#but i do just say the weirdest shit at work and people just have to deal with it

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

"Boobs," Robin blurted out.

"Pardon?" Vickie asked. "Did you just say boobs?"

"They're great, right?" Robin asked. "I like mine."

"I like mine, too," Vickie said in amusement.

"I, uh, also like other women's boobs," Robin revealed. "You ever think about other women's boobs?"

"I like to think about yours," Vickie said and Robin squeaked.

"Yeah, me too," Robin whispered. "I mean, I think about yours, too."

"I also think about dicks," Vickie said. "Is that okay?"

"For you, yes. It's just boobies for me," Robin said.

"I also like boobies and dicks," Steve spoke.

"Oh, shit, I forgot where we were for a moment," Robin said. "Sorry, Steve."

The three of them were huddled in the smallest storage closet known to man, hiding from a demogorgon.

"I figured you would forget all about me considering that Vickie is practically sitting in your lap, and your back is against mine. I just didn't want you making out against it," Steve said.

"Oh, come on, take one for the team, Steve!" Robin exclaimed and Vickie giggled.

"Yeah, not a chance. Would you let me make out against your back?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, not a chance," Robin said with a snort. "I'm sorry, Vickie. I was going to be a lot more eloquent in how I was going to tell you. But then all I could think about was the conversation Steve and I had in the car about you returning the Fast Times tape with it paused on Phoebe Cates's boobs and Steve insisted that it meant that you liked boobies. I just didn't want to admit that I got lucky and the girl of my dreams liked boobies like me."

"I did it on purpose," Vickie replied.

"Pardon?" Robin asked.

"I returned the tape to you on purpose. I knew you worked at Family Video, and you're so smart. You make such amazing observations, and I thought that I could give you a hint without making it so obvious, you know?" Vickie asked.

"Ha! I knew it!" Steve exclaimed. "It a total move. It's a great move!"

"Steve. . .shut the hell up," Robin laughed.

"So, the girl of your dreams, huh?" Vickie asked.

"Is that okay?" Robin asked.

"It's more than okay," she replied. "You're the girl of my dreams, Robin Buckley. I dream about you every night."

"Damn," Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. "Go ahead, Robin."

Steve felt them shifting, and he knew that Vickie was now straddling her lap, judging by the knees that were digging into him. He could feel Robin being pushed against him, and he could hear the sounds of their lips smacking together as they gasped. Suddenly, the door opened.

"Steve!" He heard Dustin's voice exclaim. "Did you know that Robin and Vickie were making out against your back?"

"Actually, I didn't know," Steve said sarcastically. "Thanks for telling me."

"You're welcome! El chased away that demogorgon for you guys," Dustin said. "You don't have to hide in the closet anymore!"

The three of them stood up as Dustin walked off. Vickie had just taken Robin's hand when Robin gasped with realization. She turned to Steve.

"Since when do you like boobies AND dicks?" Robin asked.

"I was running with Nancy and Jonathan the other day. They both fell on top of me to save me from the herd of demobats that suddenly flew overhead. I, uh, realized that it wasn't just Nancy," Steve blushed.

"Oh, so, you're in love with Jonathan, too?" Robin asked.

"I mean, yeah, but I also liked the way his dick accidentally pressed up against my ass," Steve replied, and Vickie giggled.

"Okay. . .I'm telling you right now that it's going to be tricky to return the favor," Robin said. "But I think I can manage three people making out against my back."

"Is that the weirdest thing that you two have done for each other?" Vickie laughed.

"No!" Robin and Steve said in unison.

"By the way. . .Jonathan Byers? With that haircut? He looks like a Beatles reject," Robin said teasingly.

"Oh, is this payback for me mocking you for your crush on Tammy Thompson?" Steve smirked, glancing at Vickie.

"You rat! You fink!" Robin hissed.

"Tammy Thompson?!" Vickie asked. "The muppet?!"

"I was young, okay!"

Robin pretended to be mad, but she couldn't help but smile when Vickie and Steve teamed up to affectionately mock her. Yeah, there was hope for them all.

[dragonfyre-creations]

I don't think I've ever poured so many of my physical attributes and so much of my heart and soul into a character design before in such a personal way before so fuck it whenever I finish the final design for Faeng and whatever I come up with I'm making her into my sona (dragonsona? Persona? Idk how this works lmfao)

(long dump in the tags and under the cut)

The last time I was even remotely connected this much to a character was when I designed Jaxsu, but honestly never truly made her my sona/main character, she was just the one I used most often in art pieces. I never really actually liked her lore and backstory enough because she was what I wanted to be instead of what I am/was. Jax isnt perfect either, but her parents love her and otherwise has friends and is loved unconditionally. She has a healthy relationship with everyone and everything. This is where the disconnect happened and where I actually started to dislike her despite her being my otherwise favorite character for awhile. Both Faeng and Jaxsu have ADHD and Autism but Jaxsu was able to put that towards a job and becoming a ship captain and winning a colosseum tournament. She's done all of these great things so even if she didn't have a healthy relationship with her parents they'd still love her because she's done something impressive and useful.

Faeng on the other hand, has to fight for everything. Her parents are important and have important jobs, and place all of these unreachable and unrealistic expectations on her and expect her to reach them with minimal effort and be perfect, but she can't no matter how hard she tries. She needs someone to explain it and break it down for her in steps so she understands what do to and how to do it so she doesn't mess it up. She's both strong and smart but it's not in practical "normal" ways or subjects. It's convoluted, It's not in the ways everyone wants her to be, she has no teachers to help her understand how to channel that strength and intelligence into something "useful" so she puts it towards the things she likes and wants to do, and thus struggles in a world that would otherwise be easy to navigate and conquer if she were "normal". Those that do understand her and try to help her are alienated by other people in an attempt to either punish both of them or force her to adapt to be somewhat passing as normal, if not then at least listen to what she's told to do. She does eventually make acquaintances but find that her twisted speech and weird explanations aren't worth trying to decipher and understand so they leave, they don't put in the effort to meet her halfway even though she's struggling and doing her best to speak in a way they'll understand.

Her parents acknowledge her differences but in a way that frames it as flawed and wrong, something that needs to be corrected, and push her to figure out her problems by herself, tearing down any support network she tries to build. She tries her damned hardest but it's not enough, it never is and never will be for them because she's not the perfect child they wanted. She showed promise in her younger years being a "gifted child" so she knows what love and acceptance lies in wait and what could be if she could just be normal and perfect. Her achievements and promise come and show in waves. She burns and fizzles out in one of the most virulent, painful ways possible after getting hurt trying to prove her worth yet again. She holds nothing but criticism, vitriol and contempt for herself because she can't claw her way back to where she was before, this time something happened and something is terribly, horribly wrong this time but she doesn't know that it is and can't figure it out, nor will anyone tell her. Whatever it is, left a mental and several physical injuries and it does nothing but deepen her self hatred and her parent's waning belief in her. She listens to false promises and praise of other people who do nothing but wish to manipulate and harm her but she stays because any form of praise is deemed good, she hungers for more and does worsening things.

She ignores the people who tell her that what she's doing is dangerous and will only end in disaster, because she doesn't believe them. If the people who are saying they're her friends are telling her that the people she hurts deserve it and that what she's doing is good, then surely she needs to believe them over strangers, right? Everything comes to a breaking point and shatters around her leaving her with quite literally nothing but her own self hatred, newfound rage and overbearing mental issues she needs to navigate once again to find out what hell it is and what's wrong with her now. She's scared of everyone and everything with the added bonus of now being hyper-aware and perceptive of people's mannerisms and behaviors, especially those who want to manipulate or harm her again. She wraps every vulnerable part of herself in metaphorical thorns and teeth to bite and maim whoever pries and digs into what she truly is, even people who want to understand her. She suffers at more than her own hand, forcing herself to deal with everything alone, until she finally meets someone that could be considered a true friend. She slowly opens up and helps them as much as they help her before everything comes crashing back down once again upon the reveal that they've been lying to her the entire time about very serious issues, and she's been used as nothing more than an attack dog once again. She burns every bridge and everyone around her in one final breakdown of rage before shutting down completely. One of the groups of friends she's shoved stay comes back and asks if she's ok. She doesn't understand why they're being kind, why they're concerned it why they care and tries to shove them away again. Every single day they still ask, talking even if there's no response from her, until she finally relents and breaks.

She's finally loved and accepted despite every fault and every flaw she has, and every time she tries to pull away out of fear of being an inconvenience they pull back twice as hard and remind her that she's able to just exist, she doesn't need to constantly be useful and that they care. She finally, finally is comfortable enough to let herself be accepted and then becomes the most clingy little shit, just as they do with her. But yeah, my own life has been very much of the same, especially the last part. Every time I go on another self-hatred spiral and drop off the face of the earth my MonHun bros give me a metaphorical slap to the face and remind me that I don't need to constantly prove my worth to everyone and prove that I'm useful, and that existing every once in awhile is more than enough. If that doesn't work then it's "you need to get your ass back over here because we're failing the Safi siege without the absolutely ridiculous amount of DPS your build Switchaxe does". I was not intending for her to be so much like me but goddamnit she's wormed her way into being my favorite now and I guess Mirage is no longer my impromptu sona

[strawberryspence]

I will never not be OBSESSED with the Famous trope + Found Family trope with the Party 😭 The headlines would be so chaotic? Like:

Famous Rockstar Eddie Munson is seen eating lunch with two time Pulitzer winner Nancy Wheeler, Highest Paid Photographer Jonathan Byers and Successful Entrepreneur Argyle Alvez. How does he know these people???

Three time Grammy Winner Eddie Munson seen in a McDonald's with World Renowned Astronaut Dustin Henderson and New York Times Best Seller Will Byers-Wheeler and Mike Byers-Wheeler. What the actual fuck???

Eddie Munson, seen in a Chicago Bulls game looking confused as hell, mere seconds after finding out his second album just went Multi-platinum, with his husband, Steve Munson. Also seen in pictures, Eddie Munson hugging point guard Lucas Sinclair and his wife, Max Sinclair. How???

MSG Sold Out Performer Eddie Munson seen in Chicago Medical Center with World Renowned Surgeon Dr. Erica Sinclair. Our insiders say that the rockstar is FINE and was only having lunch with the doctor. What in the multiverse is happening???

