#everything is so completely and unnecessarily DIFFICULT for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fairyysoup · 4 months

Text

matters of taste

part one (repost)

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson

summary: Not all trainees are great on the job. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson in a bakery, however? Absolutely unmatched.

content warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI) smut, threesome - f/m/m, semi-public sex, workplace sex, car sex, handjobs, oral (f+m receiving), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, spitroast, fluids play, dumbification, praise, degradation, implied masochism, mention of housewife kink, steve harrington has a big dick, enemies to lovers-ish but they're all crazy about each other let's be real\

a/n: this is my second time trying to repost this!! let's not talk about how ugly it looks ok i think the header is implying that reader is a sentient pie and honestly... yeah

It’s… you know what. It’s whatever. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine, everything’s fine.

You pause midway through frosting some cinnamon rolls to watch one of the newbies wheeling a cart of mislabelled muffins past your decorating table. You strategically keep your voice void of inflection as you say, “Price stickers, Harrington.”

“FUCK!”

You watch Steve dramatically jostle the cart back around to wheel it toward the rack that contains the multitudes of different flavor and price stickers used in the bakery, swearing like a sailor the whole time. He collides with another cart, and slams it directly into your other trainee, Eddie Munson.

“Shitshitshitshit shit-” Eddie curses and stumbles into a rolling rack of donuts. He grabs the rack before it can topple over, and succeeds in catching four trays of donuts when they fall out of their slots and into his arms.

You roll your eyes at the spectacle the two of them create, which is quickly becoming the norm, and go back to stroking globs of cream cheese frosting across the cinnamon rolls in front of you.

It’s not like they’re the world’s worst trainees or anything. It’s not like they’re completely incompetent, or that they purposefully goes out of their way to make your job unnecessarily difficult or anything. It’s not like, together, they create the most chaotic and hazardous environment possible.

No, sir. Nothing to see here. No problems to be had.

“‘You didn’t put the price stickers on, Steve-’” you hear Steve mocking you in a purposefully insulting falsetto, and give him a side-eye that you know he can’t see. “Mehmehmeh- ‘You didn’t put the bagels in properly. You didn’t frost the bundt cakes just right.’”

“‘You didn’t circumcise the bread bags,’” Eddie adds as he shoves the trays of smushed donuts back onto the rack and grabs a rag to wipe icing from his apron.

“Fucking what?” You turn to look at them fully, holding your frosting covered hands out in front of you.

“I don’t know!” Steve whirls around to sneer at you. His bubblegum pink uniform shirt is just about the same color as his face, rosy and flushed with the heat from the ovens and probably his climbing heart rate. “Why’s everything gotta be packaged differently? It’s just bread!”

“I don’t make the rules! Don’t argue with me and just do it!” That’s another thing. Steve’s just so argumentative, about everything. How you package things, how you wash the dishes, how you clean the floors at the end of the day. Meanwhile, Eddie won’t argue with you per-se, but the day he does something correctly will be the day pigs fly. It’s the most annoying fucking thing you’ve had to deal with at this job, and you’re stuck training them.

It’s not a particularly hard job. You’re just clerks at Mimi’s Bakery, nothing is out of the realm of doability- it’s more of a stamina sport. You’re all closers, so that means a lot of packaging and a lot of cleaning, interspersed with helping some late afternoon and evening customers, within an eight hour shift. It isn’t very busy anymore, either; summer’s over, and you still have about a month until the holiday rushes start. It shouldn’t be too terribly difficult for them, but they’ve both been here for two weeks and still act like they were born yesterday.

Steve spends an extraordinarily long time putting the price tags on the packages of muffins- and putting them on crooked, anyway, so that the entire pile looks janky and rushed despite his slow pace. Eddie’s too busy wiping chocolate icing from his arms to notice Steve’s haphazard labeling.

Your eyes trail the wet rag that Eddie drags across his skin, leaving behind only the ink from his tattoos for you to scrutinize. During the lull, the bakery’s PA system comically offsets the tension in the room with a generic old jazz standard. Your boss, Mimi Callaghan, has an enthusiasm for novelties from her youth- hence the confectionary shop-style pink pinstriped uniform dress you wear, and your clashing forest green apron just oozing with sex appeal. Steve looks like a knockoff Ken doll in his similar blouse and khakis, but he confessed to you on his first day that he used to work at the Scoops Ahoy in the old Hawkins Mall, so you assume he isn’t too phased by it. You’re not about to tell him that he makes it work. Eddie, on the other hand, looks like someone picked him up at the Local Smokes down the street and thrust him into the uniform against his will, like he’s not really supposed to be here. You hate that you find the weird juxtaposition of his tattoos to the pink and green uniform kind of hot.

“Don’t forget to face the shelves when you put them out,” you tell Steve as he pushes the cart past you again.

Steve’s ears glow bright red. “I’ll put out something-”

“Suck my fucking nuts, Harrington, you wanna do the job right or not?”

Eddie cackles loudly as Steve turns around, but instead of glaring at you he just looks mildly amused, like Eddie’s hysterical laughter rubbed off on him. “Why’re you so mean to me, huh?”

“What?” You splutter, gloved hands flexing in the air and squishing frosting between your fingers. “Why- why’re you so fucking difficult? Put the goddamn muffins out, we don’t have all day-”

“I think she likes you, Harrington.”

You squint at Eddie, still rubbing himself down leisurely with the rag, twisting his rings around his fingers idly even though he didn’t even get any icing on them. He leans against the counter with a smirk on his pretty pink lips like he thinks he’s done something. Like there can’t be another reason for why you’re so easily frustrated by Steve- by either of them, really. Like their lack of decorum or work ethic are completely out of the question, you guess, to his way of thinking.

“Like him?” you scoff, trying to appear nonchalant as you go back to smacking cream cheese frosting across the pans of pastries in front of you. “Puh- lease. He’s infuriating, he doesn't listen to directions. Also, Steve, your customer service voice? It- you know what, it’s obnoxious. We work in a bakery, you don’t have to put the moves on every girl that comes in.”

“Oh, okay. Hear me out- maybe you don’t like my customer service voice because you’re jealous.” Steve hums, rocking back on his heels and looking even more smug than he did a few seconds ago. “I can put the moves on you, too, if you’re feeling left out.”

You don’t dignify that offer with a response. You kind of just want to punch him in the face. “Go put the muffins out and let me listen to the goddamn PA in peace.”

He has the decency to look shocked. “You like this goofy old shit?”

“I love this goofy old shit, which is more than I can say about you.”

“It’s okay, sweet pea,” Eddie hums casually, in as condescending of a voice as he can muster. “You don’t have to pretend like you aren’t into Harrington. I know I am.”

“And you, Munson-” You whirl on him, pointing one frosting covered finger angrily in his direction, at which his eyes go all wide and innocent. “Don’t even get me started. Your fucking hair gets everywhere. I swear I had to excavate an entire gerbil from the garlic bread you made yesterday. Take a fucking weedwacker to that thing, for the love of god. And… and your tattoos are fucking dumb.”

You don’t want to admit that you like the sight of the tattoos, actually. When Mimi had told you that the newbies you’d be training were gonna be “that darling Steve Harrington, and his friend, the Munson boy” you’d been a little bit pleased. There isn’t much to admire in a bakery except cakes, and if having the two of them around the bakery means things just got a little more scenic, then you were happy to have them.

Unfortunately, a pretty face often means an infernal personality. Finding one without the other would probably take an act of god at this point. Times two, you got stuck with the fucking chaos twins.

“Dumb?” Eddie wolf whistles. “That smarts, sweetheart. It really does. You haven’t even seen all of my tattoos yet. I’d love to give you a tour of them, though-”

Your face burns at the thought of Eddie Munson letting you get a first class look at his tattoos. He probably has ones in places even god doesn’t know about, and you glare down at the cinnamon rolls in front of you to hide how flustered you are about it. “Fuck you, Munson.”

“I wish you would.”

“For christ’s sake- Steve. Muffins, now.”

Steve does what he’s told, for a change. It doesn’t give you as much of an ego boost as it usually does- really, you just feel sort of dull as you snap your rubber gloves off and throw them in the trash can to the side. You don’t know why you let them bother you as much as they do, but for some reason the just jerk your chain like nothing else.

The bell over the front door jingles, alerting you to the arrival of a customer. You take a quick peek at the ovens behind you to check the time; it’s nearly 8, and the bakery closes at 10. You fight to not roll your eyes as you grab a pair of gloves in case whoever it is wants something out of the display case.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Your voice is sing-songy enough that you want to smack yourself. A middle aged woman has made a bee-line for the counter, straight past where Steve is bent over a display table, struggling to shift all the old muffin boxes to the top and slide the newer ones underneath them.

You stare at his ass for… probably way longer than necessary, honestly.

The woman points at a singular cake box left on the counter from today’s special orders, and immediately reaches up to take it without any other introduction.

Oh. One of these customers. The ones who come in and grab stuff off the counter without asking for assistance, who will walk back into the kitchen to look at the overstock racks and help themselves to things that haven’t been put out on the floor yet.

A tight smile curls at your lips as you snag the tag on the box and look at the name before she can yank it off the counter from you. “For Linda?”

The woman nods curtly. As you turn the box to face her, your eyes shift back to Steve as he moves around the side of the display table. He stretches his arm out to reach for a stack on a higher shelf, and your eyes linger on the way the short sleeve of his uniform shirt rides up to expose his bicep.

“This is not the cake I ordered.”

“What?” You snap your eyes back to Linda’s pinched face, glaring down at the cake on the counter. It’s a basic sheet cake, with white frosting and a screaming red border, that says ‘Great Job Oscar!’ on it. Not necessarily a masterpiece, but a neat and pretty cake nonetheless.

“I ordered a cake with a winning streak theme. This has nothing on it,” Linda says icily as you snatch up the order slip you had taken off of the box and inspect it.

“A marble quarter sheet with white buttercream and a red border, that says ‘Great Job Oscar!’ in black icing?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… what’s on the cake, ma’am.”

“But there’s no other decoration. Where’s the winning streak theme?”

You blink, and briefly make eye contact with Steve over the woman’s shoulder. He’s all but abandoned his task of stacking muffin boxes, instead watching your face carefully as your conversation plays out. He raises one eyebrow at you, and you’re not sure if that’s him trying to be condescending or supportive.

