you hiding?”

A frown tugs your lips down before you can stop it. You watch Eddie toss the notebook and, with a loud thump, collapse off the bed boneless into your nest of blankets and towards you like a mad slinky before you can finish saying, “nothing! I’m not– hiding–, wait a second!” 

In that second, Eddie has slithered the 4 feet between him and you, kind of flinging himself on top, landing more gently than you expected in a straddle and pinning your now-closed thighs under his seat before you can wiggle back and away in time. 

“Did you get a tattoo without me? You fucking did, didn’t you?” He might be verging on genuinely hurt, by the sound of it. You’d promised after he’d started his stick-n-poke journey that he’d be your first, (tattooer, that is), once he got some training together. Had swore to him–

“Le’me see– what, is it that shitty? Who the hell did you go to? You can’t be–”

“Ow, Eddie, stop!” Your screeching protest belies real pain this time, curling in on yourself and to the side as much as possible. He bumped a piercing in the shuffle, the pain expected but still shocking, and he backs off a bit and coos in sympathy, all his next words coming out in a frantic rush.

“Fuck, oh no, I’m sorry. I’msosorry, Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

You’ve crossed your arms in front of you, breathing deep through the stinging. As it subsides, he ducks his head to meet your eyeline, his paint-stained palms up, promising no contact. He’s still straddling you, most of his weight on his heels. Still locking you under him, where its very warm.

If you looked down and saw your heart itself beating its way out of your chest, you wouldn’t be shocked. You’re almost choking on it, and plotting how to get him off you without knocking the new piercings again. Its enough to spin your head, to think you’ve been found out this soon, that the bravado in your spirit has fled so quickly at the reality, not just the idea, the real life prospect of showing Munson your tits. 

But it's thrilling, him on top of you. It's always thrilling, a dream fulfilling itself, isn't it? Even if the context is off. This isn't the first time a bout of “weird” from one of you or the other has ended up in a fact-finding mission– sometimes wrestling match, or pillow fight, or wild, short chase through the woods. 

But every time he gets this close, it's like the path between your head brain to the other brain is cleared– heat is flooding the thin cotton that separates you from his well-worn denim faster than ever. He has to get up, right now. You have to keep him there forever. 

You relax as the sting subsides, uncurling and groaning a bit as those strong, clever hands fall to bracket your head on either side. Eddie leans down, sounding the creak of floor beneath you,  and scowls, bathing you in his radiating heat. Studying you, taking in your full lips pressed into a thin, nervous line, your brows turned up where they’d meet, betraying distress. 

“What is going on in there, man?" He's really worried now. When did you start keeping secrets?

“It’s…not a tattoo?” You purse your lips and scrunch your nose, and the sweet smile that flows like syrup across his face seems involuntary.

“Then what else– huh?” Eddie is trying to keep eye contact, but the wheels are turning, and his lovely smile drops. He glances at your arms crossed over your chest, and his jaw falls open, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Not a tattoo. Not ‘a’ anything, actually. Two things.”

“No, you didn’t. No way, not a chance.” Eddie seizes your wrists and ignores your protests, pinning each arm by your ears where his once were, and tries to x-ray inspect you through your shirt. It's dark, but not thick enough to weather this kind of scrutiny. Those telltale bumps are right there in front of him, the middle of each trio hardening as he inspects. So, you give up trying to argue, and shrug, suppressing a smile. 

“With— wha?” Eddie’s looney-tunes double-take makes you hoot a laugh as he swings his head and bouncy curls up and down, looking at you, glancing back at your chest, and up again as he processes what he’s hearing. What the fuck is he hearing? 

Your eyes stay low but your brows arch together as you scoff at him, dork. “You’re really telling me you hadn’t seen them?”

“I’ve– not–wha– I’m sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean–”

But, you had been talking shit. He couldn’t have seen anything in the dark shirt you had been wearing all day unless he’d been staring when you weren’t looking– had he been staring at your tits anyway?

 Did he do that often? Your jaw doesn’t drop so much as glide mischievously open. Surprise dawns and Eddie realizes he has, in fact, given himself away too quickly. Coolest dudes in Hawkins, you two.

He changes tack, slapping the floor by your head, still a little shocked.

“You got your nipples pierced? I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you! You’re full of shit.” His voice is almost petulant in its disbelief, high and tinny.

Your eyeroll is audible, “I mean. I can prove it, Munson.” 

“When?” He gasps, indignant, and slaps the floor with the other hand. 

“You barely have your ears pierced-“ he exaggerates. “Who the hell did ‘em? Was it a guy? You let some guy–”

“Please, some professional? Can you be serious?”

“You can’t take the pain, angel, not without my moral support, there’s no way. You’d have been whining about them being sore all fuckin’ week if you’d gotten your—“ 

He looks at your tits again, jaw slack, but in his shifting sends them undulating with the movement. His whole body goes still, except to inhale very slowly.

You’ve maybe never been this self conscious in your life, but his distraction emboldens you.  

“The idea was ‘surprise’, not ‘ambush’. But,” you drawl, smirking as you twist a wrist easily out of his now slack grip and push yourself up onto your elbows. 

“Do you—well.” Your eyes falter when your voice does. You want to offer proof. You’re not that bold yet, but you’re working up to it. 

He gives you room to sit up completely, hovering over your calves, back almost on his haunches. His heat leeches into your legs, swells in your chest and behind your eyes.

You want to touch him, like you always do. Eddie's deep brown eyes are wider, his mouth slack. His breathing is a little harder too, and you wonder for a second— do you want to un-ring this bell while there’s time?

“No,” he answers. “I mean, yeah, I—“ He rolls his plush lips into his mouth and then parts them, trying to work out how to ask. It’s not a dare anymore, and you feel a shyness completely unfamiliar, laid out in front of your best friend in the world. 

You wilt a little; Eddie finds his courage.

He swallows, and you watch his throat work while he figures out what to say, maybe as nervous as you are.

“Can I see?” He sounds hopeful, gentle, but to soothe you or himself, you can’t tell.

You dont quite answer with, “I’ll have you know, they didn’t hurt. At all, actually. It was...cold. Uncomfy, totally, but not painful— just a bit of a pinch? The last week has been worse than the actual needles were.” 

Eddie seems to realize he’s really staring, and cuts his eyes to the left, almost shy, and he seems to wipe sweat from his palms down the length of his strong thighs.

Your own hands pick at the hem of your shirt, and his gaze is split between your mouth and chest. Then, he shifts his weight, leans back like he’s about to give you space, when you reach for his warm, toned tricep, his skin shifting over muscle as he fidgets, and you’re ready to tell him the rest of the story. You can’t bear to miss his warmth on top of you, you realize. Now or never, you think. 

“I…” you croak, “I thought of you.”

 You hear him choke, like actually choke on his spit, then watch him shake his head like he’s rattling himself out of a haze. Eddie’s locked in on your eyes, searching for even the hint of a joke as you lift the shirt up just your stomach, exposing all the graceful cresting hills of your soft middle to his hungry gaze.

“When I picked them out, I mean.”

“Youf, you– fuc– You did this for me?” He sounds so absolutely incredulous, and breathless, all bravado bled out, or rushing to his reddening cheeks. It's like Eddie opened the next Discworld and found a dedication in his name, like the heavens have opened above him. For him? For him?

“Not for you, you clown, of course not. But like, maybe I wondered which ones you’d say I should get. And maybe... I thought you’d appreciate my pick.” Your crooked smile feels small, and you feel like offering something more substantial. 

So, you do.

“Appreciate..? I. Oh, god, Jesus, I.” You had been lifting your shirt so casually as you spoke, palms sliding up across your skin and dragging cotton with them, a caress so careless it seemed incidental. But you avoid hitting the new bars through each hardening nip, chills putting a mild tremble in your hands that he first catches, and is then distracted from. You watch Eddie’s short-circuit for a bit, feel his thighs tense around yours. You decide then that boldness is the only path forward. 

At the last rounding, you let them hem of the shirt catch on the underside of your bust, and just before its dangerous, lift them up by the hem and then drop them a bit, so they bounce for him, putting on a little show, posture straighter than before in presentation.

You’ve killed him. His plush lips try and fail to form a word, any word, as he lets out another shakey breath and leans back in to you by centimeters.  

“Eddie?” you prompt at his silence, voice quieter now. He’s still a little wide-eyed when he gasps out,

“What. Appreciate? Fuck, you’re beautiful. So, so beautiful. Jesus Christ, I never thought— Are those bats?” He’s moon-eyed and gaping like a dry fish, and you’re too keyed up to even tease him about it. You didn't just think of him, you conspired to match with him, to carry a little bit of him with you.

You know he wants to see you, more than just the piercings, and that teasing smirk is a distant memory, much like your patience. 

“So you hate them, huh?” He’s shocked into laughing before you can finish the question, restoring the quiet to something like normal as he raises his ringed hands to frame the low curve of your breasts. But he takes them in only with his eyes, flitting back and forth between them.

“They look, so so good, so good, god. The color you picked, even,” a warm gold that picks up the warmth in the soft creamy brown of your skin, “it glows, like, perfect. Gold’s your color, Sweetheart. It's all your color.” 

Bravado is fickle. You order him through barely parted lips, like you didn’t mean to say it out loud, then almost slur the hasty backtrack, “touch them. If-you-want, I-mean, if-you—.” 

In Eddie’s mind’s eye, gold falls from the sky; from his mouth tumbles a bewildered, “'If i want?' Are you insane?” 

As he reaches, you nod and sit up a bit straighter, feel heat rise in your cheeks, and take his confession with a crooked smile.

“I dreamt this.”

Here’s you, insufferably coy through a giggle: “Yeah? How’d it go?”

 His own knowing smirk is back, and you shiver, wanting fathoms deep as Eddie's hot hands envelope the heavy mounds of your breasts from below, cupped in the way he had threatened before you granted permission. Eddie seems to weigh them as he holds you, committing to memory how the plush fat of them sits in his palms, how they pebble across with gooseflesh at his very gentle fondling. 

You’re so soft, and warm, and he’s touching you; his mind splits in two. Some of him prays to any god for escalation, the rest could die happy right here.

On contact, you sigh together. Heavy, whispering things— you were both holding your breath— and inhale together, too. Your eyes flutter closed at the the drag of each body-warm ring as they poke into you. His calluses are almost sharp against you where they glide, some of the time ghosting over your skin, but mostly kneading you warmer.

It's your soft little hum of pleasure, how you arch, helpless, into his touch— the indiscreet rub of your knees together, and your thighs into his seat, the way you fight the smile back— these bring him back to himself,  and he checks your face again, watching the small smile grow as your eyes flick up to his. 

“Different,” Eddie intones, low and slow. “We’re out of order.”

You’re watching his pretty mouth again while he feigns serious, but as he moves just one hand to the floor behind you and leans in close, warm Cheez-It-breath tickling your face, setting alight every nerve that wasn’t already screaming for deeper contact. You meet his penetrating gaze and gasp at the pleasure-pain of that ringed thumb finally, finally, swiping up along one pert nipple. 

It's a shocked moan, not a gasp, that opens your mouth as he collides with it, timed perfectly with the upward jolt of your hips into his hardening cock. It's Eddie’s turn to gasp— his rushes out hot and quick, as if from a gut-punch. 

He's fighting for his life trying to steady his voice, act casual. “Usually, I get my mouth on your first.”

With that, he closes the gap again, but this time pulls away with a wet smack, a kiss so brief you’re compelled to chase him and get your licks in.

“Then, my hands,” he says, as he closes his fingers around as much of you as he can grasp with each hand to squeeze. Its at once electrifying and comforting, leaning into him and running from the cold. You want him pressed against you completely, but he's focused on the pillows of supple skin and heat in his hands.

“Promise,” he chokes, “ahhh, promise to tell me if it hurts, angel?”

“Eddie, touch me— I promise— touch me,” you positively beg, and your Eddie, egged on by your fingers now pulling deliciously at the hair on his sensitive nape, recovers fast. He’s on you before he can take his next breath in, and bites down around your bottom lip, pushing you with him gently as he leans forward, mashing your noses together.  

And you kiss Eddie back, hard, sucking his trembling lip between yours and earning yourself a groan that sends a lovely buzz through your jaw where you meet. That fucking noise, and his hand still on you, now not as gentle, sending little shocks of pleasure as he swipes gently along the outer dark ring crowning your nipple. The skin there is tightening, growing impossibly sensitive, and each brush and nudge shocks you between your clamped thighs, makes your body rock a little, sending kinetic energy across you that has him enthralled. So much evidence of his effect on you, the movement anchors him to reality.

"Good?"