Eddie Munson and his husband seen in line at the book signing of rising Linguistics Author Robin Buckley. They ended up laughing so hard when they reached the author, they almost got kicked out. Turns out they all knew each other???

Rock Star Eddie Munson bringing packed lunch in pajamas to a small Chicago preschool where husband, Steve Munson and known friend, Jane Hopper works. Why??? How??? What???

Third most followed person on Instagram Eddie Munson, just broke the internet by posting a group picture with Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Jonathan Byers, Argyle Alvez, Dustin Henderson, Lucas, Max and Erica Sinclair, Mike and Will Byers-Wheeler, his husband Steve Munson and family friend Jane Hopper. HOW DO THEY ALL KNOW EACH OTHER?! WHAT A WEIRD GROUP?!

The more people speculate, the more they say shit. Like people ask them how they know each other and they all just throw out the weirdest answers.

Nancy gets asked in a press conference how she knows Rock Star Eddie Munson? Nancy answers with, "I was driving myself to California when I was 19 and I picked him up as a hitch hiker along the way. We’ve been friends since then."

Robin gets asked in a lecture how she knows the Sinclair Clan? Robin answers with, "I go way back with Dr. Erica. She once saved me from Russian Doctors trying to cut my toe nails."

Eddie goes on an interview in National TV and the host asks how he's friends with Argyle and Jon? Eddie answers with, "I got kidnapped by a killer clown when I was 17. They saved me by crushing the clown's still beating heart with their own bare hands."

Steve gets bombarded with questions online of how he knows Nancy, Robin, Jon, Argyle and even Eddie (his husband)? Steve answers with, "We were stuck in detention every Saturday when we were in senior year. We all became friends when Eddie Munson started singing Don't You (Forget About Me)."

Will and Mike gets asked in an interview about their friendship with Basketball Star, Lucas Sinclair? Will says, “Lucas once gave my dog CPR, ultimately, saving it’s life and we’ve been friends since then.” and Mike just goes, “Who???”

Erica once got asked how she knew Genius Astronaut, Dustin Henderson. Erica rolls her eyes, “That boy owes me his life. Ask him, not me.”

Dustin gets asked how he knows Eddie Munson. Dustin goes with, “Eddie once saved me from a feral army of bats and almost died. I’ve never let go of him since then.” The fans think this one might actually be true, they’ve seen the scars on Eddie, they’ve got theories and Dustin just gave them a puzzle piece.

Argyle got asked in a Business Magazine how he knows this weird, interconnected group. Argyle says, “Oh dude! Those are my life long friends! It started with a pizza van, a dead man, and a road trip to Utah. There was also a bald girl involved. In the end, the real treasure really is the friends we make along the way.”

Jonathan gets asked how he knows Eddie Munson. Jon gives the softest, sweetest smile and says, “We were in a satanic cult together.”

Jane Hopper gets asked once in public (how she knows all these famous people), someone filmed it and it went viral on Twitter. El says, verbatim, “Oh. It all started when I was kidnapped by an evil scientist who tested stuff on me like I was a lab rat. Long story short, they saved my life and they are my family.” By then people already don’t believe any of them because they all give out the most ridiculous answers. Hopper still grounds her for that even though she doesn’t live with him anymore. (Owens, who hasn't called them in 15 years, reached out with a warning).

→ Current Additions: Lucas Lie Detector & Max's Future (Scroll down the link)

[oceantornadoo]

hii! can you do what it would be like asking price to put pads on the shopping list?? and then when price goes shopping he has to call you to ask for what size ?? 😭😭 btw i love love your work, hope u had a good day💞.

im pretty sure you're referring to this post but i decided to make this price x reader so :) enjoy!

bsf marriage pact!price x reader, he's slightly creepy but he's sweet (this is actually a bit dubcon but its in good spirit)

you had had a shit day. actually, make that a shit week. emotional the whole time, feeling lonely, depressed, and with the weirdest cravings. right when you were about to call your best friend and rant about how terrible you felt, you had went to the bathroom and- oh.

that explains a lot.

and now here you were, sitting on the toilet for the past ten minutes, contemplating. you were completely out of all period products and your flow was so heavy there was no way you were making it to the store free bleeding or with toilet paper as a makeshift pad. of course, that's when john decided to call you (let's be real, who doesn't take their phone to the bathroom. don't judge.)

"evenin', duckie."

"ugh john, i told you not to call me that. its so annoying."

john grunted a chuckle into the phone, swiping a hand over his beard. "you love it." silence. he could practically hear your eye roll. "dinner tonight?" he was pacing his apartment, uncharacteristic for a man like him. calm, cool, collected. never when it came to you.

"can't, sorry. maybe in a few days." he grunted. "could order a takeaway?" you sighed in his ear, the sound a melody he craved to hear over and over again. on lazy saturdays and in-between small fights over laundry. baby steps, though.

"its just not in the cards tonight, john, i'm sorry." you were never like this, withholding information. even when you cancelled on him, it was with a long-winded explanation with the names of about seven people he didn't know and plans you didn't want to go to. "'s wrong, duck? got a hot date or somethin'?" he mentally crossed his fingers, not allowing a physical expression. he wasn't that whipped. not yet.

"no, im just sick. and tired." his muscles relaxed. he started putting on his boots and grabbed a fleece, something gaz insisted was not too tryhard for someone like him. "i'll run to the store and grab ya medicine, hm? what'dya need?" you sighed again, rubbing your fingers to your forehead. he obviously was not giving this up and you did really need pads...

"ill text you a list when you get there. thanks john."

"anythin' for you, duckie."

list: pads, advil, that one chocolate candy you know i like, something for dinner

shit. price had been with a woman or two, but had never had to buy her pads. of course, he'd never let it get to that stage, not when he had you to take care of. but now here he was, staring at playtex and always and what the fuck was a diva cup? he'd better call you.

"all ok, john?"

"ya didn't give me a color on your pads, duck." you giggled. of course he paid attention to the green versus orange pads.

"its pretty heavy so some of the overnight and extra daytime ones would work." silence.

"...there's numbers." your cheeks warmed. you couldn't believe you were talking about this with john of all people.

"god, john. this feels so embarrassing. so weird to talk about with you."

"why? gotta know this for the rest of my life, duckie." shit. he was referring to that night a couple weeks ago, when you confessed to him you thought you'd never find love. when he said he'd marry you in a heartbeat, just say the word. when you compromised by telling him if you were still single in two years, you'd go to the courthouse then and there. when you didn't see him turn and write the date in phone, just as a reminder.

"5, john. there should be a moon symbol or something. and then 3. should be green, i think?" he grunted an affirmation, putting the respective pads in his cart. he turned around, having said goodbye and ended the call, and was subsequently greeted by three women, staring. paused in their product selection, staring openmouthed at how nonchalant he was about buying pads.

30 minutes later he was at your place, groceries and takeaway in hand as he used his spare key to let himself in. "duck?" all quiet. he stalked through your place and noticed the light on in the bathroom. one, two, three quick knocks. "john?" "'s me. can i come in?" "no i- need you to get me something." he waited patiently. "can you go to my dresser and grab a pair of underwear. something ugly, lots of coverage." who was he to say no to a free invite to your underwear drawer?

john dropped the pads outside your bathroom door and headed to your bedroom. finding your dresser, he had to give himself a second. calm down, old man. they're all clean.

that didn't stop him from sniffing a few, reveling at the scent of your laundry detergent. he almost groaned at the scent, imagining you in them. even in the "unsexy" pairs, your curves clothed in cotton and elastic, wrapped up in a lovely package. all his.

john selected a pair with "lots of coverage", whatever that meant, and headed to your bathroom. he opened the door with ease, setting your pads down on the counter. you shrieked.

"john! im half naked, you need to knock." obviously, the sight of your bare thighs and the top of your mound peaking out was most welcome, but he was more concerned about getting you off the toilet and putting food in your belly. "jus' me, duckie. come on, show me how to do it." he gestured at the pads. he couldn't be serious.

you slowly unboxed them, taking care to cover your naked body as much as possible. even while moving slowly, your shirt still shifted and he caught glimpses of your pretty pussy. an image for another day, when you weren't in pain. he focused on your fingers, deftly putting the pad on your underwear with years of practice. he memorized how you placed the pad, ensuring it stuck to your underwear before tearing the paper off the wings and tucking them on the other side. you looked up at him and he nodded, mission complete. "thank you, by the way." he kissed your forehead, so quick you could have missed it in a blink.

"turn around, i have to put it on." he sat back on his haunches, staring. "go'on. 've gotta learn somehow." you were too tired to care, ready to devour your dinner. you missed his hungry gaze as you revealed your cunt to him, wanting even though it was covered in blood. you missed his fingers twitching as you slowly pulled on your underwear, fabric caressing your skin like he yearned to. you got up, flushed, and washed your hands, missing how he tucked his fingers in belt loops and leaned back into the wall, a move he'd done many times in his tac vest.

"thank you, john. truly." he gave you a grin under the muttonchops, all satisfied. task finished, mission accomplished. you had asked him to do this, a husbandly duty. after you dried your hands, you made a move for the door, but he stopped you with a hand to the jaw. he brushed his beard against you, feeling the shiver in your bones. his mouth hovered near your ear, accent coming out low and sultry. "anythin' for my future wife, duckie."

--

ngl this got a bit weird but i like it??? had to struggle to not lean into my simon riley weirdness tendencies as im still learning john as a character.

[inklessletter]

Autumn of 86. Robin is working at the most boring record store of all Hawkins to save up for escaping that hellhole where she lives in, where the weirdest shit happens all the time (kids coming back to life, classmates killed by chemical leaks, another gas leak that makes the mall blow up, a murderer from Pennhurst breaking free and going in a teenager killing spree, rumours of satanic cults...). Thank god she is working there with his best friend Eddie "love at first sight is an illusion" Munson, who makes her days less painful, and who, right now, is flirting with this all beaten up guy she has never seen before.

She wants to interrupt them, but the way they are talking it is so unlike Eddie. Staring, mildly blushing, soft voices and the strangest interaction going on there when he is purchasing the first cassette he grabs and he is not even paying attention to what he is buying because this new guy can't take his eyes off of Eddie. It even takes him a while to reply to Eddie when he asks him if he wants anything else.

Robin could swear that guy wanted to say something different from his actual answer. "No. No, yeah, that's–that's all. Thanks."