“I- I apologize, ma’am-” you start, looking for a way to dig your way out of the situation, “The order does say that you requested the theme, but you didn’t specify any decorations. Our decorators won’t take liberties with the order on their own if you don’t request-”

“I don’t have time for this,” Linda interjects, and you clamp your mouth shut with a dull ache beginning to throb in your temples. “I’m supposed to be at a winning streak themed party in twenty minutes and I have an embarrassment of a cake to show for it. I should be reimbursed.”

“The cake wasn’t paid for in advance,” you tell her mildly, trying not to crinkle the page with her order on it as you hold it up.

“Uh… accommodated, then. I shouldn’t have to pay for something I didn’t want in the first place!”

“I’m afraid I can’t just give you a cake for free, ma’am. I’m not authorized.”

“Can I speak to your manager, then?”

You open your mouth to say that, technically, you are what amounts to the shift manager. It’s just you and Eddie and Steve in the store, and even though neither of your job descriptions really include the word ‘manager’ in them, seniority rules over all. You’ve been here long enough to be able to train them, so by right you’re the one in charge.

But then a warm hand touches the curve of your lower back, and Steve appears out of thin air to gently scoot you aside without so much as a hello.

“What seems to be the trouble, ma’am?” Steve smiles, and you could almost mistake him for being sincere if his fingertips didn’t dig into your back just slightly before pulling away.

Linda visibly softens her demeanor, smoothing her stringy blonde hair away from her face. “Are you the manager?”

You scrutinize his profile, trying for all the world to read his fucking mind, because you have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s barely even taken a cake order, let alone dealt with a disgruntled customer with a botched one.

“That, I am!” Steve declares, and oh. Cheeky motherfucker. He’s doing the voice. He bats his eyelashes- big, long, sweeping blinks that you think can make him take flight if he tries much harder. “What can I do for you?”

“This girl,” Linda tells him shortly, not even looking at you when she motions in your direction, “is refusing to compromise about this cake. It’s not what I ordered, and if I have to show up for this party without a winning streak themed cake, I’m going to be embarrassed. The customer is always right!”

“In matters of taste,” Eddie says from over your shoulder.

Linda fixes Eddie with a cold stare. “I’m sorry?”

“That, uh… that saying.” Eddie steps up to your other side, obviously choking back a laugh as he clears his throat. “The full saying is, ‘The customer is always right in matters of taste.’ Meaning you’re right about your order, we can’t argue with your personal preferences.”

“Exactly.” Steve shrugs easily, the picture of self-assurance as he takes the order sheet from your hand and looks it over. You’re not even sure if he entirely understands how to dissect the order sheet itself, but he looks convincing enough while doing it. “If you don’t like the cake, you don’t have to buy it. But my gi- ‘ this’ girl is right.”

You snap your eyes toward Steve, the back of your neck burning. His what?

Steve continues like he’s made no mistake whatsoever. “We can’t give you the cake for free- the only person who can do that is the owner.”

Linda scowls. “‘Take it or leave it,’ you mean?”

Steve affords her a kind smile. “I’d be happy to pull any of our cakes out of the display instead, if you see any you prefer.”

“No,” Linda insists, obviously unhappy about it, “I’ve been coming here for twenty years and this has never happened, the owner knows me-”

“We can call Mimi, if you’d like,” he adds.

“No, like I said, I have a party in twenty minutes,” Linda says sourly, and begins digging through her purse. “No, I’ll pay for this one, I guess.”

Behind the counter, you watch Steve ball up Linda’s cake order sheet in his palm, squeeze it unnecessarily hard, and toss it into the waste bin. Then, faster than fucking lightning, you watch Eddie type the price of the cake into the cash register. He hits the sales tax button twice.

“Come back soon!” Eddie says cheerfully as he hands her the receipt.

You stand motionless behind them both, dumbfounded, until Linda leaves. And then Steve’s immediately cursing, shaking his head as he turns and starts walking toward the back room, hands untying the bow at his waist to undo his apron. “They’ll say anything for free shit. Anything. What the fuck is a ‘winning streak’ theme, anyways? I swear- no, you know what, I don’t actually fucking care. I used to give out freebies all the time at Scoops. But this isn’t corporate, and Mimi knows my family-”

You follow him closely, disappearing into the back with him as he continues blathering. “Why did you do that?”

“Hm?” Steve pauses as he’s pulling his apron over his head, and stares at you for a few seconds, like he doesn’t even know what you’re referring to. And then, you see his brown eyes widen. “Oh! I guess… I mean, I could see it going bad, and I figured if she wasn’t listening to you, then she’d probably listen to me. If I, y’know. Put the moves on her.”

You snort loudly. “Always so fuckin’ cute- I could have handled it myself.”

“No, I know you could have. I know.” Steve nods, his hair sort of fluttering around his face as he looks away from you. “But… y’know, you don’t have to. You shouldn’t have to, while I’m here. I’ve been tortured by KGB and fought monsters, I can deal with an angry customer-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh. Uh…” He pauses, eyes drifting off to the side, to meet Eddie’s, who trailed behind you into the back room and is lingering over your shoulder. “Dun- Dungeons and… and Dragons? Yeah… yeah! Have you- have you played it?”

“You?” Your giggle splutters loudly in your chest before bubbling up out of your throat unexpectedly. “Steve Harrington plays Dungeons and Dragons? You like that goofy sword and sorcery shit?”

“Fucking metal sword and sorcery shit, thank you very much,” Eddie snaps, and you scoff at him.

Steve chuckles at your little jab at his words from earlier, looking anywhere but at your face. “Yeah, sort of. I mean… Munson taught me a bit about it.”

“Everything he knows.” Eddie’s grin is wide and holds an air of mystery to it, like he knows something you don’t.

“Hm. Put that on a t-shirt for me and maybe I’ll buy it.” You blush, staring at Steve’s profile as he pulls a water bottle out of the employee break cabinet and takes a long drink from it. Then, you turn to Eddie, who leans against the door jamb. “Where’d you learn that thing about ‘the customer is always right,’ anyways?”

“Hm? Oh… I used to help my uncle Wayne in his garage,” Eddie explains nonchalantly. “Learned a lot from watching him deal with customers.”

“Right,” you hum, nodding slowly, and then turn to Steve. “And you. You could get in so much fucking trouble if Mimi finds out about that whole thing. Where did you pick that up?”

“My best friend- Robin Buckley? You know her?” Steve says as he puts the bottle back in the cabinet and snaps it shut. You shake your head, and he goes on. “Yeah. She’s crazy smart. We worked together at Scoops, and Family Video. Always had a way to respond to everything, even though she’s awkward as hell. And before you ask- yes, she would have tried to put the moves on Linda, too.”

“Would she?”

“Oh yeah.” Steve grins at you fondly, making your heart stall in your chest a bit. “Every single move in the book. If you ask me, she’s better with the ladies than I am.”

You laugh, then nod your head slowly, looking him up and down. “Okay. You’re actually fucking hilarious, Harrington. Too bad I hate your guts.”

“Really? I’m moving up in the world.” Steve grunts. “There’s a fine line between love and hate, my darling dearest.”

“Is that why you almost called me ‘your girl?’”

His smirk creates cute little dimples in his cheeks. “No, I almost did that because you’re the only one who can tell me to suck on their nuts, and I’ll actually consider doing it.”

Before you can even take a moment to process that little wise-crack, Eddie’s distracting you. His hand passes through your line of vision, then comes up and presses against the front of your green apron, just against your breast. You genuinely think he’s trying to feel you up, and you snap your eyes down to find his ringed fingers scraping a giant drop of cream cheese frosting off of your chest.

You feel your cheeks heat up. That must have come from when you were frosting the cinnamon rolls- more like smacking them around with frosting, really- and the fact that it was there the entire time Linda was here is more than humiliating. You must have looked like such an idiot, trying to conduct yourself like a manager-

“Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Eddie murmurs, using that same fucking condescending tone that makes your hair stand on end, before meeting your eye and sucking the glob of frosting off of his two fingers.

You get a sudden head rush, and it takes way more self restraint than it should to not audibly whimper. Oh, he really shouldn’t have done that.

You stare at him for a long moment, your eyes flickering between his, and his fingers in between his ungodly pink lips. You… you feel like you’re fucking drowning, floundering around with your head underwater and you don’t know what to do. You snap your eyes to Steve, looking for some sort of sympathy or support, but he doesn’t give you any of that. Instead, he just winks.

No. They absolutely should not have done that.

“Fucking… fuck this. Fuck both of you- I have work to do,” you hiss, trying to skirt past buckets of frosting to get around where Eddie’s blocking the doorway, but he refuses to step aside, instead creating a one-man barricade while he snickers and continues sucking on his fingers just to rile you up even more. “Fucking move, Eddie.”

“Oh, it’s Eddie now?” He grins, obviously enjoying how much you’re struggling, with your chest pushed up against his and your arm nearly circling his waist to lever yourself against the other side of the door.

“Fuck you,” you spit, for a lack of anything else to say.

“For the second time, I wish you would.” Eddie raises his hand and captures your chin, tilting your head up so that you look at him, instead of over his shoulder or to the side at Steve. Your heart jumps into your throat, feeling his damp fingers on your cheek and remembering how he had been sucking on them a second ago. “Might clean out that filthy mouth of yours.”

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” You snatch Eddie by his pinstriped collar, simultaneously pulling him down to your height and also pushing him back against the wire rack of boxes along the far wall. Eddie curses, stumbling and grabbing onto your hips as if that will steady himself. His nose nudges yours from this angle, and how close you crowd up against him. “You drive me up the fucking wall, Munson. You think you can just sweet talk me like I’m some uptight customer?”

“Woah,” Steve says from behind you, but he doesn’t sound the slightest bit surprised. More amused, and intrigued. “I think you struck a nerve.”

“Did I?” Eddie whispers, with a hint of a smirk still on his face. His dark eyes are looking directly into yours.

He doesn’t even have time to breathe before you kiss him. Desperately. Long and hard and sort of angry, open-mouthed so that you can taste the frosting still on his tongue. He makes the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard- somewhere between a sigh and a moan, as his hands come up to cup your face and pull you closer into him. His knee slotting between your legs, not pushing up but just remaining solidly there for you to lean against it. It takes an inordinate amount of strength for you not to grind yourself down onto his thigh.

“Guess that’s a yes,” Steve says calmly from just beside you.