"Really good, Eddie, yeah." You squirm under him as he massages one side, then both, then rests his forehead against yours to gaze down, intent on his project. 

“You feel good too, angel,” Eddie groans again, enjoying himself in earnest, crowding you gently together, then letting each breast roll in his hands, rough digits brushing in tandem against beads so taut it almost hurts, so intense its almost too much, but you need more.

“You know what’ll feel even better?” You ask him in a pant, breathless and focused– you need him between your legs too, and desperately, so you nudge one of his, asking to widen so you can rearrange. Eddie obliges, planting one solid knee right against your aching core and letting you fall back, propped up on both elbows. 

Neither of you wastes a second. This kiss is a hot, wet collision of sighs and spit, grinding sloppily into each other through just too many layers of sweet, stiff friction, whining into each other’s open mouths. 

While you nearly lift your hips off the floor, chasing the worn denim between your legs, tension in your lower gut building faster than it ever has alone, Eddie rides your linen-covered thigh just above your bent knee, murmuring between love-bites to your chin, the chubby apple of your grinning cheek, then the crook of your neck, where he finds and then latches onto a spot that makes you seize under his weight, clamping your thighs around the one at the very center of your focus. 

You clasp a hand at the back of his head again, scratching a bit at his neck and forcing a long shaky sigh out of his mouth as the rhythm of his swirling hips grows rough, devolves into a stuttering staccatto race to the finish, and he’s talking himself through it into your shoulder as you barrel him down.

Ed's heaving whines are gorgeous, ragged, as he sighs into your neck about how good you feel under him. He can’t finish a sentence as he groans into your shoulder, all about how good you smell, how he can’t believe you did this for him, how badly he wants to taste them. 

“Taste? I,” you cut yourself off with a near-panicked whine when his leg slinks heavily down, the relief of his wet but still straining crotch-tent another brief sliding kiss against your now soaking cunt, and you resist seizing him by the scalp, to keep him up with you, but only just. You’re both so close; he’s stalling?

No, tasting.

Through your horny fog, your mind starts to process his goal. Eddie works his body down yours urgently, never really breaking contact, and as he slips away all you can do is watch him watch you.

In a thrall, as he draws a scalding trail of open-mouth kisses down the heaving swell of your exposed breasts. The wet kisses cool fast in the chilly air of his room, and it feels so good you don’t care how needy your sighs sound, how obscene and high your breaths echo in your own ears. Then he pauses in his descent to admire you again, breaking eye contact for a few awe-struck moments, dropping a chaste peck just left of the left nip, then resting his forehead on your sternum. When he fully squishes your tits into his cheeks it makes you laugh out loud, and you feel his smile and then chuckle against your stomach.

He seems to paise there for a few moments, content to nuzzle, and your high whine-sigh takes even you off guard. Eddie looks up at the sound but stops himself saying whatevers on his mind. Instead, he double-takes between your mouth and chest once, and again, then and finally asks, “sweetheart?”

He’s got that look like he’s up to something, and you can’t say you mind it. 

Eddie drags his lovely nose across the wide valley between your bust, your shoulders cave a bit with the shiver, and he continues, “can I?”

Taste. Yes, “please, Eddie, yeah,” and he closes his hot mouth over one hard bead, swirling that devilish tongue around and over, knocking it roughly enough to pull a harsh hiss from between your clamped teeth. Your hands are both in his hair again, and in a little pain you pull at his sensitive scalp and feel the buzz of his moaning around you, closing the little pleasure circuit between you.

You feel every wet swipe of tongue like a brand, on your sensitive chest and melting, shocks of heat driving down in your sex, chasing the pressure and pushing your body into his chest where he lays against you. 

One of his hot hands mimics his mouth’s rhythm on the other tit, and the lewd sounds of his deep moans around you are only matched by the obscene slick of his hand finding the soaked core of you under his torso, his fingers tingling over the used cotton.

You nod assent before he can even ask, catching his eyes as he pulls away from your chest to check on you. He finds your open pant, you low lidded attention on only him, and smiles. Then, he grinds his own hips into your leg where he straddles it, lower than before, moaning again around your mound and sucking this time, a new kind of pressure that pulls the neediest cries from you yet. His fingers finally breach your underwear from the side, and the calloused contact jolts you to the precipice, climax just within reach now that your clit has direct, emphatic attention. 

His tongue swirls faster, and Eddie matches that pace with his slick fingers between your cunt lips, circling the trigger and nudging just the top of your gasping hole, pace quickening, just what you're begging him for. Your free leg hitches around his back and pulls him into you, then you clamp up and pull hard at the hair in your grasp, gasping his name over and over as you come shaking, curling around his head, pussy drooling on his rings and wrist, hips frantic in their desperate chase for friction. 

Eddie’s not far behind, rhythm incomprehensible as he’s distracted by his own big finish. He bites down almost too hard around your breast and fucks down onto your trapped leg, groans buzzing through you as he drools and sputters and comes a warm wet mess into the washed-out black. 

The grey light is blinding, you can’t open your eyes at first. But you start to collect yourself when you feel him pull off, sliding his hand slowly out of your panties. You open your eyes to him watching you again, eyes half closed, to him catching his breath, and with no regard for the mess on his hand he gathers your collar in his fist and hauls you forward for another kiss, other hand tucked in the soft folds of your waist, grasping, clutching, pulling you in.

“Ouch.” You say, with no heat at all. 

As he scoffs, Eddie slinks back down again to kiss it better, another gentle peck just to the side of the most sensitive bud of your breast where he sucked and nibbled hard enough to bruise. Just a pinch, indeed.

“Aw, I’m sorry, angel,” he promises, only a little sarcastic, and finally rounds his mouth around your right nipple, which he had neglected until now. 

Then, you hear the slightest crunch. Like crumbs rubbing together.

Eddie smacks his lips a couple times, tasting, considering.

"Salty," he says. No way.

Oh, god, no. No fucking way. He still licking you clean but you freeze, then he does, but Eddie, knowing exactly what he just set you up for, loses it. He buries the cackle in your tummy as it dawns on you, and you do some quick math– you last showered this morning, which means you last soaked your piercing this morning, maybe 10 hours ago.

Eddie crawls back up your body as you wail, “ohhh, my God, Munson, why would you—? I cannot–” and lands eye-level, with you spent and boneless on your back, him in a table-top pose, arms propped by your shoulders. 

He hadn't been neglecting your other side, he had been saving it.

10 hours. More than enough time for new “crusties” to form, so more than enough time to build your own nightmare from natural scratch. And he didn’t hesitate, or mention it at all, that your piercings were clearly crusted over as part of the usual healing process, he just sucked them off anyway like they were in the way.

“You– absolute– freak! Eddie what the fuck! Did you fucking eat it? Are you insane?”

“What? I helped! And it’s probably, like, I don’t know, nutritious somehow. Protein?” He shrugs, smirking in the face of your horror, your embarrassment. You hadn’t thought to look at your own tits when the idea of his eyes on you had been more than enough to deal with.

You punctuate every few words with sharp shoves, which barely register as nudges to him from your angle, still under him, fighting his weight and gravity itself. Little by little, he sinks against them, and you tire yourself out before his chest traps your arms between the two of you.

“You– sicko, I didn’t– give you permission– to snack on me.”

“You even said ‘please,’ sweet heart, no take backs. I believe they’re my boogers now.” His smile is just content now, mischief subsumed by all the love in his eyes. You were in his mouth; now you’re on your way through his system. He thinks its romantic.

He ate it. Like a weird pet left unattended too long, he saw something new and simply put his mouth on it. Your-- friend? hardly, you think-- Eddie Munson just ate the new piercing boogers off you, straight from the source as he came in his jeans. You don’t even know what to do, so bewildered you shove his shoulders and chest as rough as he’ll allow before he seizes your wrists and pins you again, only this time, your tits are still out. 

“Without full knowledge, that’s twisted– you’re sick.” Your smile betrays you. What a weirdo, sure, but who else would full-send like that? You can’t think of anyone you’ve dated– anyone you’ve let touch you– that has ever been so close, and you haven’t even seen his cock yet. 

God, what a freak– your freak, you think with a thrill.

“Yeah yeah, heard it before."

Its quiet for a bit as you stare at each other, smiles crooked and soft.

"Well. Cat’s out of the bag?”

“Seems that way.” So, there's your "what are we" convo' all sorted.

“Good. So you know— " Eddie ducks his head to tap his nose against yours, then pulls back again to hover a little closer than before, "clothes are no longer an option.”

“What. The hell are you saying.”

“I'm saying,” he whispers, suddenly against your ear, dragging out each syllable, and slides his thumb and it's cool bat ring now poking out of a soft fist across your collarbone and up your shoulder, just to see you shiver again, just to watch you shake.

“hu-.. what, Munson, spit it out!” Now, you grab him by both wrists, and the quick movement brings his eyes to your tits again, gold titanium winking in the gray light. The soft wave of your body warms his core. He's half-hard already just watching you move.

“Too late, ha.” You groan, still grossed out, and anticipating this, he groans with you, mocking. You feel it through your own chest, feel it down your pinned leg.

Then, Eddie’s voice is soft too, at once dreamy and deadly serious, when he says, “You,” drops a kiss on one shoulder, “were so, so right,” and another on the other, “you won't need clothes ever again.” 

—--------------—

Its only days later, your next day off, when your favorite metalhead greets you at your front door. You don’t even have time to say hello before he’s flashing you; Eddie yanks his shirt up, fast as he can, to show off two glinting barbells, twin gold angel wings framing each nipple, still red and a little swollen from the piercing.

He beams at you, proud of the shock written all over your face, and before you can recover, cradles your face with one ringed hand and swoops in to plant one on your open mouth, grinning all the while. 

[sherryflavoured]

Will i be WHAT?!

summary: soooooo...You're pregnant, but you don't know how to tell Ben. One day at a family gathering, everyone but him notices, and they start dropping little hints.

warnings: none, this is pure fluff until I start to feel good to make a smut OS on this app. im gonna use (you) for this one since its less complicated to write.

you and ben aren't exactly the "right" age to be parents, its not even allowed to be called an adolescent pregnancy or something like that. it has no name, it was just a pregnant, early pregnant. there were so many things on play due to the situation, ben's career, your college and the relationship. your main preocupation wasnt your college or your parents, it was ben's career just because you believe it would be an obstacle for him, even if he doesn't think about it in that way. the funny thing is, you manage to hide it.

The funny thing was that, you havent told Ben. you havent found the encouragement to do it and your belly was starting to show with the other pregnancy sintoms. of course you manage to hide it, but anything is enough hidden in life. the family meeting was the boiling point and the edge for you and your little big secret. Ben had told you that he wanted you to accompany him to a family gathering at his house, as his grandparents were coming to visit. Of course, the whole family was going to be there, and that made you a little much nervous. It was the first time there had been such a big gathering since you and Ben had started dating.

You dressed up from head to toe, bought a cute summer dress, had your nails done and even got a haircut. You looked beautiful, and of course everyone noticed, but they also noticed your extraordinary glow. Yes, that typical pregnancy glow. Before you left home, you'd been struggling a little with your appearance, thinking your baby bump was starting to show, which obviously made you panic. Ben, in his innocence, assured you that you looked very pretty and not at all "fat" as you'd claimed. Of course, "fat" didn't mean the same thing to him as it did to you.

-Baby, Why do you say you look fat?, you look more perfect than ever.- Ben had a genuine smile and a dopey look on his face as he watched you stare in the mirror. God, you couldn't tell how embarrassed you were right now. -It's okay...its nothing.- Ben looked at me for a few long seconds, unsure of my answer, but he gave in when I smiled sweetly at him. I heard him get up from the bed and, in a few steps, he was standing behind me in front of the mirror. He placed his hands on my waist and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek.-You look beautiful, my love. Never doubt it.- My smile widened and I felt a warm glow in my chest, the kind that only Ben could evoke. I turned in his arms, tiptoed up to him and placed a soft kiss on his lips.-Thank you, Benny. I love you so much.-

After a while, we arrived at Ben's parents' house. Noise could be heard inside, confirming that several relatives had arrived. Emma's bright presence greeted us as the young woman opened the door and threw herself into Ben's arms. She hadn't seen the brunette in a long time, so she was very excited to see him again. She gave me a warm hug and a compliment that I didn't fully understand. 'You look bright, darling,' she said, and it made my skin crawl.-thank you, Em', you look very pretty too.-

We received a warm welcome when we arrived in the backyard of the large house. Ben's cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles were all there, implying that we had arrived late. We soon got distracted and went our separate ways. Ben's mother had asked me to keep her company while she prepared the side dishes with Ben's aunts. All the women in the house agreed on one thing: I had a different kind of glow. And that was all I needed to know that they already knew. Of course, they weren't stupid; they were mothers too, and they were young women in their pasts. The only one I confirmed to in my own words that I was pregnant was Ben's mother. She was my mother-in-law. Obviously, I should have told her. Her words were simple, though her eyes betrayed the emotion she felt. 'Honey, you've made me the happiest woman tonight… When Ben finds out, he's going to faint.'