And Eddie half smiles, looks down. "Yeah. Great, here is your change, man. Enjoy your Christmas Carol tape."

"What? Oh, yeah. I will. I guess," and the guy smiles, and it looks painful because his lip is split. He bites his bottom lip and looks away. "See you around."

"Yeah. See you around."

And they—they just stare.

It takes him a few seconds before he purses his lips, nods, and leaves the establishment. And what has Robin standing there, and not bashing at Eddie the second that guy closes the door after him is the fact that she could swear that this guy was... was about to cry.

And Robin is a lot of things, but above all she is curious.

And smart.

And she is stubborn enough to find her answers.

She indeed teases Eddie about him gaping at the guy like a mad man. And she expects pushback, she really does. Eddie always gives her some resistance of her teasing but when Eddie says "I don't know, Robs, I feel like I have seen him before," she believes him.

So Robin does what she does best and finds the guy.

She follows him for a while, and thinks she is doing a great job at the grocery store, following him from the end of the aisle, but she loses him for a second and runs to find him again. She runs into him him as soon as she turns the aisle, face to face.

"Sorry, hi," he says.

"Hi," Robin parrots.

And they stare at each other.

Robin is good reading people. She always has been. And she doesn't really know what she is seeing in this guy's eyes but whatever it is is warm. And familiar.

"Are you okay?" he asks. And she is a bit lost in her own thoughts to reply right away. It takes her ten seconds to realize that he was asking because they actually crashed against each other. They were so close. He was holding her by the elbows.

She immediately steps back.

"Yeah, sorry. I am so clumsy sometimes, my coordination is not what you may say, sharp," she explains rapidly and awkwardly.

And the guy smiles, and it is the kind of smile that reaches the eyes. And she smiles too.

"I bet you stand out for some other qualities," he chuckles. "You seem smart."

"I am. I think," she adds. She can't realize why she is so disoriented.

"My name is Steve. Steve Harrington."

"Robin Buckley."

And he does this thing with his face, almost like a flinch, a recognition. It is brief but it is there and Robin has seen it, and there is something so weird with him.

Steve drops his gaze, and the weirdness of this situation hits Robin. Why would someone introduce himself just by randomly crashing into someone in the grocery store? What was that familiarity feeling? Why couldn't she just let him go? She followed him there, for fuck's sake.

"Do I know you?" she asks.

Steve just looks at her again, and stares. There is this gleam in his pupils, eyes almost wet, and Robin could swear that it looked so much like hope. For what, she doesn't know.

"I don't think so," and his words sound like a lie.

"Oh. I am–I am sorry, um, this is weird. It's just that I—I have this—"

"Gnawing feeling?" Steve finished.

And yes, that was exactly what she wanted to say.

There is something that Robin feels like it's trapped in the air. Something strange and beautiful, and caged somewhere, fighting with all its forces to break free, but she can't identify it.

"It's okay," he says. "It'll go away. It always does."

Steve smiles at her and it is sad. Robin is starting to get mad, and weirdly emotional and she doesn't know where it comes from and it's infuriating not to know. Her voice kind of wobbles when she speaks again.

"You speak like a total dingus."

Steve laughs. Suddenly and bright and honest, and she laughs too.

"I do. Yeah, I do."

Something is off, but it feels so right. Robin just can't place it. And it must shows in her face because Steve says, "it's okay."

And it is how he says it, like he knows what she is going through, but how could he possibly know.

"See you around, Buckley," he says, so affectionate that aches to hear.

He leaves her there, standing in the middle of the aisle, organizing her own thoughts.

Facts: she knows him. Her body, her heart, her soul reacted at his presence, that much is true. Eddie knows him too. But they just can't remember him.

So many questions, so may things to discover.

Robin smiles.

Robin is a lot of things, but above all, she is curious.

And smart.

And stubborn enough to find her answers.

[transmascissues]

conversations i’ve had with my mom this week about top surgery that will make my brain melt if i try too hard to make sense of them:

i was talking to her about how i might have to extend my medical leave because i probably won’t be ready to work at 4 weeks. she told me she didn’t expect my recovery to take this long. this is the same woman who, before i got top surgery, told me horror stories about someone she knew who had complications for months after having a mastectomy. was she just making shit up? was she lecturing me about things she was actively still in denial about? i can’t even begin to guess.

i mentioned to her that i’ve been posting about my experiences with recovery and she seemed…offended? by the idea that i was talking about it publicly. i shouldn’t be surprised because she’s the one who once told me the online trans community is “cult-like” and that she thought i was only getting top surgery because the trans people in my computer convinced me. the thing is, she’s also constantly asking me how my recovery timeline compares to other people so i…don’t know how she expects me to get that information if she also thinks talking to people about my recovery is bad.

she was asking me about how my incisions are healing and she told me to describe how they look to her…but “not anything that’ll make me cry”. do i know what she meant by that? nope! i can only assume the right move was to not describe anything too in-depth, even if it meant not including important details because they might upset her. priorities, am i right?

she asked me if, having been through the worst of recovery and knowing what it’s like, i would still make the same choice to get top surgery. obviously i said i would. she then proceeded to keep saying things like “really? are you sure? even after all this? you know you don’t have to say that, right?” as if it was completely impossible to believe i don’t regret this. why did she ask if she didn’t really want to hear the answer? god only knows.

we found out how much my insurance paid for the part of my surgery costs that were covered and it turns out they paid way more than any of the estimates i was given. my mom kept saying “that’s a lot of money you know” over and over again, as if i didn’t know that an amount of money high enough to buy a small house is a lot. i think she was trying to make some kind of point. what point? idk man.

0/10 totally incomprehensible interactions. i don’t even know what to make of them. i think now that the surgery is done and she can’t fight it anymore, she’s gone from being overtly ridiculous about it to just bringing the absolute weirdest vibes to every conversation about it.

[tempting-andromeda]

I missed my boys so I’m back at headcanons

Misc headcanons

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Sunmers, Kieran Duffy, Micah Bell, Eagle Flies

Arthur Morgan

Super awkward about gift giving but he loves giving you little trinkets from his adventures. Like a small flower or a pretty Little Rock

He’s just like “here” drops it in your hand and then stands there awkwardly

Doesn’t hide his facial expressions as well as he thinks he does.

He loves to gossip. If you tell him something juicy he acts like he doesn’t care but he’ll drop something even crazier with a smirk

Reluctantly tells you about his adventures but he just doesn’t want to brag

John Marston

Every time he asks for you to bathe with him it ends up with him getting a scrub down instead of getting headed (he doesn’t know why he expects anything else anymore)

Thinks burps are peak comedy.

He likes when you ask his opinion about things even though he’ll bullshit his way through

Like a purple or blue shirt? Hmm it’s cold so wear the blue one because blue is for cold.

Accidentally shows his buttcrack a lot. His pants just never sit on his hips right and I just…I can feel it.

Dutch Van Der Linde

He likes dates where you two go out into Saint Denis and pretend to be someone else for the night.

Likes picking out your outfits for you. He finds it romantic.

Has a thing for helping you tie or buckle your shoes

Always thinks the smallest knees is the biggest news or the other way around

Tries to dance with you in the most random of moments. Like you’re a little pissed about something and he’ll come up to you and just start swaying

Charles Smith

Cannot stand when people share food by sucking on peoples fingers. Like when people dip their finger into the cake batter and share it.

Has the most obvious side eye ever. He simply cannot hide it.

Favorite cuddling position is where you lay on top of him

He doesn’t drink much but when he does he’s a completely different person.

Will bluntly ask you a weird question like “what alcohol do you think would be your horse’s favorite”

Javier Escuella

Likes lipstick marks. Thinks it’s one of the most attractive things ever. Has a shirt where you left a lipstick stain on the collar

Says the sassiest shit under his breath 5 minutes after it’s relevant and gets pissed

Rehearses a conversation in his head before he has it

Makes you learn Spanish for “code words” but reallt he just wants to teach you Spanish

Has a habit of repeating words just for himself outside of conversations

Sean MacGuire

He thinks he’s the suavest mother fucker around. He will randomly share how he pulled you to random people

Makes the worst inside jokes he’ll never drop

Loves to spin you around randomly. He doesn’t care if you hate it.

Keeps food in his pockets (sometimes wrapped in cloth) and doesn’t see a problem with it

Thinks cringy pet names are the best like “snugglemuffin”

Lenny Summers

One of his favorite dates are leisurely strolls

He liked when you help him get dressed. Like help him with his vest

Idk why I think he has like the same idea as romance as those really happy old people

Likes when you keep him company while he’s patrolling

Loves cheek kisses! One of his favorite things ever!

Kieran Duffy

He likes to join you if you have a self care routine.

Likes to share things with you. Like some food or his clothes.

Makes the most out there “what ifs” or “would you rather” questions

Just casually knows how to do decent hairstyles because he got bored while working with the horses.

Wakes up too easily. At the smallest thing. You could twitch and he’s stirring awake

Micah Bell

Thinks it’s funny to ghost you. He always says stuff like “distance makes the heart grow fonder”

Really good at catching flies and mosquitoes

Will prompt the weirdest shit as if it’s normal just to fuck with you

Will give you the meanest compliments like “I hate inbreds…not you though” because he thinks it’s charming AND funny

Randomly gives you a good shove every now and then

Eagle flies

He absolutely loves getting a rise out of you like sometimes he does something stupid just for you to scold him

Affectionally bites. At first it was a joke but now he just casually does it. He’ll grab your hand and pressed a light bite to your wrist

Gets comfortable in the weirdest positions. Even while cuddling.

Talks about your future with him way too soon.

He thinks it’s funny to randomly “propose” to you

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 16

Jason Todd + leather or Latex

I had like, no ideas what to do with this prompt ngl, so I just kinda went with whatever came to me when writing.

Crime lord Red Hood has always had a special place in my heart

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Working for The Red Hood wasn’t too bad, especially compared to the other rogues you’d had to work for in the past. With Hood you didn’t have to fear suddenly being shot because Two-face suddenly felt like it, or being eaten by whatever plants Ivy had conjured up, or answering whatever riddles the Riddler came up with that day.

Best part was probably the uniform though. All rogues put their people in specific clothes. For the joker it was clown masks and all that junk, Riddler wanted you in stuff with question mark print, penguin wanted you well dressed in suit and tie, the list went on. For Hood just wearing red seemed to be enough. Most seemed to just resort to wearing a red hoodie under their jacket, and that was enough.