Eddie pulls back for air, forehead resting against yours, thumbs stroking your cheekbones in a mockery of a tender embrace. “Go on. Show Harrington how much you hate him, too.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you grumble, but your hands have better plans. One stays on Eddie’s shoulder, but the other snatches Steve by the collar and pulls him forward so that you can attack his face with the same amount of fervor. Eddie has no compunction to be gentlemanly- while Steve’s hand rests lightly on your lower back, Eddie’s creeps up underneath your skirt to give your ass a tight squeeze, pulling you forward to grind against his thigh and making you gasp against Steve’s mouth so that his tongue can lick deeper into yours.

Nothing quite prepares you for how Eddie’s voice affects you when he says, “Uh oh, Harrington. I think I was right- she likes you. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You make a short noise in your throat, your hand sliding down Steve’s chest to his waist, fingers beginning to make quick work of his fly. “Let’s- let’s just double check, huh? Make extra sure.”

“God- yeah. Yeah, okay. Just- be on the safe side.” Steve’s tongue is burning up when it touches your neck, his head nuzzling down so that he can graze your throat with his teeth.

Eddie catches your hand before you manage to wiggle it beneath his waistband, and looks you directly in the eye just before he spits onto your palm. You whimper noisily at the feeling of it, warm and wet, dripping between your fingers while Steve licks at your neck and heat simmers under the tender skin between your thighs.

Air punches from Steve’s mouth when you work his trousers down his hips and pull his erection out of his boxers- he’s not quite pulsing and swollen yet, but your fingertips still just barely manage to meet from how thick he is.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington,” you curse as you give him a languid stroke, feeling him shudder when you brush your thumb over his tip and then drag your hand down his length again. Eddie’s saliva helps to make the motion fluid and smooth, adding a slick sound to punctuate Steve’s loud gasp.

“What?” Steve hisses, trying his best to appear passive, but his voice betrays him and cracks. He gazes at you a bit apprehensively, his doe eyes looking a little foggy with need as they flicker over your face and focus on your lips.

“Nothing on earth needs to be this big.”

Eddie’s free hand coming up to weave through Steve’s hair and jerking his head back. His teeth catch Steve’s earlobe just before he murmurs, “Told ya, big boy.” Eddie looks directly at you over Steve’s shoulder. “Harrington’s packing a fucking monster, isn’t he?”

You hum as you let your fingers drift along the length of him. Steve’s gaze suddenly turns darker, and his chuckle falls flat out of his mouth like an exclamation of awe more than anything. “Think you can take it?”

You don’t answer that. Your grip tightens just a bit and he groans loudly, his eyes rolling back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling. “Are you one of those guys that’ll come as soon as I gag?”

“Fuck, maybe?” Steve’s hands cup the sides of your neck and trail up to cradle your head as you lower yourself in front of him.

Eddie scoffs. “He can’t handle it worth a shit. Don’t go easy on him.”

“Then he’d better hold on to something.” You scrape your nails down his exposed thigh, reveling in the way his entire body shakes at the feeling.

And, without any further warning, you wrap your lips around his cock.

Steve curses, hands balling into fists just before he slams them down against the shelf he’s leaning on. Through your lashes, you watch him gasp for breath and you wonder if he’s honestly going to last long enough to fuck you properly. Not that it really matters, though, because Eddie seems like he’ll be more than happy to pick up where Steve leaves off.

Eddie’s hand rests on the crown of your head, guiding you on Steve’s cock. His tip leaks with precum that tastes salty on your tongue when you lick at his slit, and as you take him further into your mouth, you realize just how right you were. He hits the back of your throat, making tears spring up in your eyes and a quiet moan bubble up out of your chest on its own when you choke.

Steve just about loses his mind over it. He groans loudly, scrambling for a place to put his hands and ending up with a fistful of Eddie’s uniform shirt while he tries to compose himself.

“Holy fuck, you look so good with your mouth full,” Steve grunts, his free hand coming up your chin as he slides his cock out of your mouth and back in again.

“I think I like her more when she can’t talk back to us,” Eddie chuckles darkly, pressing on the back of your head and making you choke again.

Steve hisses, his fingers tightening on your cheek. “Look at me, let me see those eyes- there you go. Pretty baby.”

You whimper, letting your jaw go slack so that Steve can fuck your mouth all he wants while you try to steady yourself. You should hate it. You should hate this- you hate them both. You think.

Wait. Do you?

You’ve never been this needy before, but hell if your cunt isn’t just throbbing in your uncomfortably wet panties, and your nails are digging into Steve’s skin where you grip his thighs for support. If he notices any pain from it, he doesn’t say anything- just keeps giving you these erotic little gasps every time his cock nudges the back of your throat and your eyes flicker shut for a moment before he taps your cheek and makes you open them again.

“We should do this more often,” Steve says thickly, and without thinking, you hum in agreement. You add a little resistance against Eddie’s hand on your head to regain a bit of control, letting your tongue roll against Steve’s length however you want.

“You think she’ll give it this good if she’s getting fucked?” Eddie muses suddenly, his finger’s toying with your hair rather than guiding you anymore.

“Fuck- only one way to find out.” Steve shakily releases the fistful he has of Eddie’s shirt, letting him slip away from his side. Eddie’s hand leaves your head, instead falling to the tie on his apron to start undoing it.

You whine softly, shuffling up on your knees and nearly slipping when you feel Eddie’s hands flipping the skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the cool air. His large hand smooths over the hem of your underwear, then lowers to stroke the cleft of your pussy through the fabric.

“Oh, poor thing.”

“What is it?” Steve asks.

“She’s soaked through these pretty panties,” Eddie coos softly as his fingers stroke back and forth over the fabric, nudging your clit with achingly gentle, indirect touches. You moan, arching your back for more. “Baby got so wet from sucking Steve’s cock, huh? Sweet little pussy needs some attention?”

“Shit. God, that’s so hot. Fuck-” Steve grabs your hair, guiding you off of his cock with a wet noise that makes Eddie’s fingers press on your clit just a little bit harder. You splutter, drool trailing from your lips and dripping down your chin as you try to catch your breath. Something you can’t quite do, because Eddie won’t stop touching you.

Steve tilts your head up, leveraging you backwards a bit as he kneels in front of you. “You want Eddie to fuck you? Is that what you need?”

You nod, wrapping your hand around Steve’s wet cock and giving him a few slow pumps. “Yeah, I-” you hiccup when you feel Eddie’s fingers hook your panties to the side, and dip through your dripping folds, unobstructed. “Oh fuck, I want it so bad.”

“Don’t hate us so goddamn much now?” Eddie croons as he presses two fingers deep into your pussy.

You groan and hang your head, forehead pressing up against Steve’s navel and your nails sinking into the meat of his thigh. You can feel his cock twitch in your hand, and it occurs to you that he likes that pain- or maybe he just likes holding you against him while Eddie fingerfucks you.

Steve’s fingers card through your hair tenderly. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Munson. I think she’s having trouble talking.”

“For a change.” Eddie curls his fingers, and you nearly lose your balance, thankful that you have Steve to hold you up. “So fuckin’ wet… I think I want to taste it first.”

Eddie’s fingers leave you, and you openly sob against Steve’s stomach as his grip tightens in your hair. “E-eddie…”

His two hands curl around the waistband of your panties, and rip through the fabric as though it’s only paper. “Hold her up, Steve, it sounds like she’s gonna need it.”

Steve puts his hands on your shoulders and holds you up, rocking back so that he can get a good look at your face. Eddie spreads your legs apart, and you can feel him crowding his body in between them. There’s a slight pause, and then his tongue touches you, licking a stripe of fucking fire through your cunt from behind.

Oh shit. Holy fucking shit. It’s too good, too warm and slick when you’ve been aching for it for way too long, your clit pulsing desperately and burning hot when his tongue strokes over it. You strain up against Steve’s hands, but he keeps pushing you forward, keeping you there against Eddie’s mouth. You moan obscenely loud, your hands tearing at Steve’s shirt like it’ll somehow convince him to let you go.

“You’re so damn pretty like this, angel,” Steve whispers, tilting your chin up when your head falls so he can keep looking at your face. He’s flushed, his lips parted and his eyes drooping and so dark that you nearly balk under his gaze.

Eddie groans in the back of his throat and finally pulls back, and you’re not sure whether to chase his mouth or to sob for relief, so you sort of do both at the same time. He plants a hand on your ass to keep you from falling backwards into him.

“Fuck, she tastes so sweet. Here-” You feel him move, and then Steve holds up a hand to catch something that Eddie tosses to him.

You lift your eyes and discover that Steve is holding your torn underwear. The light blue fabric looks so out of place and innocent, little pink flowers decorating the waistband. It makes it worse that he’s looking directly at you, keeping you frozen in place. He holds them up to his nose and breathes deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut just briefly before he looks at you again and drags the soaked crotch of them across his tongue.

“Steve…” you breathe, overwhelmed by the sight of him and the sound of his groan of pleasure. You search for something to say to him, but nothing comes before you feel something hot and thick pushing into your soaking entrance. You gasp, and then claw at Steve’s thigh in lieu of something to hold onto. “Fuck, Eddie-”

“Shouldn’t you be choking on Steve’s cock right about now?” Eddie hisses through his teeth, sounding strained and letting out a low groan to punctuate it.

You whine, feeling unbelievably stretched and full as Eddie splits you open, but you still scramble backwards and sink your mouth onto Steve’s cock so quickly that a gasp leaps out of his chest.

Steve punches out a little laugh, his hand twisting your hair and pushing you down until your eyes water. “So agreeable once you get your pussy filled.”

“God, she’s so tight,” Eddie grunts as he hollows out and starts thrusting, reaching deeper inside you each time. You don’t think it’s so much that you’re tight as he’s just big- you haven’t seen his cock, but you can feel it, like you haven’t fucking felt anything else before, and it’s good. You can feel every inch, every ridge, and it makes your eyes fully roll back into your skull. “Fuck, you gotta feel this-”

“Can’t. ‘M not gonna last, shit…” Steve sounds wrecked, his words coming out sharp and desperate. The hand on your head is shaking, and you’re honestly impressed he’s lasted as long as he has. “‘M gonna come down this pretty throat.”

“You hear that, sweet pea? You gonna swallow all of Steve’s cum?” Eddie’s hand weaves through your hair around Steve’s fingers, aiding in shoving your head down onto his cock.