When we all returned to the backyard, Ben sensed the slight shift in the energy of his female relatives and the way they looked at him slyly. The last sign came when we were saying goodbye to Ben's parents after a long night of family fun. Ben's father, 'Brian,' gave me a knowing look and a few words that drove Ben crazy. As soon as we settled into the car and hit the road, my gorgeous boyfriend's voice blared over the radio.-Will you explain to me what happened while you were with my aunts and mother that everyone was looking at me in such a strange way?…I really felt scared for a moment.- There was a slight joking tone in his voice but he sounded worried too.

I shifted a little uncomfortably in my seat, adjusting the hem of my dress. I noticed him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and I knew I had to say something before he got more worried. "I have to tell you something, Ben… and I don't know if it's good or bad." The dark-haired man had to stop the car. If he was going to listen to what I had to say, he'd at least have to make sure I wasn't going to cause a disturbance on the road. When Ben pulled over, he turned around to look at me, his full attention on me. However, I couldn't do the same. My gaze was fixed on my hands, which were moving nervously before Ben's warm hand intervened. "I… I know you're at a high point in your career and that you still have a long way to go. My intention isn't to interfere with your plans, but I really didn't know how this happened…"

My voice began to quiver and I gripped Ben's hand tighter, as if trying to ensure he wouldn't leave. -What's wrong, baby?' I am seriously worried.-I take a few breaths before finally speaking, the expression on Ben's face was a poem that could never have been described, poor man. - I'm pregnant … - Total silence, that was what invaded the car and for a moment I almost burst into tears. - I'm going to be WHAT?! - Instead, I burst into laughter when he hugged me tightly and started covering my face with kisses. - IT CAN'T BE! … I AM THE LUCKIEST MAN IN THIS WORLD!.

-oh...I thought you wouldn't like the news...I was worried.-He shook his head, smiling and caressing my hair with a delicate touch.-why would I be mad when my gorgeous girlfriend is gonna be the mother of my baby?...this is all I had ever dreamed once, babe.- I can't help but kiss him, it's soft and calm, spilling all the love I have for him in a simple motion.

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

this took me more than I thought :(( i still couldn't finish the first dash I have.

[thatssonanii]

Chapter Two

Warnings: Cursing, bit of smut, 18+ only

Masterlist

Chapter One

The day started almost normally for the couple except Moriah usually joined him when he went to workout or went to class but this time he left her sleeping peacefully in their bed. Being in the performance center felt surreal to him, a part of him felt like he shouldn't be there and he almost turned back around. He spent most of his day seeing doctors and a couple psychiatrists before he even got to look at workout equipment and the rings. 

"You look a lot different without Moriah on your hip," Booker called out with a smile as he approached him, "Lot less nice to look at too. What's going on man? You good? "

Zilla chuckled accepting the hand slap. "I'm good, just got done talkin to the docs and everything. Finally gettin out here to see all this."

"Yeah? And how you feel about all this?" Booker asked, gesturing with his hands. 

He took a moment trying to think through the question, that was the third or fourth time someone had asked but he still didn't have an answer. 

"Honestly," he started with a huff, "I don't know yet. Ask me again at the end of the week, big dog."

"Alright but I want my answer. How's Moriah and your mom? I'm sure they've called a few times already today."

"My mom called this morning and just been texting me. Fat ain't called surprisingly, probably stressing herself out about applying to hospitals and shit."

Booker grunted out a chuckle. "You probably right. I gotta do a few things but ima come back around to check on you. Don't hurt yourself."

After Booker left him, Zilla found a corner to sit in and pulled out his phone. He checked his messages, responding to a few then called his girlfriend. 

"Hey, baby. You okay?" Her voice flowed excitedly through the receiver putting a smile on his face. 

"Yeah, I'm good. Glad to hear your voice, Fat. Thought you would've called me by now."

"I wanted to but I didn't wanna bother you or mess anything up on your first day," she sighed softly, "Plus my mom and dad, mostly my mom, bought a living room set for us and it got delivered a lil bit after you left."

He scrunched his face up at her words. "Living room set?"

"Yup. Sofa, coffee table, TV stand and another TV. My dad said he was tryna talk her out of it because I'd already told him that we had it."

"But Ms. Nadine just couldn't help herself," he chuckled, biting at his low cut nails, "Shit that's alright though. We can call her and thank her later."

"Um, that's okay, Zay. I can just text her a thank you for the both of us. "

He glanced around the empty room as he spoke. "Naah, we can call her. I'd rather say what I gotta say to her than text it."

The line went silent for a moment. 

"What you gonna say?"

"Ima thank her for thinking enough about us to give us a spot to get busy till we get our bed cause that air mattress ain't gon hold up if I fuck you on it."

He laughed loudly at her choking and sputtering that followed his words. While he was laughing and said it jokingly, Moriah knew that given the chance Zilla would absolutely say that to her mother to get under her skin. 

"Isaiah!"

"What?" He laughed. "Can't nobody hear me but you."

She laughed. "You're not talkin to my mama ever cause I know you and you will say it."

"It's the least I can do after she bought us condoms and a sofa. She clearly wanna make sure I'm able to give you what you need so she want me to thank her."

"And what does Zilla think I need?"

"Zilla thinks, nah Zilla know you need some dick. Been what a week? Yeah, that's too long, you gon get all grumpy and shit."

"I hate you, I truly do."

"I see you ain't deny it though. You know Zilla right. Ain't I, Fat?"

Hearing footsteps, Zilla looked up seeing an unfamiliar man standing there with his hands up near his chest,  laughing a bit. 

"My bad, man. Ain't know nobody was in here."

"You straight," Zilla stood from his spot, "I can move around if you needa workout."

"Ion wanna interrupt your call. I know what its like sneaking to make phone calls, them coaches do not play when you supposed to be working out," he chuckled, "Edwin but everybody call me Bronco. It's easier. You Zilla, ain't it?"

The two men shook hands while Moriah cooed into the phone. 

"Yeah that's me. Good to meet you, you like the first actual wrestler I met since I been in this bitch." He chuckled. 

Bronco laughed, going to sit his water jug down. "Felt the same way my first day. All I saw was them damn doctors. You wanna lift with me? It's gon be a minute for somebody else come talk to you."

Zilla thought for a moment then nodded. "Yeah, that sounds cool. Ain't doin shit else. Fat," He called into the phone, taking a small step away, "Ima call you when I get a chance but call or text if you need me. Aight?"

"Awwwee my baby making friends. I'm so proud of your mean ass. You go head I'll be okay."

He laughed, "Doin way too much. Love you."

'Love you too," she giggled, "Go lift with your friend and be nice. Oh and get his number and gamer tag thingy."

"Man," he laughed, "Bye, Fat."

The two set up the weights they were comfortable with on their own leg extensions before starting. Being able to hold a conversation with someone who not too long ago went through the same process he's going through felt like a breath of fresh air. He had talked to plenty of veterans and current superstars but they were far removed from his current situation. It didn't hurt that he was close in age either.

"That was your girl?" Bronco asked, glancing over. 

He finished his rep before answering. "Yeah it was. Was checkin on her since she hadn't called."

"Long distance or she around here?"

"Around here," he chuckled, "Her mean ass wasn't gon let me be too far from her. She like to be up under me."

Bronco laughed a bit. "She mean and clingy? How that work?"

"Honestly hell if I know," he laughed, "She been that way since we was kids. Was mean as hell to me but cried or had a attitude if I left her."

"Oh yall been knowing each other? That's what's up. Yall been together for a minute?"

He shook his head as he did a few more reps. "Nah, it's been a year and a half. We just known each other since we was kids.."

"Damn that's a long ass time and she been mean as hell that whole time?" He joked.

Zilla stopped his reps to laugh. "Man, hell yeah. That's my Fat though." Unable to help himself, he pulled his phone out to show Bronco his lock screen which had a picture of him, her and his mom. "That's her."

"Respectfully, she's beautiful, man. Better hold on tight to her."

"Oh I plan on it. Already told her she ain't goin nowhere."

As he was putting his phone back into his pocket notifications started coming through. When he saw the notifications his smile dropped into a frown. He opened each one, took a screenshot then put his phone away. Although Bronco noticed his slight mood change, he said nothing not wanting to get in his business. 

"Which ones you think look better, Ma?"

Moriah propped her phone up on one of the shelves to hold up three sets of drapes.

"I think my son is gonna get you when he gets home," she laughed. "I'm starting to think he's right about you being hard headed."

After getting off the phone with her boyfriend, Moriah ubered to Target to get more things for their apartment and just like she would if she was still in Texas, Moriah brought Leata with her. Only this time it had to be virtually. 

"Ma," she laughed, "Don't do that. You're supposed to be on my side. Which ones? My arms getting tired."

Leata chuckled. "The sofa is gray so the gray and white ones. Black and red for the bedroom."

She put the selected ones into her buggy then grabbed her phone, continuing her trek through the store and her conversation. 

"And you couldn't do this when he got home, Rye?"

"I wanted to surprise him with a semi decorated apartment, Ma."

"Oh you're gonna surprise him alright. You and I both know he's gonna care about the fact that you did something he asked you not to do."

Moriah thought for a second as she came to a stop to look at dishes. "No, because this is gonna stay between me and you. I'll tell him I had it all delivered."

Leata stared at her trying not to laugh. She was honestly just glad the two of them wouldn't be arguing in her house and she didn't have to play referee. 

"I'm not gonna tell him but if he finds out, I'm not getting in trouble with you, Rye."

Moriah laughed louder than she intended, pressing on from the dishes. "You the mama though. You can just tell him that everything was okay."

"I am but none of my boys know that. Especially not Zilla."

"Well," she laughed, "At least we'll be in trouble together."

"What am I gonna do with you?" She laughed. "Get condoms while you're in there, Moriah. I don't care how many you have, you can always have more."

Moriah felt her skin heat up and she mumbled an 'okay'.

"Oh now she's quiet," Leata joked. "You act like I have no idea what you and my son do. Like the two of you weren't in my house doing it."

She laughed. "Yeah but remember I said we call it Bruno and don't talk about it. We just act like it doesn't happen."

It was Leata's turn to laugh. "Oh please, Rye. Get the condoms or we're really gonna have to talk about you expecting."

"Aht. No. We would just call that immaculate conception and leave it at that."

In the hours Moriah waited for the arrival of her boyfriend, she put away the groceries she had delivered, hung drapes in their bedroom and living room, hung up their pictures around their apartment and put the decorations she'd gotten around their living room. She had gotten him a gift for his first day at the PC, left it wrapped on their new sofa while she started on dinner. 

It was a little after 6 p.m. when Zilla came through the door. He dropped his bag near the door then headed to the breakfast bar where he dropped his keys. Stopping what she was doing, Moriah went to him with a big smile on his face and jumped on him excitedly. He offered no movement to hold onto her nor did he kiss her back when she placed her lips on his. Instead he stared at her. 

"I missed you, baby. How was your day? You tired?" She smiled, her arms and legs still wrapped around him. 

"It was straight. No, I'm not tired." 

He tapped her hip, letting her know he wanted her to get down and she did. After staring at him for a moment, she grabbed his hand turning him back to the living room. 

"So this is what my parents got. My dad said he picked the sofa because she tried to be funny again and pick a small one. Like it?" Moriah chuckled. "I decorated a little to make it feel like a home for us. I got us drapes for in here and our bedroom. Our pictures are up."

Zilla looked around, nodding as he did. His nostrils flared slightly. "I see. I'm finna take a shower. I'll be back," he informed as he pulled his hand away from hers. 

She laughed a little, "Oh you're not gonna ask if I need anything before you get in?"

He chuckled a bit, rubbing his hands together. "Nah, you pretty good at gettin what you need. You got it."

With that, he went to their bedroom, closing the door behind him. She thought to go behind him but decided against figuring being at the PC conjured up some deep feelings and he needed time to himself. She grabbed his bag from the floor, took it to their laundry closet and deposited most of it into the washer. Once the machine was running, she went back to cooking Zilla's actions were mostly forgotten. She knew eventually he would apologize and explain himself, she wasn't exactly worried. 