Interestingly enough, working for Hood also came with some benefits, like being allowed to keep stuff from different conflicts as long as it didn’t cause issues for Hood. That was where you found your first leather, some rich guy from Metropolis tried to set up in Gotham and was quickly dealt with. If Gotham hated anyone more than each other, it was outsiders trying to barge in and make a name for themselves.

The guy had been wearing a sturdy but not too flashy leather jacket, so after checking the pockets and for bullet holes and seeing it in one piece, you tucked it over your arm and brought it home. You had to cut the tags out and changed the inner fabric to something cheaper, and most importantly, into something red, but the quality was no lie.

You realized you might have had a thing for Leather one night when you had needed to go out for some small run for Hood, and you’d been too tired and lazy to put on a shirt. You ended up going out in a pair of low waisted denim pants, some well worn boots, and your jacket. No one batted an eye, at all, seeing a shirtless guy was far from the weirdest shit in Gotham, but the feel of leather on your skin seemed to have lit something inside you.

After that you might have subconsciously started looking for the stuff whenever you went on raids or into fights for Hood and his territory. Who cared if you stole some hotshot from star cities leather west and hat, or that guy from Texas whose black leather boots you stole right off his feet. You didn’t touch the pants though, even though you really really wanted too, you just didn’t trust them not to be contaminated by all kinds of junk.

You honestly thought you hid it pretty well, your draw to leather that is. Everyone had their thing, and you always wearing your jacket and boots was just something you did. If you went home to get dressed all the way down to just your jacket and boots though to jerk off was another thing entirely.

But it seemed your draw to the last targets pants hadn’t gone fully unnoticed by your boss. Imagine your surprise when he shoved a package into your arms one night and told you to only check it when you got home, the modulator of his helmet making him seem way more serious than he probably was.

You wouldn’t say you were outright friends with Hood, no one could really be friends with their boss in the criminal world, but you cracked jokes with the guy and even got him to laugh on the regular. You patched him up when he needed it, and he dragged you to Leslie’s clinic when you got knocked around a bit too hard, which happened more than you liked to admit.

When you got home you had almost assumed that the package would hold weapons or maybe even drugs, even though Hood didn’t personally deal the stuff. But instead, you found what you immediately noticed was leather, a card placed on top of the neatly folded leather. The letter was in Hoods writing, and you felt your face heat up a tad at the words on the page.

“Next time just let me buy it for you instead of stealing it off bodies” it said, and when you unfolded the leather, you felt your insides flutter. It was pants, they seemed even better quality than the ones you had been eying the night before. But it wasn’t just pants, there was a newer jacket, it was brown and heavy and was very well worn, and when you held it out in front of you, you could see it was one of Hoods own jackets.

You could feel blood running downwards, leaving you fumbling with your clothes as you got undressed, feeling almost desperate to pull the pants up your legs and hips. They were tight, but not too tight, and there was no question about the quality. Your original jacket fell to the ground with a heavy thud, your fingers quickly grabbing the heavy well-loved leather of the brown jacket and pulling it on, a shaky breath leaving you as the smell that was so clearly Hood filled your senses.

It smelled like leather, gun oil, the cigarettes he smoked when he was annoyed or on edge, and something undeniably Hood, and it had you tenting your new pants. Or tenting as well as one could in leather, which meant it was more a visible bulge running down the inside of your thigh. It had felt so good on your skin that you had found yourself grinding against your hand on your couch like some inexperienced fool. Your back had arched off the couch as you stained the inside of your pants, the leather growing slick against you as you groaned.

It was only later when cleaning the leather that you noticed the writing in the waistband, near the back so it would sit near the bottom of your spine. “Red Hood” it said, like some kind of statement of ownership, and you had shivered and exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over your face to dispel the thoughts it awoke in your body.

Next time you saw Hood you had worn the pants, but the jacket was left at home. The worn jacket didn’t go well with the newer shinier leather of the pants, so it was your normal jacket and boots, which had some of your friends joke a bit about you being some kind of leather daddy because of your interest in the stuff. You had let the jokes run off your back, joking along every now and then.

You hadn’t even noticed Hood being there until he had appeared behind you, his gloved hand grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. Youd almost snapped around and decked him, assuming it was someone else, that was until you heard his modulated voice. “You’re wearing my gift. You like it?” he purred obviously enough that you could hear it even through the voice changer.

You could feel your skin growing clammy as you gave a small nod, not even daring to look at hood as he pressed his crotch against your back, his erection obvious even through all your shared layers. “Good, you look so hot in it” he rumbled, giving your thighs an extra squeeze before he stepped back and wandered off, leaving you unsteady on your feet as you tried to force the obvious hard shape in your pants away, for once cursing how tight they were.

It continued on this way for a while, Hood leaving you presents, and you would wear them around his headquarters. It was never expensive or high quality enough for anyone to target you, but Hood seemed to enjoy it very much. It felt almost like having a sugar daddy or some kind, but he had never demanded much sugar, only grabbing your ass at times, or rubbing his hands up and down your torso that time you’d worn a leather shirt under your jacket.

He was a tease, and you could hear the shit eating grin through his helmet as you ground against his thick thigh one day. You felt so wound up from his lingering touches that you had found yourself in his office one day, or what you guys called his office anyways. Maybe you wanted a fight of some kind, you weren’t sure, but one thing led to another, and you pinned up against the wall, his thigh between your own.

And now you were grinding against his thigh like some kind of pervert, your fingers digging into the worn leather of his jacket as you gasped into his shoulder. You didn’t even notice as he pulled off his gloves or spat on his fingers, it was only when one of his hands was shoved down the back of your leather pants and between your cheeks that you realised. A groan left you as he rubbed the pad of his finger against your pucker, his voice cocky as he asked if this was what you wanted.

You tried to glare at him, but it only seemed to fuel him more as Hood pushed his finger inside, letting you adjust before he started moving to the best of his ability, your tight pants not leaving much room to move his wrist. The stimulation was driving you crazy, the tight leather of your pants doing nothing to lessen the experience as you ground forwards into his thigh, before you pushed back onto his hand.

Running your hands down his torso and up his shirt, you could keep the moan from leaving you as you felt something too smooth and slick to be leather. It was Latex, he was wearing a latex shirt under everything else, maybe it was even a full body thing as it continued as you thumbed at the waistband of his pants.

Your exploring just seemed to fuel him more as Hood added not just a second but a third finger at the same time, letting you just barely adjust to the stretch before he started moving his hand once more, causing you to grind harder against his thigh.

It was impossible to fight back the orgasm that rocked through you, thoroughly slicking up the crotch area of your leather pants as there was no fabric to soak it up, letting it splatter against your thighs and lower body. You could feel yourself twitch a bit as Hood removed his fingers, instead grabbing onto your hips and lifting you up, making your legs wrap around his waist.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to ask what he was up too as he walked backwards, plopping down on his chair with you in his lap, sighing softly as he started rubbing his hands up your torso, flicking your chest through the leather shirt you had chosen to wear. “You alright baby?” he asked, voice warm and caring, leaving you feeling all types of mushy.

You just scoffed and leaned forwards, resting against his broad shoulders and coiling your arms around him. Hood rubbed your back for a while before rolling his chair close to his desk, the taping of keys letting you know he was working on one thing or the other. In the end you found yourself with both your hands up his shirt, rubbing at his latex covered torso as you rocked lazily against his thigh, no hurry in your movements as you knew you had all night, and it would happen soon if the twitching bulge between Hoods thighs meant anything.

[riality-check]

#42 with any ship you want for the “100 ways to say I love you” prompts?

VERY late but here we go!

42. "Is this okay?"

The weirdest thing about Steve Harrington is that he's weird.

Since the spring break from hell, Eddie has learned that he's been a bit of a dick. For all his railing against stereotyping and conformity, he subscribed to a lot of it under the logic of shielding his little sheep. He's had his assumptions proven wrong again and again since by people like Better Wheeler and Better Sinclair and Steve, and he thinks he's probably a better person for it.

His personal growth isn't the point, however monumental.

He's grown past the point of thinking Steve was just another brainless, clone-like jock, but he's still learning new things about him.

Like, Steve is really loud sometimes. He talks to himself like he forgets that other people can hear him, and one time he started singing "Hammer to Fall" before he realized that the D&D session in the next room over quieted down specifically to hear him. It's more common when they're at his house than anywhere else, but it still happens.

And Steve is a really good cook, but he makes the strangest things. He can make delicious meals out of the most random ingredient combinations - Sinclair and Henderson have, indeed, put this particular skill to the test time and time again - but when Eddie asked if he could make chocolate chip cookies, he looked at him like he had three heads.

But the weirdest thing about Steve, by far, is his thing with touch.

He oscillates wildly between being the clingiest motherfucker on the planet and actively avoiding all human contact. Sometimes, Eddie can see the switch happen in real time, can see how he seeks out contact from Buckley one moment and freezes at a hug from Henderson in the next.

It's weird. Steve Harrington is weird.

But, while Eddie is a touchy guy, he's not a dick. So, he's come up with a new catchphrase, at this point, around Steve.

"Is this okay?" Eddie asks, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"Is this okay?" he asks, grabbing for Steve's hand.

"Is this okay?" he asks, kicking his feet up into his lap.

Steve says "yes" most of the time, and when he says "no," Eddie calmly moves away.

It's that simple, because Eddie isn't a dick.

He's not the only one who does this. Buckley, Better Wheeler, Better Sinclair, and Henderson all do the same thing. They all check first, albeit in different ways.

But Eddie starts to notice a pattern. Soon, he becomes the person Steve asks the most often.

He lightly shuts it down the first time it happens. Tells Steve he doesn't need to ask. Eddie has always been touchy, practically hanging off of all the friends who are okay with him using them like personal jungle gyms.

Steve shrugs, plays it off the way he plays off everything because he's still cool, just not an asshole. But Eddie can see the relief in his face.

There's nothing special about this time. Steve curls into his side without asking, without preamble, as has become more common, while they engage in the weekly pastime of watching a tape Steve "borrowed" from work.

Robin is usually there with them, but she and Nancy finally figured their shit out. They're off doing god knows what.

Probably each other, Steve suggested dryly when Eddie brought it up, causing him to spray Coke out of his nose right when the movie started.