As if you weren’t going to, and as if he wasn’t already fucking your mouth faster than you could reasonably keep up. But you whimper and bury your nose in the patch of coarse hair at the base of Steve’s cock, inhaling his scent and tasting his musky flavor on your tongue, and you swallow around him. And then you keep swallowing, because Steve comes hard.

He sounds absolutely gorgeous when he does it, too. If Eddie wasn’t fucking you so hard that you couldn’t stop whining, you think it would be nearly like a symphony to hear Steve reduced to quiet whimpers. By the time the hands on your head relax enough to let you off of him, though, he’s completely out of breath.

“Good girl,” Steve pants, his hand lifting up to caress your cheek and to wipe a little dribble of his cum from the corner of your mouth, so soft that it could be construed as sweet if there wasn’t any context to it. “Fuck… you were so good.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie coos into your ear, still driving his hips into yours with such force that it’s jolting you toward Steve. “Good baby, pretty baby- takes cock like a perfect little slut.”

You groan, hanging your head and arching your back toward Eddie. You seize up, your orgasm simmering low in you like the receding tide before a fucking tsunami, and you’re almost scared of how big it feels.

“She liked that,” Eddie chuckles darkly, bending further over you so that his breath tickles your ear. “You like it when I call you a slut, huh? Our perfect. Little. Slut.”

You open your mouth to say his name, tell him to shut up, or keep going, or anything, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. Your hand juts forward and clamps down like a vise onto Steve’s thigh, finding that he’s pulled his pants up. Your nails scratch at stiff khaki twill, trying to beg him to take pity on you, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.

“Pick her up,” Steve says above you. “I want to see her face when she comes.”

Oh, so he’s trying to kill you, actually. That tracks.

Eddie’s arm snakes around your waist and hauls you up, and he rocks back onto his heels to pull your back against his chest. He hugs you close to him, shushing you when his cock hits you from a different angle and you cry out sharply from the feeling.

“Pretty thing can’t take it,” Steve murmurs as he crowds in close, his hands coming up to caress you through your dress. The fabric is too goddamn rough and itchy, and your skin is too sensitive for him to be toying with you now.

“Oh, she can take it.” Eddie sounds so sure, his voice rough and stony as he rocks his pelvis up against you while, at the same time, pulling you down into his lap. “She can take all of it. Can’t you, baby?”

You hope the question is rhetorical. You’re trembling, too lost in the feeling of the mind-numbing bliss Eddie’s giving you to come up with a response at this point. Your hand plunges back over your shoulder into a mess of curly hair, and you feel him turn his head to brush his lips against your ear.

Steve’s hand brushes up your thigh, creeping under your skirt that’s draped across both you and Eddie’s knees. You barely have time to pick your head up and intellectualize what he’s doing before his thumb touches your clit.

“Oh fuck-” Eddie chokes out urgently, just at the same time as you sink your nails into his forearm and all of your floor muscles lock down around him.

And then the tsunami hits.

You nearly scream, your cunt tightening up to wring everything out of the sensation that it can. Eddie’s cock is so hard and it hits inside you so perfectly every time that you swear you’re going to die from it. You’re collapsing forward, despite Eddie’s grip on your waist and Steve’s solid chest creating a barrier for you to fall into- your limbs feel liquid, all your muscles finally relaxing all at once.

You feel Eddie falter, his hand slipping on your waist so that you do fall into Steve’s chest. While Eddie’s cock throbs inside you and his moans fill your ears, Steve’s hands cup your face and tilt your head up toward his. And then his lips are on yours, and his tongue is licking deep into your mouth at the same time as you feel Eddie come deep inside your cunt.

You don’t want Eddie to pull out. Not really. You’re not going to tell him to stay there inside you while you’re both crouched awkwardly on the hard floor, but you do wish he’d take at least a few seconds before he does, because the aching emptiness he leaves in his place is enough to make tears spring up in your eyes.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, you did so well,” Eddie whispers as you sob openly from the sensation, his arm coming back around your waist to pull you against him. And then you both sort of topple backwards, his shoulders hitting the stacks of backstock frosting buckets as Steve shuffles back to lean against the wire rack across from you. He pulls your legs into his lap and starts stroking his hand across your bare calf.

You try to catch your breath while Eddie reaches for something on the floor off to the side. You blink your eyes open to find him fiddling with his discarded green apron, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the pocket in it before wadding it up into a little ball.

He promptly tucks it between your legs and starts cleaning you up with it.

“R’you using your apron… as a cum rag?” You slur tiredly at him, squeaking a little as the rough fabric scrapes across your overly sensitive clit.

“Don’t want to leave a mess,” he mutters easily, making Steve chuckle across from you. “Why s’it that I can fuck you half out of your mind and you’ll still bitch me out about how I clean shit?”

“‘Cause it’s fun t’see you all mad. You’re pretty when you’re pissy.” You feel his chest shake with laughter as he finishes wiping you down and tosses the apron aside, then wraps his arms snugly around your middle.

“Good thing you’re pretty all the time, then.” Eddie huffs, rocking you back and forth a little as he fits his head on your shoulder. You tap your fingers across his forearm, looking down at them and humming contentedly.

“What is it?” Steve asks, smiling at you almost fondly.

You sigh, dragging your fingertip along Eddie’s skin. “I like his tattoos.”

“I knew it,” Eddie whispers, and you can hear the grin in his voice. He nuzzles his nose against your neck, making you giggle and shut your eyes. “I still haven’t shown you the rest of ‘em.”

“There’s always next time.”

Steve blinks. “You want to do this again?”

“Of course I want to fucking do this again, Steve,” you snap, rolling your eyes playflully. “Been wanting to jump both of you since you started, wasn’t it fucking obvious?”

“Was to me.” Eddie’s finger traces along your collar, toying with the first button on the front of your uniform dress. “Also, I haven’t seen your tits, so. I’m not done with you yet.”

“I dunno, the dress kind of does it for me,” Steve admits, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s, uh… cute. Like a 50s housewife or something.”

“Let’s get you a string of pearls and see how long ‘Big Dick’ Harrington lasts then,” Eddie snickers, and you laugh tiredly as you watch Steve flush.

You fall into easy silence, but just as soon as you relax into Eddie’s arms, the bell over the front door of the bakery jingles. And then the hand bell on the front counter dings loudly.

And dings again. And dings again. And dings agai-

“You gonna get it, this time?” Steve asks Eddie, sounding a little bit grumpy already.

“No, I’m gonna hold her a while longer,” Eddie says coolly, not leaving any room for discussion. He presses a tiny kiss to your neck, just underneath your ear, and you squeak in surprise at the lightness of it. “Go get ‘em, Mr. Manager Man.”

“Fuckin’-” Steve rolls his eyes as he gently sets your legs aside before gracelessly clambering up off the ground. He smooths out his uniform, tucking in the tail of his shirt before striding through the door into the kitchen. “What’s up, party people?”

“Do you have any chocolate cakes with white buttercream already made? I need it for tonight.”

Eddie scoffs in your ear, his hand drifting across your thigh to rest just shy of your pussy, making your breath hitch and your hips cant up toward his touch. “They always wait for the last fuckin’ minute, don’t they?”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #eddie munson x steve harrington #stranger things #roses*

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iambilliejeanok · 1 year

Note

Hello! Let me just say that i adore the way your write!! It’s so amazing🥰 Can i request something (however you want to write it really) where the character wakes reader up to ask them if reader loves them?

That was a terrible explanation i’m so sorry lol

I’d love if it could be with Kakashi, Jiraiya and Madara 🥰🫶 (or any characters you want)

Thank you so much!🥹🫶🏾💗😘

No warnings, Purely fluff, a small itty tiny bit angst, but just a small little bit I promise.

🌸Kakashi🌸

Kakashi doesn’t often stay asleep throughout the night, having you beside him in the nighttime drastically reduces the amount of nightmares he has, but unfortunately, he still has those nights where he wakes up sweating, too shook to actually fall asleep again. This time around though, he has you to watch over, so he’s not shaken up for too long, holding your body close to his as he watches you sleep peacefully, the warmth of your weight against him and your steady breathing quickly relaxing him. All this and maybe a book in his hands is a great opportunity for him to spend some time alone. When you begin stirring in your sleep he freezes, trying his best to not wake you up, but even while you’re sleeping, you shift up the bed to hug him, nuzzling your face against his neck, inhaling his addictive scent. At this point he has completely forgotten about the nightmare that woke him up, genuinely grateful for your presence in his life.

He realizes that even though he’s lost too many dearly loved ones, today, in this moment, he has you and in this moment, even though you are asleep against him, you still manage to comfort him, drawing his attention to this very moment. His heart begins to beat faster, Kakashi biting his lip as he tries to push away th intrusive thoughts of maybe losing you too. He can’t help himself, panic motivating his next action, slowly nodding your arm with his hand, his heart beating faster when you don’t wake up. He can’t fight the paranoia sometimes, now attempting to sit upright to try and disturb hour sleep, hoping you’d wake up. “Baby”, he calls, “Hey…Y/n, baby…wake up please”, he softly calls, finally able to release the breath he held in waiting for you to respond. Tonight is a difficult night for him, but he seemed to forget that you’re here, and that you will always be here, you’ll never leave his side. “Mmhmm?”, you sleepily respond, drifting in between reality and your dreams, hearing someone call your name. “Baby, wake up please”, he calls again, hope filling his heart when he sees your eyes finally open. “Y/n. Baby…are you awake? I’m sorry, wake up please”, he says, waiting for you to get up. “Hey babe, what’s up?”, you ask confused, trying to shake away the sleep. “Hey, is everything okay?’, you ask, rubbing your eyes while giving him a few pecks against his neck and cheek. He already feels silly for worrying so much. “Uhm”, he says, clearing thought, worried that you’d be annoyed for being woken up unnecessarily. “I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep, I’ll make it up to you i promise”, he hurriedly says and you can hear him swallow, finally noticing the dampness of his shirt, quickly sobering up at the realization that he could’ve had another nightmare.

