#but they’re actually kind of chill for the most part

[strang3lov3]

Fighting Fair

Joel doesn’t know what or who started this fucking thing, but he’s finishing it. Tonight.

Tags: impish activities, soft dom!joel sorta aggressive joel, forced proximity, cock grinding, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie (always), teasing, dirty talk, almost somnophilia (they’re sleep-teasing each other unconsciously) sexually frustrated morons, good ol' fashioned "we have to get naked and share body heat to stay warm" trope

A/N: I had to drag myself kicking and screaming into writing this fic that put me through the fucking ringer!!! Thank you @theywhowriteandknowthings @merz-8 and @beefrobeefcal for the general fic help and encouragement! And I think also @noxturnalpascal and @tightjeansjavi and ESPECIALLY @notjustjavierpena who talked me through this fic a couple weeks ago and gave me the push I needed to finish it when I was stuck. You guys all rock ❤️

It’s too cold tonight, even indoors and with a fire burning. He moved the large sectional couch as close as he could safely get it by the fireplace, gave you his jacket, and you’re still hoarding the blanket. Joel tries to gently tug on the blanket that you’ve wrapped around your body, see if maybe you can spare to lose a few inches of fabric. You don’t budge. Joel sighs, “Y’can share, ya know.”

“This is sharing.”

“It’s not, actually. I’m the one sharin’ here. I gave you my coat, you can quit hoggin’ all the blanket,” Joel tugs harder on the blanket, it’s old and kind of scratchy, worn out by the years. “C’mon. Let up.” 

“You can have this much,” You mumble, giving Joel a small amount of the fabric. 

“How generous of you,” Joel mutters sarcastically before pulling the blanket entirely off of your shoulders. “Thank you. S’very kind.”

“Hey,” you whine. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He covers his body in the blanket, making sure to cover your legs and feet as well. His hands brush over your own and he winces at their ice cold temperature. “Jesus, girl. Gimme these,” he mumbles, taking your hands into his own and holding them tightly. “Hands feel like icicles.”

“This fucking sucks, Joel,” you complain. 

“It does,” he agrees. Joel’s been dreading this point in the year. He’s eased up on his ‘no fires’ rule for the most part, but fire doesn’t help when it’s as cold as it has been. Tonight, he’s grateful you spotted this old house from afar, even more grateful it has a fireplace. But it’s especially cold tonight, maybe even nearing below zero temperatures. Even with a glowing fire and a shelter preventing the chill of the wind piercing you to the bone, he’s not sure that’s enough to keep you both warm. Joel shivers, “This shit’s not workin’.”

You shake your head no. It’s not. 

Joel’s not quite sure how to offer up his idea. It’ll be fine, or at least, it should be fine. What needs to happen is you and Joel need to get cozy and share body heat, the real way, with both of your bodies completely bare and pressed against each other.

Most of the time, you and Joel fall asleep separately. Occasionally, however, Joel will wake up in the early hours of the morning with your body inexplicably tangled in his, your head laying on his chest. The first time it happened, Joel was annoyed. “Get off of me,” he grumbled. “Not your fuckin’ teddy bear,” You whined in response, and when Joel tried to move you from him you clung to his body tighter. “Jesus,” he mumbled to himself. 

After about the fifth or sixth time of waking up with you clinging to his body, he stopped trying to fight it. In fact, he even started to hold you closer, stroke your hair. Sometimes he’d wake up holding you, other times he’d wake up with your arms wrapped around him and your tummy pressed against his back. It was nice, mostly. 

Mostly. You have the most uncanny ability to tease Joel in your sleep. Your hand will mysteriously travel from his side up to his chest, your thumb rubbing over his nipple. Other times, it’s your leg that brushes against his crotch. Or your ass, wiggling against his morning wood. After you wake, he’ll leave you alone for a few moments to quietly take care of himself, stroking his member to the thought of your naked body, your soft curves and smooth skin. Sometimes he’s not able to sneak away in the mornings and he’ll be hard as a rock and miserable the entire day. It’s unbearably frustrating. He’s never brought this tendency of yours up to you and he never will, because you’re not doing anything intentionally, at least he thinks. Though, there was one time after a particularly excruciating night of teasing, he thought he saw you smirk as he left to take care of himself. It was probably nothing. 

That’s what he’s worried about. Your body, naked against his, teasing him. His arousal won’t be so easy to hide without the protection of clothing, not to mention he may not even be able to fall asleep. It’s not gonna be an easy night, but it’s the only option at this point. 

Joel clears his throat, “We’re gonna try somethin’ different tonight,” he starts, “An’ we’re not gonna talk about it. Ever.”

“Okay,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this. 

“You trust me?” he asks. You nod. “Good,” he says, “We’re gonna share our body heat. An’ it works better with skin to skin contact, which means we’re both gonna get naked and close under the blanket, but we’re not gonna talk about it. Not tonight, not ever. Can you do this?”

“I can,” you tell him. You’re not totally surprised by Joel’s idea, but you’re glad he was the one who brought it up. Truthfully, it’s been something you’ve been thinking of doing with him for quite some time now, since the weather’s been getting so cold. You’ve pictured it, rubbing your bare feet against his legs for some warmth. He’ll probably kick you away, complain that he’s cold too. You’ll tell him too bad. 

“Okay,” he mumbles awkwardly, “Okay, s’good. I’m gonna turn around and get to it then, f’ya wanna…” 

“Yeah, got it.”

You and Joel separate, he places the blanket at his end of the couch as he begins to unbutton his flannel. You remove his coat from your body then shimmy off your pants, leaving them crumpled on the floor. You catch a glimpse of Joel’s back, the firelight dancing on his toned and broad muscles, the scars and stretch marks decorating his skin like art. Quickly, you avert your eyes and begin to remove your shirt. You don’t notice Joel stealing a peek at your body, the blush creeping up his cheeks when he sees your bare breasts. 

“Ready?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, but you’re anxious. You’re not sure how it happens, but you’ve been waking up with Joel here and there. Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night with his limbs inexplicably wrapped around you, his chin resting on your head. The first time it happened, you were confused. You tried to shrug him off of you, but Joel only held you tighter, sleepily mumbling in an annoyed tone. 

After about the fourth or fifth time of waking up with him holding your body, you stopped trying to fight it. In fact, you’d back yourself into him, even scratch his forearms to relax him. There’d be times you’d wake up being spooned by him, other times you’d wake up spooning him, with your arms wrapped around him and your tummy pressed against his back. It’s nice, mostly. 

Mostly. Joel has this inexplicable habit of teasing you in his sleep. His hand will mysteriously travel from your side up to your breasts, his thumb catching on your nipples and rubbing them softly. Other times, he presses his cock against your ass, nudging you and gently grinding against your ass. When you wake, you find somewhere quiet to touch yourself, rubbing your clit to the thought of his body, his warm eyes, the groaning noises he’ll make when he stretches in the morning. Sometimes in the mornings, you can’t sneak away and you’ll be soaked all day, miserable as your core pulses and aches for him. It’s god awful, unbearably frustrating. But you’ve never brought this tendency of his up to him and you never will, because he’s not doing anything intentionally, at least you think. Though, there was one time after a particularly excruciating night of him teasing your nipples, you felt him touch you a little more intensely, like there could have been conscious thought behind the action. It was probably nothing. 

This is what you’re worried about. His body, naked against yours, teasing you. It’s gonna be a difficult night, but you know it’s the only option.

Joel reaches for the blanket, spreads it out as he inches back towards you on the couch. “You can lay on your side like that, facin’ the fire,” he offers, and you follow his suggestion. Joel slots himself behind you and tucks the blanket around both of your bodies, then pulls you closer to his body. “Yeah, good girl. You got it. M’gonna hold you tight like this,” he tells you. 

Good girl. His words send desire flooding your veins. Sweet talking in your ear, his hands holding you close and tight. God, this is trouble. 

“Just need to scoot a little closer, like–” you back your ass into his crotch, “M’just so cold, Joel.”

Fuck. Joel can feel his growing arousal pressing against your ass. “I know you are, hon, just–don’t move like that on me,” He keeps you as close as he can against your body, pressing the length of his arm against your torso to keep you warm. His hand brushes against your breasts, thumb caressing your nipple. You gasp. 

“Need you closer, though,” you mumble, wiggling against his crotch once more. His length hardens fully, prodding against your ass. His breath hitches, “Ignore it,” he grumbles, now annoyed. How many hints does he have to drop? Or are you doing this shit on purpose?

You’re annoyed too, honestly. He’s not directly groping you, but his fingertips have not left your nipples, lightly grazing over them and setting your skin on fire. Do you need to spell it out for him, what he’s doing to you? Surely it’s intentional on his end. Has to be.  

There’s a moment where you’re quiet and so is Joel, both of you tired and confused and sexually frustrated with the other. Maybe you’re looking for a fight, but something’s gotta give. Fuck it, you’ll be the one to instigate. “Ignore what, Joel?” you ask, voice incredulous and laced with sarcasm. 

“I’m–my–fuck,” Joel stammers. He feels your body move with your stifled giggles. “Knock it off.”

“It’s all for me, isn’t it Joel?”

“Dammit, just–shut up,” Joel stiffens as he feels his face and neck begin to warm. “And mind your business. S’not for you. S’not for anyone,” he lies, cringing internally for his defensiveness, definitely overcompensating. He rolls his eyes, knowing he was right. Five minutes into sharing body heat with you and it is not going well at all. You twist your hips once more. “I said ignore it,” he grumbles, his hand finding your hip and holding it firmly in place. “Not rub your ass on it. Now sit still. You’re testin’ my patience.”

“I can’t help it, Joel. I’m just trying to get comfortable,” you lie. 

“Yeah, whatever. You’re gettin’ me in trouble is what you’re doing. Now for the love of god, quit it.”

Ten minutes go by without an incident, and Joel is focusing on trying to sleep with your naked body pressed against his. He’s certainly beginning to warm up but at what cost? He’s breathing in your scent, feeling your warm skin under his hand, which is hard enough to deal with. And then you fucking do it again, because his fingers are still lightly touching your sensitive nipples. “What did I just say?” Joel flips you on your other side so you’re facing him, then holds your jaw between his fingers. “Look at me,” he tells you. “Knock it off. Quit your squirmin’, quit wigglin’ your ass on my–” You can’t hide the grin that forms on your lips at his accusation. You purse your lips in an attempt to hide the amusement you’ve garnered from your payback, but Joel sees it. “Why’re you fuckin’ with me?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You know exactly what you’re doin’. Why are you fuckin’ with me?” 

You shrug, “You started it.”

“I never fuckin’ know what you’re talkin’ about,” Joel complains through a deep sigh, exasperated.

“The teasing,” you explain, “You snuggle me and end up teasing me, playing with my tits and whatnot. You know what you do,” you accuse, “So I’m getting you back. Fair’s fair.”

“So you get worked up and you retaliate by givin’ me a hard on. Charming,” Joel grumbles, “And you’re one to talk about wanderin’ hands. Do you know how many times I’ve woken up with your hands in places they shouldn’t have been? Shouldn’t even be fuckin’ sleepin’ together.”

“You never complained about it before,” you retort, referring to the accidental snuggles that take place between Joel and yourself. 

Joel wears a confused expression for a moment, then glares at you. He narrows his eyes at you, completely misunderstanding what you meant. In his head, he’s thinking that you’ve just admitted all of that accidental teasing–it has been fucking intentional on your part. He knew it! “Before? You’re tellin’ me this is a hobby of yours?” he spits, “I knew you had ulterior motives with that late night cuddlin’ of yours. You’ve been gettin’ me hot an’ bothered on purpose, haven’t you?”

You sigh, “No, I’m talking about—” and then you realize, if Joel thinks you’ve been intentionally getting him worked up all this time, he’s been doing the same shit to you to retaliate. “Only because you did it to me first,” you accuse. 

Joel scoffs. “I don’t believe this,” he scoffs, “I don’t care who started it, I’m finishin’ it right now.”

Your heart pounds as desire pools in your gut, a warm, sticky feeling. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talkin about,” Joel whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. “I’m gettin’ you out of my system once and for all. You’re fuckin’ ridiculous. We’re done with this.”

Joel shifts his arm, reaching for his cock. You watch as he wraps his palm around his member, thumb swiping over his red and swollen tip. His soft belly bulges against his arm that’s pressed tightly against himself as he strokes his member slowly, patiently. When you reach for his cock to replace his hand with your own, you’re in disbelief as he swats your hand away. “Joel,” you whine, confused.

“Was never really teasin’ ya, by the way. Think you’re a little selective in that way. Seein’ and hearin’ what you want to.” Joel accuses in a gentle tone as he continues to massage himself, “And even if I was, you don’t fight fair.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, sweetheart, all that shit you do to me, I’m gonna do right back to you,” Joel reaches for your leg, grabs the back of your knee and hikes your leg over his hip, pulling you closer and exposing your pussy to him. “Not going to go easy on you sweetheart, you sure you want this?” he asks, giving you an out. But you nod anyway, your tummy fluttering with desire as your mind begins to race, wondering exactly how he’ll retaliate after being pent up like this for so long. “Good,” he says. 

Holding his cock in his hand, he guides the tip to your center, collecting the slick pooling at your entrance and taps the thick head against your clit. He pulls you closer and begins to drag himself through your folds. “Joel,” you gasp, “What are you doing?”

“Tryin’ out your modus operandi,” he breathes. “Isn’t this whatcha were just doin’? Rubbin’ up on me?”

“I wasn’t–mmmm,” you hum as he continues to rub the head of his cock against you, “Wasn’t like this.”

“You’re full of shit,” Joel groans as goes up and down, up and down, notching his tip ever so quickly inside of you to gather your increasing arousal and dragging it through your folds, paying special attention to your clit. You’re pulsing, clenching around nothing as he teases you agonizingly. “You’re makin’ a fuckin’ mess. S’all for me, isn’t it?” he taunts you, using your words from earlier. “God, you don’t take much at all. Soakin’ me, sweetheart.”

He notches his tip inside you to collect your wetness once more and you cry out, “Just fuck me.”

“You’re not gettin’ it,” he breathes, “Told ya, you’re gettin’ your comeuppance.”

You feel like you’re gonna burst. He rubs the head of his cock over your clit in circles, listening to your whines of displeasure when he pulls away from you to focus on his own pleasure. When presses himself against you again, he focuses his tip only at your clit, your slick helping him to slide up and down with ease. When he begins to roll his hips for added pressure, you bite into his shoulder to contain your cries. This is agonizing and so fucking delicious all at the same time. 

You adjust your hips, simultaneously reaching for Joel’s cock to guide him to your entrance. You need him now. “C’mon, now. You mind your manners,” he chides you, “S’not any way to get what ya want.”

“Please, just fuck–need you inside me.” 

“Sure thing,” he says in a honeyed tone. He replaces his cock with his fingers, leisurely dragging them through your slick folds before dipping first one, then two fingers inside you. He finds that delicious spot inside you, but curls his fingers lazily, not yet providing you with what you need. You’re throbbing, aching, hungry for more. 

“Joel, not–”

“Shoulda been more specific, then,” he interrupts. Bastard. When you try to argue, Joel flips you on your back and guides his cock to your entrance, notching his tip in you again, this time not leaving. You whine eagerly, wrapping your legs around him and pressing your feet into his ass, trying to pull him closer. You need him inside you, now.

“Not all at once,” Joel purrs as he enters you at a glacial pace. He pushes inside you gradually, letting you feel every inch of him, stopping momentarily to adjust the blanket over his shoulders to keep both of your bodies enveloped in warmth. Joel bottoms out inside of you and pulls back out, then enters you again, so fucking slowly. You’re not sure how he manages to tease you while fucking you, but he’s doing it. You just need more, need it faster, harder, more. You reach for your clit, but Joel pins both of your hands under one of his own as he fucks into you. Tears of frustration begin to build in your eyes. “You can cry all you want, sweetheart,” he coos, “You made your bed. We’re not done with this yet,” he continues, “But, maybe if ya sweet talk me, apologize for startin’ somethin’ you couldn’t finish…”

“M’sorry, Joel,” you apologize quickly. All your fire, your mischief, Joel’s now extinguished like a flame.

“I knew you’d be sorry,” Joel murmurs. Knowing how badly you need to release, Joel snakes his other hand between your thighs and circles your sensitive clit with his thumb ever so lightly. Torturing you, taunting you with what you could have and never giving you more. 

He’s fucking you at a steady pace now, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. It’s not enough. The wet, gushing sounds of your cunt and the way Joel’s skin feels against yours has you feeling dizzy. Joel’s savoring the way you’re squirming under him, straining your wrists against his locked grip. He knows you’re aching for release, but he’s determined to teach you a lesson, even if that means torturing himself. 

Yes, as pleasurable as this is for Joel to watch you fuck around and find out, it’s misery for him too. Fucking his fist with the tip of his cock kissing your pussy was no easy task, and neither is holding back from how he truly wants to fuck you. Because, truthfully, he wants to fucking ruin you. Show you just what he thinks of these stunts you’ve been pulling. Show you just what he thinks of your wandering hands and your innocent ‘adjustments’.

“Please,” you gasp, “Just make me come, Joel.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. M’not feelin’ particularly generous at the moment.”

“Please,” you whine, “Been needing y–this for so long.” 

“Ahhh,” Joel hums, “And the truth comes out,” he groans as he rolls his hips against you, “S’that what all of this is about? Been needin’ me?” you nod quickly, “Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

“Fuck, Joel, I don’t know. Forever,” you cry, “I need to come now, please. Need to come on your cock, fuck.”

“F’ya said somethin’ earlier instead of toyin’ with me like you’ve been doin’, we wouldn’t be in this mess, sweetheart.”

You don’t know how much more you can take. Tears of frustration trail down your cheeks, each of his thrusts hitting deep and massaging your insides, intentionally, powerfully. 

Joel’s right there with you, struggling as well. He wants nothing more than to keep fucking you without allowing you to finish, having never seen anything before so erotic and beautiful as your squirming, writhing body. Your soft body, those sweet noises, that frustrated face of yours. And it’s all at his hands, he’s the one  responsible for turning into this mess. 

“Fuck,” he whispers through a shuddering breath, “Not gonna–”

“Joel,” you cry, the only word you know anymore being his name.

“Let’s be done with this,” he decides, fucking finally. He circles your clit steadily now, finding a pace and a pressure that has you letting out breathy gasps and moans as your orgasm approaches. “Want you to come for me,” he says.

His words are all you need. That warm, sticky feeling in the pit of your stomach builds quickly and releases almost instantaneously, sending pleasure erupting through your veins. You feel it everywhere, the back of your thighs, deep in your gut. Wave after wave of pleasure rocks your body as Joel’s thrusts quicken as he fucks you at a now frenzied, sloppy pace he chases his own release. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, coming with a deep, stuttering moan of your name. His muscles jerk and tremble as his cock pulses inside you, painting your insides with thick ropes of his spend. He pulls out of you groaning, his hot, slick release making your thighs sticky. He places a gentle kiss to your lips and then to your forehead, the action a stark contrast to his previous demeanor. All's right with the world now. Sexual frustration solved.

He takes his place behind you again, pulling you close to his chest for the last time and making sure the blanket is covering you both. You’re certainly warmed up now. A little too warm, even. But you’re not complaining. 

“Still not talkin’ about tonight,” Joel reminds you, “Ever.”

“Nope,” you agree.

Another quiet moment passes. For shits and giggles, you rub your ass against his crotch. “But I take it we’ll be doin’ this again, won’t we?” he says, defeated as you continue to tease him.

“Definitely.”

“Good god,” Joel sighs, “Get back over here, then. You drive me fuckin’ nuts,” he adds, pulling you back for round two. He was right, it’s a long night ahead of him.

[azuremist]

A message to Twitter users coming to tumblr: a message from your local duel-hellsite citizen

So, I’ve seen a ton of Twitter users talking about making and sharing their new tumblr blogs, to escape Elon Musk’s “anti censorship” bullshittery. First of all: welcome! I know it’s looking bleak over there; especially for trans people. But, now that you’re here, I’m here to tell you all about tumblr etiquette, how this website works, and how it’s different from Twitter. Because you can’t come onto here acting like it’s Twitter, lest The Beast get to you.

First, here are a small handful of tips and tumblr facts!