Thirty minutes later, he was back leaning against the breakfast bar watching his girlfriend quietly. His phone sat unlocked on the bar in front of him. She turned around to grab a paper towel and screamed, her hand clutched over her heart. 

"You scared the shit outta me, Zay. You need a bell," she fussed, playfully. "Why you just standing there looking at me?"

He continued to stare at her, trying to carefully put his words together in his head. 

"Seriously, you're being weird. What's wrong with you?"

He took a moment before responding.

"How you got all that?" He asked gesturing towards the living room. 

She turned the pots down on low then gave him her attention. "My parents bought that, Zay. You don't remember me telling you that?"

"I ain't talkin about that. I'm talkin about everything else."

"Oh," she giggled, "Thought you had a concussion. I ordered it from Target this morning. And some stuff from Walmart when I ordered the groceries."

He stared at her. "Yeah?"

"Uuh yeah. The rest of the stuff was in the gifts we got before we left Texas."

Pulling up his earlier screenshots, he turned his phone around and slid it across the counter to her. He watched her look between him and his phone. 

"Swipe left," he requested calmly, "It's three of em." He chuckled watching her face go from confused to nervous as she swiped through the uber confirmation, her location notification, and the target transaction on their bank account. "Ima ask again. How you got that?"

She pouted. "I was tryna surprise you."

"Surprise me by doin some shit I asked you not to do, Moriah? That's a helluva surprise. If that's ya idea of a surprise then I don't want no more from you."

"But, Zay, it was quick and nobody bothered me. And I'm Fat."

He squinted at her. "You think I give a damn about that? I asked you not to fuckin do it and you did it anyway, Moriah. How you thought I wasn't gon know? You used our bank account not yours, we share the uber account and we share our locations." 

She played with her fingers as he fussed at her. She wanted to say something but didn't know what to say that wouldn't make things worse. 

"What if something happened to your ass and I was at the PC? Who was gonna come get you?" He asked, hitting the counter. "The fuck was I gon do and I wasn't with you?"

It finally clicked for Moriah. She had scared him. 

"I didn't mean to scare you, Zilla. I didn't think about it like that."

He stared at her, his jaw clenching and nose flaring. "I clearly said I ain't want you gettin in no strange ass car yet you did that shit anyway. Ain't no surprise worth ya life, Moriah."

"I know, I just," his voice cut her off.

"No!" He barked, making her take a step back. "You don't know cause you did it anyway! Your mom already think I can't fuckin take care of you and you go and do that shit! I ain't move us to the other side of the country to lose ya lil ass just cause you hard headed, Moriah!"

Taking a chance, she moved around the bar to hug him. She hugged him tight, her head laid on his chest but just as when he'd gotten home, he made no move to return the affection. He let her hug him for a minute then pulled her arms from around him. 

"Watch out," he said softly. 

She tried to hug him again, only to be stopped. "I'm sorry, Zay. Just let me hug you."

"Forreal, Moriah, watch out." He put her hands by her side then grabbed his phone and went to their bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

Lying across their air mattress, he facetimed his mother. He was pretty sure that she knew what Moriah had done but he still wanted to talk to her. She answered with a smile until she saw him glaring at her. 

"Well hello to you too, son."

"You knew she went?"

"Hey, mom. How was your day? That's what normal children say to their mamas."

He huffed. "Hey, Ma. How was your day?"

"It was good. Thank you for asking, son. How was yours?" She asked with a slight brow raise. 

"It was good till I found out your daughter can't follow directions."

She chucked. "I told her that you were gonna find out."

"So you did know she went."

"Of course I did. Who do you think she took with her?" She deadpanned. "I talked to her from the moment she started getting ready until she finished putting things up when she got back."

He felt somewhat relieved about that but he was still pretty upset. 

"I asked her not to do that, told her that she could just drop me off and take the car but no. Just had to be hard headed like always."

"So if you know she's always hard headed, which by the way so are you, then why are you upset?" She asked. 

"Because, Ma."

She stared at him. "Because what, son?"

"If something happened to her that would've been on me. What was I gon do without her mean ass?" He chuckled, starting to calm down. 

"Okay so when you asked her not to do it, did you tell her why you didn't want her to do it?"

"No but I shouldn't have to. Me askin her not to do it shoulda been enough."

Leata chuckled seeing the serious expression on his face. "Okay so knowing that she's hard headed, like you, you told her not to do something without giving her a reason. A reason that more than likely would've deterred her from doing it. I got that right?"

Huffing again, Zilla sat quietly thinking over her words. "When you put it like that, I get it but this ain't my fault, Ma. It's hers. She shouldn't have went."

"And that's true, she shouldn't have went but you also should've told her how you felt." She explained softly. "If you would've told her that you were afraid something would happen to her if she went, do you think she would've gone?"

"No."

"So then it sounds like you both have some fault in this, Zilla."

"I guess so, Mama."

"Now go talk to her and you're gonna apologize for yelling at her. You know better than that."

He frowned. "How you know I yelled at her?"

"Oh please, you think you're the only one who ran to me? She's been texting me this whole time," she laughed, "She knows her fault and now you know yours. Get in there and apologize."

"I'm goin, I'm goin," he said as he pushed himself up from the air mattress. 

"Thank God I'm not there. I love yall."

After hanging up with mom, Zilla took a second to get himself together before going back out to face his girlfriend. Seeing her curled up on the sofa in tears softened him up. He went to kneel in front of the sofa where she was, wiping the tears away from her face.

"Are you melting or are these tears?" He joked. 

She laughed a little through her tears as she sat up. "I'm melting. I'm also sorry. I should've respected your wishes and not done that."

He nodded, standing up from his position he pulled her up from the sofa and into his arms. He kissed her forehead, swaying them gently. 

"I accept your apology and I apologize for yelling and for my part." He spoke softly. "I should've told you how I felt. I can't lose you, I wouldn't know what the hell to do without your mean ass. I wanna keep you around for as long as I can, baby."

"I understand that now. Thank you for telling me."

He leaned down to capture her lips in a deep kiss. "You welcome. You still cookin'?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm finished. Hungry?"

He smirked as he lifted her up into his arms. "Yeah but not for that."

She gasped softly. "You don't wanna open your gift first?"

"If it ain't you inside that bag, it can wait." He responded, dropping her gently onto the sofa and climbing on top of her. "I'm more interested in breakin in this sofa Ms. Nadine got us."

Moriah squealed out a laugh as he buried his face in her neck. "You're still not talking to her. I didn't forget."

"Not yet I'm not," he responded biting her neck, "Gonna test this out first then give her a accurate review."

She giggled, "We need a condom, Zay."

Not stopping his kissing and biting on her neck, he pulled one from the pockets of his basketball shorts and held it up so she could see. 

"Always prepared," she joked softly. 

Moriah's moans mixed with the smacking of their skin and Zilla's groans and cursing echoed loudly throughout the apartment. He held a tight grip on her hip with one hand and the other landed smacks to her backside. 

"I can't hear you, Fat." He called out as he delivered deep strokes. "Say that shit louder."

With her face buried in the decor pillow, her voice came out muffled. He was sure of what she was saying but that was good enough for him. Keeping his hand on her waist the other traveled up her back to her neck and wrapped around her throat. He pulled her up, keeping the arch in her back, never slowing his stroke. 

"Say it again, Fat," he spoke softly into her ear as he squeezed her throat lightly, "And I might let you cum."

She groaned softly, meeting his thrusts as best she could. 

"Fuck, baby."

Slowing his strokes, he chuckled in her ear and held her hips steady to stop her own movements. "That's not it, baby. Try again."

"I'm sorry, Zay," she whined trying to move, "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

"That's my girl. Shit, there you go," he groaned. 

Quickening his strokes again, he reached down rubbing her clit to help push her over the edge. He spoke softly in her ear, talking her through her release. 

"After we eat, we can facetime Ms. Nadine." Zilla laughed, taking a bite of his taco.

"Isayah, I will knock that taco outta your hand," she laughed, "Stop that."

"What kind of son in law would I be if I ain't tell her how the sofa worked out for us? Enough room for both of us, enough room for you to run or try anyway. And this bitch ain't move at all and throw off my stroke. Shit, I give it a ten outta ten, Fat."

Laughing, he moved his plate when she tries to swipe it out of his hand. She pushed his shoulder playfully. 

"I really hate you, Fatu."

He laughed harder. "That ain't what you was sayin' ten minutes ago but I could be wrong. Maybe I should ask our neighbors cause I'm sure they heard you."

"Shut up talkin to me," she laughed going to grab his gift, "I shouldn't give your ass nothing since you like annoying me. But here, happy first day."

Sitting his plate on the coffee table, he took the gift from her and stole a kiss. He shook it playfully. 

"Mmm, my baby got me something," he said as he tore the paper off the box then opened it, "Damn … you ain't have to do this, Fat."

A proud smile spread across her face as she watched his face light up. Before they left Texas she got a blanket made for him with pictures of him and his family on one side and on the other pictures of him and her to give to him on his first day. 

"It's for when you're on the road and you miss us. We'll always be with you." She explained as she watched him go over each picture of him and his family, noticing he lingered on the pictures of him and his dad. "You like it, Zay?"

"Love it. I love it," he put it in his lap and pulled her into a tight hug, "I love you. Thank you, pretty girl. I appreciate this."

"You're welcome. So … can I know about your day now?" 

Chuckling, he held onto the blanket as he took her through his first day. He told her about the doctors he had to talk to, the tours and the talks he had with Hunter, Shawn and Booker.

"That sounds fun, like you had a good day, babe. Did you see your friend anymore?"

He laughed, "I just met em, he not my friend."

"But he will be, I already know. So did you see em or not?"

"You just gon make me be friends with em," he chuckled. "But nah I ain't seen em but he sent me his number on Instagram."

"Awwwe, see? Friends!"

"Anyway, you applied to any hospitals today?"

"I did. Three of them. There's one close to the performance center, I'm kinda hoping I get that one but they want at least 3 years experience."

He shrugged, "They want that but that don't mean they won't pick you. You got good references and shit. And if they don't pick you, I'll make em."

"Baby," she laughed, "You can't do that but thank you for offering."

"Of course. Don't worry about cleanin up, I got it tonight. You go get ready for bed."

She squinted, "You want something, what is it?"

He got up from the sofa, carefully placing the blanket on it then gathered their dishes. "Ion want nothin, fat head You just need to get some sleep."

"Why is that? I don't have nowhere to go tomorrow."

He leaned down to kiss her forehead then headed to their kitchen, throwing his answer over his shoulder. 

"Cause ima wake you up before I leave in the morning."

[panelshowsource]

If you had to pick a top three favorite episodes of any panel shows EVER, which would you choose? One of mine would have to be Terry Wogan guest hosting old NMTB, which I am dying to watch again in my lifetime. Your old-NMTB-posting reminded me just how amazing and formative those old episodes were for me. Anyway, it got me thinking… I would love to hear yours!

as long as i'm allowed to answer this totally subjectively...! because the objectively most iconic panel show episodes are probably quite different to the ones i gravitate to especially for rewatching — and especially in this difficult recent climate 🫥

this choice is almost bizarre knowing me, a huge huge huge sean lock fan, but this episode of cats does countdown — without sean! and not even golden era, probably, whatever that is in my mind — is so ridiculous and chaotic and stupid that i've watched it about 1000 times. there's something very specific about the dynamic between jimmy, jon, roisin, and joe without sean; those four have been in quite a few episodes without sean and they're like actual children without an adult in the room: jon is goofier and completely lets go of the game, jimmy throws even more to roisin (we do not talk enough about what a fucking kick jimmy gets out of her), roisin and joe's insane sibling dynamic becomes next level. anyways—this episode, which includes rly funny mascots, glory hole, the fucking hoop game and joe eating an onion and jon eating peppers???, THE UNICORN, its sheer childishness just cracks me up every time :') (if we're gonna mention the golden age, 2.02 is very iconic — from rhod killin it and always arguing with jimmy to claude to nick x susie hahaha but i have sooooo many catsdown episodes i love love love)

i really love the episode of 8 out of 10 cats following jimmy's tax scandal. it's not one of my favourite panel shows in general, but the circumstances of the news and the discussion epitomised what the show was meant to be: panel show meets reality tv meets a comedy central roast. watching that live, as the news was running it so heavily that even the prime minister mentioned it, as the press and twitter were reacting to it... wild times. it holds up incredibly well — it's hilarious watching them rip him to shreds, because he deserves every word and they're having a ball doing it to him, and i really appreciate jon grounding the conversation in just how tax avoidance hurts their country and some of its hardest workers — a really interesting, engaging mix of comedy and anger and wit and disappointment and political commentary that is not only funny but strikingly relevant no matter how much time passes. like so, so many people who were so, so disappointed in jimmy, this was the foundation of his carrying the responsibility, shame, reflection, and growth that people wanted to see — and that he truly needed to. since then he's talked a lot about not only righting the wrong (in paying back what he owed in avoidance) but just how the system is so broken — and taking the least complicated, most honest road forward since.

now i want to pick 1000 different things this is why i don't make lists or rank things!!!!! while my instinct is to pick a big fat quiz, i'm actually gonna go top-level nostalgia and say this episode of buzzcocks when stephen fry was a guest. what can i say — simon, stephen, it was two intellectual, mildly bitchy homosexuals on a stacked panel including josie long, dominic cooper, and yet another skinny white rock man for simon to pretend he's not trying to flirt with. stephen saying "there is a history, in pop music, of recto-veginal insertion" and denouncing god, like, in the first 5 minutes? stephen doing the intros round?? did i mention history boys-era dominic cooper??? such a throwback!!! (not to cheat but this ep with josh groban & martin freeman is my runner up)

i want to apologise to big fat quiz, taskmaster, wilty... THE WHOLE HISTORY OF PANEL SHOWS... I WISH I COULD CHOOSE YOU ALL

[thefatisland]

I found a Formerly Fit example from the webtoon, “My Life as a Loser 2”. The first chapter has the main character having gotten overweight since the end of its previous.