“Kashi, its okay”, you say lovingly, cupping his cheek in the palm for your warm hand. “It’s always okay, are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?’, you worriedly ask, sitting up on your knees to straddle his lap. Feeling a little guilty for even thinking if asking you this, he looks down in shame, and you can feel his face drop in your palm. Gently lifting his head up you place the softest kiss he’s ever share with you yet on his lips, and you feel something wet against your thumb. “Oh sweetheart, what’s the matter?”, you ask after noticing the tear that fell down his cheek. “I was just scared”, he admits, failing to drop his head low again since you held his face firm in the palms of your hands. “What is it love? Another nightmare?”, and Kakashi slowly nods. You gasp, your hand reaching the back of his head to pull him into you, holding him close, wrapping you arms around him. surrounded by your scent, he feels so safe, is voice shaky as he asks the next question. “You still love me?, a small chuckle leaving his lips to mask his feelings. But you knew him like the back of your hand, holding him tighter. “I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and I’ll continue to love you no matter what”, you say, separating yourself from him to palm his cheeks again, “Kakashi, you’re the love of my life, you don’t ever have to doubt that okay?”. Placing another soft kiss against his lips, you feel him squeeze you tighter. “I promise I’ll never leave you, ever”. Kakashi wonders why he entertained any of those intrusive thoughts to begin with, of course you love him. “I love you so much”, he says, his words muffled against your neck, but you hear his word loud and clearly, the two of you embracing one another until you feel Kakashi doze off in your arms. The cutest big baby.

🌸Jiraiya🌸

Jiraiya constantly wonders how on earth a man like him was gifted with such a kind hearted, loving partner. A pervert who didn’t even think it capable of loving one person, but here he is, holding on to the love of his life, your hand loosely wrapped around a few of his fingers, Jiraiya smiling at just how precious you arm. Needing to use the bathroom, he ever so carefully creeps out of bed, but no, its not to cheat this time, no not with you, he left that life behind, its just to use the bathroom, the intense urge to be back in bed beside you exciting him so much it kind of scared him. After using the toilet, he stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. A strong sense of shame washed over him, thoughts of unworthiness saddening him once again. How exactly is he supposed to deal with all this love? A love so graceful he wondered if he truly deserved it.

How can she love you, you womanizing son of a b—, “No, she does love me…”, he spoke aloud, refusing to let any negative thoughts occupy his head any further. “And I’m not a womanizer.”, he added, looking down in shame, trying to convince himself he was right. No matter how hard he tried to fight himself, he just couldn’t stop. No one ever bothered loving him, i mean how could they when he was always onto the next, but maybe change is true. Man can change, he reminded himself, his eyes shut to try and center himself. But the more he tried to block it out the more doubtful he became. Was someone pranking him? All those of years of playing with peoples hearts had to have finally come to bite him in the butt right?

He couldn’t hold back any longer, he needed answers. Why?, Why does he deserve a chance at love, especially with someone like you. He desperately needed to know, turning off the bathroom light to make his way to your shared bed. Uncertainty eating him from the inside out, he decided to gently wake you up, his large frame spooning you from the front, placing gentle kisses on your face as he called your name. “Princess, wake up, wake up”. He is so nervous, the sound of his rapidly beating heart loud in in his, so loud he can no longer handle it, he just needs you to tell him. “Y/n, cmon, wake up”, which you finally do, not sure if you just heard Jiraiya whining in your ear or if you were dreaming…the latter making more sense, until you hear him open his mouth again. “So…you’re awake now?”, he impatiently asks, still gently nudging your arm. “Yes baba, I’m awake, are you okay?”, you yawn, stretching out a little before you scoot closer to him, happy to feel his warmth surround you once again. “Baby, I’m okay yes. Uh…are you?”, “Mmhmm?”, is all you say, burying your head in his chest to find some sleep agin, and just when you fly yourself drifting off again, he finally asks, “Do you really love me?”, his voice so low he wonders if you actually heard him, but you certainly did, smiling to yourself before wrapping a arm around him, placing small kisses against his neck. “Nothing matters to me more than you Jiraiya, I love you so much baba!”, your words soft and genuine, Jiraiya’s denial subsiding, gently squeezing you and placing kisses on your forehead. “Will you always love me?”, he asks, a small chuckle leaving your mouth over how whiny he came across, so out of character. “I don’t ever want to stop, loving you everyday makes me so happy” and with that Jiraiya could go on another day confident that he is loved.

🌸Madara🌸

Honestly, Madara just wants attention, he’s such an attention seeker that he’s willing to disturb your sleep if he’s bored enough, or sometimes just because its fun. I mean, he knows you love him, if anything he’d be confused if you didn’t, after all, he genuinely believes he’s the whole package and that you’re truly lucky to have him, but even so, there might be a teeny tiny bit of doubt in his heart sometimes. He will wake you up anyway, just because he can, its something you do too when you want cuddles, so he wants to have his turn tonight.

“Hey sweetheart”, he softly calls, rubbing your back as you lay on top of him. “Princess, its time to wake up”, he says, placing his hands on your underarms to effortlessly lift you up, your upper body dangling above him while he gently shakes you like a baby, which does the trick, your body jerking as you wake up from the feeling of falling, your arms flaying everywhere when you opened your eyes and realized you were not laying on anything. “Relax babe!”, Madara chuckles, gently lowering you to lay on top of him again. You immediately sit up on your elbows, your arms on each side of him as your stare him down, easily finding his blood red irises in the darkness of your room. “Babyyy that’s not funny!”, you whine, your husband still laughing at you, his pupils still spinning, recording the entire thing. “Heey”, you softly yell, biting your lips to try and hold yourself back from laughing, but his laugh was so contagious you just couldn’t, annoyed that you couldn’t be serious about this. “Babbbyyy!”, you giggle, lightly slapping his chest, his large hand cupping your cheek, as he slightly lifts himself up to plant a kiss against your lips. “I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to startle you like that”, his voice calm and deep, so soothing you felt like you could forgive him, leaning forward for another soft kiss, your lips simply pressing against his before parting. You could kiss him like that forever. “Why are you awake? And why did you wake me up?”, you question, your eyes almost closing as his hand now moved to the back of your head, massaging your scalp as you spoke. “I just wanted to know something”, he says, delaying the reason, making you impatiently whine, “Uh uh, i wont tell you why I woke you up if you whine like that”, he teases, “okay then goodnight”, you respond, laying down on his chest. “Okay okay wait”, he huffs, annoyed that you won.

“I, just wanted to ask if you love me?”, he asks, manipulating his voice to sound all innocent and cute, making you roll your eyes as you giggle. “I should be asking you that since you woke me up like that baby, but how can i not love my attention seeking little baby’, you tease, planting small kisses on is lips, making him smile. “Hey I’m not an attention seeker”, he says, lightly smacking you butt, a giggle escaping you lips. “Says the guy who woke me up to ask if i love him, even though I told you I love you a million times before we went to bed”, you yawn, snuggling into him once again, Madara lifting the blankets up to cover you. “Whatever princess, I love you okay?’, he says, wrapping his arms around you, smiling at your response and you quickly dosed off. “I love you so much”

@aiyaaayei 💗🫧

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berriweb · 1 year

Text

╰┈➤ ❝ FOR ME? ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. johnathan ohnn (the spot) x gn! reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. attempted robbery (don’t steal atms kids), cursing

: ̗̀➛ note. i can’t resist writing for the silly little guy

Ring ring ring.

“Hey, Y/N, when you get a chance do you think you could look over some of the papers? If you’re not busy or anything.”

“Of course!”

Buzz. Buzz.

1 unread message. 1 new voicemail.

“You think you could be a dear and help out with my reports? I’m a little behind and you know how the boss can be…”

“It’s fine, I can help you.”

Ring ring ring.

2 new voicemails.

“Y/N, if you don’t mind-”

“Just leave it on my desk.”

“You’re the best!”

Between the insistent notifications going off on your phone and your coworkers/supervisors approaching you what seemed like every 5 minutes, it was nearly impossible to keep your head on long enough to get everything done.

After the aftermath of the whole disaster with Alchemax, your job seemed to become increasingly more difficult to manage on your own. Less people to help meant more work for you and less time to yourself, on top of the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to any employee that wanted to take advantage of your willingness to take on any assignment the other didn’t feel like finishing. Surely most of your team had caught onto that by now.

You were worked to the bone nearly every day, which was surprising enough considering you weren’t even on a high enough level to be working on any of the big projects, not to say your skills as a scientist were mediocre, but compared to other geniuses you weren’t much of a competition. Your job however, stressful as it was, was the only thing keeping you from ending up homeless on the street, so despite the exhaustion and anxiety-inducing environment, you pushed on. No need to add any more stress to the plate by trying to find someplace else to work.

And to top it all off, there was Johnny.

Letting out a breathe you didn’t even realize you were holding, you practically collapsed into your chair and wheeled yourself to your desk to drop all of the piles of unnecessarily complicated documents you’d need to get done. The moment you allowed yourself to get your shit together before you were back to working like a dog was likely the only chance you’d get to relax, so you took the opportunity to check your phone that had been consistently alerting you for the last 15 minutes.

7 missed calls from J 😘

5 unread messages from J 😘

2 voicemails from J 😘

Your face fell as you scrolled through your notifications bar, a mixture of guit and worry creeping up your neck.

Ever since the accident, you felt an extra need to be there for the man when he showed up late one night at your door, or rather halfway through it (damn those uncontrollable holes) crying that he had nowhere else to go. At least you assumed he would’ve been crying if he had a face to do so, but the tone of his voice was more than enough of an indicator. Prior to the incident, you two had a solid relationship going for years after meeting in the workplace, and to say that you were worried for him after hearing the news of what had happened while sitting at home waiting for him to return that night was an understatement.

He was gone for weeks, and just when you were starting to assume the worst he popped back up in your life in a completely new form. Your heart broke for him when he explained how everyone else had cast him out and how he’d been afraid to return to you out of fear that you’d do the same, and while you admit that seeing him like this took some getting used to, you weren’t going to abandon him too.

Ever since he’s mostly been hiding out in your apartment relying on you for all of his needs, as the few attempts to go out in public in a decent enough disguise didn’t go well, to say the least. You had noticed how he’d become far more reliant on you and clingy as a result, meaning multiple texts and calls a day whenever you were out of the house and he was left alone to his own devices. You tried to be as responsive as you could to avoid making him feel more alone (and because you knew he’d started to harbor some guilt for “leeching” off of you and being part of the reason you had to work more often and pay rent on your own), but sometimes your work duties got the better of you.

You opened the messages first.

J😘: Are you going to be working late again today? I want to plan something for you.

J😘: What do you think of the name, “The Spot”? That sounds menacing enough, right? I’m coming up with something big right now.

J😘: “Holeman” just doesn’t sound as cool, you know? I’ll work on it.