Your likes and who you are following are automatically set to public. You can make them private in your settings!

You can block tags from the settings, too.

There are lots of bots on here. If you’re not careful, you could be mistaken for one! The main way you can avoid this is changing your icon and header from the defaults. Adding a bio helps too!

You can queue and schedule posts so that your account posts throughout the day.

Like Twitter, tumblr has a radical feminist and TERF problem. However, they’re pretty easy to spot. There are lots of guides out there to help you learn how to spot tumblr TERFs!

Tumblr, for the most part, does not have any celebrity or brand accounts.

Your tumblr follower count is private.

You can have multiple accounts with the same email, and they’re very easy to switch between! These are called “sideblogs”.

Your main page is not a “timeline”. It is a “dashboard”!

You can have a custom desktop theme using HTML! Think like ye olde MySpace days. There are tons of pre-made tumblr themes available, if you’re not already proficient in HTML; including free ones!

Now, let’s talk tumblr etiquette and how it’s different from Twitter. You’re a tumblr user now! It’s time to start acting like it!

Don’t just like posts. They don’t increase visibility whatsoever. The way that you can help posts that you like is reblogging them to your blog. Especially for art!

We don’t say “oomfs” or “oomfies”. Just “mutuals” is fine, thanks!

Adding onto a post with pointless comments is frowned upon. If all you have to say is “this is so true,” or something else to that effect, you should put that in the tags of your reblog.

Most people don’t have carrds or rentries on here. Some of us do, but it’s not an obligation like it is for Twitter.

Similarly, we don’t censor words like “die” and “death”. Posts about wanting to brutally murder people in power go viral all the time, and it’s completely allowed. I’m serious! Enjoy your newfound freedom!

Blocking isn’t a big deal here. Get rid of any weird notion you have that morality is linked to blocking certain people.

But lastly, and most importantly:

Drop your discourse at the door.

If you try to post about most of the things that Twitter users discourse about, you will be laughed off the site. Especially Twitter LGBT+ discourse. Posts actively mocking topics of Twitter discourse go viral on here regularly.

Tumblr has mostly healed since its discourse-ridden days, and it’s now much more chill. Of course, discourse still happens, but it is so easy to avoid now. For a lot of us, tumblr is the last pleasant social media site left, so don’t ruin it.

Here is a list of discourse-related things that tumblr users don’t do:

Most of us don’t do callout posts, unless it’s something actually serious (like that one blog that had a human slave).

Everything that you heard on Twitter was “exclusive” to certain LGBT+ groups is used by just about everyone on here. Bi women use the double venus symbol on here. You’ll just have to learn to live with that.

In particular, I want to emphasize how much we don’t do flag discourse. To the point that somebody caring about flag discourse of any kind is how we tend to identify an ex-Twitter user.

On here, you will never have to see another slur discourse post again, unless you actively seek it out.

You’re free.

You’re welcome. And enjoy your time on here! If you have the time, please consider watching StrangeÆons’ Tumblr Etiquette Manual on YouTube, as well.

[mellxncollie]

Part 1 of looking into some of the technical cinematography aspects of the show

(or, why does Dead Boy Detectives look Like That?)

(update 6/30/24: there's now a part 2! check it out here)

Dead Boy Detectives has some interesting things going on with the cameras. You probably noticed it at some point while watching the show. Whether it was the weird blurs or the sort-of-fisheye, there’s something about many of the shots that doesn’t look the way many people expect TV shows to look.  

The main reason why is because it uses an anamorphic lens instead of a spherical lens. These lenses are pretty different from spherical lenses, and the recent rise of anamorphic lenses in TV has not been without some pushback, as viewers unaccustomed to them may find the look weird, distorted, or that it pulls their focus away from the content. Whether you enjoy how Dead Boy Detectives looks or find the cinematography distracting, this post is designed to explain the different effects that the lens has on the show.

This post is very long and very graphics heavy (I made lots of gifs to illustrate my points) so the rest is under a read more.

What is an anamorphic lens and what is it used for?

To begin with, a bit of history and technical info. Say you’re making a movie at most any point before the mid-'90s and you want it to be widescreen. However, the 35mm film you’re shooting on has a smaller aspect ratio (closer to a square than widescreen). You could use letterboxing (black bars on top and bottom) but then you waste the top and bottom parts of the film, and it ends up being slightly lower in ‘resolution.’ The solution: use a lens that records the full height onto the film, but squishes the picture horizontally so that it fills up the whole film frame without any letterboxing. Then, a projector (or a computer) can stretch it out again to display the whole thing in widescreen. The kind of lens that can do that is an anamorphic lens. They've technically been around since before the 1920s but were mostly used between the 1950s and the 1990s.

Up until sort of recently, television networks broadcasted using a smaller aspect ratio that they required shows to be in, and TV shows were not given the kind of cinematography budgets that movies were afforded. Anamorphic lenses are expensive and for widescreen, so they really just weren’t used for TV shows. Instead, a spherical lens was used, which is just the standard lens you think of when you picture a camera lens. 

In the 90s, new flat/spherical film formats came out that allowed for widescreen (one of the popular ones being Super 35) caused anamorphic lenses to drastically drop in popularity. However, there has been a recent resurgence, one that you’ve probably subconsciously noticed in both film and television.

In the last 10-15 years, TV has been given larger and larger budgets. Additionally, the rise of streaming services and the use of phones and computers to watch shows rather than actual televisions has meant that networks have started allowing wider aspect ratios, paving the way for anamorphic lenses to begin to be used for series. 

The history of these lens’ usage means they’re associated with a ‘cinematic’ look. They have a lot of characteristic effects that are not really ‘natural’ and depending on the viewer, this either enhances the experience or detracts from it.

Lots of recent series have been embracing these lenses (to varying degrees of success), including The Witcher, Sandman, Shōgun, Narcos: Mexico, The Mandalorian, Andor and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. Doctor Who also started using anamorphic lenses at the switch to the 13th Doctor, so that may be a good reference point. For some of these, it’s a very subtle look, for others, the lens choice is glaringly obvious and overdone (I’m looking at you Sabrina), and sometimes, as is the case with Dead Boy Detectives, it’s really obvious but it remains an effective and compelling choice. 

Why use an anamorphic lens in the 21st century when you could just use a spherical lens?

Anamorphic lenses create a look that some filmmakers desire, whether for their associations with a more cinematic look or their sometimes unusual quirks. In a film and tv world filled with spherical lenses that are nice, clean, and precise, anamorphic lenses introduce some irregularity and character. Making an informed decision on what kind of lens to use can enhance different themes of the work. 

I want to briefly bring up Moonlight to illustrate this point. Go watch the trailer if you haven’t seen it, and you’ll probably see some parallels with the cinematography of Dead Boy Detectives. There’s less of the ‘radial’ look, but otherwise, there’s a lot of the same kinds of things. Moonlight uses an anamorphic lens and it makes the whole thing look dream-like, nostalgic, and a bit like we’re getting into the character’s heads. To me, it indicates that the story is being filtered through people. We’re not detached from the characters, observing them. The story we are watching is personal, emotional, and necessitates intimacy. 

Dead Boy Detectives really benefits from the same visual effects. This is not because it enhances a dream-like or nostalgic quality, but because in the context of the show, it makes it look a bit otherworldly, magical, or otherwise supernatural. Additionally, the constraints of the lens means we get lots of focusing in on individual characters, with nice long looks at their faces allowing for more reflection on their dialogue and reactions.

So, here’s 5 different effects of anamorphic lenses to point out to you all. Starting with the one that allows us to easily identify that anamorphic lenses are being used in the first place.

You’ve probably heard of bokeh before. It's the way the lens renders the direct sources of light that are in the background but out-of-focus. You can see in this shot of Jenny how all the string lights are not circular, but elongated. On a spherical lens, these would be round.

In this next shot of the Cat King, the candles around the floor are all those elliptical shapes. Additionally, lots of other details in the background that aren’t from direct light sources also have an elongated shape. This is sometimes called waterfall bokeh.

Finally, check out this shot of one of the cats. Not only are the lights in the background irregular and elongated, but if you look to the left where the ‘horizon’ line is, there's a series of elliptical shapes where the light hits the edge of the docks.

The bokeh effect is one of those things that just happens because of the lens, and makes it pretty easy to identify that an anamorphic lens is being used. Unlike some of the other effects I’ll mention, I don’t have much to say about how this does or doesn’t add to the visuals.

Breathing is how the field of view changes when you refocus to a subject closer or farther from the lens. While spherical lenses also breathe, there’s a much more distorted look to the breathing that occurs with an anamorphic lens.

Lets start with this shot:

You can see how much the frame widens when the focus shifts from the jar of coins to Jenny. It affects the edges much more than the middle of the frame. Here’s the same shot, but with some of the features outlined (forgive my messy outlining, I used my laptop trackpad) so you can see the movement.

The frame widens when the focus goes from the foreground to the background. It appears like the whole shot is being stretched apart horizontally and compressed vertically.

However, it also does the reverse, narrowing as the focus moves from the background to the foreground.

(also in that last shot of hell, notice how the two points of light in the background elongate into those oval bokeh once they are no longer in focus)

Breathing is a very dramatic way of refocusing, and it forces us to pay attention to different things. In the shot of the Night Nurse, we have a light but the important thing after it turns on is not the light but the reaction that the people have to the cause of the light. In that shot of Niko and Edwin, it’s telling us: listen to Niko. In the shot of hell, it’s not letting us forget what the characters are running from. 

The next effect is the lens flare. You can get a lens flare from a spherical lens too, but anamorphic lenses typically generate strong, horizontal flares. A spherical lens would typically create a more radial flare, with multiple lines shooting out in different directions from the light source like rays from the sun.

We see these all over the show, sometimes they’re very prominent, such as in these shots with obvious light sources:

And sometimes they're a bit more subtle. Take this shot of Edwin, Charles, and Crystal on the dock:

While the lens flare at the top of the frame has a clear source, there’s a bunch of other horizontal lines cutting across near the middle and bottom half of the frame. These likely come from light sources outside of the frame.

Some directors, cinematographers, and other creators really like anamorphic flares. Others don’t. For a show with so many dark scenes that have colorful and dramatic lighting, the lens flares seem to enhance this. They are also a constant reminder of the interaction between the lights and the camera, kind of a fingerprint of the production. Sure, they make it seem more ‘cinematic,’ but I think they also ground us in the physicality of the production. (Kind of ironic given the lack of physicality of the main characters, and also you could consider the flares themselves to be the ghosts of the lights and the camera!)

Barrel distortion is where we start getting into why exactly the show looks the way it does. This is basically a subtle fisheye effect. Because of the squishing and stretching of the footage, anamorphic lenses have more distortion than spherical lenses, and it is strongest around the edges. 

You can see it most clearly in shots that have lots of vertical lines. They are relatively straight in the middle of the frame, but the closer to the edges, the more they are warped.

Looking at that shame shot of Niko in the bathroom, I have set it to stop at 3 different spots. Pay attention to the shape of the edge of the door.

At the start, it’s curved outward, like an open parentheses: (

Then, in the middle, it’s a vertical line: |

Finally, as the door passes all the way across the frame to the opposite side, it curves inward, like a closed parentheses: )

Again, notice how the lines in this shot of the Lost & Found Department change as they move from the outside towards the center. The door has an outward bulge at the beginning but becomes more 'normal’ shaped as it gets further away.

Anamorphic lenses can also have a pretty shallow depth of field and it’s used a lot in this show which is why we get a lot of those centered close-ups, and why we get that ‘radial blur.’ 

The center of the frame is where the actors are least likely to be distorted, meaning its easiest to have just one character in the dead center (pun intended). With a shallow depth of field, the background is out of focus, and since the actor is in the center, the background gets the most affected by the barrel distortion, leading to the sense that the background has been radially blurred. 

This blurred background with a strong, centered foreground really makes objects in the foreground pop. We are then able to really focus in on different objects and characters. It brings immediacy and intimacy. Here, we have nothing to do but consider Charles. He isn’t speaking so we must consider his reaction to what’s being said. 

Also, the further a character is from the center of a shot, the more they are distorted, such as Edwin and Charles in this still:

This kind of distortion definitely lends a more unnatural look to the shots, which definitely supports a show about ghosts and the supernatural. If the subjects are able to see things in our world in a way the viewers cannot, then why display the physical world the way we see it?

Finally, we have focus falloff. This is (like some of the other effects) a distortion that occurs around the edges. Here, the focus decreases the further from the center of the frame even if they’re all about the same distance from the camera.

In this shot of the Tongue & Tail, the sign 'Butcher Shop’ is clear and legible. But imagine if that sign was up in the top left or right corners, where things start to get blurry. We probably wouldn’t be able to read it.

It's also visible in this shot of Edwin. Not only does the floor get blurrier the further you get from the center, but you can see how the rope is less in focus in very top and very bottom of the frame.

The falloff (combined with the barrel distortion) is how we get the really unique dream-like look of the Edwin and Niko scene on the roof in Episode 8. (If you’re having a hard time spotting the falloff here, look at their legs)

When you start looking for falloff in this show, you start to see it everywhere. It’s easiest to spot in the corners of shots, but you can usually see all the way around the edges.

Look at the corners of this still of Edwin, or the way the top and bottom of Niko’s rent envelope aren’t as clear as the middle of it.

Or in this still, look at Charles’ jacket. The arm closest to the center has a much more defined line between it and the background compared to the arm closest to the edge. 

This blur definitely is one of the more noticeable effects in the show, and it’s good at focusing our attention on the center of the frame. It guides the viewer exactly to what we should be looking at. We get tons of centered shots in this show because of this and the barrel distortion. 

The falloff makes the show look softer and artistic, sometimes painterly or impressionistic. More than any other effect, the falloff is what makes me feel like I’m watching a dream or a vision. It puts us into the sensation of being fully immersed in a story.

I would argue that all of these effects (but especially the last two) not only enhace the supernatural aspect of the show, but they help us fall in love with the characters. They focus us on their faces, and encourage us to reflect on their motivations, reactions, and thoughts. The lens is telling us that we are not to take things at face value. It’s not letting us forget that there are multiple people and multiple stories involved, that things are blurry around the edges, and that things are not perfect and clean-cut. 

-----------

Sometime in the next week or so I’ll be working on part 2, where we’ll take a closer look at the cinematography of Edwin’s flashback to 1916 in Episode 1. It's posted! Read it here.

I really wanted to highlight the work of the cinematographers, Marc Laliberté, Craig Powell, and Pierre Gill because it’s clear that there was so much care and intention put into every aspect of this show. 

I’m so glad fans of this show are really embracing the work of different crew members, like the work of costume designer Kelli Dunsmore (and if you somehow haven’t seen @captainfantasticalright's posts about the costumes and other aspects of the show, please go check them out right now. My roommates and I have a kind of 'stop everything, new costume analysis dropped' attitude towards their posts, and their approach to show analysis was definiteily an inspiration for this)

If you want to read more about anamorphic lenses, the article Why ‘Shogun’ (and the Rest of TV) Is Slightly Out of Focus in The Ringer is about Shōgun and the rise of anamorphic lenses in TV (Marc Laliberté also worked on a few episodes of Shōgun) and it's a great place to start.

Finally, I want to first thank @skyvoice for these tags on one of my gifsets for semi-inspiring this post (I was already considering making this but these made it into a reality).

[scoops-aboy86]

Realize You’re Living (Secret Admirer pt 5)

Steddie Week 2024, July 5: Reunion / exes to lovers or getting back together / Wasted Years by Iron Maiden

Sorry. Not for the delay in posting, I just think I'm gonna get yelled at for reasons.

wc: 2815 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

There isn’t time to send Steve another letter before Friday. 

There isn’t time, not through the mail, and there’s no way Eddie is risking physically putting something in the Harrington’s mailbox himself. That would mean running the risk of someone finding out, and that still ignites an old fear in the most primal part of his brain that screams at him to run. No matter who it is. 

On the other hand, standing Steve up for their phone date is not an option. The very idea makes his insides freeze over. They’ve both had to reassure each other that they want to continue this epistolary romance, Jesus H. Christ—there’s been too much hot and cold already to pull something like that. 

Eddie rolls over on his bed to lay face down and screams into his pillow. It's like they’re in a relationship, except Steve doesn’t even know who he is. It's absurd. An absolute clown town of his own making.

Okay. Okay, no, he can do this. (Can he?) All he has to do is relax and stay calm until tomorrow night. He’ll call at 10:30 on the dot and play Steve some Iron Maiden or something, maybe a little Dio, a smidge of Black Sabbath, throw in a dash of Judas Priest… Basically play the guy a mix tape, live. 

He whips his head up and all but dives for his side table, looking for the tin where he keeps his weed. It’ll help him chill out enough to come up with a song list. And he needs all the chill he can get. He’s lost his mom to cancer, his dad to addiction and prison, and his childhood home with them—he refuses to lose Steve if he has even half a chance of actually having Steve. Because if this whole secret admirer thing is going where he hardly dares to hope it is, this could be the most important mix tape of his entire goddamn life. 

Steve spends all of Friday so on edge that Robin starts threatening to drop banana peels in the circuit he keeps pacing behind the counter. 

“What is with you today, dingus?”

He stops, tapping his foot restlessly and removing his hat so he can rake a hand through his hair. “Nothing, nothing, I… have an important call tonight, is all. I think.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Oooh, is it a pretty girl?” she teases.

“Maybe,” he mutters with a halfhearted shrug. He really still doesn’t know, and it doesn’t seem likely he’ll find out tonight. “I’m not even sure they’ll call. It’s… kind of a blind date sort of thing.”

“A blind phone date?” Robin looks like she doesn’t know what to do with that, which. Fair. “Is that a thing?”

Steve shrugs again. He goes back to pacing. “It might be. I’ll find out tonight I guess.”

She gives him a minute before butting in again, spraying more Windex on the display case to get the lunch rush’s grubby child fingerprints off the cool glass. “...Is this because of the board?”

Again, Steve stops. “What?”

“The You Rule / You Suck board. Have I accidentally degraded your confidence in yourself so much that you’ve turned to blind dates as an alternative to trying to seduce any and every girl who walks in here?” 

Her tone is flippant, but because they’ve been on better terms recently—especially since Steve started offering her rides (and let her take control of the tape deck after that time she threatened to throw all of his Wham! tapes out the window)—he decides to take it as a genuine question. 

“No. Well—No, it’s more the hat than that. It messes up my best feature, you know?” He runs a hand through his hair again, fluffing it up more, then slumps against the back counter next to the milkshake blenders with a sigh. “It’s kind of a pen pal thing. We’ve been talking for a while but we haven’t met, but… I think it might be going somewhere good.”

Robin stops her bored polishing of the display case, only half of the afternoon rush’s smudges and fingerprints wiped away, to laugh with a slight shake of her head. “Oh wow, King Steve is a romantic. Who knew?”

“Not me before junior year, that’s for sure,” he scoffs honestly. 

She studies him thoughtfully for a moment. “Makes sense. Kind of lines up with something I heard the other day, when—”

But then they’re interrupted by a couple strolling in for some ice cream. Robin rushes through cleaning the rest of the glass so as to get out of their way, and Steve scoops and rings them up while she moves on to wiping down tables, conversation forgotten. 

Eddie’s finished his playlist and his plan is to call early. Not too early, just… a minute, five minutes tops. His uncle leaves for work before 10, so he has plenty of time and he’s buzzing with nervous energy. 

Way too much nervous energy to carry into the Big Call tonight. 

By the time Wayne is out the door, Eddie’s already started on rolling a joint and rereading Steve’s letters from start to current. If he’d been smart he would’ve written out copies of his own for a more complete read, that in depth analysis his English teachers never shut up about… but alas. 

Usually his memory is pretty good, especially when it comes to his own work. He also hadn’t expected this to go on as long as it had; not really. But now he can hardly imagine what it would be like to know Steve only from a distance anymore and that… colors things. Fuck only knows what he’s remembering wrong because of a simple difference in perspective. 

Because Steve has let him in, Eddie acknowledges as he lines the weed up on the paper. He’s written things about his home life, about his old friends, and definitely about his injuries over the past couple years (though oddly enough never much about what actually caused them) that Eddie would bet good money that no one else knows, if only because Steve doesn’t seem to have anyone else to tell. Maybe those kids he babysits (begrudgingly but genuinely dotes on, Eddie’s seen it from a distance). But really, how much can you realistically talk to a thirteen year old? Eddie remembers being thirteen; he hadn’t listened to anyone for shit. It was a miracle Wayne hadn’t just released him into the woods like a wild animal. 