But now? Westley isn't dead, and as he's threatening Humperdinck, Steve whispers, "Is this okay?"

Eddie turns to the side just in time for their lips to meet softly.

And that's when he realizes that months and months of "is this okay" and gentle touches have been his own personal "as you wish."

He's been in love with Steve Harrington for months.

And he thinks that this kiss, and the next, and the next, and the next, are more perfect than anything Westley and Buttercup could ever dream of.

Prompts here.

[hirsheyskisses]

OP Boys: Special Hugs (03)

Kid & Killer

(Short Scenarios)

WARNING: Kidd's part gets a lil NSFW. no need done, but suggestive.

Eustass "Captain" Kid.

♥︎ let's get one thing straight

♥︎ he doesn't do "hugs"

♥︎ no see he does this really creepy staring thing from a distance. He practically SENSES when you're in the room with him, and he turns his head and stares.

♥︎ he thinks he's subtle but he's really not

♥︎ what, you broke a knife? Here, have 20 more he made himself for this exact occasion. Why are you looking at him so weird? YOUR OLD KNIVES WERE TRASH ANYWAYS HIS ARE BETTER >:(

♥︎ also, weirdly specific way of flirting with insults that are actually compliments

♥︎ yeah, that energy.

♥︎ but fate leads to the weirdest shit, so..

"....a fucking sea-stone box."

"I tried to tell ya, Cap'n.."

Taking a look at your situation, there was no avoiding it. Your Captain just didn't listen to reason, it wasn't in his blood. Now, you were cramped against his chest in a tiny, sea stone box, that was only ever intended to hold him.

Not an extra human.

"Quit your damn squirmin." Kid grunted, flesh arm wrapping around you. It was pitch black, so neither of you knew where body parts were until you felt them out. "Tryna give you more room.." you muttered. Currently, you were awkwardly pressed against him: head just above his, hands on his shoulders, and legs resting on his. "No, you're tryna shove your tits into my face."

You could almost see the smirk with his words, "If I wanted my tits in your face, they'd be there! Now hush and let me move," you slowly twisted your body, hand grabbing his thigh for balance. His hand danced up your waist, half helping you turn your back to him.

"If I do this, you'll have more leg room." Which is something you figured he desperately needed, being damn near 6'5 and built like a tank, yet again, cramped in a tiny box that was sucking his energy.

"Mhm.. yeah. Yer gropin' my thigh, sweetie. 'S much as I love the energy, a box ain't the place we're gonna do this." You tightened your grip, chuckling out of pure annoyance: this absolute and utter piece of work-

"...Captain, for the love of all that's holy, shut the fuck up- please."

"So polite." He snickered, his lips now right next to your ear.

You successfully had your back against his chest now, knees brought up to your own, and dropped your head on them. You could hear Kid chuckling softly, his arm wrapping around your middle.

"The hell are you doing?" "Mmmmmmm...." He groaned in your ear.

Heat rushed up to your face. "What the hell?!" "Ya smell good." "Yeah well you smell like fuckin sweat so-"

He drew you closer, dropping his head ontop of yours, "when we get out of here.. so will you."

Long story short, if Kid had known what it'd take to get you so flustered and in his arms was to put you both in a cramped space.. well, let's just say this isn't the last time.

"Massacre Solider" Killer

• it takes a lot for Killer to get touchy Feely.

• Contrare to his captain's kinda horny love, his is, way more subtle. (Mostly because, thanks to the mask, you can't see him watching you.)

• when he decides he wants to try himself with you, he starts popping up. Everywhere.

• You're genuinely surprised he hasn't popped up while you're showering at this point

• however, Killer does have a weakness, being from the south blue. And that's the cold.

• see, you're from the north blue. You're used to it.. and so..

"...you're bundled up-"

"And youre.. not."

You quirked a brow, eyeing your Vice Captain. He was currently dressed in three of the puffiest jackets you'd ever laid eyes on, an ear flap hat over his mask, gloves, and the fuzziest pants ever. Meanwhile, you were dressed in a simple jacket, boots, regular jeans, and gloves.

"Ya look.. fluffy." You could almost swear he was still shivering a bit. "...Killer, you can head back inside. I've got the watch."

He shook his head, "'s better to have two people on watch." "In some cases, sure, but when the second person is so cold they're dressed like an old lady.."

You watched the blonde tense, "...I don't understand how you're not cold." You snickered, shaking your head. Snow was beginning to fall from the sky- you'd long since entered a winter biome. "I am cold, but not that cold."

"You're insane." "I think the same about you South Blue folk in the heat. North Blue folk are built for the cold."

Killer shook his head again, joining you in leaning over the rail.

"...you've been out here for a while. Let me take over." Killer said. He was right, but if he was the next in line.. "Thanks, killer, but I'll stay out here with you."

"Go inside. You're not dressed properly for this cold."

"Did you not listen to a word of what I just said- I'm built for this-"

"Did you not listen to what your Vice Captain just told you?"

"Sorry, don't see him. I do see a cold, stubborn child." You were careful not to use the term kid.

"."

"..."

"......"

"You're worse than Kid."

"I'll take that at face value and be insulted."

He sighed, "impossible."

A few hours later, you both were switching shifts with Heat and Wire. Walking into the kitchen, you stretched, watching Killer de-layer by the fire. A smirk tugged at your lips as you approached the masked man from behind, staring over his shoulder.

"The caterpillar emerges from its cocoon!" "Shut." He grumbled, removing his gloves last. His hands looked tenser than usual, likely because of the cold. So hatched your master plan of..

Grabbing his hands, and engulfing them with your own, and lifting them both to rest at your neck. Because of his mask, you couldn't see what he felt: but oh, if you could, this man was panicking.

Finally, he mustered, "...you're a human heater."

"That I am! Besides, neck, underarms, and .. between the thighs are the warmest part on any human. Thought you'd know that."

Silence. His fingers flexed and tightened at your shoulders, before, without warning, he had you picked up and thrown over his shoulder, stalking down the halls.

"EH? KILLER-" before you knew it, he'd thrown open the door to his room, tossed you on the bed, and quickly yanked a blanket over you both, snuggling into bed without even taking his boots off.

"...do I wann-" "...you're my personal heater. So sleep."

Well, he's wanted to do that for a while regardless.. holding you in his arms, lay on top of you.. the occasion was just too perfect not to throw rank around a bit.

[bluejay757]

spoilers for the book of bill

Gravity Falls has some of the weirdest fannon vs. cannon I've ever seen

Cannon: Ford views Bill as a friend/ colleague, a person he trusts, whose God like power he was intrigued by. Whereas Bill filled his head with lies, inflated his ego, gained sympathy for him by making him believe an evil monster destroyed his dimension leaving him homeless, tells Ford he is the only person who truly understands him and that without him he will be misunderstood and alone forever, isolated him from his only friend because he was obsessed with Ford and wanted him only for himself, and the minute Ford stops giving Bill what he wants, he goes bat shit fucking insane, invades Fords body without his consent and tortures him, drives a fucking nail into his hand and eats spiders.

Fannon: umm... actually it's hinted at to be cannonical that Ford had romantic feelings for Bill. 👉👈

...

Don't even get me started on the people who think Bill destroyed his dimension on accident and that he's the good guy.

"Bill's whole deal is lying, he wants you to think he's more evil than he is, he didn't mean to kill them all."

Dude do you hear yourself? Throughout the book Bill tells the story as if he was in the right, like he wasn't trying to kill people. Bro Bill wants you to think that he's the good guy so you'll feel bad for him. Bill destroying his dimension in order to "liberate" them feels like a Christian cult leader who killed all of their followers in order to "save" them.

"People who think Bill is the bad guy are the kind of people who would let him possess them, their the kind of people he wants."

Yeah, unlike Ford, who trusted Bill and believed him to be a good guy, people like Ford would neeeeever let Bill invade their mind. Once more,do you hear your-fucking-self? You're eating right out of his palm like he wants you to. In the book he addresses the reader as someone who trusts him and will let him into their mind, and you think that he really is telling the truth? And that you, the one who believes everything he says is true is the kind of person Bill wouldn't want??

Listen, I'm not dawging on anyone's headcannons. And I'm not saying you can't ship BillFord just because it's toxic, I know you know it's toxic, and I know that that's the point. Believe what you want ship what you want, it's a free country. I'm dawging on people who have zero media literacy and then accuse everyone else around them of having zero media literacy. I am genuinely confused as to how anyone could interpret Bill and Ford's relationship as romantic, and I DON'T MEAN as a head cannon, I mean the people who read TBOB and genuinely think that it's CANNON. It's not. Bill had an OBSESSION with Ford, and Ford was amazed with Bill because he was a literal fucking god. I promise you Ford did not want to the fuck the triangle. Yes, it is comparable to/ a metaphor for an unhealthy toxic ex, but it's not meant to be a literal ex. That's how metaphors work, they aren't literal.

Edit: "it's unlikely he (bill) was lying about it (destroying his dimension) being an accident." Yes because bill is famously known for telling the truth always. Quick question, were you born with that railroad spike in your brain or did Bill put it there?

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Heyyy love you’re work! I strive to be a good writer like yourself one day! I was thinking how would the mercs react to a goth person like myself:) it’s okay if you don’t wanna do this! Have a love day!

I think to sum it up, all of them are completely clueless and stupid but could care less.

The TF2 Mercs reacting to a reader who is goth

WARNING: stupid idiots

Scout:

- Huh… A little interested occasionally, looking up and down you while he thinks you’re not looking. Not really much of a reaction other than the typical awkward glances people give goths to admire them for a spilt second.

- Has no fucking clue what kind of style that is. It isn’t his preference for sure but it looks good on you and that’s all that matters. Bullies you for something completely unrelated to the fact you’re goth probably.

- “Hey! Nice fuckin’ shirt chucklehead! Where’d you get that one? Grandma’s couch?” He says when he sees you in a somewhat ‘conforming’ outfit for once. He’s gotten so used to you wearing your usual, that he doesn’t hesitate to pick on you for not being edgy enough. It’s a pride issue for him. Normally Scout would wear stuff shamelessly and the fact you aren’t yourself right now is giving him vibes that you might have grown insecure in some way. He genuinely thinks this’ll help you. Backwards elementary school logic.