J😘: Sorry I know I’m texting a lot, are you busy?

J😘: I’m going out, might not be home when you make it.

That uneasy feeling settling in the pit of your stomach only intensified, and while the messages themselves weren’t exactly that worrying, something was telling you he was up to no good. And where was he going?

Your thumbs hovered over the screen for what felt like forever before you went to tap on the unopened voicemails.

“Hey babe, I know this is kind of out of the blue but I know how hard you’ve been working at Alchemax for us and I want to do something to repay you for it- just a way to say thank you I guess? I know what you said about not feeling guilty and everything but I really want to do this for you, you know I can’t keep living off of you and staying cooped up in that apartment forever- n-not that I’m ungrateful or anything! You do a lot for us, you did a lot for me and I’ll never be able to repay you for showing me that kindness when nobody else would.”

“I really needed that and I really need you. You’re sort of the only one I really have left, can’t risk losing that by leeching off of you forever, y’know? A-anyway, I saw that figure you’ve been eyeing from those ads, the really expensive one from that series you like? There’s that one gas station around the corner I used to go to that has an ATM, please don’t be mad, technically it’s bank money anyway and the government has plenty so I’m not really stealing from the gas station! I’m testing out my powers today. I’m getting the money for your figure today to surprise you with it! Wait- shit, it’s not a surprise if I’m telling you- oh god I’m rambling again, is there a way to delete this voicemail?! Hold on, wait-” Click.

Staring at your screen, you were unable to process the different emotions running your brain. You clicked the second voicemail.

“P.S., I love you Y/N~. I’ll talk to you later.”

You were left trying to decide whether to find the nearest bathroom before your coworkers caught you crying at the heartfelt message, frown at the idea of him still feeling as though he owes you when he, in fact doesn’t, or panicking when you realize that your boyfriend was about to attempt to rob a gas station for your sake. You chose the latter.

Jumping out of your seat, you went into a frenzy grabbing as many of your important belongings as you could and shoving them into a bag before you made a beeline for the doors and rushed out of your office, ignoring the concerned call outs from your coworkers asking where you were going and wondering whether or not you were going to finish your work for the day.

Alchemax became the least of your concerns, sending your manager a quick text letting her know you were leaving early on the account of an emergency as you raced down the speed walking faster than you probably ever had in his life.

‘Had he already left? What was he thinking?!’

Now it was your turn to spam him with call after call, silently begging the universe to make him pick up but to no avail.

Suddenly your apartment seemed 10 times farther than it normally did during your walks home from work despite your rush, managing to bump into multiple people as you pushed your way through the crowds, which was met by curses shouted at you, complaints, and a few threats that you could only hope would be tamed by the quick apologies you shouted in return.

You were probably mid journey home when your run came to a screeching halt as the tv stationed outside of a pawn shop caught your news. Spider-Man’s latest fight was being broadcasting through the few clips reporters were able to catch during the escapade, showing the many damages left behind and from the chaotic battle, but it wasn’t the iconic vigilante that caught your attention, it was the headline.

“Spider-Man’s latest battle against a new foe, ‘The Spot’, causes city-wide destruction! Who is this new villain on the streets and what’s his motive?”

Your mind seemed to pull you back to just minutes earlier when you were sitting in the lab, reading his messages.

“What do you think of the name, ‘The Spot’? That sounds menacing enough, right?”

Not only was Johnathan an idiot for trying to rob a gas station, he was stupid enough to get caught by Spider-Man!

If not for your unconditional love your your boyfriend and knowledge that he was once a brilliant scientist, you would’ve questioned how you ended up with such a clumsy fool.

This was further confirmed when you returned to racing to your apartment, only for your attention to be grabbed as a familiar black hole opened up above the street and citizens gasped as they caught sight of Spider-Man falling through the hole, followed up by the current criminal, and your boyfriend. His lack of facial features would argue against it, but you could swear that you made eye contact as his head turned to you and the gaping black hole where his face should be met your eyes before both men disappeared into the parallel hole that opened on the ground and it closed behind them. If looks could kill, Johnathan would be far more than six feet under.

For what felt like an eternity you stood there, the shock being enough to paralyze you and leave you glued to the sidewalk. When you snapped back into it, your palm came up to your face and you groaned in frustration, but wasted no time groveling over the situation. There was no point in trying to get home now, instead trying to figure out his location by what was being shown on the news. That was pretty hard to do, however, when he couldn’t control where the fight kept popping up in the city.

It wasn’t until a few minutes and about 50 missed calls later when the dial tone finally ceased and he picked up the phone, long after the news station seemingly lost track of the fight. You almost forgot to speak before the realization set it and you deeply inhaled.

“…before you get mad-”

“JOHNATHAN OHMMS I SWEAR TO GOD if you had ANY idea how much I want to strangle you right now-!”

“I know I know, I’m sorry, look-!”

“A gas station? ARE YOU INSANE?! You know better than this! How could you be so reckless! What were you thinking?!”

“-I wasn’t planning on getting caught-”

“And fighting Spider-Man?! You could’ve gone to jail, you could’ve gotten hurt, or worse! What was I going to do then?!”

“I get it! I’m sorry, I swear! It was a bad idea I screwed up, I’ve never robbed anyone before-”

“I’d hope not!”

Taking a second, you lowered your voice and ducked into an empty looking alley so no one could hear your fussing, pinching the bridge of your nose and forcing yourself to calm down. Clearly he already knew he screwed up and the guilt in his voice made your heartache, you weren’t going to keep chastising him for something he regretted when he’d already suffered the consequences. Wait-

“Hold on, Johnny, where are you? And why do you sound so far from your phone?”

You heard a nervous chuckle from the other end of the line, where the portal that had his hand with his phone floated at least a good 10 feet from his face.

“Okay, funny story right? You’re going to laugh, I haven’t been arrested yet-” oh god. “But Spider-Man may have left me in a bit of a tight spot.”

You swore listening to Johnathan explain how he’d been webbed up in a multitude of his own holes thanks to the webbed hero and describing the building in hopes you’d help it out made you swear you’d grow grey hairs in that very moment, but you couldn’t focus on the absurdity when your main concern was getting your boyfriend back.

“-and now I’m sort of stuck and can touch my head with my right foot.”

“Johnny.”

“…yes, Y/N?”

“You’re very lucky I love you.”

He made a noise equivalent to a sigh that was mixed with relief and guilt.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t do it again. We’ll talk later, I’m on my way.”

“This why I love you~”

#across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #the spot #the spot x reader #johnathan ohnn #johnathan ohnn x reader #spot x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv fanfiction

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marasvenus · 1 year

Text

A Message For Anyone About To Make A Big Change ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, envision the person you are thinking of and then choose the pile(s) you feel most drawn to.

If you would like a personal reading from me, you can get one here!

Cards: Knight of Wands, Eight of Cups, Six of Swords, Two of Wands, Page of Swords, King of Cups, Eight of Wands, The Chariot, Queen of Swords, Page of Cups, Six of Cups

Pile 1, it seems like you’re about to make a big change that involves stepping out of your comfort zone and leaving behind a lot of what you’ve always known. There doesn’t seem to me a lot of fear on your part though. Obviously fear is natural and I’m sure you do feel it to some degree but your energy seems to be more filled with excitement and passion. You have a drive and determination to pave your own way to a better future. There seems to be few doubts in your mind. The advice I’m getting for you is to not be afraid of seeking advice and connection from those around you. You may have pushed people away due to their fears or doubts towards your situation or because you felt you needed to go through whatever this change is completely alone and although some of that forward movement and cut off of communication was necessary, there may be people you’re shutting out unnecessarily. Specifically childhood friends or people you were close to growing up. Maybe you’ve been thinking of reaching out to an old friend from high school or someone you could always rely on as a child and I think that’s a good idea. Know that although this change may be good and for the better, that doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone or block out all negative emotions towards it. Allow yourself to feel whatever comes through and be kind and easy with yourself during this process. Plan carefully and know what you’re getting into before you dive head first into it and take necessary steps to make this change easier for you and your future self. Know everything will work out as it should.

Song: Waiting Room - Phoebe Bridgers

Cards: Six of Cups, The Hermit, Nine of Pentacles, The Chariot, Two of Pentacles, Five of Swords, Three of Wands, Four of Cups, Page of Pentacles, The Star, Wheel or Fortune, Ten of Wands, Two of Wands, Knight of Swords, Temperance

Pile Two, don’t give someone more of you than they are deserving of. You may be thinking of walking away or letting go of a connection that you’ve not be happy with for a long time. This could be a sort of situationship kind of relationship or something that’s just not come into fruition the way you have been wanting it to. Maybe this person led you on in the beginning and then just sort of ghosted or stopped putting energy into you and the connection and you’ve struggled with letting go but it’s important for you to know that it’s time and it’s okay to let go. You are so beautiful, vibrant, radiant, and abundant and deserving of show much more than anything this persons can give you. You deserve nothing less then the absolute best and you will find that but not with this person. Letting go is difficult but will be so incredibly worth it for you in the long term. Please know that just because this connection hasn’t worked out, doesn’t mean no connection will. I heard “there is abundance coming” and “you just have to go out and find it” don’t let this person and this connection hold you back any longer, you are deserving of so much more. Go out and find that so much more. The right person when come when the time is right, just spend time with and get to know yourself for now, pile 2. You’re definitely worth getting to know and spending time with, appreciate this time you have with yourself and don’t take it for granted.

Songs (you all are getting a playlist because I feel it might be needed):

There It Goes - Maisie Peters

Wendy - Maisie Peters

Waiting Room - Phoebe Bridgers

Vertigo - Griff

Bejeweled - Taylor Swift

History Of Man - Maisie Peters

Ceilings - Lizzie McAlpine

Cards: Three of Swords, The Hanged Man, Five of Wands, Nine of Pentacles, Knight of Wands, Two of Cups, Eight of Pentacles, Ten of Cups, Seven of Cups, Nine of Wands, Seven of Pentacles, Nine of Cups, The Lovers, Four of Cups, Four of Wands, Ace of Swords

Pile Three, I hope you’re doing alright. It seems like maybe you’ve recently gone through a big breakup or lost someone very close to you. For some of you this is coming out of a long term relationship, possibly one you got into early on in life and that’s become a huge part of your life and who you are as a person. For a select few of you this could be the loss of a mother figure (if this is the case then it has already happened so please do not stress or worry if this isn’t your situation. As I mentioned previously, it’s for a select few). No matter the situation, I want you to know I’m incredibly sorry you’re going through this and I’m sending you so much love and positive energy. I hope you’re doing as well as you can be during this time. Please be kind and gentle with yourself.