And all Eddie’s been doing is pulling Steve close, while steadfastly keeping him out. God. 

He licks the joint to seal it, lights up, and keeps rereading. 

Steve is standing by the phone in his kitchen watching the second hand on the clock. How it sneaks around the clock face, slow but steady, until it laps the 12 line and it’s 10:31. 

He slumps back against the kitchen island with a groan. That had been an absolutely excruciating minute, and he’s staring down the barrel of another fifty-nine more until he can reasonably give up hope. Because anything under an hour is just running late, right? Something could have come up, something unavoidable like… family coming home unexpectedly, making a private conversation impossible. 

… Okay, maybe that was a stress dream he’d had last night about his parents, but something like it could happen to anyone.

10:32. The second hand barely makes it past fifteen this time before the silence is split by the shriek of ringing in the otherwise silent house. Steve multitasks, jumping out of his skin and lunging to answer the phone at the same time.

“HelloHarringtonresidence, thisisStevehowcanIhelpyou?” he rushes out. 

There’s no response except breathing on the other end of the line, which would be creepy if it weren’t exactly what he was hoping for. 

(Eddie is pressing a hand over his mouth, keeping in an equal parts amused and disbelieving laugh at how Steve had answered the phone, all flustered and cute and overly formal in an automatic sort of way that suggests an ingrained habit. From what he knows about Steve’s parents, he’s not terribly surprised, but it’s still such a delightfully dorky greeting.

And it seems like Steve really was waiting by the phone for his call, which makes Eddie want to fucking dance.)

“Is that you?” After a second, a light bulb goes off in Steve’s head and he adds, “Oh. Uh, tap once for yes, twice for no?”

It takes a few seconds, but then he hears a single tap against the plastic of the other receiver. 

(Smart, Eddie would tell him if he could. If he dared. He sucks hard on the last of his joint before letting the smoke billow from his nose like a dragon and putting it out in the ashtray by his bed. Maybe he mashes it in a little harder than necessary, blaming it for being late even though that’s really just another one of his bad habits at this point.)

Relief breaks over Steve like a wave. “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re the, um, my secret admirer?”

Tap. 

(Yeah sweetheart, it’s me.)

Steve does a little bounce on the balls of his feet and pumps his fist, too giddy to feel stupid about it with no one watching. “Holy shit. I mean, t-thanks for calling. Sorry, my parents make me answer the phone like that.” 

Nothing. 

(Eddie is smiling. Beaming, really. I figured, he imagines saying. At first it makes his heart feel full just thinking about it, but then has to stop that line of thought before his anxiety conjures up all the ways Steve Harrington, until recently Hawkins High’s resident ladies man, might react to the surprise of being on a phone date with a guy. Jesus, how is he high and still so nervous?)

“Right, you can’t answer. I mean, you can, if you want, but you don’t have to. This is, this is to see how I like your music.” Steve rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Did you want to play something for me now, or…”

Tap. 

(All the tapes are on standby, spread out in chaotic order around the second-hand player he got last year after Wayne’s old one crapped out on him. Eddie cranks up the volume as high as it’ll go; he’s used to it, the neighbors are resigned to it, and Steve won’t be able to hear it well enough to count through the phone otherwise.)

The first song starts, and Steve twists the phone cord between his fingers as he stands in his kitchen and listens. There’s a heavy beat and a noticeable bass line, even over the phone, nothing like the pop rock he usually listens to. But…

“… I definitely didn’t hate it,” he says once the last notes fade out. 

(Eddie is vibrating as he hits pause and ejects the tape, elated, a few of his worries already soothed. Steve doesn’t hate metal. That doesn’t necessarily mean Steve will like him, but it’s got to make the odds at least a little better, right? He wants to say fuck yeah or I love you or, fucking… shriek wordlessly or something, but presses his hand over his cotton-dry mouth instead, hard enough that his gums ache a little.)

“It kind of reminded me of AC/DC? Like Back in Black, or Hells Bells.”

(They’re not one of Eddie’s favorites, didn’t even make the playlist. But they’re harder rock than he expected Steve to be familiar with, and suddenly he has a wild urge to know what the guy thinks of You Shook Me All Night Long.)

“One time, the radio played Big Balls in the car and my mom literally clutched her pearls and said, ‘I don’t think he’s talking about ballroom dancing, Richard!’” 

(Eddie grins as the funny little falsetto Steve put on for the impression fades into a rich laugh, like he’s so tickled by the memory that he can’t help it. There was probably some appalled, classic white-anglo-saxon-protestant-sucking-on-a-lemon expression on her face that he’s picturing, while Eddie can only imagine. It’s okay, Eddie is too busy wanting to pour Steve’s laugh into a bathtub and soak in it.)

Tap. 

“Yeah, really not,” Steve agrees, his cheeks almost aching from smiling so wide. He feels lighter than air just knowing he’s on the phone with the person who’s been writing to him the past couple months, knowing he’s proving that they’re genuinely at least a little bit compatible. “So, what’s the next song?”

It goes on like that. Steve doesn’t know the artists or albums or track titles, but figures that Secret Admirer will fill him in with the next letter. There are a couple of songs that are more shouting than singing for his taste—“I like songs I can sing along to once I know the words, you know? Really belt out in the car after a long day, or something,” he explains, and gets a yes tap in response. 

(Eddie has to improvise. Instead of another WASP song, he reaches for an Iron Maiden tape he’d put aside as a half-assed backup and scours the track list, trying to decide… Ah, that one. He pops it in and turns the volume down for a second so he can check that he’s fast forwarding to the right spot on the tape.

This one’s for you, sweetheart, he thinks, lighting a second joint—not for nerves this time, but just for fun. He leans back and lets the smoke fill his lungs, fill his mind, send him floating off to whatever time of that big house Steve is curled up in so he can spiritually throw an arm around the other guy’s shoulders.)

Steve likes the instrumentals in the intro of this one. He doesn’t really track the words at first once they start—usually doesn’t, on a first listen-through, with so much new to take in. But he starts catching on to the shape of them by the first of what turns out to be the chorus. 

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years

Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind Can't ease this pain so easily When you can't find the words to say, hard to make it through another day And it makes me wanna cry, throw my hands up to the sky

So understand Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years Face up, make your stand Realize you're living in the golden years, hey!

He listens, slowly untangling himself from the long phone cord and taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. When the song finally fades out and he hears the far-off click of the tape being stopped and taken out, he asks hopefully, “It’s about seizing the day, right?”

Maybe they’re building up to telling him who they are, or at least giving him a little more. 

(Eddie freezes, not expecting Steve—who had told him he didn’t get things on the first try—to venture any insights. Especially on a song that hadn’t been on his list, a last minute change-up that he’d picked with the transformation from King Steve to just normal guy Steve in mind and how Steve seems so hung up on apologizing for the douchebag he used to be. 

Or at least, used to be on the outside. Every day, Eddie gets a little less sure that persona went much further than skin-deep.

A tiny sound curls out of Eddie’s throat, a barely audible, inquisitive hum. Something that says please, keep going. He knows Steve has heard it because of the quick intake of breath over the line.)

Steve clutches the handset so hard that his knuckles go white. It’s the first sound, the first crumb that Secret Admirer has given him that’s really them, not a tap on plastic or other people’s music. Too quiet to make out any distinguishing features, but it’s something. 

It feels like everything. 

“You could, you know,” Steve says softly. “You could… make a stand? If you told me who you are, or just anything more about you, I… I really like you. I know for sure that I want to know you. Maybe that makes me a romantic sap, but it’s true. What if we find out we could have our golden years right now?”

(Eddie is freaking out. The mellow of his high isn’t helping anymore, all the floaty syrupy hopefulness of it stripped away. Oh fuck oh balls oh shit, shit, shit!

He’s hyperventilating, knows Steve can probably hear it, and he’s nothing but a goddamn coward in the end.

He can't do this.)

There’s a single clunk, and then all Steve hears is dial tone.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part two

authors note: well, holy shit, the response to this has been so unexpected yet insanely appreciated and humbling! the kind words of support and interest really have been so wonderful to receive. thank you thank you thank you!

this ended up much longer than i intended, but i couldn't find a "good" place to break it in half, so i apologize for the length.

i also feel like this is a bit on the boring but necessary side in terms of setting the scene and backdrop for what's to come....

i also feel like this is gonna def be more than 4 parts, so sorry!!!!

warnings: language, slight sexy time, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

words: 7.5k

tag gang: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion @tshepisho @lizzycaraballo-blog @xiamentshoneypot

“I need a break.” He slid out of you, the absence of his thick dick noticeable and borderline uncomfortable. Despite the fact that your voice was hoarse, limbs jello, and pussy tender as all outdoors, you still wanted him. Wanted to feel him inside you. But you knew you also needed some amount of time for your body recoup for the next round, so you made logic overpowered lust.

He made a sound, lying on his back, eyes on the ceiling. “So fucking needy for this dick.”

“Shut up.” It was intentionally not a denial, because he wasn’t entirely wrong. It’d been a shitty past couple weeks, what with parent teacher conferences, your least favorite time of the year. There were only so many different ways you could try to gently explain to parents that their child wasn’t the next Cornel West and actually could benefit from “additional evaluations.” But that almost always went over their heads as they attempted to tell you, the professional, the real reason why their child wasn’t doing well.

You were just over all of it and damn near at your wits end when you got the text from Joe that he’d be in town this weekend. That goofy ‘i’m about to get some good dick’ smile was damn near stamped on your face in the days preceding his arrival. You needed an outlet, and wearing yourself out on his dick until you were physically incapacitated happened to be the perfect one, the best one.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have options, you did, but they were subpar. And that was the problem with having a chance to experience superior dick, everything else that followed was mid. No one had ever fucked you like Joe. No man before him had ever made you come from just penetration. You always needed more. Had to sometimes physically instruct them on what you needed. Not with him. He gave you more—-the man could and had stayed with his face buried between your legs for hours on end—-but it wasn’t necessary. He could fuck you to a toe curling, light blinding climax with just a few good, deep strokes.

And yes, you still struggled with the guilt of fucking someone else’s man, but in times like this, where you were beyond stressed the fuck out, all you could think about was getting off and decreasing that stress. The guilt session could come later.

“What’s wrong?” He asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. You could both be around each other and not say a word without an ounce of discomfort. It was nice.

“Parents suck.” You answer, bluntly, afterwards realizing how vague that is. “I’ve had parent teacher conferences the past couple weeks, and they’ve been getting on my nerves trying to tell me how to do my job.”

“That sounds annoying.”

“Beyond, and makes me feel like they’re insinuating I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do. They just don’t want to hear it.” They prepared you in school, to some extent, to expect those select parents that weren’t the easiest to work with but to always stand behind your professional judgment regardless if one agreed or not. And for the most part, your parents in the years since you’d been teaching were relatively chill. It just seemed that this time of the year is when all of them decided to be in their difficult era.

One hand behind his head, Joe looks over at you. “Then that’s on them.” He shrugs. “You can’t make them hear what they don’t want to hear.”

Groaning loudly, you turn on your side, propping your own head up with your hand. “I know. It just sucks for the kids. There’s a couple who might be on the spectrum or have ADHD, but I can’t outright say it, so all I can do is strongly imply. And trust me, my implications are clear as fucking day. It’s just annoying when I have to work harder than I should to get people to be their kids' advocate, not their adversary.”

He’s quiet for a second and then asks. “What’s the best part of your job?”

The answer doesn’t even require contemplation. “My students. Hands down. I love kids. I love helping them learn and seeing the excitement on their face when they finally grasp a concept I’m teaching. It’s super rewarding.” 

His gaze lingers on you, “Then focus on that. You do this because it’s a passion and a love and you’re clearly good at it.” 

His words marinate over you, reminiscent of past conversations where you’re the one feeding positivity into him, reminding him to not lose focus of what’s most important and why he does what he does. The roles being reversed is different but nice. It’s nice to have him to talk to, it’s always easy to do so.

You move your hand to his chest and slowly walk your fingers downward. “Good dick and good advice. This trip is a double win for me.”

His jaw clenches when you begin to stroke him, sinfully and intentionally slowly. A smirk forms on your face. He’s just as needy for you as you are for him.

Joe’s voice is hoarse with desire. “You ready for the next round?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure if physically, you’re well enough, but that’s what epsom salt baths are for. And Motrin. You need him. Climbing on top, you grab his hardened length and align it at your entrance, dew coating the tip and serving as natural lubricant. “But I want to be on top this time.” 

________

“Mommy!”

You’re startled awake by the loud voice, jumping body, and smiling face of your personal alarm clock. The only alarm clock you’ve ever had that you can’t dictate the time it goes off. It takes a second for you to settle yourself, to push away the inappropriate afterthoughts of such a salacious dream—one you’re slightly disappointed couldn’t play out longer—to focus on the little human in front of you.

The shining sun beaming down on you from the curtains you’re certain she opened assists in doing just that. You rub at your eyes, a small, warm smile growing. “Good morning, Callie Bear.”

Her eyes, big, brown, and always full of curiosity are focused on you as she stops jumping and lands on her knees. “You’re up!”

You chuckle, how can you not be up with a rambunctious four year old jumping on your bed and screaming for you to wake up? ”I’m up.”

“Yay!” She cheers, tiny fists raised up and victory. “Can we have pancakes?” 

“I don’t know.” You pretend to contemplate her request, index finger against your bottom lip. “Can we?”

She pouts, and you bite on your lip to suppress your laughter. Her arms cross over her tiny chest, bonnet covered head tilting to the side. “May we have pancakes?”

Sometimes, you feel bad for your daughter, having a teacher for a mother. You’re always going to be on her about anything academic related, especially English. “We certainly can.” Yawning, you sit up in bed and scratch your scalp through your bonnet. “But first, hygiene.” 

Swooping her into your arms, you’re met with a chorus of giggles as you tickle her stomach with your index finger. Walking into the bathroom, you sit her on the counter and reach her her toothbrush, putting on her (Halle Bailey) Little Mermaid themed toothpaste before letting her do her thing as you do hers.

This is the first time in a while that you’re grateful for your daughter waking you up so early on a weekend. Those dreams….you’d be lying if you said they didn’t happen more than you’d like to admit. You’d tried to figure out what triggered them but have yet to be successful. 

The simplest answer would be that you miss him. You miss Joe, but that’s also the answer you refuse to admit. You can’t miss him. Don’t have the right to miss someone else’s man, someone else’s husband. 

All you can do is be appreciative that one of the biggest regrets in your life brought you your biggest blessing.

Calista, Callie, to almost everyone she knows, was a complete and utter surprise.

It was time for your women’s wellness exam, and in the set of questions they asked you, one was of course the date of your last menstrual cycle. Being stumped for a second was normal, hence why you used your beloved Flo app to track your cycle. But, it’s when you opened the app and realized you hadn’t logged a period in two months, you knew.

Didn’t need a blood test to tell you the obvious. 

You were most definitely pregnant. 

You’d used Flo consistently since you were 14 years old, there was no way in hell you’d forgotten for two whole months to input the period dates.

So, after crying and damn near having a panic attack, your doctor provided you with pamphlets. Options, as they were called. You wouldn’t review them until a couple days later, needing that time to process that you were actually pregnant. Pregnant by a married man that you’d ended things with, ironically, on the night your daughter was conceived.

What in the actual fuck were you supposed to do? Send him a text and say ‘nvm. Congrats, we’re expecting. Are you gonna tell your wife or should I?’ To this day, you’re convinced that the nasty wave of ‘morning sickness’ you experienced the first few weeks of finding out you were with child was actually just your absolute disgust that you’d allowed another woman’s husband to impregnate you.

It was like you were walking in the same footsteps your mother molded for you. Something you swore you’d die before letting happen.

What’s that saying? We make plans, and God laughs. Well, he must be having a field day with you. 

It was actually in confiding in Mariah, your best friend since kindergarten, that you were able to look past your shame and panic to see this for what it is.

“You want to have kids, don’t you?” She asked in an obvious tone, picking through the big bowl of popcorn you two shared while Insecure played at a low volume on your TV. “Well, here’s the kid.”

“I wanted to have kids with a husband, Mariah.”

“Well—“

“Shut up.” You tossed a few pieces of popcorn in her direction. This was not the time for her occasional joke. You were too busy having a mental breakdown.

“Does it really matter how the baby got here? Aren’t you the one always saying kids are a blessing? Why are you trying to block yours?” It’s a fair, valid point that you’re too stubborn to want to hear, even if it’s what you needed to hear. “I’m just saying if you’ve been blessed with being a mom, something you’ve always wanted. Seems kinda silly we’re having this discussion instead of baby names, baby showers, and gender reveals.”

“I’m not doing a gender reveal.” That much you are absolutely sure of. Never. But, Mariah’s words do resonate with you. Why were you so caught up on how you got pregnant? Yeah, it was fucked up, but dwelling on it did nothing but make you feel worse. You always imagined this would be a happy occasion, couldn’t you find it in you to be happy? Regardless of the father and that whole Tubi of a situation.

There was a life growing inside of you, no matter the dynamics of the creation, the child had done nothing wrong, didn’t deserve to be blamed. And the truth was you weren’t really that upset, you were more happy than anything, if you really allowed yourself to feel without reservation. Borderline excited, even. Maybe even at the fact that you would always have a small piece of him with you in a really big way. 

Even if he wouldn’t be a part of that experience.

And it was then that you decided. You didn’t care what anyone thought, couldn’t think about how your mother, who was completely unaware about your relationship with Joe for the entire three years, would react. You’d figure out the rest of this later because you were having this baby, but you were having this baby by yourself. Joe couldn’t know.

He wouldn’t know.

And almost five years later, nothing has changed. Yes, you absolutely couldn’t see yourself making it through your pregnancy and even the first few weeks postpartum without the help of your mom and Mariah. But, for the most part, you did everything you could by yourself for your daughter, wanting her to see the strength and perseverance of a strong, single mother. 

She finishes brushing before you and spits out the remnant toothpaste in her mouth. “Are we gonna see grandma today?”

You finish a few seconds after, spitting and wiping your mouth before answering. “We certainly are.”

“Yay!” She celebrates as you bring the towel to her face, giving it a gentle cleanse before tossing it into the hamper. Callie wastes no time in removing her bonnet and giving her curls a good shake. The two of you share a laugh as you follow suit. 

 “Pancake time?”

Separating some of her coils, you answer with a wink. “Let mommy wash her face, and I’ll be right out, kiddo.”

“Okay.” Nodding, she jumps off the counter and hurries into the kitchen knowing good and well what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“Sis, what have I told you about jumping off this damn counter?” All you hear is giggling in the wake of her dash. This child has daredevil tendencies that bring out a certain, uncomfortable level of anxiety. Medical bills weren’t in the budget, so you needed her to calm the hell down. 

She probably gets it from–

Shaking your head from unnecessary thoughts, you quickly work your way through your routine and eventually meet her in the kitchen to find her on her tablet, probably trying to figure out what movie to put on while you two cook. On the weekends, you remove the passcode from her device but still maintain the time limits for her overall screen time. 

You refuse to allow her to become an “ipad kid.”

“What’cha pick for us?” Moving through the kitchen, you pull out the necessary items and place them on the small island. 

Climbing onto the barstool, she flips the screen with a proud smile. “Moana!”

Gasping with faux surprise, you ask, “again?”

Much like her mother who was like her mother, an affinity and passion for all things Disney is another thing your child inherited. She could watch Disney movies for the rest of life and never get bored. And Moana was at the top of that list, the new Little Mermaid was a close favorite, but Moana resonated deeply with Callie for reasons you still don’t fully understand. 

Well, she is half Pacific Islan—

Clearing your throat, you and Callie get to work on breakfast, both singing along and dancing to the catchy Disney music. It’s a sweet bonding moment between the two of you, a bit of a tradition on the weekends. You’re not much of a cook, at all, but breakfast food is relatively simple. And thankfully, your child is not as picky as some other kids. A stack of pancakes with sausage is always enough to satisfy her. 

It’s when you’re both sitting in the living room, on the floor, legs crossed while you eat the delicious breakfast that you’d prepared together that a thought crosses your mind.