Very interesting! Thanks for sharing! I had found another webtoon with a similar weight gain through a Youtube video, and it made me realize how this seems like a "vaguely" common thing among these specific creations - it echoed also some of the weight gain/loss moments of "Lookism" (which, as an aside, I used to enjoy but grew to hate so much)

[Okay, brief rant about Lookism - I originaly dug the concept, you know, it felt fresh and weird and unusual, and yeah it was dark but it covered some serious and needed topics. But on one hand the whole thing grew so much dark and about evil people and stuff that I remembered I joked a long time ago "Does the author of Lookism actually hate South Korea? Because from the way he keeps describing everything wrong with it upped to 100% degrees, you'd think Korea is just filled with bullies, rapists, mafia, serial killers and disturbed psychos. And on the other hand what I actually grew to hate is how this webtoon was so fucking inconsistent. The tone kept switching from serious to goofy to family drama to action movie to lifeschool slice of life to pure horror, and the plot went fucking everywhere, it was like a blended mix of every type of manhwa around, it made zero sense in the long run... Anyway, I don't like Lookism at all Xp Though it does have one interesting character in terms of weight gain and body sizes, too bad he is in one of those "Bakugou" cases where the author makes you want to enjoy him as a side character and a "goofy" sidekick when he starts out as the worst piece of scum ever... Another thing I hate about Lookism - for a comic supposedly anti-bullying, it seems to forgive bullies and teach a "don't stand up to bullies, just be strong enough they won't bully you" type of logic... Anyway]

Okay I found back the other weight gain example I found - it is from "Wind Breaker", a webtoon about bicycle competition apparently? And there's this side character that undergoes a "Let's gain mass to be stronger", except he just becomes very fat, and to do a bicycling race it is not the best thing. If you google "Wind Breaker weight gain" online you'll find tons of vids or TikTik/Instas/whatever that all go crazy about how the character turned fat for a while...

But yeah I kind of see these three instances as answering something quite similar in those webtoons. Some sort of, I don't know... There's something there.

And oh wait... Oh shit I remember now! Okay so, the thing is that I am reading the chapter as I write this, and it just clicked that I used to look at this webtoon! X) Not this one but the previous "My Life as a Loser". I started reading it when in its prime when the first series was still going on - it wasn't finished and I didn't follow up with the rest afterward... I had forgotten all about it X) And damn, they don't joke on the "fanservice". What the heck this is basically all a lot of us had been looking for... You've got the belly slam, the stripping, the butt-crack showing, the after/before comparison... I feel like things are culminating

[As a French person, it truly cracks me up that the definition of a "rich meal" includes just tons of baguettes in baskets Xp]

[garf-lover96]

big vent under cut. i know i never do that here but i just needed to scream at a void. might delete this later

i am trying REALLY hard to keep my fucking peace in this house and not bother anyone just so they don't think to go and bother me but that's just. impossible to do. i've been doing this for my whole life and it doesn't work, it just doesn't. they made me think 10 times before i say ANYTHING so i don't accidentally prolong any conflict so when a screaming match starts i just don't talk and that's wrong too apparently. they tell me that oooh you don't like us you don't want to spend time with us yeahh i wonder why. i'm not even safe in my own room and that's just heartbreaking, there's literally no right answer here. i was in HEAVEN when they all left for a weekend, it was so quiet and calm and now everything's back to normal obviously.

the best part is that i'm the only one that ever thought of getting fucking outside help, while the rest of them deny that they even need it. my sister that literally makes my life hell every day by just berating me for everything i do claims that she doesn't need help because 'i'm the retarded one in the family'. SHE KEEPS JOKING ABOUT BEING ADOPTED BECAUSE SHE'S CONVINCED THAT SHE'S THE ONLY NORMAL ONE HERE. it's like she's blind to her absolutely insane and just sadistic fucking behavior, i swear. i used to want to kill myself about it but i don't anymore, i just want to get out as soon as possible and not talk to any of them ever again. (LITERALLY HAD TO TAKE A BREAK BECAUSE NOW I HEAR MY DAD SAYING THAT ITS NOT NORMAL THAT I STAY IN MY ROOM ALL THE TIME OH MY GOOOOOOD ARE YOU ACTUALLY JUST FUCKING STUPID. ARE YOU SEEING HOW YOU ACT ON A DAY TO DAY BASIS. YOU'RE JUST MAKING ME HATE YOU MORE AND MORE. but i'm not even surprised about it anymore because he's a hardcore catholic that thinks beating children is fine! okay mister!!! you need to be locked up lowkey!! or go to extensive therapy please!)

i try very hard to be a good person i literally developed a fucking complex where i need to justify all my actions to myself because i don't want to be like them very desperately, i want to be better than all of this. but just the amount of hate that i have for my sister. like, i shouldn't even blame her for all of this because it's my parents fault that they didn't fucking do anything about her beating me when she was a little baby. because have i mentioned that she's a year younger than me???? how fucking embarrassing that is that i wanted to end it all because of an immature little bitch that calls me fat and retarded sometimes?????? and it only ever gets worse because all it took was ONE mention to my mom that my psychologist thinks i have undiagnosed autism (it was obvious since i was little, i don't know what took everyone so long honestly) and suddenly my sister heard about it too and now she calls me autistic and retarted and stupid eeeevrerryyyyyyyyy fuckingggg day i just want to bash her fucking face in with a hammer, LIKE WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU SAY THAT WHEN I'M JUST TRYING TO MAKE MYSELF BREAKFAST. my empathy for her evaporated as well like. years ago. so now when she's getting screamed at i just don't feel anything. i wanna feel bad about it too but i just can't??? i know she's literally just a regularass person but all my hateful memories of her make her seem like she's some kind of evil spirit that was sent to this earth to just torture me. and she still has the fucking nerve to ask me what i'll but for her upcoming birthday. when i used to cry in a corner at my little 10 year old age and pray that she gets taken away like my parents just kept threatening to give her away to a fucking farm or something. I USED TO PRAY TO GOD FOR HER TO NOT FUCKING BERATE ME EVERY DAY AND SURPRISEEE NOTHING CHANGED. i could write so much more about this but my thumbs are starting to hurt and i'm only working myself up more. i will get out and never speak to them again and be at peace soon, i have to believe that it will find me

and the fight that got triggered like half an hour ago and the reason i'm writing this was caused over calling to order a pizza btw👍 love this stupid fucking awful house

[quickspinner]

No need to answer but I see you never tag mc-lukanette's posts with anything. I already follow them so nbd but for people who follow you but not them I feel like it gives this vibe that you don't really like their content and are just reblogging obligatorily? Usually you reblog posts with stuff like "cute" or "aw" which sounds like not much but it sort of tells people what they're in for. If you've got some kinda beef with them then disregard, just is v noticeable since you tag most other posts.

I actually haven't been tagging a lot of things lately except with the quickroundup tag. I haven't had time lately to read things right away but if I don't reblog immediately I tend to forget, or get confused about which ones I have and haven't reblogged. I sometimes manage to read things from my friends right away, but not usually. Art is easier because I just have to look at it so those usually do get something tagged because I do want people to know they are seen and appreciated. MC asked long ago not to be included in the roundup so those don't get even the roundup tag.

With that said, I have always made a policy to reblog everything Lukanette possible whether I am a fan of it or not and regardless of my personal feelings about the author. From the beginning I have felt that if I wanted others to promote my work, I should start by promoting theirs. If that implies I'm only reblogging out of obligation, well 🤷‍♀️ it's a self-imposed obligation that no one is responsible for but me. I'm not sure I intended to become the Lukanette clearing house but I have the platform and followers now and even if something might not be to my particular arbitrary taste, that doesn't mean it doesn't deserve to be promoted and find its proper audience. That's my personal philosophy.

I used to try and comment on every AO3 fic as well, hoping to encourage more people to keep writing because I love the ship and I want there to be as much content as possible, and because I like encouraging new writers and I know from personal experience how much a positive comment can help. I haven't been doing that for a while, either - too much Stuff going on in life and in my head that I don't care to talk about here.

To anyone who has felt disappointed that I didn't comment, know that it is not a commentary on your work, just the big fat mess that is life and mental health right now. Please know that even if it was true that I didn't personally click with your story, there are people out there who will love it, and I'm more than happy to help you find them, so release any guilt you feel about being reblogged "unworthily." You are worthy and your work deserves to be seen, and not only shouldn't I be The Arbiter of What Is Good Enough, I have absolutely no desire to be.

If you (general) feel people should only reblog things they absolutely love, and are somehow offended that I choose to include everything, we just have a difference of opinion on how we want to run our blogs. You do your thing, and I'll do mine.

If anyone has any "best of the best" or otherwise curated blogs or lists I am happy to promote them, but I like the way I do things here, and I don't plan to change. I will however continue to honor any requests not to be included in the weekly roundup, so remember if it bugs you to be on their for some reason, any reason, just send me a message and I will comply, no questions asked, no explanation needed.

[rawrtriesagain]

Heya, same anon who asked you for art advice! First, I wanted to thank you for answer my questions and listing all that wonderful advice! I just have some followups. It’s really okay to just draw without even knowing how to put down a line? Won’t that just lead to bad habits or not learning the right techniques? And you mentioned learning how to draw the human body, will the sites you listed help, or are there other resources I should look up (like maybe on Pinterest?). Again, thanks!

Combining your asks into one. Thank you for the kind words! I'll be happy to continue helping where I can :)

So in terms of bad habits and practices, this is where my advice will fall flat haha because I myself don't know what's a good practice actually - I just do what I want to do even if its the worst way to do something anyone's ever seen! For example, my way of doing 'lineart' (just cleaning up my sketches) is to draw big fat lines and then slowly carve it with an eraser into a line I deem good enough. Someone who could grab a pen and draw a perfect line on the fly would probably be like wtf watching me meticulously erase my one fat line lol

But!

If you really don't know how to put down a line at all yet, your best bet really is to just start. There's not really a trick or technique too it, its just practice. I think unless you were trying to go into art school or something and needed to work on a portfolio (btw again I am not the person to ask for that), there's not really a 'bad habit,' its just as long as you're having fun. In my earlier example about my 'lineart' I pretty much know I'm doing it in such a dumb way, but I actually find it really fun to carve away my line with an eraser haha. Yea I could put in the effort to actually learn how to do things properly, but I like wasting hours just nitpicking on this little thing just because its fun to me. (I do the same thing for coloring also. I'll scribble my entire screen and then use an eraser to start carving things out lmao)

Of course while you're drawing and you're doing something that makes you think "hey this actually sucks actually-" that's when you take the opportunity to grow and learn something new that you didn't know before. This is a digital art thing: but for the longest time I literally didn't know anything about layers and my thoughts were just "man there's got to be a better way to do this" which throws me into a rabbit hole of searching "how do I do This Thing"

If you're really into learning art techniques though it might be good to slowly go over all of the 'art fundamentals' especially when it comes to like shading and perspective. I looked at this blog post and it looks like it would help start you out with some links to other resources: link then of course you can look up the corresponding Youtube videos to see someone actually do the fundamental for real. I'd also honestly recommend like a beginners artist course in person if that's something affordable and accessible to you. It's been one of my dreams to go to like random art classes for fun haha but alas life happens so its just me and my tablet until I'm rich as hell I guess. I've never taken a digital course either, but if that's one of the ways you're able to learn that's great too and I'd recommend it!