For the big change, it seems you’ve already gone through it but I want you to know that the worst is over and abundance is right around the corner. It seems you have a close friend or even sibling that you may be traveling with soon. Maybe you’ve been planning this trip or some sort of move abroad? Please take it. If this change was a loss of someone close to you, they want you to know that they don’t want you to stop living because they’re no longer here. Live your life to the fullest extent for them. There’s blessing and big things coming into your life from this person. This could be this trip. Some new opportunity that gives you the chance to branch out and truly live in a way that you’ve never lived before. To live in a way that feels like so much more than surviving.

If this was a breakup, you may not have felt seen or appreciated. I’m hearing “tolerate it” by Taylor Swift. This is your chance to give yourself the love you’ve been begging for from someone who would never provide it. Provide it for yourself, be there for yourself in a way that person never was. Give yourself the love you’ve been so deserving of this whole time. Take this time to not only strengthen your bond with yourself but with your friends and those close to you.

If you don’t have many close friends, this might be a good time to join a friend dating app or going out and doing things to meet other people would be nice. Give yourself connection with others. Put yourself out there and connect with people on a deeper level. Travel to another country and visit new places and see new things. Give yourself this experience because you are so deserving of it. This is the end of a difficult period and the start of a new, beautiful chapter, Pile Three, take this opportunity and live your life in the way that makes you feel happy and most fulfilled.

Song: You’re On Your Own, Kid - Taylor Swift

#spirituality #tarot #tarot reading #pick a reading #pick a card #pick a pile #love reading #romance reading #tarotblr #paid reading #free reading #pac #pick a picture #what do you need to hear #spirit guides #reading

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hermitmoss · 2 years

Text

autistic gansey: the raven boys

literal thinking

All of the sources said that church watchers had to possess “the second sight” and Gansey barely possessed first sight before he put his contacts in.

It took Gansey a moment to realize that Ronan had made a joke, and by then, it was too late to laugh.

Gansey, misunderstanding, immediately asked her, “Why would you have to leave?”

“Coincidence?” Ronan asked. “I think not.” It was meant to be sarcastic. Gansey had said I don’t believe in coincidences so often that he no longer needed to.

He said, “I don’t think that minor children are required to get gifts for their parents. I’m a dependent. That’s the definition of dependent, is it not?”

Several exasperated faces turned on Gansey. Maura said, “Well, he’s not going to just go away because you don’t want to deal with him.” “I didn’t say it was possible,” Gansey replied, not looking up from his splint. “I just said that it was what I would like.”

"His name wasn’t really Butternut, was it?" Gansey asked Adam in a low voice.

food sensitivities

Gansey said, “Tell me there’s no sauce on this burger.” Dropping the strap from his teeth, Ronan scoffed. “Please.” “No pickle, either,” Adam said

stimming

The area around him smelled strongly of mint from the leaf he chewed absently.

He ran his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip, a habit he never seemed to notice and Adam never bothered to point out.

Gansey was crumpled on his bed, earbuds in, eyes closed. Even with the hearing gone in his left ear, Adam could hear the tinny sound of the music, whatever Gansey had played in order to keep himself company, to lure himself to sleep.

special interest

Gansey couldn’t resist talking about Glendower. He never could.

But Gansey never minded retelling the story. He’d related the events like they’d just happened, thrilled again

he was wondering if it was more than the ordinary curiosity people possessed when faced with Gansey and his obsessive accessories. He knew Gansey would find him overly suspicious, unnecessarily proprietary of a search Gansey was more than willing to share with most people.

“We talking about Gansey the third and his New Age obsession?” the secretary asked.

what he found was that Richard Gansey III was more obsessed with the ley line than he had ever been. Something about the entire research process seemed … frantic. What is wrong with this kid? Whelk wondered

It was suddenly difficult not to be excited by the idea of explaining it all to her.

The easy way that he began the story, at once striding through grass and eyeing the EMF reader, let Blue know that he had told it many times before.

“If you’d just asked,” Gansey said, “I would’ve told you everything in there. I would’ve been happy to. It wasn’t a secret.”

masking and mirroring accents

Adam remembered finding him intimidating when he first met him. There were two Ganseys: the one who lived inside his skin, and the one Gansey put on in the morning when he slid his wallet into the back pocket of his chinos. The former was troubled and passionate, with no discernible accent to Adam’s ears, and the latter bristled with latent power as he greeted people with the slippery, handsome accent of old Virginia money.

It was a default answer, she saw; he fell back onto his powerful politeness when he was taken by surprise. Also, he was still watching Adam, taking his cues from him as to how he should react to her. Adam nodded, once, briefly, and the mask slipped just a little more. Blue wondered if the President Cell Phone demeanor ever vanished completely when he was around his friends. Maybe the Gansey she’d seen in the churchyard was what lay beneath.

A few minutes later, when Gansey climbed into the front seat beside the pilot, she saw that he was grinning, effusive and earnest, incredibly excited to be going wherever they were going. It was nothing like his previous, polished demeanor.

There was something about the timbre of his voice that surprised Blue. It wasn’t until he spoke again she realized he was using the tone she’d heard him use with Adam.

This Gansey, this story-telling Gansey, was a different person altogether from any of the other versions of him she’d encountered. She couldn’t not listen.

Gansey had always felt as if there were two of him: the Gansey who was in control, able to handle any situation, able to talk to anyone, and then, the other, more fragile Gansey, strung out and unsure, embarrassingly earnest, driven by naive longing. That second Gansey loomed inside him now, more than ever, and he didn’t like it.

some days Gansey wished that he could be him, because Adam was so very real and true in a way that Gansey couldn’t ever seem to be.

Gansey was first into the room, and he clearly hadn’t expected to find anyone there, because his features hadn’t been arranged at all to disguise his misery. When he saw Blue, he immediately managed to pull a cordial smile from somewhere. And it was so very convincing. She had seen his face just a second before, but even having seen his expression, it was hard to remind herself that the smile was false. Why a boy with a life as untroubled as Gansey’s would have needed to learn how to build such a swift and convincing false front of happiness was beyond her.

not understood/accidentally offensive/words coming out wrong

The Aglionby boy appeared puzzled for a long moment, and then realization dawned. “Oh, that was not how I meant it. That is not what I said.”

To his credit, the Aglionby boy didn’t speak right away. Instead, he thought for a moment and then he said, without heat, “You said you were working for living. I thought it’d be rude to not take that into account. I’m sorry you’re insulted. I see where you’re coming from, but I feel it’s a little unfair that you’re not doing the same for me.”

He hadn’t meant to be offensive but, in retrospect, it was possible he had been. This was going to eat at him all evening. He vowed, as he had a hundred times before, to consider his words better.

He’d managed to offend again, with no effort at all.

After a moment, he said, "Sometimes I’m afraid he’ll never really understand me."

I did tell him, right? I did say that we were to wait. It’s not that he didn’t understand me.

Words pressed against his mouth, begged to be said, but he kept silent.

But Gansey’s words had somehow become unwitting weapons, and he didn’t trust himself to not accidentally discharge them again.

“My words are unerring tools of destruction, and I’ve come unequipped with the ability to disarm them.

specifically coming across as condescending

She clearly hadn’t found him condescending. Which was probably because she hadn’t heard him speak.

“Sometimes he’s very condescending.” Adam looked at the ground. “He doesn’t mean to be.

“Really?” Gansey asked, so innocently startled by this that it was clear that Adam had been right before — he hadn’t meant to be condescending.

“God, I’m sick of your condescension, Gansey,” Adam said. “Don’t try to make me feel stupid. Who whips out repugnant? Don’t pretend you’re not trying to make me feel stupid.” “This is the way I talk.

honesty

Adam suspected Gansey’s preference was because Ronan was earnest even if he was horrible, and with Gansey, honesty was golden.

“So I think we deserve the truth. Tell me you know something but you don’t want to help me, if that’s what’s going on, but don’t lie to me.”

“I’m going to need everyone to be straight with each other from now on. No more games. This isn’t just for Blue, either. All of us.”

He wasn’t sure how to speak without hurting Ronan. He couldn’t lie to him.

“age-inappropriate”

Gansey himself sat at an old desk with his back to them, gazing out an east-facing window and tapping a pen. His fat journal lay open near him, the pages fluttering with glued-in book passages and dark with notes. Adam was struck, as he occasionally was, by Gansey’s agelessness: an old man in a young body, or a young man in an old man’s life.

In his best professor voice

He sounded so old, Blue thought. So formal in comparison to the other boys he’d brought. There was something intensely discomfiting about him

once again Blue got the sense that he seemed older than the boys he’d brought with him.

There was something very ancient about him just then, with the tree arched over him and his eyelids rendered colorless in the shadows.

“You haven’t been a dependent since you were four. You went straight from kindergarten to old man with a studio apartment.”

Malory had been the first one to take fifteen-year-old Gansey seriously, a favor for which Gansey would not soon stop being grateful for.

journal is comfort object

Gansey retreated to his bed, though he didn’t lie down. He reached for his journal, but it wasn’t there; he’d left it at Nino’s the night of the fight.

Whelk held his hand out for the journal. Gansey swallowed. He asked, “Whelk — sir — are you sure this is the only way?” The journal weighted his hands. He didn’t need it. He knew everything in it. But it was him. He was giving everything that he’d worked for away. I will get a new one.

alexithymia

He thought this feeling inside him was shame.

Gansey tried several different ways to think of the situation, but there wasn’t any way he could paint it that made it hurt less. Something kept fracturing inside him.

Gansey couldn’t begin to explain the size of this awfulness. He only knew that it burst inside him, again and again, fresh every time he considered it.

some complicated longing to settle an argument that waged deep inside himself.

overwhelming emotions

More than anything, the journal wanted. It wanted more than it could hold, more than words could describe, more than diagrams could illustrate. Longing burst from the pages, in every frantic line and every hectic sketch and every dark-printed definition. There was something pained and melancholy about it.

His bald expression held something new: not the raw delight of finding the ley line or the sly pleasure of teasing Blue. She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness.