A distraction could be beneficial, the dream from earlier still floating around in the back of your head. And not even the dream in as much as the main event from the theme. 

You needed some dick. It’d been too long, that itch needing a scratch to give you some much needed reset. 

So, it’s when Callie is focused on the scene in Moana when Maui’s hook is broken that you grab your phone and shoot off a text. 

You free today?

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzes with a response. 

Just tell me when and where.

________

Walking through the doors of your mother’s hair salon is always an experience, nostalgic almost, to all the times you and your friends would hang out there with the hopes that you could get free or discounted services. Usually free for you, not so much for your friends. 

Business was still business.

The familiar smell of hair oils, deep conditioner, and the overall sound of flat irons sizzling through hair brings a warm smile to your face. It’s things like this, this place even, that remind you why you decided to come home after college.

Home, where the closest major stores like Target and Walmart, and even the airport, are nearly half an hour away. Where you have only one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school. Where many of the streets are two laned and littered with storefronts, like your mom’s salon. Hell, the freaking bank, post office, and city hall are in the same building.

Everyone knows everyone, and for the most part, everyone looks out for each other. 

It isn’t for everybody, this almost Hallmark movie type setup. You know this. Hence why many leave for school and never or seldom return. But, for you, it’s home.

It’s also the perfect place to discreetly and raise the daughter of a celebrity.

“Grandma!”

Your mom is in the middle of a conversation with a patron but almost immediately redirects her attention to the equally familiar voice of Calista. “There’s my grandbaby!” Callie runs into your mom’s arms and is peppered with kisses all over. “Looking more and more like your mama every day.”

That genuinely makes you smile. You tend to think she favors Joe more than yourself, usually when she’s making certain facial expressions. She has a lot of his mannerisms, which you are grateful for, happy that she has characteristics from both sides. But any and all of the good things she can take from you, you want her to have.  

Callie’s smile is bright and infectious, as always. “That’s cause mommy’s my mommy!”

You laugh, approaching them and leaning in for your mom’s one armed hug as she has Callie in her other arm. “Hey, mama.”

“Hey, baby.”

Your relationship with your mom has definitely been up and down over the years, which you’d like to think is the standard for most mother-daughters. It’s something that’s arguably strengthened over time, especially post Callie. You’d gained so much more appreciation for your mother raising you on her own as a single parent. There was always appreciation, but infinitely more now as you were also in the same position. 

“I was hoping she could hang out with you for a little bit today. I have some business to take care of. If that’s okay?” 

Your mother gives you the look, the look that indicates she knows there’s more to what you’re saying but she won’t push out of respect for your privacy. And you’re grateful for that. You don’t necessarily want to explain that you need her to keep an eye out on Callie while you attend your dick appointment. 

Sucking her teeth, she starts walking to the back where her office is located. “When have I ever had an issue spending time with my only grandchild?” She has you there. Your mom would take Callie every day if you let her, and you’re so thankful for that. Not even for the tremendous assistance your mom provides but for the close relationship she has with Callie, similar to how close you were with your grandma. “Want me to do her wash day for her while she’s here?”

At that, Callie’s eyes go wide as she starts to whine, “noooo. I don’t want to.”

You chuckle. “That’s how mommy feels too, babes.” You dreaded her wash day as much as you dreaded your own. The women in your family were blessed with long, thick, healthy curls that Callie clearly inherited from you but also her father’s side cause the girl had some hair. “If you don’t mind, mama.”

She waves off your unnecessary added comment and starts to assess the state of Callie’s hair, murmuring comments to herself. 

You lean down in front of Callie and move your hand to her knee. “You sure you’re gonna be okay, sweetie?”

She nods and asks, “can we get ice cream when you come back?”

“We surely can.” You don’t allow her to have a lot of sweets—she already has enough energy as it is—but every so often, you two get the homemade ice cream cones at the local parlor. Sometimes you’ll sit outside and just talk, sharing laughs and inside jokes over the best ice cream anyone could ever have. And considering she’s about to endure a wash day, she deserves it. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

Putting her tablet on her lap, she leans over and hugs you tight. For such a tiny human, she always gives the best, most loving hugs. “I love you too, mama.”

Callie goes back to her tablet, and you issue your mom one more statement of appreciation before heading out so you can have your urge squashed and get back in time to have dessert with your little girl. 

On the car ride there, you send up a quick prayer that this time will be different, that you can get what you need and be gone without being asked to stay. It’s always the same answer, so maybe the last one finally stuck to where he won’t hope.

Won’t get his own feelings hurt.

________

“You know you don’t always have to leave right away.”

Of course.....of course.

You’re in the midst of hooking your bra back on when he hits you with the offer you were stupidly hoping he’d pass on this time around. 

Bold of you to assume you could come get some dick without this man trying to turn it into a cuddle session. 

Your smile is tight as you politely decline. “I don’t want to leave Callie at the salon too long. You never know what she’s hearing.”

It’s a weak excuse, hence him poking a hole right through it. “You know your mom would shut that down right away. Get back in the bed.”

“Really, Amir, I can’t stay.” Once your bra is on, you reach on the ground for your panties, sliding them back on as well. The sooner you get yourself decent, the sooner you can dip.

“Can’t or won’t?”

And here it goes. Sometimes, you wonder why you continue to put yourself in this situation. Amir’s stroke game is nice, but is it really worth this constant routine? You two fuck, he tries to make it more, an argument, silence on both ends for a little while until one of you needs that urge handled. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

It’s been roughly the same since you were in high school.

Amir was your first damn near everything: first crush, first boyfriend, first kiss, first time. It was a textbook small town romance. He was the quarterback, and you were the cheerleading captain. Everyone said you were perfect together and predicted at one point you’d get married after college. Truthfully, you once thought the same. But outside of aesthetics, your relationship was always rocky, borderline toxic. 

He had poor boundaries with other girls but never saw an issue because it never went beyond flirting. And because you were young, dumb, and just as toxic sometimes, you’d intentionally flirt with other guys to piss him off, knowing it was wrong to drag innocents into your Bobby and Whitney of a relationship but more interested in making him see your side of it.. 

Still, young and dumb. Not an excuse, but definitely a reason.

Even as you both went off to college, each attending separate schools, you’d occasionally hookup during the winter breaks. More often during the summer. He was your constant, preferred over allowing random dick into you, especially as he was most familiar and you knew he was clean. The devil you know type of thing.

Post college was when you really ended it, deciding that it was time to put the childish things behind you, time to put him behind you.

And you’d done relatively well for a while, the two of you becoming damn near strangers. Especially when Joe came into the picture. Amir was good in bed, but Joe was heavenly. Just the thought of anyone other than him fucking you at that time was repulsing. 

But, Joe is gone, has been, so now you’re stuck returning to the same nigga you just can’t seem to get rid of because he has a decent sized dick he, mostly, knows how to use.

And your rose can only go so far. 

“Fine. Won’t. Don’t. Not interested.” Standing up, you shoot him a look of challenge, of defiance. “Better?”

Your words understandably tick him off as he cruelly asks, “How long are you gonna let yourself be stuck on him? That nigga abandoned you and his kid, what is there to even be stuck on?”

Regardless of what happened between you and Joe, mostly with how it played out, you refuse to allow anyone to speak badly of him. Specifically when it pertains to his absence in your and Callie’s lives, especially since that was 100% your call. Only a select few know the full story, therefore the majority have no right to speak on it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so please just shut the fuck up.”

“Where is he then, huh? It’s been almost 5 years, Y/N. You need to move the fuck on. He’s your past.” Moving out of the bed, he comes up to you and places one hand to your face. You fight the desire to pull away. His touch is suddenly uncomfortable, feels wrong and noisome. “It’s time to focus on your future.”

Not that you’d ever admit it to Amir, but there’s a hint of truth to his voice. Eventually, random hookups to fulfill your sexual needs will become insufficient. Hell, even now, you still desire to be married, to give Callie that 'traditional' family. The problem is mostly lack of options, even if Amir seems convinced you two should give it another try.

 When hell freezes over. 

Your voice is even and to the point as you finish dressing and pull out your key fob. “Like I said, thanks for the scratch, but that’s all this is.” Without giving him time to talk more shit, you head out the door without another fucking word.

________

“Oh shit, is that ole girl Randy used to mess with?” Joe is only halfheartedly listening to what his cousin is saying, mostly focused on the work email he’s reading on his phone. It’s far and few in between they actually have time off, let alone enough time to go home and be among the rest of family. He’s trying to enjoy it and is enjoying it, but work is always on his mind, hence his inability to ignore the email notification that slid in mid-group conversation. “What was her name?”

“It started with an M, didn’t it?” Jey suggests. “Mariah, I think.” 

It's when the correct name is stated that Joe’s attention is briefly redirected. Mariah was your friend, the reason he was ever introduced to you. It’s a name he hasn’t heard in years. If only that was the same amount of time it’s been since he thought of you. No, instead, you’ve taken up real estate in his mind more than he’d ever like to admit or acknowledge.

“Wait, isn’t that—-” Jimmy is silenced, and out of the corner of Joe’s eye, he can see it’s because Jey gave him a look. That look you give someone when you want them to shut up.

Now…now they have his attention.

“What?” It’s when the twins share a look with each other, Jey shaking his head that Joe puts his phone to the side as Jimmy hits the lock button on his phone. “Let me see.” 

“Look, Uce—”

“I said, let me see.” One thing Joe can’t stand more than anything is when people beat around the bush or try to hide things from him. He prefers people to be upfront and honest, damn whatever feelings come up. The truth is always better, in his mind.

And yet……

Shaking his head, Jimmy blows out a breath and hands his cousin the phone.

Joe looks down and instantly regrets ever pushing the matter.

Five years.

It’s been almost five fucking years since he’s seen that beautiful smile, those deep dimples that were one of the first things he noticed about you, outside of your breathtaking beauty. You looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit heavier, still in all of the right places. Hair a little longer but still the same deep onyx with streaks of purple. You’re smiling and posing with Mariah who also hasn’t changed much outside of a new hair color and the huge baby bump she’s sporting. A baby shower, he’d guess. 

But outside the shock of seeing you, Joe’s attention is also on the third person in the photo. A child, young in age, no more than 4 or 5, black, curly hair styled in two space-buns and a deep dimpled smile that’s almost identical to yours. Her eyes are a beautiful light brown shade, a contrast to your chocolate colored eyes.

But similar to….similiar to his. 

Brows furrowed, Joe is surprised to see you’re tagged in the photo, so he goes to your profile and is even more shocked to find it public. You were always such a private person, but he chalks it up to the fact that the only people who’d really know how to find it would have to be those close to you.

You don’t have a ton of pictures, but he clicks on the first one that has a set of photos of you and the same little girl from the baby shower. It’s dated almost six months ago, so not the newest but better than nothing. The post is a slideshow, so he begins to scroll through the photos, each of them with you and that same child, clearly at various points in her life. The last one stops him for a moment, a photo of you, crying, in a hospital bed holding a newborn baby. 

Swallowing back his emotions, Joe redirects his gaze to the caption:

my calista, my callie, my baby girl. God used one of the hardest periods of my life to bless me with the best gift anyone can receive. every day with you is an adventure. from your incessant questions about the most random of things, constant requests for disney movie marathons, to the way you refuse to part from me without giving the biggest hug and kiss goodbye while yelling ‘i love you, mommy!’. callie, you are my whole heart, and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, sweet girl. here’s to year 4 and many many more of having the biggest honor and privilege ever of being your mama bear. 

So many things are going through his head right now. 

You had a child.

You have a child.

Based upon the date of the post, you have a child who will be five years old in a couple of months.

A child who has your smile, but his eyes, his nose, and a complexion that looks the perfect combination of the two of you. She looks like the perfect combination of the two of you.

It’s hard to not jump to the obviously glaring conclusion that all of this brings, and still, he tries to not allow his head to go there. You would….you would never do that. You would never keep his child from him, no matter how things ended between the two of you. There was wrongness to that that reached low levels of depravity, and he just couldn’t conjoin that kind of deception with who he always knew you to be. 

You were a woman who believed and tried to live by her morals. It was the reason you eventually cut him out of your life. Nothing about not telling him he has a child is moral. 

He wordlessly hands the phone back to Jimmy and goes back to reading the email, acting like nothing just happened and he doesn't have a million and one thoughts running through the back of his mind. 

It’s after he walks away, giving off an excuse that he needs to call Hunter to discuss a proposed promo that the conversation commences.

“So, we all just gon act like that lil' girl don’t look like Uce? She even got his eyes, man,” Jimmy, being Jimmy, is the first to say it aloud, the only one to actually verbalize what the others are thinking. 

“Jimmy,” Naomi chides but can’t help adding. “Do you really think that could be his kid?”

Jey decides to join in on the conversation. “It’s possible. They messed around for years.”

“But would she really do that? Have his baby and not even tell him about her?” Naomi only met you a handful of times, but all of the interactions were pleasant, and she secretly thought you and Joe would have made a cute couple if the stars were aligned differently. “She had to have told him.”

Jimmy gestures to the sliding door Joe walked through minutes earlier. “Does that look like he knew?”

“This is all just speculation.” Joseph decides to join the conversation, always the one who prefers to listen to all sides before adding his two cents. “Similiar facial features don’t mean they’re related.”

“No, but add in the timeline plus the way it ended, and you can’t help but lean one way.”

“What did happen between them?” Somewhat newer to this circle, Joseph realizes that’s a topic he’s never really heard much about. He knows his cousin basically has an open marriage and sleeps around, but he’s always heard whispers there was a woman he was with for years. 

“She just ended it one day.” Jey answers with a shrug. “Uce really ain't say much outside of that. It was sudden though.”

“But was it? Three years of waiting around for a guy to maybe or maybe not leave his wife for you?” Naomi serves as a counter, shaking her head and leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “Sounds like more than enough time to me.”

“It wasn’t nothing like that though. They was just messing around,” Jimmy defends.

“He cut off every other woman he was messing with when they were together.” Jey distinctly remembers how his cousin had one woman and only one woman on speed dial during that period, and it was you. It was always you. “I think it was more than just messing around.”

Joseph nods, taking in all this information. “So, if she is his, do you think she kept her a secret to get back at him for not divorcing Jadah?” It’s a bold question, but a valid one that Jey is the first to dispute.

“Naw, I’m with Naomi. Y/N wouldn’t do that.”

Jimmy shakes his head, starting to see how this is all looking to play out. “Well, if that is Joe’s daughter and that’s how he found out he has a child….this shit is about to get real ugly.”

________

Joe tried to tell himself it was just a wild coincidence. Reminded himself that you yourself said you wanted to get married, have kids. And you’d done that, had a kid. However, revisiting your Instagram pictures, in none of your posts did he see a man.

Or a wedding ring.

And just how fucking quickly could you have moved on? Doing the math, you would have had to have someone on speed dial to get pregnant as fast as you did. And that doesn’t line up with who he knew you to be. You were fucking him and only him. 

You were with him and only him.

So that left him and only him.

And like a man hyperfixated on trying to solve a puzzle, he looks at every single post on your Instagram, starting from the year you met up until now. He focuses especially on the posts that include your daughter, not that many, but enough. 

And when it’s all said and done, thoughts vs counterthoughts, logic vs emotion, Joe is 100% convinced that this is his child.

That he’s just now found out he’s a father through fucking Instagram. 

And now he’s pissed because who the hell were you to keep his child from him? He didn’t give a fuck how you felt about him and his being married, that didn’t give you an excuse to hide a whole kid? 

His kid. 

________

“Ready for your bedtime story, Callie Bear?” 

Reading with Callie has been a must since you found out you were pregnant. Your mom always told you how she read to you in the womb and to this day believes it’s why you always tested out so high with your reading abilities, even in the first grade. You’re not sure how accurate it is, having read some studies and whatnot, but you’ve followed suit, reading to Callie even when she was in your belly. Almost five years later, it’s now a tradition. She can’t go to sleep without a story.

She nods happily. You laugh and slide into the bed next to her. Naturally, she cuddles close to you, book already picked out and waiting on the bed. It’s one she’s heard a dozen times before but one of her favorites, so you read it just as theatrically, voice changes, and everything. Her giggles of happiness and merriment warm your heart. You love these one-on-one moments, wishing you could jar them and keep them stored away forever.

You’re a couple chapters in when she starts to yawn, eyes struggling to stay open, that you slide in the bookmark and promise to pick it up again tomorrow. You know Callie is ready to call it a night when she doesn’t protest. 

But, it’s after placing the book on the shelf and going to tuck her into her covers that she hits you with a question that nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Mommy, why don’t I have a daddy?”

You’re not stupid, far from it. This question was bound to come up, sooner or later. For your own selfish sake though, you were hopeful for later, much much later.

She continues, almost nervous in tone. “Ms. Leah said you need a mommy and a daddy to make a baby, so where’s my daddy?”

Curious how the conversation of where babies came from came about, you make a mental note to discuss this with your daughter’s preschool teacher before working to answer her valid question. Truth be told, you have no idea how to answer it. But if anxiety was the dominant emotion before, sadness and devastation easily topple that at the next thing to come out of her mouth.

“Does he not  love me?”

It’s not until that moment that you truly know what it feels like for your heart to shatter into absolute pieces.

“Oh, baby….” Crouching down beside her bed, you move your hand to her forehead, thumb gently caressing her soft skin. You’re so damn lost on how to handle this, what to say to take away her obvious pain, that you go with the soonest thing that hits the forefront of your brain. “Your daddy…..he….he wasn’t ready to be a daddy.”

It could be the truth, it could be a lie. You never gave yourself—or him—the chance to find out, and up until this point, you never saw an issue with that. But now….now you’re wondering just who you made that decision for. 

And if it was the right one.

Callie’s frown deepens, the answer clearly not one that makes her feel any better. “What if I’m a really good girl? Will he be ready then?”

The shattered pieces are now dust, granulated dust that you struggle to hold together in trembling palms. You bring both hands to her face. “Calista, you listen to me. You are the kindest, sweetest, most amazing little girl in the whole wide world. You don’t need to do anything to be a good girl because you are already a good girl, the best girl.”

Her eyes glaze over as she sniffles and asks in a small voice. “So why doesn’t he want me?”

“Oh, sweetie…” You pull her into a hug, holding her close and tight, as if doing so will allow her to absorb all of the love and adoration you have for this tiny human who made your life have meaning. “I’m gonna talk to him, okay? I’ll….I’ll talk to him.” That’s all you can say, even if it’s not a guarantee, even if you have no idea where such an offer came from. And you hate yourself for doing that, for getting her hopes up over something that may not even happen. You haven’t spoken to Joe in almost five years, there’s no guarantee the number is even still the same.

Still, you know you have to at least try, especially when you pull back and see the renewed hope in her teary eyes, the eyes she shares with the father she’s clearly desperate to know about, to meet, to have. 

You close your eyes and press your forehead against hers, speaking with all the love and affirmation in the world, “I love you, Calista. Always, baby.” 

You’re relieved to hear her reply in a less saddened and more hopeful tone, “I love you too, mommy.”

It’s after you’re certain Callie is knocked out and you’ve exhausted every single step of your nighttime routine that you pace around your room, partially trying to avoid an action you know you need to take. 

Especially when you find his number in your phone from an old text thread you could never find it in you to delete. 

You go back and forth for nearly twenty minutes before deciding on a simple question.

is this still joe’s number?

You feel like a damn child, throwing the phone down on the bed and burying your face into your hands. This is so much more difficult than it needs to be, or maybe it isn’t. You made the executive decision to not make Joe aware of your pregnancy for a variety of reasons that felt solid at the time.

Now…now you don’t know any fucking thing anymore, it seems. 

What you do know is that you nearly jump off the bed when your phone begins to ring. Frowning, you look at the time, wondering who in the hell could be calling you at damn near midnight.

But, it’s when you lift your phone to see the caller you know exactly why someone is calling you at damn near midnight.

Ignoring it is so tempting, but the image of Callie in tears wondering why she’s not loved or wanted is more than enough to trample your selfish desires. Sliding the green button upward, you place the phone against your ear, take a deep breath, and speak, “hi.” 

He exhales, your name leaving his mouth for the first time in years. Hearing his voice, let alone hearing him say your name, creates a heaviness you weren’t expecting. Then again, you weren’t expecting to speak to him at all tonight.