Next on human body:

Sorry I should have talked about them more in depth at the time, but yes they will help but only if you're determined to use them correctly! So the sites I listed basically show a pose for 30 seconds, and the idea is you're supposed to just try to take in the shape/form of the pose and draw it without nitpicking over minor details. You can also set the timer higher if you need (I used to set it to at least 60 seconds just because I was just a slow ass artist). But basically it should help you break down the human body into simple shapes and lines.

Now what I mean by using the sites correctly: So there's two ways to approach drawing from references:

1. "eye tracing" which is where your eyes are kind of just following the outline of whatever you're drawing but you're not really processing what exactly you're doing to help you later down the line. I have a bad habit of doing this and I tend to struggle later again for the same pose.

2. Breaking down the reference into small chunks and shapes, and then morphing those shapes into your piece. And later down the line you should start to be able to think of things like "oh the Circle piece of the body normally goes Here!"

Here's a random google image I found to help illustrate what I'm kind of talking about:

So eye tracing would kind of be like a less refined version of #3. Just a blobby but like you can somewhat tell what it is and that's cool I guess, but its not very helpful for when you want to try drawing a variant of the pose above. Breaking down the reference is like steps #1 and #2, simple shapes and blocks that help guide and outline the final shape you want. #1 in particular is very easy to change around should you want to.

So while you're on the sites I linked, you should try to break down each pose into its shape instead of drawing exactly what you see. You should also keep in mind the 'line of action' while doing so:

It's definitely a lot to take in all at once, so I'd honestly recommend just loading up the site and doing your best to replicate the pose, 'eye tracing' or not. Once you get more used to the routine and flow, then try to branch into learning more appropriate techniques. I've seen around that some people also recommend removing the time limit on the poses, as some people learn better by taking their time on one thing and breaking things down even further from there, but that's definitely up to you. You could also go out and try drawing random people if that helps and if you're bold!

My experience with Pinterest has mostly been for inspiration or cool things I've never thought of before, though I'm sure others are able to use it better than I can haha. I'm sure there are step by step guides to help you out around there!

I think resources to learn how to draw better really do come down to what kind of learner you are in the first place. Lots of people learn really well from Youtube tutorials for example, or maybe reading and following along with a book about anatomy would work for you too. I have like the most god awful attention span ever, so what works for me is just raw trial and error and hoping for the best. tbh idk how I even got this far haha but i am happy that I've progressed at all

Let me know if you have more questions and I'll definitely do my best to answer them! If you're looking for more advice regarding traditional art learning fundamentals, I'm sure there are many other artists that would be happy to answer your questions as well!

Best of luck! :)

[luminescentwind]

1638.

I have some idle time before dinner and thought it was a good chance to write. Before properly starting, I think I can't overstate how good it feels to write on this new keyboard. I may have mentioned it before but really it still feels amazing. On a completely different note, one of my wisdom teeth has decided to speedrun its way through my gums and it hurts a little. It's not as bad as the lower left one which I had to have removed, but it's still annoying. Might write to my dentist to see if she can extract it.

These days I've been thinking about work, life and money quite a bit. Things have quieted down and now I'm kind of back at my usual rhythm of teaching, preparing lessons and focusing on my hobbies. I still haven't returned to the gym and lack of structure was the original reason, with me being in one city and then another, and after that it was lack of money which kept me from returning. The truth is that now I could easily go back, pay the monthly fee and get back to my routine, but the problem is that the routine isn't there anymore. My schedule, while quite fixed and predictable, feels rather fine as it is. However, I feel less body endurance and I have gained just a little bit of fat which had been gone for some time.

I really want not to obsess about it and focus on this from a health perspective, so I want to at least do some light walking every day. But I know myself and my time management, and I usually just walk as a mean of transport. Much better than other people, but not up to what I expect of myself. At the same time, I've noticed I don't feel as guilty as I did before. It's okay if I don't go, and it's not the end of the world. I feel I have more time to think and do things at my own pace, which has always been rather quiet and slow. Is it a good thing, never to rush?

Going at a high speed, mentally at least, has been a habit for such a long time. I fear lethargy because I know a side of me has a tendency to grow lazy and I don't want to become like that. This question, the choice of acting according to what and who I am versus acting according to what I think I should be has been going around my mind for the last few days. Is it really okay to do as I please?

What pleases me is doing my job right, dedicating time to my hobbies, spending time with Matt, going for walks and just overall living a quiet life. Really, I don't think I could add anything to that to make it better.

But then the issue of money arises. I need money to pay for Magnus' veterinary care, to fix my house and to fly to BRC every now and then, besides of course eating and paying monthly fees. And when I think about the money issue, I think about how much I should be working. Should? According to whom? I really want to do all of those things but nowadays my weeks are so quiet for the most part. I'm not rushing through it and, even if some time micro-mismanaging gets in the way from time to time, I have time to be in silence and enjoy quiet moments. And so I think, do I really want to add more and more and more work, or am I thinking what I believe I should?

I think I don't really have an answer to that, but the fact that I'm honestly asking myself that question tells me I might be onto something. I would like to talk about this with my psychologist but I want to save as much as possible, both for the goals I mentioned above, but also to build up my savings again little by little. The CELTA course and the repairs I did on the house really depleted my savings and I want to have something in case of emergencies; it makes me feel safe. Then again, talking to my therapist can also sometimes make me feel safe. Others, it pushes me to take action. On a related note, as soon as I arrived in LP I intended to visit my gynecologist to have my yearly checkup, but I realised I was running and running and running, and so I decided to postpone it for a couple of weeks until I could settle back in. As I wrote this, I stopped for a minute and tried to make an appointment but the system doesn't seem to be working, so I'll try again tomorrow morning. I could always go to her office and ask for an impromptu appointment, and I could be lucky enough to find I'm the only one there, but I know she prefers to actually know who's coming, so I'll just try calling tomorrow.

I don't know where that previous paragraph was going.

So, work, money, balance, expectations, health, but also enjoyment. I feel I hadn't given these much serious consideration ever since I started becoming a bit more independent. Now I feel like I do have a choice. I get to decide what to do with my life. I love that, but it also makes the big decisions, the big shifts, take a bit longer to think through. Granted, action may be what's needed, but actually having time to think about these things is something I cherish. I guess I'll find the answers as I walk along my path.

[mymomisdrunkagain]

My Mom is a Big Fat Drunk

April 4 - she drank all day again today. took two or three "naps", had the bedroom and the livingroom TVs on, at the same time, on the same channel, and she was probably passed out, anyway. Oh! She also finally noticed that I'm not talking to her. Its been 3 days.

This evening's highlight? I wasn't getting any delivery orders at all while at home, so I decided I'd have to go park in a lot closer to UCSD and sit and wait. Seems like such a stupid waste of time, to me, but that’s a different story. Anyway, I left around 9pm and got to the lot around 9:20. I think she was passed out when I left, but I didn't double-check. As I was sitting in the parking lot, I started to get hungry and decided to grab something from Vons. I was also reminded of how shitting she's making this whole situation when I thought about grabbing more than just a microwave meal; anything I buy, she's just gonna eat and then I'm back at Vons--- err. See previous entry…

I guess at some point, she texted me to pick up some aspirin for her. Didn't read it. Don't care. She's perfectly able to order some whatever-the-fuck-she-wants from CVS and have it delivered by … wouldn't ya know it? … DoorDash! Plus, I was still on-the-clock, technically. So, no-go, lady.

I see right thru her manipulations, now that I've stepped back my emotional investment in her, and its all just pretty ugly. For example, she could order stuff and have it delivered, which she knows, which means her goal was to make me do something for her, thus reinforcing her psychological control over me. Nope. Not happening. Not anymore. … and then there's the nature of her order: aspirin. That was an immediate red flag. She wants me to know she's in "so much pain;" she can't even move a muscle to get some relief and save herself from all the terribleness! Nope. Not falling for it. No sympathy from me.

If you haven't see our dynamic in person, or know our stupid story in greater detail, I probably come off as coldhearted and callous. Maybe even evil. So, you'll have to just trust me when I say this seemingly mean/evil side of me is not what it looks like; this is really a positive breakthrough for me. I've been under her control and manipulation my entire life and this clarity and insight into her manipulations and schemes is a pretty cool piece of armor to help defend myself against her, and, hopefully, another solid step towards breaking free of her control, entirely!

The real clincher is that auntie got home from work before I did, and even tho I totally already knew the answer, I had to ask her anyway: did mother ask auntie to get her aspirin, too?-- since she was also out of the house, etc… and, No. of course she didn't. the discussion got a little heated and auntie finally broke down and asked if _she_ could go get mother's aspirin for her, even tho she was tired af and just home from work, too. Can you guess the answer? No. Of course she didn't want auntie to go get the much-needed pain reliever for her. She literally had a perfectly viable, albeit total dick move, solution to her problem right there and did. Not. Take. It. Hmm…. So, that means she specifically asked me and only me, and specifically asked for a pain reliever. Because of all the pain. Huh. Imagine that.

Couldn't be bothered to ask auntie. Couldn't be bothered to order CVS thru Door Dash. Couldn't even be bothered to try to go out and get it herself. I was the only person in the whole world who could save her from all the pain. Huh. Weird.

PS: oh yeah! Another big reason for my tough-love approach with her right now: she just sits around all day long, eating everything, drinking vodka, and barely even moves. Now, I'm not a doctor, but I do know a little bit about how the human body works, and I know from personal experience at various times throughout my life, that if I remain in one position for any extended length of time, my body, my muscles, get stiff as fuck. In fact, it can often be painful for those first couple of seconds when I start stretching and moving again after staying stuck for so long.

Her bad habits (subconscious or otherwise) are absolutely compounding, if not manifesting entirely, whatever injuries she may have. I'd be much more willing to do things like pick up aspirin for her on my way home from work if I saw that doing so would even do anything positive for her, and that she wasn’t the cause of all her pain to begin with!

[sourcerry]

My body issues are acting up again, so naturally I project them on to a fictional character - because I can't, for the love of god, find a therapist. This is mainly a sad Hob/caring Dream self indulgence.

I'm thinking about Hob falling into a rabbit hole on the internet and not being his happy confident self. Maybe it's because things move on so fast this century. Maybe it's because you're connected with everything all the time.

The thing is Hob used to think very little about his body. First because he just had to keep it running, later he focused on achieving different things from money to education.

Bodies and their shapes however, seem to be the main focus of people these days. So it's for the first time that he actually looks at himself and worries. He is quite on the hairy side of men and since he quit the soldering he got quite soft around the middle. After his experience with starvation, he enjoyed food more than ever and perhaps, indulged more than it was appropriate.

Since Dream visited more often and things were evolving from friendship to relationship, Hob feels more and more insecure. Dream used to persue great leaders and goddesses. Hob is neither and it bothers him. He fears that he won't be able to keep Dreams attention for long. So maybe being nice to look at would help him. Just to keep him a little longer.

The plan of action is quite simple. Lose the fat and gain more muscle mass. The internet offers a lot of solutions. From healthy to harmful - he can't die, so what does it matter? He cuts back on food, fits regular exercise in his already busy schedule and soon sees results. His body changes but his insecurities don't. He still finds things to dislike or right on hate about himself. It affects his whole life, his mood and his dreams.

Right after Dream told him about his true nature, Hob asked him to not interfere with his dreams. He liked them - dreams and nightmares alike. Just like he loved life with its ups and downs.

Now he suffers through nightmares of not fitting into his clothes, people calling him nasty things, Dream leaving him for someone better looking.

Dream of course notices the changes but doesn't know how to bring them up. While he honours his promise, he can't help to steal a glance at Hobs visits in the Dreaming. He just needs to understand what's happening. When he does it breaks is heart. It really does. He still doesn't know how to confront his friend, who became way more than a friend, during his past visits.

Falling in love with Hob had been so easy and felt so natural, it had never occurred to Dream, that it needed clarification.

His next visit is, like all visits, unannounced but carefully planed. He enters into Hobs living room and finds him standing in front of a huge mirror. Just staring at his reflection without really seeing anything. Dreams stands behind Hob and startles him. When Hob tries to turn around Dream just shakes his head and holds on to Hobs hips. They are way sharper than they should be. Pointy bones easily felt trough the fabric of his trousers. Slowly Dream moves closer and presses himself into Hobs back, finding his gaze in the mirror.

They've rarely been this close and Dream cherishes the warmth that's oozing from Hob.

"Dream..wh- what are you doing?" Hob stutters. Heat filling up his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He feels caught and ashamed and so happy to have Dream touch him.