- He can’t show appreciation without being a massive fucking dickhead. It’s a certified scout L moment. At least his heart is in the right place I guess?

————————————————————————-

Solider:

- Ingeniously freaks the fuck out because he thinks you’re one of Merasmus’ weird ghost apparitions. Nearly grabs you and beats the shit out of you in fear because he owes that wizard around $200 after a grenade-down-the-toilet incident and he doesn’t want to pay. Engineer and Pyro have to pull him off you. I am literally so sorry.

- “MOTHER OF JUDAH, PRIVATE! YOU LOOK LIKE A MORTUARY ASSISTANT BATHED IN BLEACH!” He announces. You have no idea if that was a compliment or not. It’s hard to tell. Soldier then quickly assumes you’re a weird offshoot of the hippie culture and you’re here to sell him weed. Aaahh there it is. Blissful stupid ignorance.

- After promptly explaining what you are, he nods slowly. Slapping you on the back heartily. “ALRIGHT PRIVATE! You’re clear. Didn’t know there was such thing as a goth.. Hippies sure are getting creative.” Idiot. Complete moron. Still thinks you’re a weird looking hippie. Just one who won’t sell him weed nor harbor the evil tendencies of one. What are these evil tendencies he speaks of? He can’t answer you.

——————————————————————-

Demoman:

- Ignores you completely. You’re just another person to him with their own preferences in attire. This guy still gets stares in the supermarket for being a massive black dude. He knows what it’s like to stand out, explosively. Get it?

- Well.. At first he ignores you. But if you insist on wearing your style on the battlefield he’ll be a little impressed to say the least. Demoman likes confidence. He whistles to get your attention from the backlines and raises a drink to you. “Keep at it! Show ‘em with your damned fangs! Maul those wee willy fucks straight to the—“ He gets hit by a train mid taunt. You stare blankly at the sight. Deadass no clue how to respond. You’re in awe at his lack of self preservation for one thing.

- Demoman is in the kitchen that night drinking god knows what brand of alcohol this time. He sees you and goes “AAAYY! There’s that crazy son of a betch wit’ the victorian thing goin on. Cheers to you.” He compliments. It’s not a heckle. It’s genuine admiration for your shamelessness. Being weird in that way is the easiest way to get on his good side.

——————————————————————-

Engineer:

- No response. Much like Demoman’s lack of response. Looks at you for maybe two seconds then looks away to avert any suspicions he’s trying to be rude. Calls you stupid nicknames like ‘ghost getter’ and “Weirdest display of caltholicsm he’s ever seen.’ …. Wait a second that last one wasn’t a nickname.

- You’ll rarely get any comments about the matter to him. He’s too busy with other stuff to make fun of something so particular. Especially something that doesn’t concern him. (Not to say he doesn’t love insulting people’s looks from time to time. But you’re a teammate! You’re on his side!) If you have a counterpart on the enemy team then by god he won’t hold back on the roasts. Everybody gets fuckin’ spat upon regardless of who they are. He makes fun of everybody equally.

- Asks you if his creations are nifty. For some reason he mistakes you with Steampunk full on old dad style because he’s “heard about ‘em darn tootin kids and their crazy fashion in the newspapers.” And thinks he’s somehow relating to you. That you have a common interest. You have to suppress your laugh here. Same energy as pokey-man. Cornflake’s confused but he has the spirit. The whole culture explained to him is when he starts fucking assuming you’re catholic by the way.

———————————————————-

Heavy:

- Concerned at first. “Who in your family is died..?” He asks after awkward silence on the bench. He has his eyebrow raised in intrigue. “Was it murder? Heavy will crush them for you.” He offers. He had good experiences with you beforehand so he has no reason not to offer such things. Heavy mistakes your attire for mourning attire.

- You sheepishly explain to this old dude why you were sporting full on black. Expecting a weird or strong response back. To your surprise he just shrugs and looks away again with a gruff “Hm.”

- He then looks at you again after a few more minutes and sluggishly asks you a barrage of typical old man questions when they don’t understand something dark and gritty. “So do you live in a big haunted mansion?” “Do you have some pet bats? Do you like scary music?” “What do you do as a hobby when you’re this?” And other things in broken english. Each answer seems to get through to him and make him either nod or shrug. He’s very cooperative and trying to understand. Seems to not like the idea of himself sporting such things and feels the need to mention that to you for some reason. Give this guy a makeover and he’ll begrudgingly cooperate.

——————————————————————

Pyro:

- Pyro gasps childishly when he sees you. Each little spot of black or dark hue on you is showing up the direct opposite in their point of view. You have rainbow hair, rainbow everything. They think you’re a candy princess/prince/monarch that’s come on a white stallion. They’re giddy with excitement and jump up and down. Clapping their hands.

- You’re throughly confused. But you figured it was because Pyro had never seen someone wear something like this before. “It’s goth, Pyro. You like it?” You ask. Pyro glomps you. Straight up fucking hug tackles you and spins you around like an unfortunate house cat who’s just been spotted in the street by a stranger.

- You’ve become the rainbow unicorn candy ruler of all imagination and happiness and you don’t know how or why but you accept your fate. Pyro has made you a throne out of candy wrappers and you feel guilty often if you don’t use it. You got to admit a lot of unnecessary work went into that thing. Same with the crown he provided you. (It’s an actual crown made of diamonds and you don’t wanna know where they got it.)

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- You swear you just saw a shocked blush crawl across his face. But he looked away before you could take a good look behind those sunglasses of his. Sniper’s unironically attracted to the aesthetic on other people and he secretly thinks it’s a fine piece of art but isn’t willing to admit it. He always had a thing for edginess and overall darkness. Sniper listens pretty frequently to early rock on his camper’s radio and doesn’t shy away from the occasional greaser jacket.

- “Nice look, mate..” He says on one of his good days. He plays off as indifferent and nonchalant but you can tell he’s hiding his slight interest in being your friend. Every little attempt to ignore you reeks of ‘come get me.’ Sniper’s social ineptitude is just sad at this point. Eventually you just shake your head and smile lovingly and accept his stupid efforts. Your suspicions are eventually proven correct when he accepts a drink with you.

- Hyperfixates on you like you’re some sort of fucking anime character. Can’t get the way you express yourself out of his head. You’re the most colorful thing in this godforsaken desert and that says a lot because you wear black.

—————————————————————————

Medic:

- No. No. no. Anything but him. ANYTHING BUT HIM. DEAR GOD PLEASE!!

- Prepare to get bombarded by a tsunami of questions that extend into two hours. Medic cannot control his curiosity and at one point asks you multiple times if you’re a demon or something because of how excited he is. The others rarely see him act like a puppy this much. His evil autism is activated. Turn tail and run. He’s sort of bouncing on his heels. It kinda reminds you of Pyro.

- “Oohohohoho! What an extraordinary specimen! Your oddities will surely aid in my understanding of how psychology works! Here! Sign this paper that says you acknowledge any drugs I pump into you aren’t supported by the FDA!” He hands you a clipboard and bounces again wildly. His happiness is rather contagious and you blindly sign it because you’re too focused on his child like energy and how adorable it is. He’s like a teenage girl who’s seen her fucking idol for the first time. “You see our aesthetics and personal preferences for color appear quite differently from person to person and depending on how you grew up—!” He goes on a psychology rant.

—————————————————————————-

Spy:

- He’s judging you. It’s as clear as day. He’s walking around you and examining your attire with his hands behind his back. As if you were some prized show breed who was being accessed for the finals. He lifts an arm up, tsks when he sees the seams in your clothing and disappointedly glares at you. Then just straight up walks away. By far one of the weirdest responses you’ve ever gotten. But then again should you be surprised? Spy is a drama queen and all you needed to do was take one good look at him to know that.

- Next thing you know, you have an entire box full to the brim of more gothic clothes off to the side of your bed when you wake up the next day. There wasn’t any letter nor indication of who it was. Which rather indirectly told you who it was. All the clothing was super, super expensive and straight up unreachable in some way. You find it especially alarming how it’s basically an entire box of things you personally expressed wanting to the other guys but couldn’t obtain due to the price. You swore Spy wasn’t there during that time.

- Ugh.. Of course. It’s all clear to you now. He hated the state of your current clothing and to save his poor snobbish eyes he bought you an entire wardrobe of it, he even bothered making outfits folded nearly together and they made sense. Which made you hate him more.

[freedomfireflies]

Not sure if you take requests so if not please ignore this xo

Bestfriend’s brother trope.

You’re at your best friends house and playing a game either like never have I ever, two truths one lie or would you rather and the topic of kinks come up since Harry’s room is wall you’re leaning on he can hear everything amd hears your kinks and can’t keep it to himself.

You either hear him grunting through the wall or a little ‘meetup’ in the kitchen or his room???

I changed it up just a smidge, but I hope it can still do your idea justice!! 😭 Thank you so much for the idea 🥹💞

“No…seriously?”

“Yeah…why? Is that…weird?”

“No, no…I just…honestly, I wouldn’t have expected it from you.”

“Really? I feel like a lot of people like it.”

Suzie laughs as she shakes her head. “Honestly, I swear. Remember when we were kids, and we were scared to even talk to other people?”

“Were? I’m still scared,” you snort.

She smirks. “I don’t think you’re that scared if you wanna go to a sex club.”

“Well…I’ve never been,” you sigh as you dig your hand back into the bowl of popcorn. “Dated a guy that used to go a lot. He said it was really important in showing him what he liked.”

“So why didn’t he take you?”

Your eyes roll. “’Cause he said he would get too jealous, and since we were in a relationship, it was inappropriate. I don’t know, I think he liked the idea of me being kinky but didn’t want me to actually be kinky.”

“And that’s why you dumped him,” she declares proudly, and you nod.

“Exactly.”

She nestles back into the pillows against her headboard, eyes on yours as if studying you. “Okay, so…what else?”

Your brow raises. “What else…what?”

“What else are you into?”

You shrug as you lean back as well and bring your knees to your chest. “I don’t know. Just…normal shit, I guess?”

“Like? Listen, we’ve already established I’m vanilla, so you’re gonna need to be more explicit.”

You laugh. “You’re not vanilla, you’re just…you like intimacy.”

“Yeah. Sure,” she deadpans playfully. “Whatever.”

“Okay, well…I don’t know,” you sigh again. “I like it…kind of rough, I guess? Spanking, choking…bondage.”