Or ever, for that matter.

Communication is suddenly incredibly difficult as you struggle to string words together to create a cohesive statement. “I’m….I’m sorry for calling so late, but—”

“We need to talk.” While your tone is soft and nervous, his is serious and borderline stoic. It takes you for a bit of a loop, but you try not to put too much into it. The real focus should be why he interrupted you so harshly with such a bold statement. He’s not wrong, but why does he think you need to talk? “I’ll get a flight out tomorrow.”

That breaks you from your thoughts. A what?  “wait—”

“You still at the same place?”

Swallowing, still very much confused, you answer, “yes, but—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

The phone goes silent on the other end, and you realize it’s because he’s ended the call. You must stare at that phone for a good five minutes in complete utter shock. Eventually, coming out of the catatonia, only one thought circulates around your mind.

What in the actual fuck just happened? 

[preeningpisces]

JJK Men vs. Tinder

What the men are like on Tinder! Non-Curse AU

AN: I discussed these with my sister & it’s such a fun topic. If you have any thoughts/headcanons, pls share them!

Includes: Choso, Geto, Gojo, Kenjaku, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji

Below the cut, toxic behavior, enjoy!

Choso

❥ Photos: not the best at taking photos. They’re awkward, but in an endearing way. A classic above view selfie where he tries to look neutral/cool, but it ends up looking kind of pouty and oh-so babygirl. A photo with itadori with a forced smile, and one that itadori took of him while they were at an arcade & he won a plushie from a claw machine

❥ Bio: itadori did some major editing because Choso wrote like a whole paragraph that no one wants to read

Hi! New to the dating scene. If you like video games, anime or sci-fi too then should talk🖤

❥ Opener: pretty standard, afraid of coming off like a creep because he's awkward

hi how are you?

❥ Messaging: makes you feel like you’re messaging a bot at first because his responses are pretty fast because he's eager, but also straightforward and bland because he doesn't want to say something wrong. Itadori has to come in & do damage control until Choso can see you're interested. Very much a penpal--might be a week or more before he asks you out. He's the type that wants to have an emotional connection going on a date

❥ How he asks you out: he's nervous but he's direct. Stares the phone down until you reply

I really like you and want to meet you. do you want to go on a date?

❥ First date: he’ll take you somewhere sweet and fun, like an arcade or a carnival. Having activities takes some pressure off, which helps with his nerves a lot. Googled how to act on a date, so he brings flowers - aaaaw. Pays too, even if funds are tight.

❥ If it doesn’t work out: omg having to end things will STRESS HIM THE FUCK OUT. He's going to mull over the decision for a hot minute before he does it. He's apologetic, but makes it clear that he doesn't want to see you anymore

♡ ♡ ♡

Geto

❥ Photos: the best at taking photos. They’re pretty normal for the most part, one with him petting a cat, another at a cafe with Gojo and Shoko. But he has a pretentious black & white photo of him reading a book or staring off to the side. He looks so pretty it cancels out the cringe tho

❥ Bio: keeps it simple, he believes it's better not reveal too much. That's what getting to know someone is for, afterall. Definitely has his spotify connected

Looking for real connection, someone that's my bestfriend before anything else. Always looking for new music, any song recs?

❥ Opener: opens with something from your profile to show he actually read it and didn't just swipe because of your looks, and to start with an interesting convo!

Saw you like reading. What’s the best book you’ve read so far this year?

❥ Messaging: engaging conversationalist, but not the type to instant message endlessly. Doesn't take forever to respond tho, and if he's about to become busy he'll warn you. Will ask more questions about you than he will share about himself. Gotta keep up that mysterious art hoe vibe he ikes to give off

❥ How he asks you out: would ask you out pretty quickly, perhaps after talking for 2 days or a day and a half. You’d be instant messaging, and he just says your name as if he’s about to say something serious, & lets it hang there for a moment before following up with:

I’ve really enjoyed talking, we should go on a date

❥ First date: chill but gives you something to talk about. Museum, aquarium, bar with a jazz music night, pottery class, etc. Gentlemanly but in a cool way, if that makes sense? Not quite as strict as Nanami, but you will feel a bit like a princess. Definitely pays! Cuts out the awkwardness by saying he's going to cover things before you even go

❥ If it doesn’t work out: lowkey kind of dismissive! He’s not going to outright ghost you…but he’ll breadcrumb you until you bring it up

♡ ♡ ♡

Gojo

❥ Photos: has the most normal photos. Always looks like he’s having fun & hanging with people. One where he took an unwilling selfie with Nanami, another of him standing over a maximum height chart at an amusement park with an exaggerated pout, and a video deadlifting Geto at the gym with passerbys staring judgementally

❥ Bio: uses the stereotypical bios but ironically. You need 3D chess insight to know he’s joking because it kind of suits him LOL

If you like pineapple on pizza, it’s not gonna work 🙅‍♂️🙅‍♂️🙅‍♂️ looking for my partner in crime. The Pam to my Jim 🥰 short king 👑 let me climb you like a tree mens 14 shoes, if you know what I mean 😈

❥ Opener: Gojo likes a casual and playful approach. If your profile has something funny he'll open with that

heeeeey what’s up?

❥ Messaging: weaponizes girl texting. Playful, cheeky. Instant messanger most of the time, but will randomly disappear for a whole day and come back with a lame explanation like 'sorry, was busy with work'

❥ How he asks you out: he’d ask while you’re joking around, after you roast him. Will text for several days before meeting up

mmhm why don't you come say that to my face? 🤨 this weekend over coffee my treat definitely not a date or anything

❥ First date: surprisingly, he goes for the classic coffee shop, window shopping, or movie type dates. Very lackadaisical when planning--kind of stressful if you're a big planner or have a tight schedule. A lot more chill on the date than he was over text. Will pay for everything, obviously, might even buy something you see and casually mention liking

❥ If it doesn’t work out: straight up ghosts you - sorry buddy. He just doesn't like dealing with that mess, and to him, if you haven't been seeing each other that long he doesn't feel obligated to end things directly

♡ ♡ ♡

Kenjaku

❥ Photos: normal, flattering, down to earth. He wants people to swipe so he can mess with them. On other occasions, MIGHT use random people's photos and catfish just because he was feeling goofy. Has been banned SEVERAL times

❥ Bio: Kenjaku is tricky. His profile and approaches change all the time because he's the type that wants to do 'social experiments' on Tinder. I can see him doing the whole 'I made the most toxic profile to see if ppl will still match with me' or making one that comes off SO sketchy it's insane anyone would talk to him. Even worse, will make one looking for a serious relationship only to commit psychological warfare on the poor sap who matched.

❥ Opener: depends on what he wants. Very much a wild card. Some examples:

sends a questionable link - it's a photo of your house from Google Streetview

If being normal, like Geto he comments on something from your profile: you like hiking, have you been to X trail? It has great shade

❥ Messaging: eratic. Either endless chatter, or radio silence. Definitely the most verbose of the bunch--if you've caught his interest or bring up a topic he likes he's texting paragraphs. Will get bored easily if you're a dry texter. Occasionally sends voice memos because it's like a one-sided phone call LOL . Sometimes he asks out quickly, sometimes he doesn't. Sigh.

❥ How he asks you out: I'm a broken record at this point, but it depends on his intent! Sometimes he's charming, sometimes he's insane and wants to creep you out

I have tickets to X, want to join me?

That cafe you went to yesterday looks nice, we should go together sometime

❥ First date: if he's trying to charm you, he'll take you somewhere he knows you like (that he can stand) OR somewhere entertaining like an open mic comedy night. If he's being a menace, he'll take you somewhere really weird like a Quaker meeting (thank you fleabag). Or just stand you up. He'll actually be there, just to watch how you react

❥ If it doesn’t work: will gaslight you into believing YOU'RE the one with the problem and are the reason it isn't working. You might delete the app after suffering this demon

♡ ♡ ♡

Nanami

❥ Photos: his company headshot photo, a few work function photos that he’s cropped and are blurry. He’s not smiling in any of them, except for one of him accepting an award at work where he gave the smallest smile for the photo to look agreeable.

❥ Bio: fills it out like a job application. Straight to the point.

Dating with intention. I enjoy reading and cooking. I look forward to speaking with you.

❥ Opener: Nothing crazy - very standard but more formal than typical

Good afternoon, how are you doing?

❥ Messaging: very formal and polite, doesn’t like small talk but will engage in interesting convos. Doesn't reply instantly, but doesn't leave you hanging for hours--he's a busy guy, afterall. Respectful of your time, and expects that in return. Prefers phone calls! Especially while he's making dinner.

❥ How he asks you out: he’s very effecient, he’s not going to be your penpal. He’ll ask you out within the first day of talking if he’s feeling the right vibe. Thinks meeting in person is better for getting to know someone. Will arrange all the plans and make sure it works with both of your schedules comfortably

I would like to get to know you better. Would you be interested in dinner at XX?

❥ First date: classic dinner man! Won’t take you somewhere intimidating, but definitely something nicer. He doesn’t go on dates willy nilly, so he’s going to treat you right. Will be baffled if you offer to pay

❥ If it doesn’t work: Very respectful, of course. He'll let you know quickly as well and won't lead you on. Will thank you for going on a date with him and say it was a pleasure to meet you.

♡ ♡ ♡

Sukuna

❥ Photos: a shirtless pic with him flexing, one of those middle-aged man selfies where they look stern but also a bit confused bc they aren't sure they're doing it right LOL. One of his car or a bike. He's gotta look badass but kind of looks lame

❥ Bio: BOSSY. He basically has a DNI list but for swiping. Sees it as you being audacious if you swipe on him and aren't worth his time

If you're clingy, desperate, have kids or a moron don't bother

❥ Opener: will say something about your appearance - whether this is positive or negative entirely depends on why he swiped. Somtimes he'll swipe on ppl he finds ugly just to see if he gets a match. He's an asshole like that

You look sexy as hell in that 3rd picture

Don't get your hopes up. You're fucking ugly, just thought you needed to know

❥ Messaging: very dry texter. Don’t ask multiple questions, only 1 will be answered. Takes long to reply as well. Prefers calls, but doesn't like calls where it's just chatting to chat yknow?

❥ How he asks you out: basically tells you you're going out LOL. Will ask you out pretty quickly, he just doesn't care for texting that much

Come to X on Friday. We're getting food.

❥ First date: He's going to take you to dinner, but is one of those annoying mfers that's like 'if you won't get messy in public you’re too full of yourself' so it'll be like bbq or wings at a sports bar. 50-50 type of guy. He's not spending $$ on someone he doesn't know

❥If it doesn't work: oh you know he's going to be ruthless. Your ego isn't going to be wounded, it's going to be evaporated

♡ ♡ ♡

Toji

❥ Photos: only 2 photos - a shirtless, dirty mirror selfie with flash obscuring most of his face & a gym selfie where he’s flexing

❥ Bio: tinder isn’t important to him, so he isn’t going to put effort into his profile, but if it catches him the occasional hookup he won’t complain. One of those terrifying mfers that straight up puts their number on their profile (I'm always tempted to send them something insane)

text me if we match (XXX) XXX-XXXX

❥ Opener: he doesn’t usually open, you gotta text him first. What a bitch. If he does open he'll comment on a photo, something that stands out so it isn't odd to comment on it, but still invovles your appearance somehow so it lets you know he's basically checked you out. He knows being too bold will scare most ppl off

I like the hair. suits you

❥ Messaging: nonchalant, and doesn't reply quickly. Dry, but not as dry as Sukuna. Big breadcrumber - engages juuuust enough to keep you around

❥ How he asks you out: Toji’s intention is usually hookups, so he’s pretty straightforward & will ask if you want to meet that night. Too old for ‘you up’ or ‘wyd’

I’m at X. Want to join for drinks?

❥ First date: usually a bar. Then his or your place. Very low effort. Whether he pays or not depends on you, to be honest. If he gets the vibe you don't care, he won't offer. If he gets the vibe you will care, he'll pay. Very good at reading people

❥ If it doesn’t work out: ghosts, but keeps your number if he wants to hit you up again. You’ll probably get a text 3 months later LOL

♡ ♡ ♡

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Bellatrix Lestrange having a daughter around Tonks/Charlie’s age who is like a younger, more unhinged but still somewhat replicated version of her this is very, very inspired by Jenifer Check, I love her sm so when you think of Lestrange!Daught it’s pretty much Chrck lmao which she thought she’d absolutely love except her kid won’t do anything she asks for her and absolutely will not serve the Dark Lord cause she worships the ground the Reader walks on, whatever they want and whenever they want it, she’ll do anything for them

Narcissa can’t help cause she doesn’t have a daughter for plots sake we’ll say Cygnus raised her alone meaning the kid had mad freedom, old man just wanted to chill after losing 2 of 3 daughters over politics so Bellatrix goes to Andromeda

and for a solid five minutes all Andromeda can do is laugh because her older sister is coming to her for vague parenting advise

inevitably Andromeda connects the dots and then starts laughing again pointing out the hilarious parallel about Bellatrix being obsessed with Voldemort and now her daughter being obsessed with her own morally questionable criminal or better yet the Reader isn’t a criminal but gets up to sketchy shit sometimes and doesn’t understand why this pretty, violent girl is following them around but goes with it anyways

worst part is that after Rodolphus and Rabastan died which I assume they did in Azkaban then Lestrange!Daughter would’ve inherited the vault, cutting off the death eaters funding and access to the Hufflepuff’s Cup hidden inside, because she’s not gonna betray her darling for some nose-less fuck

Are we talking like an OC?? Cause I actually really love that idea. Especially, regarding Harry’s twin!Reader or something like that, just the parallels between the two only Belatrix’s daughter is on the literal complete opposite side. But in the circumstances it would be Harry and twin!Reader with this older girl staliking following them around, especially outside of Hogwarts. Like, she just hangs out outside of 4 Privet Drive just watching, even breaking in and just wanting to be close to the Reader. You can bet Bellatrix’s daughter would give the Dursley’s a piece of her mind. Or maybe even just take Harry and the Reader to live with her.

I just imagine the Reader waking up in a completely new place all by themself with this older girl hovering over them. And the Reader being kind of okay with it since they’re away from the Dursley’s but they ask their captor/“savior” to go back and get their brother too.

The Lestrange house/manor/estate would probably become the new Order of the Phoenix headqaurters, mainly because Bellatrix’s daughter won’t part with the Reader so they can’t go with Harry to live with Sirius so Sirius moves in to keep an eye on everything. And his reaction to his batshit crazy cousin’s batshit child being obsessed with one of his godchildren would really be something. Like, FUCK NO!?!?!

Like, I could imagine Bellatrix’s daughter having been obsessed with the Potter twins since it came out that they were able to survive and best Voldemort even when being just mere babes. And just her like revolving her world around getting to meet them or something. Maybe when Bellatrix’s daughter was younger but still older than Harry and the Reader she ended up wandering to 4 Privet Drive or having her house elf take her to meet them or something and she did, even if it was for a few minutes.

When it comes to the idea of Bellatrix’s daughter being obsessed with a criminal or a bad witch/wizard, I could just imagine Potter!Twin!Reader having nicked something small or lied about something insignificant and from then on Bellatrix’s daughter was like “That’s the one for me”.

Also, just the idea of Bellatrix’s daughter having stalked Harry and his Twin!Reader for most of their life. Like, I could see them getting Cygnus or their house elf to take them to 4 Privet Drive and she would just watch the whole place like a hawk. Never taking her eyes off of it and getting excited at the smallest bit of movement or liveliness at the home. Or even having the house elf sneak her into Harry and the Reader’s school to pass herself off as one of the students and getting to befriend the Reader even just for a brief time. But afterwards, Bellatrix’s daughter would use that as her excuse to interact with the Dursley’s. She’d happily knock on their door asking the Reader to play with her, that she was their friend from school as to not draw any suspicion. Hell, Bellatrix’s daughter would go as far as getting one of the houses on Privet Drive just to stay close and ending up living there the rest of the time the twins are across the street/down the road.

[m1d-45]

if my favorite characters wanted to kill me i would simply let them. my only request would be that they do it from up close so that their pretty faces get to be the last thing i see <3<3<3

on broken bones

a/n: you…. you are my target audience.

(P.S: please note that the full fic was too long for tumblr! this will be in 3-4 parts, but dw, they’re all already mostly written!)

word count: ~2.5k

-> warnings: minor spoilers for liyue archon quest, the most minor of spoilers for mondstat’s archon quest, you are literally about to die, and do so but it’s ok i get revived, uhh blood mention but no gore, imposter au things yk? reader is Down Bad for zhongli at one point

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3

< masterlist > || next part >>

you never had the highest level of self-preservation.

when you’d come to teyvat, the world seemed so kind, so you never learned to fear it. bugs never stung, any allergies you had never really acted up besides a sniffly nose, and the sun never burned. if you tripped, you landed softly, in the hands of grass that would never dare to harm you, and a breeze swept by the soothe the sting of your palms. the wind carried you down from high places, the water always keeping you afloat, the entirety of the natural world at your side.

or, rather, nearly the entirety.

despite wandering constantly, it took a few months to actually run into anybody. in fact, the only way you knew you were in teyvat at first were the sunsettias, and the hilichurls when you finally came across one of their camps. you have a feeling the dense forests and overgrown paths knew something you didn’t, looking back on it.

maybe you should have listened.

you stopped in the middle of a well-worn path of yours, stilling the sweet flower you were twirling in your hand. a few feet ahead, a stunned amber mirrored your look of shock, though her recognition was tinged with something more… bitter.

“amber?”

the bowstring in her hands doesn’t lose its tension. “greetings.”

that’s not the knights’ prescribed greeting, your mind says. you tell your mind to shut up, because that’s not what you should be thinking about when you’re looking at amber.

you wave, trying for a smile, and emotions you can’t catch flash over her face in rapid succession.

“how do you know my name?”

whoops. “who hasn’t heard of the knights of favonius?”

“those from other lands.” for being so young, her voice is so tired. she sounds like she’s barely 18, yet she’s so worn out… nobody this young should be so exhausted.

after a moment’s thought, you step forward, extending your flower-

her arm moves faster than you ever could, raising, aiming, and letting the arrow fly before you can blink. her shoulders are tense, her chest barely moving despite how harshly she breathes, arms still posed around her bow.

it’s only then that you’re aware of the white-hot pain in your throat, the sting of icy numbness swiftly taking its place.

the sweet flower falls to the ground, your body soon following.

when you wake up, the first thing you do is press a hand over your throat, but all you feel is the chill of your own skin. no arrow. no blood. you check your shirt, but there’s no blood there either.

it’s like it never happened. but you know it did.

still keeping a hand to the area, you sit up, ignoring how your body protests. you’re in another field, unsurprisingly, green grass and blue skies and red birds all around. it’s hard to believe that your run-in with amber wasn’t a dream.

even if you know it wasn’t.

you rise shakily, feeling very much so like you’re relearning your body. how to stand, how to dig your fingers between the sections of bark on a tree so you don’t fall, how to breathe when it feels like all the air in your lungs was in a race to get out. still, you breathe.

still, you stand.

still, you move on.

the earth seems angry.

looking out from the jade chamber, this is clear. the skies are an irritated gray, billowing clouds heavy with rain. they had come from nowhere, suddenly washing in from the north in with no warning, but a single drop has yet to fall. the ground occasionally shakes, enough to make leaves quiver, but no earthquake has come. it’s odd, like the very rock is holding in its breath, waiting for the trigger to let loose what is certainly disaster upon the land above it.

even the tianquan’s gems, normally large, sterling rocks swirling around her fingertips, refuse to answer her call. as she flips over a small coin of amber, the most she’s been able to summon, she wonders why.

one of ningguang’s many assistants comes out of the chamber, telling her that keqing has a report for her, and she tells them to send her out with a wave of a clawed finger. normally, she’d come inside—normally she wouldn’t be out here to begin with—but this… oddity in the landscape has her attention.

the door behind her silently slides open and shut, the clicks of the yuheng’s shoes the only indication of her presence.

“it’s odd to see you outside at such an hour, my lady.”

it’s midday.

“what is it, keqing?”

“this letter came in for you.”

an envelope enters her periphery and she takes it, careful not to damage the paper as she inspects the wax seal. it bears the insignia of the favonian knights.