"I worry." Dream answers, his voice a deep hum. "You seem to be unaware of how much you mean to me. Meant to me through all the centuries. It seems that I have neglected to show you." He sounds remorseful.

"Dream.." Hob starts but Dreams look shuts him up.

"Please, Hob, let me finish. I want you to know. I need you to know, that you are acknowledged and seen. That you are loved and cherished. I need you to know that my feelings for you run deep and will not fade. I need you to know that you are in my thoughts permanently and that I wouldn't change that, even if I could. It hurts me to see you hurt so deeply, Hob Gadling, as your wounds feel like my own." During his speech a wet sheen covers his eyes and tears cling on long lashes. Hob tries to take a deep breath but it gets caught in his throat and turns into a wet sob. Big tears run down his face and his emotions are all over the place and drowning him.

Carefully Dream steps around himself and blocks his view into the mirror. Hob feels Dreams arms hold him close in a loving embrace and between one blink and the next, they are in his bedroom, no mirrors in sight. He is guided onto his bed and held through all his sobs, tears and sniffles. Fingers carding through is hair and rubbing circles on his back. "I'm sorry" he whispers again and again. "You have nothing to apologize for, my love".

The endearment rips another sob from Hob. He feels utterly pathetic. But Dream is patient and holds him. When the sobs stop, he tells him stories and when he falls asleep, he is welcomed in the Dreaming with warm hands and gentle kisses.

Nothing changes over night. Hob is still painfully insecure and worries whenever Dreams been kept away for a longer period of time. Dream is patient and kind and doesn't tire of showing his love for Hob in all the ways he knows.

[davinagreece]

mr. perfectly fine

jeremiah fisher x oc

chapter 1

After last summer everything changed. I changed. I started working out and eating healthier. I invested in good quality skincare products that made me look flawless. I learned how to style my hair to frame my face and apply makeup that made my features pop. I stopped wearing glasses and have a straight white smile. I had long, smooth legs and a flat, toned stomach. The little fat that I still had left went to my chest and hips. Guys wanted me, and girls wanted to be me. I was finally pretty. But no matter how pretty I am, I'll always feel like the girl I used to be. The one that wasn't good enough.

It's the day before I leave for Cousins. I'm on the phone with Belly while I finish packing when I hear a knock on my door.

"Come in" I yell

My mom comes into my room carrying a basket of laundry.

"Do you need me to wash anything for tomorrow honey?"

"No thanks mom"

"Hi, Daphne!" Belly yells from the phone.

"Hello, sweetheart. Are you girls excited for tomorrow? You've both changed so much over the past year. Susannah is going to have a heart attack when she sees you" My mom laughs.

Susannah isn't the only Fisher I want to have a heart attack when they see me.

I'm not the only one who changed over the summer. Belly was never ugly to begin with, but now she's stunning. Conrad Fisher was going to drop to his knees when he saw her.

"Yeah, I'm excited. I'm just a little nervous about what people are going to think."

"It doesn't matter what they think. You've both grown into beautiful young women. You’re going to knock that asshole Jeremiah dead." She winks at me before she leaves the room.

My mom and Belly are the only people that know I’m in love with Jeremiah. My dad died when I was little so they're all I have. They know how deeply he hurt me.

"Things will be different this summer" Belly says.

"Things will be different this summer" I agree.

_____________

I'm on my way to Cousins. Everything around me has changed, but Cousins is always the same. The air tasted the same, smelled the same. The wind making my hair feel sticky, the salty sea breeze. Its all the same as it was. It's like it's been waiting for me to get here. I wonder if Jeremiah changed. I wonder if he's still the golden retriever that never failed to make me smile. I wonder if he's still the same Jeremiah that didn't love me back.

I woke up early that morning to get ready. I showered, shaved, and made sure I packed everything I needed. I decided on wearing a simple dress with sneakers.

I ghosted Jere almost the whole year. I would occasionally reply to his messages, but I never answered calls or sent him pictures of myself. I thought ignoring him would help me move on, but it made my heart hurt worse. When I look in the mirror, I'm still the girl he didn't want.

As we pull up to the Fisher house, I can't stop the ball of anxiety forming in my stomach. My mom noticed me fidgeting with my hands and placed hers on top of mine. She gives me a reassuring smile as she gets out of the car. I look in the mirror one last time before taking a deep breath and getting out. The first thing I see is a soaking wet Belly running towards me and engulfing me in a hug. I'm guessing I missed the infamous "Belly flop." I hug her back like my life depends on it. No matter how much I miss summers at Cousins, I'll always miss Belly more.

Belly and I break apart when I hear someone say

"Holy shit."

I look up and make eye contact with the bluest eyes I've ever seen. Jeremiah Fisher. His mouth is hanging open but it quickly turns into a smile as he runs over to hug me.

"Damn Rena, what the hell happened to you over the summer?"

I awkwardly stand there without hugging him back. I want to hug him back, more than anything, but I can't. I'm only hurting myself more by letting myself be close to him knowing he doesn't feel the same. I don't miss the small glimmer of hurt in his eyes when he pulls away.

"People change Jere," I mutter as I look over at Conrad who's burning holes into Belly with his eyes.

"Well, it was a good change. You look good." He says with an awkward smile.

"Syrena Cove Laurier is that you!?" Susannah asks in disbelief as she sees me.

"The one and only, Mrs. Fisher" I say with a giggle

"Sweetie I have known you for 16 years, you do not have to call me Mrs. Fisher" she laughs

I start to respond before Belly grabs my hand and tries to pull me inside.

"Sorry guys! I really need to talk to Rena!" She laughs while dragging me through the door and into the kitchen.

"Oh my god you look amazing," Belly says in shock.

"Look at yourself Bells! You look like a model! Conrad couldn't keep his eyes off you."

"It's funny you say that considering Jeremiah almost dislocated his jaw when he saw you." She laughs

"He was just shocked, That's all. Like Jeremiah said, he sees me as a sister and will never want me the way I want him."

Belly starts to say something but stops when she sees everyone else walk into the kitchen.

[cheesus-doodles]

Inspired by the anon who got two dollars from santa, because the reader know the toman since their childhood( I think), who is the first to realize Santa is not real and the last person of the group to realize that when they were kids? Maybe you can do it in hc or something -Winky Wink

Also, I need to find the time to read time leaper fic

winky wink anon! been a hot minutes since i've seen you around ^^ take your time to read, it'll be there! if you meant childhood as like maybe 11-12 ish, then yes, reader does know them for a while now :) its after Christmas by now but whatever lmao - i've been working on all my long fics and rewrites so ask answers will be a bit slower, but i don't want to stop the brainrot train either

‎

Masterlist

‎

First to Last to Realize Santa isn't real

Yandere Platonic Toman

Mitsuya: Growing up dirt poor and having to be the one to take care of his little sisters, Mitsuya is the first of the Toman boys to realize that the Santa he heard his classmates talking so fervently about didn't exist for him. This doesn't mean that Mitsuya doesn't try his darn hardest to keep the dream real for his two little sisters, making sure that they always have presents awaiting them under the small tree on Christmas Day. Never did hate Christmas, but the festive season is definitely much better for him and his sisters with you around. Still doesn't believe in Santa, but you help to keep the illusion alive for his two sisters, and this boy definitely doesn't mind an extra cuddle while you wow the younger two with enchanting stories.

Kazutora: Due to his difficult childhood, Kazutora is also another of the Toman boys that found out very quickly that either Santa absolutely despised him, or that the fat jolly man didn't exist. Kazutora learnt the hard way that Christmas always represented a time of hatred and drunk, angry parents, and it was a period he learned to despise with every fibre of his being. He always make sure to hide away and fear the coming of that day, until you came along with your little handmade gifts and warm homecooked meals to gently lift the tears from his eyes and brighten up his day like Christmas lights. Started to secretly believe in Santa again because who else would deliver such an angel into his life?

Draken: He's a smart boy. Even if the girls and the manager of the brothel tried to keep the illusion going as long as possible for him, making sure that they went the whole mile to put out cookies and milk for Santa, and leave presents under a decked out Christmas tree, Draken probably figured it out quickly by himself through logic. Have most likely stayed up to catch his little family putting his presents under the tree and certify that his conclusion of Santa being fake was correct, but will continue to play along for at least a few more years seeing how hard they try. You know that he knows, but you still tell him about how Santa's elves made his presents anyway, and Draken is more than happy to play along.

Pah: Believed in Santa until Peh absentmindedly spoiled Christmas for him otherwise in the midst of beating an opposing gang member. Only two things that Pah was really crushed about finding out was that his wish for Santa to bring him a sweet new motorcycle every year was basically redundant, and all the wasted cookies and milk that he carefully cut from his own portion. Gave Peh a good kick in the side, but after a quick grumble, life basically just went on as normal. You do specially make his favourite type of cookies in different motorcycle shapes every Christmas for Pah, and label them as a present from Santa - Pah definitely makes sure to loudly thank Santa before sweeping you of your feet and giving you a few good tickles between his thanks.

Baji: This baby boy definitely believed wholeheartedly in Santa, a practice his mum helped to keep up in the hopes that Baji would at least try to be good for the year to be on the good list. With how sneaky and street-smart Baji is, its a wonder how long his mum managed to string him along, though the nice list didn't particularly help in encouraging this delinquent to clean up his act throughout the year, the effect limited to the period only around Christmas. Magic was accidentally spoiled by Kazutora - Baji was so heartbroken that he went straight to your house for a cuddle and a cry (which he denies and you keep secret anyway). You did tell Kazutora off on behalf of his mum - who at least had the decency to look sheepish. You still tell Baji that he had been a good boy and that Santa delivered his presents with a cheeky grin though.

Mikey: The ultimate Santa believer. 100% refuses to believe that Santa doesn't exist. Doesn't matter what anyone yells at him during a fight, Mikey always holds fast that somewhere, somehow, that fat man was bringing him presents, good presents mind you, if he didn't want broken bones. Never managed to stay up long enough to catch a glimpse of Santa though, no matter how hard Mikey tried, always managing to fall asleep even while standing up - a feast of taiyakis and milk always does the trick putting this baby boy straight to sleep. The other Toman founders had tried to take over keeping the dream alive for their beloved president after Shinchiro's passing, but honestly everyone heaved a sigh of relief when you stepped into the role without even breaking a sweat. Mikey looks forward more than ever to Christmas now when you weave him stories about how Santa had personally overseen the making of his present and delivered it in the dead of the night like a ninja, all the while Mikey munches away on one of your famed taiyakis.

[nut-in-me-jojo]

Always Will Be - Chp. 7

Pairing: Yan!Gyutaro x Fem!Reader

Chapter: 7

Series Warnings: NSFW, extreme depictions of death, extreme violence, dead dove don’t eat, forced relationship, yandere, non/dubious consent, kidnapping, degradation, slut shaming, stockholm syndrome, poverty, dacryphilia, misogyny, dumbification, (If you don't like dark yandere's this story isn't for you.)

Word Count: 3K

Summary:  Gyutaro has lived for over a century now, still plagued by memories of the past and haunted by its ghost. You are one of his only two regrets.

“Gyu-Chan, stop pulling so hard!” Whined Yuna as she was practically dragged along through the backstreets of Rashomon. Her little feet scuttling over themselves as she tries to keep up with her quick-paced friend that clasped her hand in his; a sense of mission evident in the way he moved.

“We have to hurry before she comes back.” He spoke adamantly.

“Who?”

“Mother.” He answered just as swiftly.

Her brows knit and her feet grew sluggish in apprehension of his response. “Why are we going there?” She jumped to interrogate, already knowing his mother to be no better than her own.

“I want to show you something.” He replied vaguely, making Yuna stop in her tracks entirely as she yanked herself out of his touch. “No, I’m not going.” She objected, her tone air-tight.

Gyutaro turned to face her, an irritated scowl in tow. “We don’t have time for this, do you want to see the baby or not?”

Gyutaro watched as her stubborn stare shifted at his words. “The baby?” She quirked dubiously.

“Mother wasn’t getting fat, she had a baby in her stomach all this time.” Gyutaro informed.

Yuna’s thoughts trailing back to the swell of his mother’s stomach the two had been watching grow in size from afar for months now. The two children had chalked it up to the woman merely putting on weight since they had no one to tell them any different. Although they had wondered how his mother could afford enough to eat to get that big, her son of course hadn’t dared to ask.

Yuna’s mind was a short circuiting whirlwind as she tried to wrap her head around what he was telling her. But as the idea began to compute, she found herself to be quick with questions. “Is it at your house?”

“She’s at the house.” He corrected. “Duh, that’s why we’re going.”