Her eyes light up like a kid in a candy store, and you grin. “Ooo.”

“Stop,” you groan, waving your hand at her to brush her away. “Honestly, I think if my partner is into it…I’m down to try it. Even if it’s a little…taboo.”

“Yeah? Okay, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve done for someone,” she asks, as if eager to live vicariously through you.

And you don’t mind telling her, so, you take a moment to think. “Uh…huh. Well, this one time…I was seeing this guy that worked at an auto shop, and he…uh, he used jumper cables as nipple clamps.”

“Oh, shit,” she murmurs, lashes fluttering. “Did it…did it hurt?”

“Oh, no. I mean, yes, but…not in a bad way. I’m…kind of a masochist, so…I liked it.”

Her smile returns as she puts a hand over her heart. “Oh, my god. I’m learning so much about you.”

“Stop,” you groan again as you shake your head and look around her room. “It’s not that weird.

“No, it’s not,” she agrees. “My brother’s a masochist. Well…an emotional masochist? I don’t know. All I do know is that when we still lived with our parents…I heard some shit I can never unhear.”

Your nose crinkles sympathetically as you chuckle. “I am…so sorry. May I suggest therapy?”

“Oh, already booked.”

“Thank God.”

“Yeah. Hey, speaking of my brother…I’m so sorry he’s here,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “I told him to get a hotel, but he claimed that ‘my apartment was so much cheaper,’ which is absolutely an insult and exactly why he’s sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Honestly, it’s fine,” you tell her again. “Really, he can have the guestroom, I’m fine with the couch—”

“No,” she interrupts with a stern look. “His ass belongs on a couch. Your ass deserves a bed. End of.”

“Suze—”

“Nope. I don’t wanna hear it,” she repeats as she leaps from the bed and onto her feet. “I’m gonna go get some water, you want anything?”

“…can I steal some more of your strawberries?”

“Duh.”

You smile as she motions you forward before quickly leading you both out of her room and into the kitchen.

However, the minute you round the corner, she releases a very loud, and perturbed groan.

“Harry,” she nearly snaps when she finds him sitting on her counter, a box of strawberries in his hand. “I told you, those are for my guest.”

His eyes shift to you, a smug smile curling around his bright pink lips. “…oh, yeah. Oops?”

She grumbles under her breath and makes her way for the refrigerator before ripping the door open to retrieve a water bottle. “God, you’re a pain in my ass,” she calls to him before turning to you. “Sorry—again—about him. He’s going to share.”

“I am?” he asks.

“Yes,” she hisses, shooting a glare his way. “Or I will call mom.”

“Ooo,” he teases, hand over his heart, feigning fear. “Not mom, anything but mom.”

“God, whatever,” she huffs, slamming the door shut as she heads for the hall, stopping suddenly to glance back at you. “I’m gonna take a shower really quick, and then we can start the movie. Is that okay?”

“Sounds good,” you agree, nodding your understanding as you shoo her forward.

She smiles before sending one last aggravated look her brother’s way (to which he winks) and heads for the bathroom, leaving you two behind.

You turn to him, rather apprehensively as you meet his eye. You’ve known Suzie for years but have hardly ever spoken to Harry.

He’s…nice, you guess. Mostly keeps to himself. But he’ll say hello when he sees you and you’ll return the greeting before you both part ways.

This time, however, you notice the way he studies you. The way a rather curious intrigue makes its way into his expression as he slowly extends the fruit toward you. 

“Strawberry?” he offers.

Gingerly, you reach into the basket and retrieve one. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” He leans back against the cupboards, continuing to keep his focus on you as you take a bite. “So…how’s the sleepover going?”

There’s a playful lilt to his voice, so you roll your eyes in return. “It’s going great. How’s the couch?”

“Stiff,” he reports. “She was right, I should’ve gone to a hotel.”

You hum as you take another bite before gesturing toward the hall. “Honestly, you can have the guestroom, I really don’t care.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he declines as he places the strawberries onto the counter beside his thigh. “She was also right about you deserving the bed.”

You smile gratefully before the kitchen settles into a comfortable silence.

However, that smile slowly begins to slip as you start to piece a few things together. “…wait, how did you know she said I deserved it?”

Those vibrant red lips of his pull back into yet another devious smirk as he swipes his knuckles across his mouth. “Walls in here are kind of thin. Sound travels.”

Oh…

You nod, fingers absentmindedly beginning to twirl the stem of your fruit around and around. “And, uh…is that…I mean, how much…traveled?”

He props one knee up, foot landing on the marble as he leans forward. “Oh, you know…not…a lot.”

Oh no. “And how much is not a lot?”

“Not…a lot,” he repeats with a laugh. “Just…something about jumper cables as nipple clamps?”

“Oh, god,” you groan, palm coming up to smack against your forehead. “That’s…I am so sorry, that’s…shit.”

“Why…are you sorry?”

“’Cause, that’s…I’m sure you didn’t wanna hear that.”

“I mean, I wasn’t trying to hear it. Not on purpose, anyway.” He shrugs. “But honestly? It sounded kind of hot.”

You shoot a tedious look his way. “…come on, really?”

“Really.” Another shrug. “What? Shit like that is hot. S’even hotter when the girl is really into it, too.”

You exhale an amused snort as you move to toss the rest of the stem away. “Gee, well, thanks so much for your approval.”

“Anytime,” he declares proudly, matching your sarcasm. “And, for what it’s worth…the guy who wouldn’t take you to a sex club sounds like a fucking ass.”

You whirl back around, cheeks flushing. “Seriously? That, too?”

His palms instantly fly into the air as if surrendering. “It wasn’t on purpose, I swear. You just talk…very loud.”

“God,” you groan again, arms crossing as your head drops back. “Okay, we can be done. This is a very strange conversation, and we can be done with it now.”

“Fine, fine,” he agrees, arms lowering as he watches you head for the hall. “But…if you ever need someone to take you…”

You come to a halt about halfway through the doorframe before slowly glancing over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“Well…I know a few places,” he says casually while hopping off the counter. “Could take you to one if you want.”

“I’m sorry, and why would I want you to take me to a sex club?”

“’Cause going alone for your first time can be a little intimating,” he explains, matter-of-factly. “Especially if you aren’t too sure what to do. S’just better to go with someone you trust.”

“Oh, and that person would be you, would it?”

“It could be.”

“Who says I trust you?”

“Who says you should?”

Your eyes narrow. “You just said I should.”

“No, I said it’s better to go with someone you trust, and it could be me,” he reiterates. “I never said you should trust me.”

You watch him carefully as he begins to take a step toward you.

“Think you know better than to trust me, anyway,” he murmurs, the side of his mouth dancing up into a smug grin. “Don’t you?”

You feel the catch in your throat as you look up at him.

The charged silence seems to stretch forever as he allows you a moment to understand.

And once he’s satisfied with your unease…he leans back.

“I’m just saying. If you ever need a playmate…you know where to find me,” he finishes, brushing past you to head for the couch.

And you watch him disappear into the living room, heart hammering inside your chest as his premise lingers in the air.

You almost want to laugh at the thought. Or cringe at the notion that you would ever even entertain such an idea.

But for the rest of the night, all through the movie and after you’ve tucked yourself into bed to sleep…the thought stays with you.

It stays, and it festers, and it expands.

Until you’re teetering on the edge between refusal…and acceptance.

And when you wake the next morning, only one thought remains:

What’s the worst that could happen?

I actually stole the scenario of the jumper cables as nipple clamps from one of my other stories, so if you recognize it...consider that to be a wink 😭

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[modelbus]

Hello!! I LOVE your writing, like I’m obsessed! So, I can’t tell if your requests are open, buttt if they are, I would DIE for some fluff turned to angst of a fem!reader who is in a group with cc!Ranboo, cc!Tubbo, cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy nicknamed the chaos squad by the fandom, where she is the least popular in the group and a rumour spread that shes only in it for the popularity, so they slowly stoped inviting her to streams and vlogs and ghosting her.

it could start with like three two sentence stories about the group (or something), how it was formed just fluffy moments, and then be like “but it didn’t stay like that for long..” and explain why she was subtly kicked from the group before a scene where shes streaming and gets asked about why shes not been in any videos anymore.

PHEW that was ALOT, if its to long you can obviously shorten it or just not do it- but if requests are open and you like the idea, I would love to see something like this!! <3

PS. You are super cool, keep up the amazing work!! (When you want to ofc)

-✨🌌🌙 Anon

Thank you so much! I tried my best to include everything :D This literally took me out of my writing slump

Part 2 :)

Pairing(s): cc!Ranboo, cc!Tubbo, cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Cut Chaos

The feeling of belonging was something nearly everyone chased after. After all, being out of place was simply… lonely. And, somehow, you found yourself slotting into the weirdest place in the world.

A handful of stupid friends.

You always found yourself drawn to dumbasses, in the most affectionate way. Like looks for like, you suppose. And shit, did you find some people that could make you cry laughing even on the worst days.

Ranboo, Tubbo, Wilbur, Tommy. Four people that made the sun rise every day, that dragged you out of bed for the stupidest vlogs to ever exist. Fans adored the five of you together so much that you got a group name for the first time in your career: the Chaos Squad.

Truly, it was a fitting name. The things that the five of you got up to, you’re certain no normal sane person would do. But, well, your job as a streamer already set you apart from the category of “normal” a long time ago, so you definitely didn’t mind the messes you got into with them.

From Tommy dragging the group to an abandoned island, saying it’d be fun to try to escape (you fell out of a tree and Wilbur sprained his ankle), to screaming along at Lovejoy concerts, it felt like the five of you were unstoppable.

And God, did you love them. It didn’t matter how many times Ranboo hit his head on things, you’d still laugh. It didn��t matter that you literally passed out from laughing so hard once, you were still happy. Pure, unfiltered love.

The five of you against the world, forever. You could see it, in those sunny days where you grinned so hard your cheeks hurt (they were the first ones to make you do that—the realization only made you grin harder). The perfect idea of happiness.

Was it any wonder things didn’t stay that way, that perfect, for long?

A rumor.

It always seemed to start with one of those, nowadays. A simple murmur among fans that grew and grew, until you were closing out of twitter at 2, 4, 5 AM, debating if you should just delete the app and put your status on “Do Not Disturb.”