“that’s hardly a rare occurrence.”

“indeed, but this one carries significant importance.” she takes a breath, an explanation on her tongue, but it dies. she knows she shouldn’t let her biases get in the way of the tianquan’s work, but this situation feels so wrong. her vision burns at the back of her neck despite her attacks doing less damage, the electro that dances across her skin hurts more than it should. it’s wrong, horribly so, but she needs to-

“keqing?”

she meets the tianquan’s eyes. ruby red dissecting her every move, and keqing is quick to look away.

“apologies, my lady. as i was saying…”

the dead refuse to rest.

they have always been unruly, leaving behind legacies and lingering feelings, leaving the living and letting them deal with it. what would be known as the wangsheng funeral parlor was established to battle these lingering debts, and it seems that even after 77 generations, the current director still has to pick up that mantle.

she’s felt it all day. the rowdiness of the undead, the spirits dancing and twirling around where they shouldn’t be. her soul told her there was one too many around, and so she had set her mind on going.

the director adjusted the flowers in her hat, watching in annoyance as her consultant thought over her words. she thought the answer was quite simple, and had rushed to fix the problem, but he was adamant that she explain herself first.

“and you’re certain?”

hu tao groaned, squeezing her eyes shut so they wouldn’t roll. “yes, i’m certain! surely youve noticed too, or is that vision for nothing?”

a glimmer of irritation crossed zhongli’s calm eyes. “this is a matter of utmost importance, director. the dead refusing to die is a serious issue.”

“you think i don’t know that? i run a funeral parlor-“

“director-“

“no. i’m going to wuwang hill, and all i need you to do is take care of the parlor while i’m gone. that’s it.”

“director, please. you cannot throw yourself into dangerous situations and expect me to sit by idly.”

“what are you, my dad?”

“i would hope not, as your father is currently deceased.”

in the gaping silence that followed, hu tao couldn’t decide if she was more shocked at the fact that he brought up her father’s passing, or that he had borderline joked about it.

zhongli cleared his throat, the only sign of apology she would receive. “i will go alone if i must.”

“you want to go-“

“indeed. i cannot allow you to venture into such an unsafe area on your own, and i myself wish to find the answer to this. if you cannot find anybody to run the parlor in your stead, then i will simply go alone.”

names and faces of employees ran through her head, options brought up and discarded quicker than any decision she’s ever made before. something in her soul demanded she go to wuwang hill, her pyro vision an insistent press between her shoulder blades, urging her to leave zhongli and just go. it was illogical, irrational, and she knew that if he saw he’d be worried and when all she needed was to simply leave-

a name emerged from the clutter.

“ferrylady.”

though his jaw ticked, zhongli nodded.

wuwang hill itself is uneasy.

zhongli has seen many things during his lifetime, but few of his memories could compare to this. the ground quivered underneath his feet, only truly steadying where he, as the lord of geo, stepped.

in truth, he had felt the same disturbance as hu tao, but had wanted to preserve his reputation as zhongli, ignoring the cold sting in his soul from where his gnosis used to be. his plan was to go after hours, when the dark could shadow his form, but now that he was here he was glad he didn’t.

the forest’s canopy was denser than usual, it seemed, barely any light filtering through the leaves. the will-o’-the-wisps shone brighter and more frequently than normal, and not a hilichurl was in sight. it was strange, unnerving to walk the familiar path, and he found himself prepared to summon a stele at any moment. the air itself felt tense, his element not resonating right.

how can stone feel hollow?

hu tao stepped closer to him, eyes uncharacteristically wide as she looked around. “why does it feel so… empty?”

he moved a hand to her back, urging her on faster. “i don’t know, ms. hu. please, do hurry.”

her fingers play with the tassels on her shirt as she walks, speeding up at his side. she’s always been fond of the macabre, but this… this isn’t that. this isn’t slow and sticky, raw honey made of skeleton bees that drips through bones and pulls at the hair atop skin, this isn’t the abrupt hit of symbolism or the stop of a heart as you’re face to face with a corpse, the smell of rotting flesh mixing with the bile climbing up your throat.

this is sharp. angular. a spike with every step she takes on the familiar dirt, thorns clinging to the lining of her lungs and digging in to hide from the chilling air. the sense that she doesn’t belong here, that she should leave, is steadily growing in response to the drive to keep walking, and she wonders if and when it’ll balance before tipping over. regardless, she keeps walking, steeling her spine and forcing assuredness into her walk.

besides her, zhongli isn’t doing much better. the air reeks of the sweetness of the divine, and the thundering in his heart matches, but here? of all places? he knew his god—he prided himself on it—and knew that they didn’t like places like this. and the feeling of wrongness, the stone beneath him seeming to slip under his feet and forcing him to walk quicker to make up for it, the claws of tree branches and roots of bushes somehow larger than before. as they approached the stone steps, he didn’t know what to expect, for once. he was unsure whether to be on edge, or to scold himself for being tense over nothing.

surely, he thought, rounding the corner, it couldn’t be nothing?

you watched the water ripple from your safe spot on the edge of the stone path cutting through it, smiling at the way the fish followed your hand when you hovered it over the surface. they were beautiful, some kind of koi by the looks of it, and certainly not what you expected.

when you recognized the wisps of wuwang hill, you had initially been afraid. it was dark, even during the day, and filled with monsters. not to mention it held the barrier between life and death, something you were not keen on ever getting close to. but as the shouts of the qingce villagers echoed in your ears, you decided it was the safest option, at least for the moment.

and it was. there were no hilichurls, no cicin mages, and the wisps seemed to float alongside you, lighting the way for a while before another came up and took over. they’d guided you to the domain, whose stone was shockingly warm. it was the crimson witch domain from what you remember, so that checked out, but for it to physically affect the stone…

you wondered what the archaic petra domain would feel like if that were the case. could stone feel more stone-like? if you were to somehow break off a chunk, would it do more damage than a regular rock? would that even count as geo damage?

you let your hand trail across the water, feeling scales bump against the pads on your fingertips with another smile. you wondered where they got their food, as the pond seemed both shallow and fairly barren, but there seems to be more and more greenery as you look. were your eyes adjusting to the light better, or were they the kinds of plants that only bloomed under certain conditions? but no, that would be for flowers, not-

“who are you?”

the harsh voice makes you jump, the fish jerking back before crowding the water near where you’ve fallen over. your surprise nearly made you fall in, but as you see who’s approaching you, you think that might have been better.

boots stomp over the stone that’s been your tentative camp, not stopping until they land toe to toe with yours. eyes carved from cor lapis glare down at you, cutting any argument you may have had to shreds.

yes, partly because zhongli is intimidating, but…

lighter shoes click and draw your attention, but you don’t get to turn your head far before you’re met with the pulsing black and gold point of vortex vanquisher.

“do not interest yourself in that which is out of your reach.”

oh.

you swallow in attempt to remedy the sudden dryness in your throat, following the handle of the polearm up to meet his eyes once more. his eyeliner looks sharper than on his in-game model, you note, and he has an earring, the golden jewel on it a perfect complement.

his eyes narrow, the set of his jaw making you think he’d sneer if he were anybody else. he rips his polearm from the stone besides you, “what could you possibly be looking at?”

you know this is it. you know exactly why he hasn’t spun his weapon back around, you knew it from the moment his sunset gaze fell upon you. so.. why lie?

“you’re beautiful,” you whisper.

and for the second time that week, you die.

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Four

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors note: I’m here:) finally. It’s been a while, idk how long, not that long but long enough i guess, sorry for the wait! This one is wordy but also has a lot going on, so hope you enjoy!

Ngl, this can probably be read as a standalone if anyone’s seeing this and not started the series, it’s just a bit angsty and mostly smut? But unsure, I said probably! X

Warnings: Arguing, usual Matty and Mouse thinking (feels like it needs its own warning at this point, they’re saddos), smut, unprotected sex, EMOTIONS (because yeah)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

There was something raw in the bitterness that was love. Like the sour skin of an apple that was first thought to be sweet. Love was deceiving in itself really, but it was never alone. It brought life and light. It wrought anger. It stirred both jealousy and pity. It gave and gave, until all you were left with was that tart tang aftertaste. 

Some people revelled in it.

Others, withered away.

Years before, perhaps maybe not even that long ago now, Matty would have belonged to the former. He had enjoyed the strings he found that could tie him to people, sex and money had given him the ability to do it, to keep them there, to pull them alongside him. And he’d indulged in it all, beyond what most would consider extortionate. 

And still, even after everything, when the fun had ended and the games had been discarded, and he’d just been tossed off somewhere to the side… Alone once more. He had continued on. On and on and on, until he ultimately had lost himself completely.

The last few months had shifted something in him though.

And now here he was, still angry and bitter and resentful. But full of actual love. The raw type. The kind that left you marvelling at the most stupid things— insipid little concepts that held no actual value or any real detail worth getting all starry-eyed over.

It had wormed its way into the hollow shell that was his heart and rebuilt some part of him that he believed he had long since destroyed.

He wanted to scoff at the very thought. The very idea that an emotion could be felt so strongly that it differed the world around you; that, singularly, it could change you. The notion was far too complex, too out there to even begin to fathom, but then again, Matty supposed that emotions were exactly that. Complex.

It sent his mind reeling. Had his entire body aching with a fever to expel the feeling completely, if only so that he could think freely again, so it wouldn’t hurt to merely breathe anymore.

You should have told me.

He knew that. He had admitted as much.

And yet, he still hadn’t told her.

He’d lied.

Why didn’t you tell me?

And that was the question, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t he just told her?

Fear, he guessed.

Yet another morbid emotion in which Matty had always been so wary of. Another lost feeling he thought he’d swallowed whole and hidden somewhere deep down. Because there was no fear in a drug induced haze. When you were off partying or chasing some other euphoric high. What the fuck was there to be fearful of? When the chilling buzz which shook you to your very core blanketed over everything else.

When there was always that silence.

That numb quiet he had chased and craved and cherished.

Though, he supposed, it was nothing compared to the fear of losing this.

Of losing her.

Still, Matty could not for the life of him find it in himself to tell her exactly that. Those words lost on him, lodged in the column of his throat and etching themselves a home there.

“Where do we go from here?”

He blinked at the sound of his own voice, looking up at her shadowed expression and at how tired she then seemed. How different she now looked compared to the moment they’d first met. 

She’d been something of a presence even then. Always effortlessly complex. With her soft smile and guarded eyes. Eyes he’d gone and fucking wondered about for hours on end.

Those eyes which were now caught on the far wall stood opposite, the one lined with coloured photo frames and that odd little doodle Teddy had gotten in trouble for only a couple of weeks prior. 

The realisation made Matty mourn the few days they’d spent apart.

After a long moment, she finally shrugged at him and he found himself swallowing tightly at the movement. Startled by her seeming lack of care. 

“I don’t want to lose you, Squeaks.” 

It was honest. As honest as he could be.

She huffed an amused breath in return though, “Not like you’re short on company, Matty.”

He felt his gaze snap up to meet hers then, head shifting with it. 

“What’s that even meant to mean?” He asked her, frowning now, at the way she had crossed her arms over her chest and how her shoulders had hunched on their own accord whilst she casually moved to glance out the window. Matty forced himself up onto his feet, hating the fact she had turned away from him.

“I saw everything, Matty.” Mouse replied tiredly, as though she was fed up, fed up with this, with them. “I saw the articles.”

Matty’s stomach bottomed out at her words, he stepped towards her. “Nothing happened.” He murmured, taking another step closer. “Nothing fucking happened, Squeaks. I swear it.”

She tensed but didn’t quite flinch at his sudden approach, so he kept a little distance between them, even as desperate as he was to hold her. To shake her enough so that she would see sense, that she’d realise how stupid he would have had to have been to have gone near anyone else. That girl was no one, she’d meant nothing. 

“You can swear that, can you?” She mocked him, one corner of her mouth toying with a merciless smile that didn’t quite suit her. “You were gone, Matty. Fucking out of it. That much was clear to see just from the photos alone.”

Matty stared at her helplessly.

She shook her head.

“I’d had a couple drinks. That isn’t a crime!” He stressed, automatically falling onto the defensive, “Didn’t mean I was stupid enough to get with the first person I fucking saw! That girl- she was off her head too. Had mates with her even! But she was just trying to help me, Mouse. That’s all it was.” 

She was shaking her head again now, tongue catching on her incisor; a dead giveaway to how stressed she was, how anxious she was getting. Matty only wished to shoulder it all, that defensiveness of his faltering slightly at the sight of her trying to hide it all. To stay strong. How fucking long had she had to do that?

“I feel like such a fool, Matty.” She finally spoke, her voice trembling with the onslaught of tears that glazed her eyes but she didn’t dare let fall. “A fucking fool. ‘Cause I’d thought that things were okay, that we were okay. That I could finally relax and let you in. But then-“ She paused, a sad huff leaving her, “Then you went and dropped this mess in my lap and somehow expected me to just deal with it. To tell you it’s all fine. That we could make it right.”

Mouse turned then, ever so slowly, looking about as defeated as Matty had ever seen her. He felt his chest burn with the last breath he hadn’t remembered taking let alone hold onto, too afraid to look away, to even move. 

“But you embarrassed me. You’ve made the whole world believe I am that fool. That I was as naive as they’d first made me out to be. As my friends thought me to be.” 

Her smile was shattered and broken, her voice wet and hoarse, but she continued on even as her hands fell limply to her sides and she took a single step closer.

“And to make things worse, you didn’t just hurt me, Matty. You hurt Teddy too.”

–

Hit them where it hurts.

That was the saying, wasn’t it?

But it only left me feeling all the more sour- gutless. As well as a little stupid, I supposed, wondering if Matty even cared for Teddy at all, or how he had felt the last couple days.

Though I shouldn’t have second guessed it, not when the way Matty’s face immediately paled and then fell proved me wrong. 

Deep down, I knew that he cared. In his own odd way he had always cared. But to know it and to see it were two entirely different things.

And although it was true, that Matty had in fact hurt Teddy. It still felt like a shitty thing to say to him then. But he’d hurt me as well, hadn’t he. And even though I’d been hurting most of my life, Matty being the reason for all that hurt pained me in a way I couldn’t even comprehend. 

“I didn’t-”

I scoffed at his attempted reply, but my heart wasn’t in it, breaking all over again. I wondered how long we could drag this out. If we even would.

“Mean to?” I finished for him, shaking my head stupidly. “I know you didn’t mean to, Matty. Doesn’t change the fact that you still did it.”

His eyes slipped closed just as his lips fell apart, and when he opened them again I was stuck staring into his devastated gaze. 

“If I could take it all back, I would.” He breathed, “I promise you I would.”

I swallowed back my own tears, even as they burned and pricked at my throat and eyes. “But you can’t.”

And it was as simple as that, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ever take it back. 

I don’t want to lose you.

He knew just how to get under my skin, past all that rusted armour of mine.

It was what made this all so much harder. 

“Tell me what to do, Squeaks.” Matty croaked pleadingly, hand reaching out towards me before he looked down at it, blinked, and then let it fall. “I’ll do it, just– tell me.”

What was left that he could do? When it felt like things had so suddenly and so horrifically fallen out from under us.

“I don't know.” I told him honestly, in a barely there whisper, “I just don't know, Matty.”

He stepped even closer then, hand moving to capture my jaw in a determined haste, not restraining himself like he had just moments before. I tried to pull away, titling my chin and looking off to the side as I clenched my teeth, but his thumb was there, luring me back in, forcing me to meet his eye.

“I’m not just gonna give up.” His other hand jumped to cradle my face, a cushion to those heated words. 

I was reluctant in my needless wanting, desperate to be held whilst simultaneously wanting to push him away. So I lifted my hands up to cover his own, unsure of the choice they’d make. To stay, or go.

“It’s not about that, Matty.” I heard myself say pathetically, voice wavering with each word, “You can’t just forget this.”

His dark eyes were trained on me, flickering over every square inch of my scarred face. I’d never felt insecure about them when I was around him, but this moment felt too heated, too high strung. And I’d been burning the candle at both ends the last few days, so with him being this close, this intense, every emotion I’d felt was brimming closer and closer to the surface. 

Instead of facing him, I turned away, hiding once more as I worked my jaw and felt my hands slip down to the backs of his forearms.

A shared breath and then,

“Don’t do that.” Matty whispered in the quiet, almost begging. “Don’t hide from me.”

His thumb smoothed over the skin of my cheek and I was all but putty in hands, looking back at him just as a tear escaped me and slid to meet the pad of it. 

Matty brushed the tear away without thought, before he leant in to rest his forehead against my own. The action forced me to cling tighter to his arms, eyes closing to keep from embarrassing myself any further. I wouldn’t cry. 

I wouldn’t cry.

“Look at me.” He demanded, nose so close that I could practically sense its phantom touch. And foolishly, I did as he asked. “You-” His breath stuttered as his eyes pleaded with me, sounding forced as it broke free from him, his fingers making a home for themselves in my hair. 

“You don’t know what you do to me. How much of a mess I’ve made of myself. How much I have missed you.” Matty confessed, his voice quiet in the small space shared between us, in a place where we were both sheltered and unseen. “And I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry. Enough that I’ll keep on repeating it until you fucking believe me. Enough that I’d do just about anything for you to see how much I want this.”

He sucked in a breath, and I blinked back at him, lips tingling with the sensation of his proximity. 

“I know I messed up. I know.” He repeated, eyes flickering back and forth between my own whilst his thumbs trailed the line of my hair. “But all I’m asking for is a chance to make it right. To be better. Squeaks, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if I could.”

His breath was tickling the skin of my cheek as well as the corner of my mouth, it almost made it difficult to think let alone remember how to breathe. I wanted–

Suddenly my eyes were looking down, focused on his parted mouth, on the stubble he’d let grow across the cut of his chin as well as his upper lip. His nose finally brushed past my own, touching ever so carefully as one or both of us pressed nearer, almost there, inching closer but not close enough.

“Tell me no.” 

Instantly, I was thrown back to that first night he kissed me. I hadn’t told him no then, and for some reason I couldn’t find it in me to decline him now. 

So instead I took, all but biting as my hand cradled the back of his neck and closed that short amount of distance between us. My nails dug into the exposed skin of his nape, where the collar of his shirt jumped with each move he made. My teeth nipped at his lower lip, angry in my attempt to swallow him whole, teeth clashing as we both stumbled, moving and moving until Matty’s back hit the nearest wall.

How the roles had reversed, I thought to myself as Matty’s shoulders flexed beneath his shirt and jumped under my ever roaming hands. I hated the desire that it stirred through me, knowing how easily he could take back control with his carefully contained strength. But he didn’t, instead he gave my fury something to latch onto.

My hand lifted to pin one of his wrists somewhere to the left of his head, glare not wavering even as his stubborn gaze met my own. He was as riled up as me.

“You have some nerve.” I all but spat, watching on as his chest rose and fell, questioning how quickly everything had switched.

“Yeah?” Matty bit back, those familiar brown eyes- a colour that had always brought me comfort- were blazing now as they trailed over the flush that I was sure lined my face. “Why’s that? You’re the one with me pinned, darlin’.” 

His heavy gaze traced the bow of my lip, slumping ever slightly in his stance so that his head could fall closer forward. My breath hitched.

That was all he needed apparently, to earn the upper hand here. Because in a moment, the room was spinning and then I was the one being crowded against the wall, fury be damned.

Contrary to my previous endeavour, Matty’s touch was still as careful as ever, making it that much more obvious that I could slip away if I so wanted. But the question was whether or not I did.

“Matty–”

But he just carried on, as though he hadn’t even heard me speak, voice a low breathy murmur. 

“I’ve been stuck in this endless loop. Driving myself mad.” He told me, his knee angled enough so that he could let his head dip towards the juncture of my neck, his mouth pausing by the shell of my ear whilst a finger gently trailed its way up over my hip. “Wonderin’ if I’d lost this for good.”

My heart pounded in my chest as the ghost of his words tickled my skin, tensing when his nose ever so slightly grazed my jaw. 

That finger of his continued to move, working its way up my torso, jumping across my ribs and up to the bone of my collar. My gaze was fixed on the opposing wall, on the mirror that framed my dazed face and the back of his head. My hand worked its way into his unruly curls.