Yuna let out an elated ear-shattering squeal at the revelation; nearly making Gyutaro jump out of his skin before hewas the one getting dragged behind now as she sprinted to his house. Seems as though the concept of another girl being around had given her a second wind.

As the two came up to the derelict shack he had once called home, they could already hear a baby's unhappy cries. She sounded to be most upset about something. Gyutaro moved ahead to check that the coast was clear of his mother before he led Yuna inside.

The shack was mostly barren, much like Yuna’s mother’s house. But off to the side was what appeared to be a wicker bassinet that laid on the ground. The woven pleats of the baby basket were worn and breaking in places from the rot of age. The poor thing had been left unattended while her mother had gone off to do God knows what; another testament to the sheer neglect these children faced.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Yuna called out to the screaming infant as she drew closer to the bassinet before kneeling beside it. The baby’s snow white hair contrasting starkly against her reddened and irritated face as she wailed on.

“You don’t need to cry anymore! Your Oni-Chan is here!” Yuna declared to try and console the baby girl.

The title didn’t register with the newly appointed big brother right away; as he stood stunned for a minute. But surely, it began to set in. That’s right, he was an Oni-Chan now. And to hear it verbalized for the first time made pride for a new sense of purpose bloom within.

The infant cracked its eyes from finally hearing a voice after screaming out for someone for so long now. But clearly she still wasn’t happy as her sirening cries carried on, her angry little fists still shaking at the world that cruelly refused her demands.

Yuna frowned a bit from the lack of success before switching tactics. “Hold her, Gyu-Chan! She wants you!”

“She’s probably just hungry…” Gyutaro grumbled. The truth being that he was nervous to hold her, unbelieving that anyone could want him including his own sister. He assumed that his ugly face would likely just scare her and make matters worse.

Yuna’s brows knit once again at his hesitance. “Just do it!” She insisted.

Reluctantly, he knelt beside Yuna to carefully scoop his disgruntled sister into his gangly arms. Her piercing screams seemed to instantly lower in volume though they didn’t stop entirely as little displeased whines still left her dribbling lips.

“See? That’s all you wanted huh? Some attention!” Yuna cooed to her.

“Its true,” He relented softly, a smile finally pulling at his chapped lips as he cradled his newest treasure. “She doesn’t like being by herself. She always wants all eyes on her.” He added matter-of-factly.

His voice seemed to coerce the baby into fully opening her eyes at last; revealing gorgeous crystalline blues that matched her brother’s in shade. They stared wide-eyed, shifting curiously between the two faces that peered back at her with equal wonder.

Awe washed over Yuna as this little baby’s pure beauty took her breath away. “This...is the prettiest baby I’ve ever seen, Gyu-Chan.” She gawked.

“Of course she is! She’s special!” He doted.

As he spoke once again, Ume’s gaze honed in on her brother fully. Her tiny fingers latching into the fabric of his dirty and ragged kimono as she watched him ever so intently; seemingly awaiting his next words.

“Look at her, she loves you.” Yuna laughed at the infant's enthrallment of the young boy before she leaned closer to speak to her directly. “Hi! What’s your name?” She asked her rhetorically.

“Ume.” Her brother proudly answers for her, making Yuna grin.

“How pretty~! Just like you~!” She chimes to the infant, the two children not yet aware of the true distaste behind the awful slang of the name.

Gyutaro’s thumb swiped away the stray tears from the baby’s chubby cheeks as Yuna moved closer, extending a finger to the little one to grab hold in which she curiously obliged.

“You’re already so lucky, Ume-Chan! You’re so beautiful and already have two people that love you!” Yuna told her, as she wrapped an arm around each of the siblings.

“We’ll never let anything bad happen to you. Right, Gyu-Chan?”

“Right.” He agreed dutifully.

“You see? We promise! So don’t cry anymore!” She hummed out.

Gyutaro had trouble recalling a time where he had felt more fulfilled than in this moment. He wasn’t quite as fortunate as these two he held, he hadn’t been born beautiful like them. But to have them at his side almost made him feel as if he was. As if he could hold his head up high that such beauties chose to follow and love him as much as they did. As long as the three of them were together, as long as he had them with him, he could do anything. He was sure of it.

Just like the other times before, his dream switched gears in an instant. But this time, he remembered this day very well. And it had all started from a game of hide and seek that had gone horribly, horribly, horribly wrong. The day that had changed the trio’s lives forever.

He -the seeker- was just about to round a corner in his pursuit of the two hiders; when he stopped in place, looking out into the streets of Rashomon from the side of a house. In the road, were the two he had been searching for. But they weren’t alone.

His sister and Yuna had their backs facing him, he could see Ume’s small hand holding onto Yuna’s kimono. Before them, stood three men. Gyutaro could instantly tell they weren’t Rashomon locals, their clothes were too nice and they carried swords.

They were human scouters. Looking for girls to buy or steal and sell off.

He could see Yuna shaking from where he stood, and he knew that she was aware of what they were as well.

“Such lovely hair on this one.” He heard one remark as his prying fingers played with Yuna’s locks. But no protest came from Yuna, too scared to do anything as panic coursed through her.

For the moment, Gyutaro was rooted in place by his own fear as well. One man he could probably handle, but there were three of them and they were all armed.

The man’s gaze shifted to Ume as he went on. “You may be a bit young, but you’re quite a pretty little thing. I’m sure they could find something to do with you. Tell me, do you two have a mother that’s around? We’d like to have a chat with them.” A slimey grin plastered itself across the man’s face.

“My mother’s dead!” Chirped 8-year-old Ume, who was oblivious to the danger the two were in. The elder two having always done their best to shelter her from the harsh realities of the entertainment district.

Yuna’s hand slapped itself over Ume’s lips that had already said too much. Only now did Ume take note of the sweat that was beading on Yuna’s brow and the trembling of her hand that clasped itself on her face. Something was wrong here.

“Oh dear, how unfortunate. You poor things..” His oil-slick smarmy smirk only grew in size as he spoke.

“That will make things easier though...how would you girls like to come with us? We’ll take you to a place where you’ll always have plenty to eat, clean clothes, and a warm bed to sleep in. You’ll even get a bath! Do you two even know what a bath is? From the looks of you, I’d say not.” He chuckled darkly as his hand stretched out to Ume. “Now, doesn’t that sound nice? Why don’t you be good and come along quietly then?”

Ume was growing more confused by the second, those all sounded like such nice things...so why was Yuna acting like this?

Yuna’s hand left Ume in favor of smacking away the vile man’s hand that drew too close to her pseudo-sister for comfort. Her panic had melted away in place of boiling rage as she practically foamed at the mouth. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HER!! You sick bastard, how dare you try and trick a child like that! You speak of such things yet don’t mention the means to get it! I’ll die in these streets before I let you take us! FUCKING SCUM, ALL OF YOU!!!” She spat at him.

Both siblings' eyes widened in shock, it was rare for Yuna to cuss like this. Much less at a grown up like him. Ume knew now that something was indeed terribly wrong.

All the while, Gyutaro’s panic climbed with his sisters from the sidelines at Yuna’s bravery/stupidity.

“Looks like this one has a mouth on her. No matter, they have ways of fixing that. Grab them.” He commanded the two other men that surrounded them. Gyutaro’s heart felt like it was going to lurch out of his chest at the stomping realization that his sister and Yuna were going to be taken before his eyes. And now, just like Yuna, his panic turned into unadulterated rage for their attackers.

The second his direction had been given, Yuna acted more swiftly than the men at his disposal. Her stone-solid determination to get Ume out of this mess drilling her on as her foot dug itself into the dirt of the road and kicking it up and out. The winds of the early spring aiding her as it carried the sediment into the men’s faces, obscuring their view of the two girls.

Now, it was Gyutaro’s turn to act as he took his scythe into his hand. His sister and Yuna needed him. And he would not fail them. He moved like an animal, using his god-given speed to take great advantage of the thick sandstorm Yuna had kicked up; he seized the opportunity to slash through the back of the men’s calves to ensure the trio’s escape. They’d have a hard time trying to chase them down thanks to Oni-Chan. The men cried out as their muscles shredded in an instant and they fumbled for their swords.

But Gyutaro was quicker, he rounded out from behind the three men and took hold of both girls before pulling them into the alley he had come from. He believed this may be the fastest he had ever seen any of them run.

But still, Ume’s little legs betrayed her as she struggled behind. She was dragging them down, and Oni-Chan was quick to pull Ume up on his back as the elder two sprinted on in their bolt for freedom.

They ran through this alley and that, trying with all they had to lose their pursuers. Their shouts from behind told them they had been slowed down but hadn’t given up their chase entirely.

The three turned a corner and safety came into view in the form of a horse drawn cart that was wheeling away mounds of hay. Gyutaro was losing strength from running for so long with Ume on his back, but he conjured up the last of his energy to power through and catch up to the wagon. Once he’d grabbed hold of the backside, Ume climbed over him and into the cart to hide and bury herself in the hay before her brother pulled himself up and inside with her.

He turned to face Yuna who seemed as though she too was out of strength and using the last embers of it to try and catch up. “Come on!! Hurry!!” He desperately urged as he reached out to her.

Yuna’s legs burned and ached as they threatened to give out from under her, but seeing Gyu-Chan waiting for her gave her the extra strength she had been missing. “I’ve got you!” He told her as their hands met and latched, Gyutaro steadying himself against the railing of the cart as he pulled her up top with him.

The two hid themselves besides Ume, all of them panting as the dirty straw stuck uncomfortably to their sweaty bodies.

“That way! After them!” They heard the men call out from afar. Seems as though they were headed the opposite direction.

As soon as the wagon came to the outskirts of Rashomon, the three jumped out to take refuge underneath a bridge they knew well.

No sooner had they slipped under, Yuna was balling her eyes out into Gyu-Chan’s chest. But this time, he did not ask her to stop. He only cradled her as she muffled her howling cries into his dirty Yukata.

Ume could only watch on, she had never seen Yuna so inconsolable before. Nor had she ever seen her brother seem to be so equally concerned about something. It wasn’t like him to just sit back and allow such dramatics from either of them.

“They’re gonna find us! They will!” Yuna warbled out through her anguish.

“No they won’t.” Gyutaro tried to assure her.

Her balled hands tightened on his robe as he spoke. “Yes they will! They’ll ask around, everyone knows us! They’d all be happy to get rid of us! They’ll find out who my mom is and she’d sell me off for a fucking handful of rice! I don’t wanna go! I don’t wanna go! Gyu-Chan, I don’t wanna go!!!” She screamed hysterically.

“Lower your voice!” He finally reprimanded before grabbing ahold of each side of her face and forcing her to look him in the eye. “I won’t let them take you, do you hear me?”

The frantic look on her guardians faces and the piling questions were too much for Ume to bear anymore. “Yu-Chan, what are you so afraid of? Those men were talking about such good things, I don’t-“

Yuna whipped around to face her, the terror in her gaze was enough to cut Ume off alone. “Ume, you don’t understand what those people do!! They take you and then they-“ Yuna got out before she was then cut off by the ever so protective Oni-Chan.

“That’s enough, Yuna! She doesn’t need to know that yet!”

“Yes she fucking DOES! You saw them, they were gonna take her and they would’ve if we hadn’t been there!! We can’t hide it from her forever! No, she needs to fucking KNOW so she can fucking protect herself!!!” Yuna belligerently argued back.

Always the most sensible of the three, Gyu-Chan knew she was right. His lips tightening as he hung his head in defeat.

“Ume, those people weren’t telling you the whole truth. Those houses they take you to, they force you to do things you don’t want to do! They take girls like us and make us do things to men for money and you can’t run away or they’ll hurt or kill you!! And they...they..” Yuna couldn’t muster out any more words as she choked on them.

Gyutaro promptly pulled her back into himself rocking them both back and forth in his lap as she wailed miserably into him once again. “Shhhhh, calm yourself. We’ll stay hidden. You’ll never have to go. I won’t let anybody hurt you.” He vowed gently, but Yuna only carried on.

Ume couldn’t stand to see the two of them so distraught; even if she was scared too and still didn’t quite understand the situation in full, she tried her best anyhow.

Her little arms pulled the older two into her embrace. “Don’t cry anymore, Yu-Chan! We won’t let you go with the bad people!” She declared.

The faintest of smiles working it’s way on Gyutaro’s face as his pride for his sister only grew with her efforts she put forth in their grim situation.

His assurances were meant for Yuna yes, but his words were meant to ground himself as well. To instill his new mission into himself. To protect these two at all costs. Now more than ever.

But just as Yuna feared, it was a promise he couldn’t keep.

Chapter 8