You accepted the fact that being a female content creator was going to be a struggle a long time ago. It was a fact, something you knew you couldn’t avoid, especially in gaming. Having rumors about you online wasn’t new. It would never be new, not as long as you were yourself.

But you thought you’d be past caring about them by now. You thought the tight panic that gripped your heart, made it hard to breathe, was a thing of the past. So stupid.

One private account turned into multiple threads, turned into trends on the trending tab.

Everyone thought you were using your friends, the chaos squad as a whole, just to boost your career. To leech off anyone’s subscribers, just for some money in your pocket.

The idea made you sick to your core.

How dare they? How dare they ever think you didn’t genuinely care for the four? That they were anything less than the lightness in your heart, the freedom on your mind?

Rumors.

You ignored them. Even the thought of addressing them made you feel pissed off like you’ve never been before. It was such an absurd idea! At the very least, you knew your friends would see past the hateful people.

Right?

It starts with an unanswered message in the group chat.

Unanswered messages weren’t new. A stray comment tended to get lost in the general mess that the group chat was, so you weren’t concerned. Just laughed to yourself quietly; it wasn’t important anyways, just a photo of a cat you saw.

Until it happened again. And again. Until more of your messages went ignored than responded to, until the group chat had less and less messages each day.

When the first vlog comes out, the process repeats. It’s on Tommy’s channel, of course. Him, Ranboo, Tubbo, and Wilbur. The chaos squad, just without you. It surprised you, because you never even realized they filmed a video, and normally all of you share upcoming videos.

All the warning signs were obvious, and you were too much of a damn fool.

You filmed one vlog with them after that, exploring a supposedly haunted house, before you woke up a month later and realized you hadn’t talked to them in a week.

One week turns into two, two into three, until you’ve realized what’s happened. You were gone, out of the picture. Happiness had slipped through your fingers faster than you could’ve ever comprehended, and now you were in a dark room—literally.

But what could you do? If they didn’t want you, there was nothing you could do to stop the unraveling of your universe.

So you did the same thing you did before them, defaulting back to what was safe: streaming alone.

Today, it’s just a mindless game. Yesterday was the same, and fuck, this isn’t the same anymore. Not when you don’t have Tubbo in the chat sending messages, or Wilbur using Text-To-Speech.

But you’re here, still streaming. Still going, no matter how tempting it is to just shut off your computer and pretend the last months of your life never happened.

There’s always fans though, and if anything cheers you up, it’s them. So your donations are on, allowing them to be read aloud while you play the silly little unpacking game.

“Where am I putting the diploma guys? Where does this go?” You ask, mouse hovering over the virtual object. “Maybe I’ll just put it under the pillow…”

“StarEmojis donated $15! If up is down and yes is no, how many sides does a triangle have?”

“Thank you, but… uh...” You narrow your eyes at the message. “None, it’s a circle?”

Shrugging, you drag the diploma in the game to under the pillow. The riddle sounds familiar, but not one you know the answer to. It sounds like something Wilbur would send in the group chat at 2 in the morning, honestly.

With that thought in mind, your eyes flicker over the user that donated it. StarEmojis. Not Wilbur.

You’re so stupid for hoping. For the jump in your heart, for the frantic searching.

“StarStarMoon donated $20! Why aren’t you in any Chaos Squad videos anymore? Love you!”

Air catches in your lungs, dread swelling in your chest as your hands still on the mouse and keyboard. That shouldn’t have gotten past the moderators, but it did.

And now you have to answer it.

It wasn’t like you could tell the truth: that you weren’t good enough. That even your best friends didn’t believe you over rumors from strangers online.

Any lie would have a chance of getting back to them though. Not that you can imagine them caring, not anymore.

You swallow past the lump in your throat that’s killing you, taking a breath in before answering. One chance to get the fans to move on, one chance to find the impossible balance between the agony inside of you and cool indifference.

“We’re all just busy.” You say, forcing a smile on your face.

It’s true, at least. Everyone is busy. Everyone except you, that’s it.

“Just scheduling problems. Wil- Wilbur has Lovejoy practices and performances.” You stumble over his name. Did you even have the right to call him Wil anymore? “And Tommy is just always busy. He’s the busiest person, I swear.”

Is that true anymore? You don’t know. He used to be, but you used to help force him to take breaks. Was he taking breaks? You’ll never know.

With another forced smile, you give a half-hearted shrug. “So yeah, just busy, don’t worry guys.”

It’s with baited breath that you wait, eyes scanning chat to see if they bought it. From what you’re seeing, they have.

“Now we need to reorganize these clothes, because they’re killing me like this—“

Your discord pings quietly on another monitor, and you scramble to open it. Just your mods apologizing for letting the donation go through. You send a quick message back to them before pushing the donation to the back of your head just like everything relating to the group you’re no longer part of.

What could you do, anyways?

This was out of your control.

[w2beastars]

Waezi2′s thoughts on “Beast Complex” chapter 24.

Paru is back at it again!

Meet South the Iguana.

South is a twenty-nine year old lizard. Saying he is an alcoholic might be an exaggeration... but he very much have an alcohol problem. Having sensitive skin and living in a very warm area, South needs to stay hydrated, but he choose to mainly drink beer instead of water. Partly because of how it affects his skin but also o make it easier for him to not think about his problems.

But then his excessive drinking is cock-blocked by a penguin inside the beer fridge... Still not the weirdest thing I ever wrote.

Yeah, a baby penguin somehow ended up in the store where South gets his favorite brand of beer. To stay cool in the very warm area South lives in, the little guy is now inside the beer fridge and refuse to leave. Begrudgingly, South takes the little penguin to his small apartment so the shop can stock up on beer again.

Having a guest in his home for the first time in ages, South realize that his place is not just dirty, it is rather empty. He sleeps on a mattress, has a fridge for his beer and food and a microwave oven for his meals. His home is about as pathetic as he is.

As South thinks about how his life is kind of a fart, we learn something... shocking about this iguana.

Something that you have never seen before in Beastars OR in Beast Complex. Something so odd that you might find it revolting. It will make you wonder if Paru was even more unhinged than she normally is while making this comic!

You see, South...

... was in a relationship with a female WHO IS THE SAME SPECIES AS HIM!

Trust me, dear reader. I'm as shocked as you are! A Beast Complex character who was NOT dating an animal completely different from them?!

What madness is this?!

Okay, seriously speaking.

We get some good ol' Paru symbolism as we see that South's life has for a while revolved around his fridge. Or rather, what is inside it. It got out of hand to the point that his (same-species?!?!?) girlfriend dumped him and his boss feeling so sorry for him that he makes him take a break instead of downright firing him.

So South drinks when he gets anxious. But his increasing drinking makes him more anxious, which results in him drinking even more, making him more anxious and so on. As he thinks about his boss and ex, he once again gets "thirsty" and practically tears his fridge oepn.

South would probably end up as a drunken waist... if not for his new "roommate."

See, the thing about depression is that you often ends up alone, either because the people around you lose their patience or you choose to be alone. And when you are alone with a minimum of interaction with the real world, you stop caring about the small things like cleaning your home, a proper diet and your economy.

Best thing to do is actually to be useful somehow. Like doing voluntary work or getting a pet. Or in this case, a penguin in your fridge. If you are of use for someone else, you feel a little better about yourself.

And that's what South is to the baby penguin he has named Sam(a reference to the Japanese word for "cold"). The two of them can't really talk since Sam is a sea animal and has a entirely different language.

Whenever South has his panic attacks and go for a beer, he is instead met by the fluffy little bird in the fridge. So South has to clean the fridge for penguin poop and also spend extra hours in his part-time job since he spends more money on electricity because of Sam being inside the fridge. As the days pass, South finds himself acting like, well... a functional adult.

One day, South gets a reason to panic again as he realize that Sam is losing his white coat and looks skinny instead of fluffy.

If you know a thing or two about penguins, then you will know that there is nothing to worry about. But South knows jack shit about these birds, so he rush him to a hospital on his bicycle.

On their way, they pass the ocean... and we get this majestic moment.

There was nothing to worry about, Sam is just growing up and losing his fluff, finally ready to leave his nest and get in the ocean.

A pair of dolphins are luckily near and South has managed to learn to speak a little sea language so he can ask the dolphins to escort the young penguin to Antarctica.

Despite Sam having left his apartment, South still have a little of Sam in his fridge as the penguin sends him letters on pieces of ice.

So South's life still revolves around his fridge so to say, just in a much healthier way.

This was such a nice tale about a guy rebuilding his life by having to be dependent for someone else.

... Even if South is a freak, dating a fellow iguana. BE A FURRY LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, SOUTH!

I'm Waezi2, and thanks for wasting time with me.

[imperator-titus]

More deranged astarion headcanons cause I don't want to do work or go to the store

Astarion is cat-coded 100% even if Neil didn't say he was inspired by his cat, but when I heard that it totally made sense.

This means Astarion is fickle, does exactly what he wants, can be an annoying little bitch but you'll forgive him because he's cute, and has his "person"

Astarion is not a cuddler by nature but just like a cat, he might decide that all you're doing is be his pillow. But that also means he might decide that you are NOT allowed to touch.

This also applies to the “stares at you without blinking cause I don’t trust you” and “let me stare at you and blink slowly because I trust you” behavior

Being a sassy lil bitch is his version of knocking shit off tables, BAPS for the things he doesn’t understand

Vampire magic keeps his hair perfect (this is totally made up, but his hair is PERFECT and they're CONSTANTLY fucking filthy and I live with a man who has beautiful curly hair and the maintenance is insane, there's no fucking way)

Hates when you do things for him, hates having to “need” you, takes him a long time to learn that it’s not so he owes you something and it’s just what friends/partners do

Hates doing things for people but is actually very good at looking at something and going “this was meant for [insert person here]”

Has the weirdest sense of humor, not always dark but usually

Pretends he can take an insult or be the punchline of a joke that he’d probably tell about himself, but secretly hates it

The pendulum swings between hypersexuality and not even wanting to hold hands, the most vanilla man you know, the sex dungeon is for you and also the aesthetic (I am all behind the “Gale is the kinkiest man you know and Astarion just wants missionary when the illusion of being a depraved kinkster wears off”)

Expressive and Sensitive Elf Ear Supremacy

I feel like Astarion sweating was a graphical/coding oversight but yeah… I’m here for it.

Loved sweets as a mortal