“But you’re as stubborn as me, see.” Matty added, luring me in, “And I’m not the type to give up on a sure thing.” His words held enough bite that I snapped back to meet his stare, he tilted his head at me whilst I scowled.

“Excuse me?”

Matty smiled, lids heavy as his careful hand danced its way back down my front. 

“And this,” He said, almost in a whisper, ignoring my retort as he hooked my leg around his waist, “This is a sure thing.”

A soft breath escaped me even as I batted his hand away, but he simply reached up to grip at my chin, touch tender even with the way his calloused thumb dragged down my lower lip.

I was slowly beginning to imagine that this was all a dream, something my sick mind had gone and conjured up in hopes to ignore all of the hurt he had put me through. Because this couldn’t be right, things couldn’t have fallen back into place this easily. 

“Matty.” I tried again, firmer this time, but was captured by the look his eyes held, probably having understood the expression that must have just crossed my face.

“What did you do, Squeaks?” He asked me almost hurriedly, shaking my chin between his forefinger and thumb, my previous anger and doubt melting slightly as I leaned further into his touch. “Did you want me to hurt, too?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question, his swift change in topic. Baffled by the fact that he was now trying to pin this back on me. 

Was that really what this was? I wanted to ask.

Matty didn’t give me the opportunity to say a thing though. My surprise had stalled me briefly, but it had evidently been long enough to allow him to simply carry on.

“What did you do, eh? Tell me.” He breathed before he pressed his mouth to my jaw, once and then twice, pulling away just as I tilted my head to accommodate him, “Did you go out, baby? Find somebody else? Or did you just stay here, waiting for me?”

I reeled back, anger spiking again. “Fuck you.”

Matty’s eyes flickered back and forth between mine. 

“I’m trying to get you to.” He said, always so brazen and snarky, even in the moments where I hated him most. The hand I had previously slapped away went back to the leg he still had draped over his hip, snaking up over my knee and to my thigh. 

My glare didn’t waiver, even as my breathing picked up at the pressure his fingertips wrought on my skin. 

“Tell me no.” He finally repeated, eyes failing to meet mine. And how was I supposed to? When having him this close brought back that fire he’d put out in me, when he was kissing my neck so sweetly?

“We’ll regret it.” It was as close to a no as I could get, enough to have him pause. Matty looked to me then, his hold loosening on my body but still holding. Hoping.

“Do you care?”

I marvelled at the question, did I care?

I cared so much it pained me.

But he hadn’t meant it like that. That much I knew.

Do you care if you regret it? Because, what if you don’t? 

With Matty there was always chance– he was the type to play the odds, to push his luck.

What if.

What if, what if, what if?

Shaking my head, I was forced to question if he understood me as much as I did him. If he could see each of my thoughts just as they dawned on me, flashing across my face like a story being told. 

Then I wondered whether or not I even wanted him to understand. This, this thing we were doing would only further complicate things between us, but perhaps this could be a goodbye.

But, if this was a goodbye, why was he looking at me like that? Watching and waiting for me to truly answer.

Tell me no, he’d said.

Matty’s gaze swept over my face, as though trying to read me, maybe in hopes to find what it was he was really searching for. 

Tell me no.

“Please.”

And my resolve broke at the word.

“Okay.” I heard myself say in reply, nodding quickly, and that was seemingly all the permission he needed before Matty was wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me towards him fully.

My hands floundered momentarily before they were back on his shoulders, his teeth nipping at my neck. 

I moaned, eyes falling shut as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down my skin, teeth scraping before his tongue swirled to soothe their angry ambush. I could smell him everywhere now, the shampoo I was so used to stealing, as well as the only aftershave he’d ever claimed to like.

His hips rolled into mine, pressing himself right against the fabric of my trousers and the underwear which had grown damp during our heated argument. 

I didn’t want to linger too long on the thought of my body’s obvious betrayal, too caught up in him to think about how wrong this should all feel.

“Shit.” Matty groaned, breath catching with it as he continued to grind against me.

I gasped back, grabbing at him harder as he bit down on the curve of my neck. I nipped at his jaw in retaliation, nails digging into the skin of his back, hoping to leave a mark.

“I knew you’d miss me.” He grunted into the base of my throat, the hands which held my waist dipping beneath the hem of my shirt to explore further. “Even when you’re angry you’ll wait. ‘Cause no one else can touch like me.”

A whine bypassed my lips almost involuntarily as he continued to rut against me, I wanted to be angry- no, in fact, I was angry. But all emotion other than want was blurring at the edges of my mind now, being pushed further and further back by each eager kiss he peppered along my jaw.

“You really–” I jerked in surprise, cutting myself off with a short gasp when his hand slipped past the hem of my trousers, fingers pressing against the damp fabric he found there. 

“What was that?” He provoked, and I could hear the smirk in his voice as he trailed over my covered clit, causing me to whimper before I was biting down on my lower lip. Matty didn’t like that much. “Come on, I wanna hear you.” He muttered, pressing a little harder, wanting a reaction. “Tell me.”

“You’re such a bastard.” I panted, head falling against his shoulder as my hips pushed further into his touch, seeking more.

Matty laughed, all breathy and lovely, mouth catching on the lobe of my ear before he hissed, “Yeah, but you like that about me.”

His hand was gone with that and I was almost tempted to ask, to even plead with him for its return, aching all the more now, enough that all I could think about was riding his fingers until I couldn’t think at all. 

But then Matty was grabbing my waist again, his grip hard, firm, and I swallowed when he whispered into my ear once more.

“Jump.”

Without thinking, I jumped. 

We collided, his mouth on mine and the two of us moving as though it was second nature. And in a way, it was. But it shouldn’t have been. I knew that. I tried to remind myself of it. 

He shouldn’t be here.

But he was. Walking his way through my flat with ease, effortlessly missing each sharp corner and the miniscule step which led back into the hallway. He was blind, my hands in his hair as he manoeuvred us into my bedroom, throwing me down onto sheets that he’d never seen, let alone slept in. 

I tugged him down with me, his hands moving to unbutton those fucking jeans he always wore as he worked his way back into my mouth. 

He hovered over me after kicking them off, my head pressed to the pillows as his eyes roamed every inch of my face. “Beautiful.” He whispered, as though he hadn’t really meant to say the word aloud.

My breath hitched anyway but Matty paid it no mind, leaning in closer to kiss me again, slower this time around, though his hands were still quick, tugging at the hem of my top enough so that I got the hint. I lifted myself up, breaking away to take it off and toss it to the side. 

Matty kissed his way down my neck again, following the trail of scars down my torso until his fingers paused to hook around the top of my trousers. I nodded at his silent ask, planting my feet a little firmer on the mattress so that they could follow my tee.

Matty stopped then, kneeling between my parted thighs, eyes caught on the panties I was wearing, and I could swear something in his gaze shifted as he stared down at me. 

“Lace?” He murmured, fingers curling around my thighs tight enough to bruise as he pushed forward, closer to my face. “Really?”

It was a loaded question. Almost felt like an accusation.

I shrugged– I hadn’t meant to end up here, but it hadn’t been subconscious when I’d picked them out of the pile this morning. He liked the way they looked, had told me so one night spent at his when he’d talked me into smoking a couple joints with him sprawled out on his living room floor. 

I opened my mouth to reply but Matty didn’t quite catch the motion, already busying himself with the task of pulling the lace down my thighs. His fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, dragged alongside the black material rolling down my legs. I tensed at the feeling, zeroing in on the slow motion, then listened to him groan at the sight before they were gone completely.

I watched him pull away, balling the damp fabric up in a fist before leaning over the side of the bed to drop them on top of his jeans. 

“A souvenir?” I couldn’t help but question, mostly out of mirth, but humour helped deflect from the weight I felt at having him here.

Matty hummed, fingers already back on me, trailing the length of my right leg before he was stretching his way back up again, head stopping between my parted thighs and nosing at a crease sat at the very top. He didn’t answer me though, instead choosing to shut me up with another gasp by dragging his thumb across my folds.

“Matty.”

“Hm?” He hummed again, having sat back on his heels to watch me squirm as he continued on. I shot him a rather annoyed glare.

“Take off your shirt and fuck me.” 

His brows rose languidly when he flicked his eyes back up to meet mine, then tilted his head. “But I’m having so much fun.”

With a swift kick to his side, Matty’s hand fell away and he shook his head around the beginnings of a smile. “Always so demanding.” He tutted and before I could spit something back– probably about him being the biggest hypocrite I knew– he was placing his hands either side of my head and leaning forward so that his lips were right beside my ear, his breath fanning the shell of it. “You gonna beg for it?”

My breathing grew heavy as I watched him pull away, dragging a finger up the inside of my thigh before stilling ever so briefly and venturing on, up over my hip and then my ribs. He pressed a slow kiss to my chest, eyes flicking up to find mine as his tongue swirled over the skin, there and then gone.

“Come on–”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the force of it lighting goosebumps over my exposed flesh. “Come on, baby. Beg.”

I rolled my eyes, reaching up to grab at his neck but he was already dancing out of my reach. He jutted his chin. 

“Matty.” I huffed.

“Yeah?”

I really wanted to throttle him, “Fuck me. I’m not asking.”

The corner of his mouth tugged itself up into a small smirk, “Good enough.”

A disbelieving chuckle escaped me, one which was quickly cut short by his wandering hands finding purchase on my hips once more, before he dragged me down the length of the bed, his mouth finding purchase on the swell of my breast.

He pressed fast kisses along the curve of it until his tongue flicked out over the nipple, causing me to gasp. My hands flew out to tangle themselves in his hair when he lapped it into his mouth to suck and I groaned at the weight of his hands cradling the curve of my back. 

“Matty.”

He hummed and the sound sent vibrations rippling out across my skin, I fisted my hands into his curls harder.

Shifting until my hips found his whilst he lavished at my chest, I pressed up into him, both annoyed by the fact he was still clad in his boxers and pleased by the very visible wet patch I could see. I ground against him and the sensation elicited moans from the pair of us, his hands flying down to hold my hips steady.

“Patience.” He murmured, but I was having none of it, lifting a leg against his arse to spur him closer. Matty’s head jerked up at the surprise before he looked down at me and stared. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“You better hope not.” I replied, hands finding the hem of his shirt and dragging it off before he could fight me on it. “I’ll make it painful.”

“Counting on it.” Matty murmured back, hair now a mess, either from the clutch I’d had on it moments before or from the way I’d all but yanked his top over his head. “On all fours,” He said roughly, tapping my outer thigh twice. My already flushed skin heated further at the understanding of how he wanted to take me but– contrary to popular belief– I didn’t argue and rolled onto my stomach.

Palms to the sheets, I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, eyes trained on the headboard. I grinned to myself when I heard Matty groan at the sight, looking back over my shoulder only briefly to see him palming himself through his boxers.

“Don’t have all day, Healy.” I prompted after a moment passed, just before the mattress shifted beneath his weight. I heard something drop to the floor a second later before he was right up behind me.

I jolted a tad at his sudden touch, then was forced to focus on the way his hands slid over my hips with that same familiarity they’d always done, moving up to the swell of my arse to squeeze it before dropping back down to spread my legs further apart.

A moment passed and I was forced to wait in the silence he then gifted me, waiting and waiting until I finally went to say something. It was then that I felt a finger glide down my spine, dragging ever so slowly over my jumping muscles. 

“Hands,” Matty then reminded and I was forced to blink away the haze I had drifted into, reaching up to grab onto the headboard just as I felt him swipe his dick between my thighs, guiding himself up over my folds, pushing past them so he rested at my entrance. 

I let go of a rush of air, splaying my hands further against the headboard before he slammed into me without any warning at all, all the way up to the hilt whilst I cried out at the sudden fullness. “Fuck.” I hissed, head falling between my shoulders as I winced. 

I breathed through the bit of pain that came with the thrust, acknowledging that Matty didn’t move an inch and instead keeping still, hands holding my hips even as he leaned over to whisper, “You good?”

His voice was surprisingly soft in the quietness that encased the flat, reminding me of other times we’d spent here, both like this and in other odd moments. It made my chest ache.

I took another moment to adjust to him before I nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He hummed in turn but didn’t question it, just waited, thumbs circling the skin on my hips for a moment in a manner so gentle and yet so very Matty, before finally, he moved. 

His thrusts were shallow and slow at first, his thumbs keeping the same steady tempo as they continued to soothe the tops of my hips. I moaned at the feel of him, before I managed to roll my hips back to meet his own, enjoying the sound that escaped him.

“So good.” He said, hand sliding further up my side and towards my ribs before I was titling my head back and Matty was holding a fistful of my hair. He just held it for a bit, forearm pressed against the skin of my back before his thrusts began to grow harder, tugging more and more.

The room was quickly filled with the sounds of our groans along with the bedframe rocking against the wall and I praised all the Gods above for the fact that there were currently no neighbours residing in the flat beyond it, before I was quickly swept up once more in the thick scent of sweat and sex. Matty fucking into me with a desperation I’d never quite experienced from him before.

I panted beneath him, nails digging into the wood of my headboard whilst he picked up the pace.

I couldn’t quite focus on anything but him. His breathy whispers, his fingertips which dotted my skin, the feel of him rocking in and out of me. It was almost as though nothing else existed but this moment, even if I knew it would soon end. His thrusts getting sloppier, his grip tightening, his murmured praises increasing by a tenfold. 

“Come on, baby.”

I liked when he called me that.

Made me feel special. 

But that thought soon soured. Because, was I really? 

How could I be anything special when my whole life I’d been nothing but a doormat for people to walk all over? I couldn’t help but think that Matty would be the same, like he’d gotten too close and finally seen what everybody else already had.

“Squeaks, baby. What do you need?”

I whimpered at his ask, tears collecting in the corners of my eyes. “I–”

What the fuck did I need? It wasn’t meant to feel so loaded, that question. But it felt as though the walls were now closing in. Because was this it? Was this the end?

“I–” I tried, feeling Matty’s fingers slip from the ends of my hair before a gentle palm laid itself flat on the small of my back.

“So good for me.” I heard him say and I moaned at the slight praise, breathing harder as he continued to mumble mostly to himself, “So pretty. So good.”

I was almost there, back arching under his palm as the other moved away from the right grasp it held on my hip, fingers finally finding my clit, knowing exactly what I needed.

“Yes.” I panted as the combination of his hard thrusts and steady hand sent my head into a dizzying pool of water, “God, yes. I–”

I think I screamed as I came, his fingers working deftly whilst mine clung to the headboard, body trembling as I fought to keep myself up. But Matty was there, holding me long enough so that he could reach his high and pull out with a loud grunt, coating my inner thighs. 

We stayed there for, I don’t know how long, until he finally released me, falling away whilst I slumped forward onto the pillows before us. He followed a second later, still catching his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. I watched him, eyes hidden behind my forearm and a sprawl of hair that had fallen over my face, content to soak in what I could of him. What I had left.

Then Matty shifted beside me, I half expected him to get up and leave with some half-arsed excuse on the tip of his tongue, but he paused when he caught my heavy gaze. I let my eyes trail over the side of face, on the tired circles settled beneath his lash line and the slope of his nose.

He looked back towards the ceiling.

“You got your souvenir, remember?” I found myself saying, stupidly, voice just above a croaked murmur, “Don’t let me keep you.”

Quiet. And then, “Do you want me to?”

I knew what he meant, but still I asked, “Want what?”

Matty’s head slowly turned towards me, eyes guarded and peering over at my devastated form. I wondered what he made of me right then, if he thought anything at all. 

When he offered me no words, I refused to add anything either and felt what was left of my heart crumple up into a pitiful bundle when he pushed himself to the edge of a bed with a barely there sigh.

The air in my lungs caught as I watched and waited, eyes trailing after him as he rounded the bed frame to pick up his discarded boxers. I let them slip closed again, not wanting to watch him leave. 

I listened to his feet pad across the hardwood floors and out of the room. My chest ached with every step but I didn’t dare stop him, burying my face further into my pillow. 

I laid in wait for the front door to open, for there to be a clue to his evident departure, but then the footsteps returned. I didn’t dare give myself false hope, knowing he must have forgotten something to have come back. But the padding continued, closer and closer until they were back by the bed and I held my breath as it creaked, my eyes stinging just as I felt a warm damp cloth press against my inner thighs, wiping me clean.

I choked on the sob that wanted to escape me and the cloth paused for a split second before venturing on. I waited, wondering why he was doing this, why he was dragging it out.

Just leave already.

But then the cloth was pulling away again, and the bed was creaking again, and the tears, they wouldn’t stop. 

Stay. 

Please just stay.

I gasped into the pillowcase, stomach tensing with the strength to keep quiet. To let him leave quietly. 

I wouldn’t cry.

And then there was quiet, at least for a moment or two, before the bed dipped once more and there was a hand in my hair, combing the strands from out of my face and tucking them behind my ear.

When I opened my eyes, he was still there. Dressed and ready to go, but still sitting there beside me. Whilst I laid bare, curled up into a ball to better protect myself from his knowing gaze.

Suddenly everything hurt. Suddenly I felt exhausted and was falling apart at the seams.

Matty moved carefully, stretching toward the foot of the bed before returning with the sheet to cover me up, laying it gently over my trembling shoulders. He leaned in to press a slow kiss to my forehead and then went to move away again.

My hand caught his wrist.

And then I was flat out sobbing. Hysterical even. Crying into the pillow almost soundlessly as I gasped to try and catch my breath. Because I wanted him to stay. I needed him to stay.

Not just for me. But for Teddy. And for the life he brought into my dreary flat. To the kindness he never failed to gift me.

I needed him to stay.

I needed him.

I opened my mouth to ask, to let him know. But I could hardly even bear to look at him, blurred as he was through my onslaught of tears, Matty still held the key to all but destroying what little I had left.

His hand returned to my hair, fingers tangling themselves in it, a sudden contrast to the rough grip they’d held there earlier. And then he settled further onto the bed, back pressed against the headboard whilst he continued to run his fingers through my hair.

The tears still flowed but the sobs came less and less, until I was blinking at his shadowed figure in the dark, holding out hope that somehow he’d just know and he’d stay. 

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello!

Could I request Masky and Tim and Brian and Hoodie, with having a crush on a reader who is slowly opening up to them more? Like maybe talking more around them and looking less tense, maybe even holding their hand or arm when they’re feeling anxious?

Thank you!

-🐨

Tim, Masky, Brian, and Hoodie developing a crush on the reader!

ooooo hoohoo this is going to be interesting me thinks! finally got a moment to sit down, so im going to knock out from requests yahoo! still taking requests lesgo! written as neither explicitly creepypasta or marble hornets, but tagged as both (break dances) tim and brians parts a little shorter than their counterparts, which.. was unintentional.. sobs..

TIM:

maybe its because i struggle with writing tim in love, but i think he would be tense around you. i was originally going to say awkward, but that doesnt seem quite right... he doesnt avoid you, or treat you any different... but you can tell that theres something on his mind... its going to be like pulling teeth trying to get him to say something. you do find him lingering around more than usual before leaving to do something, also tends to check in on you more than before... but that doesnt mean anything, right..? i mean you guys are still only friends, right??

MASKY:

so you know how i tend to write masky to.. not really be expressive and kind of just there watching the reader, like some sort of little guard dog of sorts who probably has claimed the life of at least on person? yeah take that idea and make it a little more intense because uh oh! hes now starting to have feelings for you and since theyre new there hasnt been time for them to mellow out and chill! do i think he would go the yandere route with you? no, but thats simply because the admin doesnt like the yandere trope in most cases. but do i think he would stick by closer to you and make excuses to hang around you? yes. does he come off as stalkerish if we are assuming the reader and masky dont actually have a relationship? oh yeah 100% but by default i write that you guys interact before any feelings are caught.. leaves you random stuff, like gifts.. or even "offerings" in your room to try to appeal to you and keep your attention. does get a little possessive about you, though

BRIAN:

i think out of the four hes the most open and loose with things, but thats only because of his more easy going and jokester nature (at least according to the silly wiki im reading and what i remember of him). basks in the fact that he can make you laugh and smile, i think thats something really important for him in general when it comes to you but i think it becomes an even bigger deal for him when he starts catching feelings for you. i also think out of the four hes the most likely to tell you about his feelings!

HOODIE:

more mellowed out version of masky, still carries some of brians boldness, i think. probably the third most likely to open up about his feelings, behind tim and before masky. also leaves you little gifts and such in your house somewhere for you to find, though i think he makes a game of it. masky leaves them in plain sight, while hoodie is going to make you look for it. more touchy than usual, tends to hold on longer when you guys share a hug or you pass something to him. also physically stands closer to you than before. the lingering stares. stuff like that. you probably think hes mad at you thanks to the mask and his intimidating height, but rest assured hes just trying to find the best opening to ask you to be his

[chaifootsteps]

Atp what is the point in resisting stolas becoming a villain?

Blitzø doesn’t have any consistent major antagonist directly tied to his story other than stolas. Different to an outright villain, antagonists create obstacles conflict and turmoil in the protagonist. And no, stolas’ ex wife and stolas’ in-laws who want the house and child support hardly count. Because if they’re the stories main villain, that makes stolas the protagonist. The story already uses his feelings, his goals his troubles and his conflict as the focal point. That’s what a protagonist is. Blitzø would just be his supporting character.

If stolas becomes villainous it’s a well paced journey. His flaws of grandiosity, self centred attitude, his own ingrained supremacist thoughts, the weight of his duties, they all overcome him. Overpower his shy kindness. He falls into madness. “Your sweetness has gone foul” might actually work.

Does it make the abuse he suffered less sympathetic? No.

Does it make his love for his daughter less genuine? Absolutely not.

Does it make him not a victim of Stella’s torment? No.

Would he stop being a fan favourite? No

Will people stop shipping it? The most part, absolutely not. People love foe yay. Villain x Hero stories are massive in the shipping world.

Will there be opportunities for dark music numbers, dark symbolism, descent into madness, incredible fight action scenes between the main two, painful tragedy and shocking plot twists? Hell yes.

Will the villain fanart be incredible? Yes.

Would Bryce Pinkhams voice create a good villain song? Yes. His deep register would work beautifully. and he has delivered two maniacal laughing scenes that the audience loves. The angry way he sings “what kind of monster does that make me” was chilling.

So what is going on here? As a Broadway fan surely Viv would know how beloved and powerful villain songs can be. And the discourse would end. “Stolas seemed nice but he did this terrible thing!” “Yes that’s the point he was the villain in the making all along” “wow Viv what a twist!”

Agree with every last word you've said here, with the exception of "As a Broadway fan surely Viv would know how beloved and powerful villain songs can be." It implies that Viv is willing to engage with the stories she consumes in a way that goes deeper than the immediate gratification they give her...that she cares enough to learn what works, what doesn't, and apply it to what's supposed to be her craft.

[mouwrites]

Next part of this series!! Shoutout to the hottie who suggested Young Neil, yk who you are bbg ;) ok I’ll stop being creepy now 😭

Scott Pilgrim - Dating Young Neil Headcanons

You guys met through a mutual friend

They had invited you both to their house to hang out, so you guys were just kind of chilling

Neil was a bit shy at first, but he quickly saw that you were actually really cool

He had way more fun at the hangout because of you; he knew he had to see you again

The more time you spent together, the more Neil started to realize that his infatuation was more than just platonic

So, one day, Neil asks if your next hangout can be a date

He’s sooo nervous and shy about it, but when you say yes he smiles hugely

He goes all-out for your first date: a romantic picnic with flowers and rosé and everything

You guys discover that this, unfortunately, is NOT your vibe

Future dates are much more casual, and consequently much more successful

Just hanging out, doing something mundane like watching movies or playing video games or (trying) to bake cookies—that’s where you guys really connect

Occasionally you will go out together, but it’s never fancy

Dinner and a movie at the most; usually just a concert or a mall trip though

You guys behave a lot like friends, but make no mistake, you’re much more than that

Neil is a touch shy when showing physical affection; but he’s not really opposed to it either

You’ll just have to initiate it if you want something more than a hand on your waist/arm around your shoulders

Because that’s as far as he’ll go; he wants to respect your boundaries

He loves to tell you (and others) how awesome you are, for example

He can and will rant about you for hours

Much to the dismay of his friends

And he loves to do cute couple stuff together, like getting matching onesies or doing face masks

He takes so many pictures…. Even when you’re unaware

If you scroll through his camera roll, you’ll find it to be mostly full of you

Half the pictures are at weird angles, clearly taken in secret

And there’s at least one of you sleeping/napping

He’s not trying to be creepy, he just thinks you look amazing all the time and he wants to remember every time he thinks to himself “wow, they’re gorgeous”

If it wasn’t obvious by now, his love language is quality time

The causal nature of your dates mean that they happen frequently, often on a whim

Neil is always glad to spend time with you, no matter what you’re doing, and no matter how long you’re doing it

Only have five minutes? He’ll take it. You’re filing your taxes? He’ll just play his game boy in the chair next to you; don’t mind him

Nicknames for you include “baby” and “my love”

He likes to be called “handsome,” “big man,” “my love,” or “Neil” (distinct from “Young Neil,” which is what everyone else calls him)

All in all he’s just a sweet guy who loves to chill :]

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!! Take care duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

[cringefuckass]

Any GuitarSpear hcs you’d like to share ? :)

oh my god YES

under a cut bc some are a lil nsfw

Their dynamic is kind of a “we share one braincell” kind of deal I think, most often the braincell is in Lutes possession hence why she acts as Adams impulse control but when she gets bloodthirsty Adam has to be the one who holds the braincell.

He kind of loves when it’s his turn to hold the braincell, he enjoys getting to be the level headed one bc it makes him feel like a Big Leader Man™

He also wouldn’t say it out loud for fear of egging her on too much but he finds her bloodlust kind of funny. He’ll tell her to chill but he definitely laughed inside at “rip Vaggies cunt mouth out her ass”.

Everyone in heaven knows they’re close because pretty much no one else hangs out with either of them casually. Lute is uninterested in friendships, she only hangs out with the other exorcists as acquaintances. Adam only ever really has admirers, no actual friends. There are rumours amongst other heaven residents abt the nature of their relationship but mostly people are thrilled that they have each other to distract them from being a bother to other residents.

It is true that they hook up, but the rumours are more abt whether or not they’re involved romantically bc Heaven residents don’t often even consider sex without a romantic connection being a part of the deal.

On that note, Adams frequent hook ups with his admirers kind of put a lot of the rumours to rest, bc no one looks at Lute and think she’s the type to be chill with that.

She’s definitely wouldn’t be if they were actually together but lord knows she’ll never talk abt her feelings with herself or Adam. They’re locked in a vault in the deepest part of her mind and they’re not being dug up any time soon.

Adam is only slightly more aware of his ever growing affection for his best friend and fuck buddy, but he copes with it by fuelling his ego with his denial as opposed to Lute straight up ignoring it. He’s definitely not got a crush, why would he have a crush? He can have anyone he wants, if he had actual feelings he’d just go for it, obviously. The fact that he hasn’t gone for it is all the proof he needs that he definitely DOESN’T love her. They’re just bros, she’s one of the guys!

As far as their bedroom life, both of them are naturally inclined to be more dominant, so during their time together they’ve both begrudgingly turned into switches.

Sex for them is usually a spur of the moment thing, they don’t plan their hook ups. They hang out all the time when they’re not prepping for extermination days, so sometimes it just kind of happens. They never do any aftercare, that’s way too… relationship-y. They just catch their breath and go back to hanging out. Best bros, amirite guys?

[bootleg-nessie]

Rating the Accuracy of Animal Names:

(I keep updating this list so check back later)

Marine Iguana: 1/10. They don’t allow lizards in the military

Honey Badger: 1/10. It’s not even made out of honey

Horny toad: 0/10. First of all, this is a lizard. Second of all, I couldn’t find one that was willing to have sex with me so they must not actually be all that horny

Crabeater seal: 1/10. They don’t even eat crabs. Felt uncomfortable asking about the other kind but I’d guess probably not those either

Comb jellyfish: 4/10. Doesn’t even have hair

Hammerhead shark: 10/10. Stop killing hammerhead sharks to make hammers

Paper nautilus: 1/10. Paper would get too soggy

Red Panda: 2/10. Not a panda. More orange than red

Jellyfish: 0/10. Not even a fish, but if it were, jelly would be one of the worst things to be made out of

Electric eel: 5/10. Not an eel. Shocking, I know

Blue footed booby: 2/10. My disappointment is immeasurable. Turns out this lying sack of shit is a just a stupid BIRD

Spiny lumpsucker: 8/10. Apparently this fish is named because it has spines AND a suction cup, not because it sucks on spiny lumps

Pleasing fungus beetle: 2/10. Why would fungus be pleased by a beetle eating it? It just worked so hard to grow

Chicken turtle: 1/10. This is just a regular turtle, there are no chickens involved

Red lipped batfish: 8/10. Not a bat. Does have red lips. Also looks incredibly sexy with that makeup on

Aye aye: 10/10. Does in fact, have two eyes

Blobfish: 10/10 out of water, 1/10 in water. The blobfish gets a bad rap, it only looks like a blob because some dickhead pulled it out of its natural habitat at the bottom of the fucking ocean. You’d look pretty weird if you switched places with them too

Dik dik: 5/10 if male, 0/10 if female. This one’s pretty self explanatory

Mountain chicken: 0/10. THIS IS A FUCKING FROG. STOP NAMING ANIMALS AFTER CHICKENS!

Peacock: 0/10. It pees out of a cloaca, not a cock. Technically it doesn’t even pee either

Monarch butterfly 1/10. They aren’t even one of the species of insects that has a queen, let alone understands the concept of monarchism

Cockatiel: 0/10. They do not have teal cocks

Monkey slug caterpillars: 1/10. These are neither slugs nor monkeys, nor are they some kind of fucked up monkey/slug hybrid. Terrible name all around, the only part they got right was caterpillar

Robin: 5/10. It’s a shame this bird has to resort to thievery but we all have to put worms on the table somehow

Alligator snapping turtle: 1/10. This is not an alligator, nor does it even have the fingers to snap with

Ground squirrel: 5/10. Please don’t grind squirrels

Axolotl: 0/10. Doesn’t ask a lot. Doesn’t ask anything at all

Sea robin: 7/10 This is what happens when the land robin goes pro. This creepy fuck evolved little fingers just to steal things. Is this where fish fingers come from?

Tasmanian devil: 8/10. Much like the christian devil, cool name and way more chill than most people give them credit for. Statistically speaking, they’re far from the deadliest player on the board, but they do have the strongest bite force and won’t hesitate to use it if provoked

Water deer: 7/10. No. This is a meat deer

Star nosed mole: 7/10. Name is somewhat misleading, nose merely star shaped, and not a mass of incandescent gas, a gigantic nuclear furnace

Paddlefish: 3/10. Too narrow to effectively be used as a paddle

Shoebill stork: 1/10. Not made of real shoes. Doesn’t pay bills either

Great white shark: 8/10. I’m inclined to agree for the most part but who came up with the name, David Duke?

Bioko drill: 0/10. At least the hammerhead shark looks like a hammer, this stupid monkey doesn’t even remotely resemble a drill

Hippo Tang: 0/10. That’s a fish, and hippos don’t even drink Tang

Bluejay: 3/10. Not actually blue, it’s just a trick of the light. I bet their real name probably isn’t even Jay either

Satanic Nightjar: 4/10. Should be called “slightly evil looking bird” instead

Tarantula hawk wasp: 1/10. Not a tarantula. Not a hawk. Starting to question if it’s even a wasp

Goblin shark: 10/10? Ever seen their jaw move? They sure are gobblin’

Nudibranch: 5/10. The nude part is accurate but it’s a sea slug, not a tree branch. Not even sure how you could possibly make that mistake

Mongoose: 0/10. No mon, it’s not a goose

Bison: 7/10. I just googled it, bison have more gay sex than straight sex so calling them bi is actually pretty accurate. Points removed because there are bidaughters too

Ram: 10/10. They sure do!

Mandrill: 2/10. They could probably be taught to use drills but I couldn’t find any research on this

Silver fox: 1/10. Silver is way too heavy of an element for an animal to be made of

Mayfly: 9/10 Yeah, they might

Fin whale: 10/10. Yep, whales have fins. Glad we cleared that up

Macaroni penguin: 1/10. They don’t eat macaroni

Horseshoe crab: 0/10. Not a crab. Doesn’t wear horseshoes either

Fangtooth: 10/10. Objectively I have to give it a 10 but this is the stupidest fucking name on the whole list. What’s next, knucklefist? Titboob?

Milkfish 1/10. If I go to your house and you offer me fish milk I’m fucking leaving

Little penguin: 10/10. Telling it exactly like it is

Spider monkey: 1/10. Was expecting a monkey with 8 limbs. Let down once again

Glass frog: 2/10. Not actually made out of glass

Hummingbird: 1/10. They can’t even hum

Centipede: 3-35.4/10. Depends on the species, very few actually have 100 legs

Millipede: 0.8-8/10. They have 800 legs at the most

Sockeye salmon: 1/10. Socks would make terrible eyes

Furry lobster: 10/10, 11/10 if that’s a fursuit

Flying fish: 4/10. Merely glides

Sailfish: 3/10. Doesn’t actually know how to sail

Blanket octopus: 2/10. Octopuses make terrible blankets

Cane Toad: 2/10. Can walk just fine without a cane

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Love Letter to the ToA Fandom

(Don't panic, it's a good one :D)

wrote all this just now and wanted to share...

I gotta say. I fucking LOVE the ToA fandom. As much as I love the series (which is A Lot).

And I don’t say this lightly. I’ve been in many fandom spaces (Harry Potter, Star Wars, Warriors, Percy Jackson, ect.) but this one??? THIS ONE???

THIS ONE I LOVE THE MOST

Wanna know why?

It’s because we chill. We just chill. We draw, write, and scream (happily) over the previous two things, as well as headcanons/theories. We collaborate and cheer each other on. We’re all united in our love for our #1, Lester Papadopoulos - aka, Apollo.

And when I look back at the other fandoms I’ve been in…it’s pretty obvious why ToA leaves them in the dust.

I haven’t been an active presence in the ToA fandom for even a year, yet I haven’t experienced a SINGLE ARGUMENT. which is. mindboggling.

Fandoms usually can’t go A WEEK (if they restrain themselves) without SOME KIND OF DISCOURSE.

But ToA? Nah. We say “lol, Apollo would’ve gladly followed Commodus if he’d just flirted with him a bit” and the rest of us go “LMAO HE WOULD” and that’s that.

No “BUT THEY’RE SO TOXIC!” or anything like that.

Like yeah. Sure. That's all true. But that’s what makes it so fun :) But we obviously don’t condone it. We ship them because they make us FEEL THINGS and they DRIVE US INSANE.

We're all insane and we all Do Not Care :)

I feel a lot more comfortable discussing more, I guess you could say, taboo topics in this fandom — probably because such topics are already part of the actual mythology so it's pretty hard to avoid them XD. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s seen how discourse can go over these things.

Like even over in the PJO fandom, the cousin to our own, there is STILL DISCOURSE and ridiculous arguments going on!

sniff sniff

It’s just SUCH A GREAT FANDOM SPACE SMMMFF YOU ALL ARE AMAZING

[meowierz]

DADDY ECLIPSE AU!?!?!?

i need a better name oml

Overall Explanation 

So basically, Eclipse and his three kids (Bloodmoon, Lunar, and Solarflare) (don't ask who got him pregnant) move to the suburbs for a better life. Though, they have to fit in with the rich suburbs standards so they don’t get casted out and burned like a witch.

Kids

Bloodmoon is the oldest. I had to change some things about him so he wasn’t suffering here. He wears contacts because of how messed up his eyes are. He can still see, it’s just harder and they have to fit in. He’s still violent, he just doesn’t crave blood. He takes out most of his aggression on the football team and his siblings (he beats them up) (not breaking their arms like that one ep BUT like how normal siblings fight). He’s not school smart but he is street smart (he can’t do division).

Lunar is the middle child but sadly he’s the shortest (4’11). Lunar’s a big nerd, not with numbers but with video games. He’s in the video game club (it has like 3 members) (ddlc type club lmao). He’s the one that’s the most picked on because of how nerdy and big backed he is. Speaking of being a hungry hippo, he’s favorite snacks are chips ahoy and scooby snacks. He’s a witch about how he pulls them out of thin air. 

Solarflare is the youngest but taller than Lunar. He takes more after his father with his looks and also his actions. He rarely gets bullied by his siblings because he always comes up with the wildest comebacks. He’s extremely smart yet certain things he’s extremely stupid at (he can’t pronounce intelligent but he says it all the time) (he says “in-telli-bent”) But since he’s still an 11 year old, he loves childlike things. He has a little board in his room where he can draw with markers and he carries a big coloring book when he goes out.

FC (Fliex Cruz) (Yes I gave him a real name, he’s NOT gonna be named “Foxy’s Child" on MY WATCH) is Lunar’s age. They’re in most of the same classes and in the same club, they’re kind of frenemies. They have each other’s back but they still rival against each other in everything else. His biological parent isn’t Puppet (unless yall want that because idk rather to do that or not) (don’t ask who got Foxy pregnant) though he still treats her like his biological parent. Yes, he’s also taller than Lunar. 

Jack is in Bloodmoon’s classes and doesn’t rival anyone but his uncle. He’s a chill dude for the most part. He still has his speech impediment and he’s still silly. Matter of fact, he’s still the same except for the fact that he’s also friends with Solarflare. Bro might be perfect.

Dazzle is in Solarflare’s classes. She’s not that good friends with him but it’s more like how cousins treat each other. You probably won’t see each other often but you still got each other's back. Yes they’re actually cousins here but they don’t know it lmao. Anyways, just like Jack, Dazzle still acts the same. She’s literally perfect. I love her.

Other TSBS Kids are blank for now. I have no ideas for them since I don’t watch the other shows often enough but they're going to be in here! Give me ideas for them PLEASE or I will explode. Don’t worry, I’ll also watch and read up about them!

Parents

Eclipse starts out as version 1 Eclipse but through this crazy thing called character development, he acts more like version 4 or whatever version we have now (i cant keep track of his deaths). He is very blunt and he speaks his mind, often thinking he’s the smartest in the room. He goes based on logic rather than heart. For example, let’s say Bloodmoon puts someone in the hospital. The person hit first but their hospital stay is most likely 6 months. The school wants to suspend him and the mother wants to sue but Eclipse takes Bloodmoon side because “If you don’t want the smoke, don’t start the fire.”. He does care for his kids but he just doesn’t know how to be a father.

Puppet is still the same for the most part. Bro is perfect. She’s the main person helping Eclipse be better but not to replace Solar since she hasn’t met him yet or any other theories. Simply for the kid’s sake. Here, she acts like a motherly figure to all kids. (she loves babying bloodmoon lmao). Though she can come up with wild insults.

Foxy still acts remotely the same except for the fact that he’s actually present (lemme stop roasting the canon lmao). Though, he is now married to the Puppet and has been like that for 5 years (que fireworks for treasurebox fans). Similar to Puppet, Foxy also ends up accidentally being fatherly towards most kids he meets too. He’s just the suburban way I guess.

Sun doesn’t really show up much since he has a history with Eclipse. Not the exact same as the canon but Eclipse was still tryna box him and Moon. He still acts the same though he did adopt Dazzle here (fireworks for ppl who love the sun and dazzle father-daughter dynamic). He doesn’t know that Dazzle and Jack are hanging out with Eclipse’s kids so he’ll probably pull up when he finds that out.

Solar still acts the same, basically the same as Sun. Him and the rest of the canon main cast will show up eventually though!

Other TSBS Parents are blank for now. I have no ideas for them since I don’t watch the other shows often enough but they're going to be in here! Give me ideas for them PLEASE or I will explode. Don’t worry, I’ll also watch and read up about them!

Other Adults

Moon still acts the same though I’m making him a middle school science teacher for middle school. He’s gonna be that cool science teacher that makes stuff explode and asks you not to tell your parents.

Earth still acts the same though she’s the elementary school guidance counselor and a bit of a helper. She’s not the annoying ones that tell you your “I feel statements”, she’ll actually help Solarflare express his feelings in a nicer way (he literally insults people on accident).Other Characters will be added such as ocs (as teachers, principles, bosses, etc) and other TSBS characters once I figure out what to do with them! I have an idea for Miku, to be a love interest for Eclipse at work but it’s more like Amy and Sonic.