He couldn’t stand it, all of this inside him. In the end, he was nobody to Adam, he was nobody to Ronan. Adam spit his words back at him and Ronan squandered however many second chances he gave him. Gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year.They were always walking away from him. But he never seemed able to walk away from them.

“too serious”

Things seemed to weigh heavily enough on Gansey as it was.

His voice was peculiar. Formal and certain.

~awkward

He knocked fists with Adam. Coming from Gansey, the gesture was at once charming and self-conscious, a borrowed phrase of another language.

“I don’t know what else to say.” “‘Sorry,’” she recommended. “I said that already.”

clumsiness and disorganisation

It wasn’t that he meant to be careless — as Adam told him again and again, “Things cost money, Gansey” — it was just that he never seemed to realize the consequences of his actions until too late.

[Ronan] stopped the recorder and said, “You’re dripping gas on your pants, geezer.”

Gansey crashed onto the driver’s seat.

Then there were the notes, made with a half-dozen different pens and markers, but all in the same business-like hand. They circled and pointed and underlined very urgently. They made bulleted lists and eager exclamation points in the margins. They contradicted one another and referred to one another in third person. Lines became cross-hatching became doodles of mountains became squirrelly tire tracks behind fast-looking cars

Not the tidy stacks of an intellectual attempting to impress, but the slumping piles of a scholar obsessed.

It looked like the home of a mad inventor or an obsessed scholar or a very messy explorer; after meeting Gansey, she was beginning to suspect that he was all of these things.

EfficiencyTM

Gansey derived a large part of his pleasure from meeting goals, and a large part of that large part was pleased by meeting goals efficiently. There was nothing more efficient than aiming for your destination as the crow flew.

RulesTM

They didn’t even have the authority to choose an alcoholic beverage. They couldn’t be deciding who deserved to live or die.

likes mechanical things (not counting the camaro because that’s just Too Many Quotes to compile)

He liked the little knobs and toggles and gauges of cockpits, and he liked the technological backwardness of the simple clasp seat belts.

not understanding/realizing things

Again, his face was somehow puzzled by the fact of their hand-holding.

It hadn’t occurred to Gansey that if the Camaro had been operating properly, fleeing would’ve been an option.

Gansey didn’t understand, but he nodded.

And now Gansey was a king here, and he didn’t even know how to use it.

difficulty reading people/nonverbal cues not impacting him

Gansey suspected that none of them was being completely honest with their replies, but at least he’d told them what he wanted. Sometimes all he could hope for was getting it on the record.

One of Ronan’s eyebrows was raised, sharp as a razor. Gansey strapped his journal closed. “That doesn’t work on me.

He didn’t believe she was really offended; her face didn’t look like it had at Nino’s when they’d first met, and her ears were turning pink. He thought, possibly, he was getting a little better at not offending her

need for certainty

What Gansey needed out of life was facts, things he could write in his journal, things he could state twice and underline, no matter how improbable those facts were.

generally unusual ways of thinking

An astonished Roman historian commented, You look under rocks no one else thinks to pick up, slick.

general “strangeness”

Adam leaned toward her as if he was about to say something, but ultimately, he just shook his head, smiling, like Gansey was a joke that was too complicated to explain.

“ARE YOU LISTENING, GLENDOWER? I AM COMING TO FIND YOU!” Gansey’s voice, ebullient and ringing, echoed off the tree-covered slopes around the field. Adam and Blue found him standing in the middle of a clear, pale path, his arms stretched out and his head tilted back as he shouted into the air.

“You find it not normal?” She could tell that he very much wanted her to say that he wasn’t normal, so she replied, “Oh, I’m sure it’s quite normal in some circles.” He looked a little hurt, but most of his attention was on the meter, which showed two faint red lights. He remarked, “I’d like to be in those circles.

Gansey couldn’t keep the exasperation from his voice. “‘Strange’ doesn’t help me. I don’t know what ‘strange’ means.”

He was himself, but he was something else, too — that something that Blue had first seen in him at the boys’ reading, that sense of otherness, of something more, seemed to radiate from that still portrait of Gansey enshrined in the dark tree.

not knowing other people don’t know things he knows

“Gansey, seriously,” Adam interrupted, to Blue’s relief. “Nobody knows what quiddity is.”

“Nobody knows who Ned Kelly is, either, Gansey.”

Born This Way

A small voice within Adam asked whether he would ever look this grand on the inside, or if it was something you had to be born into.

just. this. the way he knows to think this, the way he instinctively compares them to aliens that humans mistreat and that he logically shouldn’t love.

They were like aliens, Gansey thought. Aliens that we have treated very badly for a very long time. If I were a tree, I would have no reason to love a human.

#richard campbell gansey iii #the raven cycle #autism #*#my meta #meta #autistic headcanon #disability #trc #s4v

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chakkll · 1 year

Text

Gorgeous

Fred Weasley x gender neutral!reader

Synopsis: You and one of the two most popular students in school have always had a bit of a rocky relationship; the two of you constantly either pulling pranks or insulting each other (all in good fun, of course). However, little does Fred know, you’ve been crushing on him. Hard.

Inspiration: “Gorgeous” by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 1.8k

“Oh, come on!”

You groan, now completely soaked after simply exiting the bathroom because of a certain Weasley—or, as you like to call him, Weasel. Dripping wet, you have no choice other than to walk right back into the bathroom and quickly think up a solution to your immense discomfort.

You can feel water ooze out of your socks every time you take a step, and it only fills up your shoe just to be soaked back up by your socks. You hastily hurry into a stall, close it behind you and take off your socks and shoes.

Getting that out of the way, you turn around and ring out your socks into the toilet. You can hear a faint giggling from outside the stall.

“That Weasley boy got you again, didn’t he?”

A rather high pitched voice whom you’ve spoken to many times pipes up from above you. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Myrtle, not now.” You sigh as you angrily ring out your socks, and your obvious annoyance only makes the ghost giggle even more.

“Such a mean boy, constantly playing pranks on an innocent student,” Myrtle pauses, and you can hear a small squeak come from her. “Reminds me of my whole existence!” Myrtle lets out a small sob.

Not having the energy to comfort the now sobbing ghost, you just sigh once again and continue to ring out your socks until water finally stops coming out.

“Myrtle, I’d comfort you, but I’m kind of soaked and late for potions,” You softly call out, but receive no response. “Must’ve gone to a different bathroom.” You mutter and step out of the stall.

“So annoying, constantly playing ‘harmless’ pranks,” You use air quotes when saying harmless as you whip out your wand. “Doesn’t that idiot know when to stop? Snape will have my head for being late!” You grumble as you perform a quick drying charm (“exaresco!”) on yourself and, soon after, your socks and shoes. Slipping them back on, you quickly do the same to your bag that had the same unfortunate fate as you, lug it over your shoulder, and run out the bathroom.

“That Weasel, making everything so unnecessarily difficult! Can’t he just give it a rest?” You mutter as you make the long trip to the dungeons.

Mumbling incoherent plans to murder Fred, you soon make it to the classroom. “Why can’t he be like Ron? Or Ginny?” You cautiously approach the door, quieting down. Every inch of you screaming to just skip the class because of how late you are, you slowly push the door open, only to see Snape sitting at his desk, staring at you with great disapproval evident on his face.

“Ah, (L/N), nice of you to stop by.” Snape sneers, his hands folded on the table in front of him.

You force an apologetic smile onto your face, feeling the whole room’s attention on you. “I apologize for being tardy, Professor. You see, as I was exiting the lavatory, a pail of water was poured onto me.” Since you sit with the twins, so knowing the Weasel is quietly watching you give your story to Snape—most likely with a smirk—only manages to piss you off even more.

Snape’s disapproving stare doesn’t let up. He only purses his thin lips, though it’s a little hard to tell under his crooked nose. “Ten points from (your house).”

You slowly nod. “Sorry again, Professor.” He ignores you. You take this as the go-ahead to sit down. Everyone’s attention is back on their own potions as you approach the table you normally sit at. However, instead of there being two redheads, there’s only one.

Silently sitting down in your stool, you quietly take out your potions book. “No George today?” You coolly flip through your textbook as Fred looks to you.

“Nope, he’s in the Hospital Wing.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and worry. “The Hospital Wing? Why?”

“Testing one of our newer products; long story short, it didn’t end well for George.”

“Ah.” You nod as you flip to the same page Fred has his textbook opened to. After a few moments of awkward silence, you can feel Fred’s gaze on you again as you read through the ingredients for your assignment; a Laughing Potion.

“What’s got your pants in a bunch?” You can hear him smirking as you start to chop the alihotsy leaves.

Rolling your eyes, your chopping starts to become a little more aggressive. “Why, nothing, Weasel.”

“Aw, really? Nothing at all?” He continuously stares at the side of your face with a teasing smirk. “So you aren’t mad at me?”

“How could I ever be mad at the worst Weasley?” You set the chopped alihotsy leaves to the side as you start to heat your cauldron.

“Aw, that’s mean, (Y/N).” You glance up to Fred’s face, seeing him pout like a four-year-old. You resist the urge to smile at the cute expression, going back to laying out your ingredients.

When Fred realizes that you’re ignoring him, he lets out a dramatic sigh and rests his head on the table. “(Y/N),” He softly calls.

After being met with only the sound of students hysterically laughing into their cauldrons, Fred frowns. “(Y/N).”

You feel a soft tap on your right shoulder—Fred is sitting on your left—so you look up, only to see Angelina Johnson smiling bashfully at you. “Hey, (Y/N), can I ask for a little help?” And the two of you get into a fruitful discussion about how many Puffskein hairs you should put in the cauldron at a time. This only makes Fred’s frown deepen.

Soon enough, Snape orders Angelina back up to her table and for Fred to focus—you snicker quietly when he whacks Fred over the head with his book—and you go back go your potion, pouring in clear spring water.

Fred has been calling you for the past few minutes, and each time you act like he doesn’t exist.

“(Y/N), look, I’m sorry if my prank upset you,” Fred’s usual teasing tone is long gone, replaced with a soft and apologetic one. “I didn’t think it would have made you late; I’m sorry.”

Staring into your cauldron with wide, surprised eyes, you look over to Fred. He’s awkwardly smiling at you, his cheeks tinted pink. After staring at each other for a few seconds, you sigh softly.

“Damn it.” You curse quietly and look away from Fred. When he hears your reaction, his brows furrow in confusion.

“It’s fine. Just… don’t do it again.” You murmur just loud enough for Fred to hear, and he brightens instantly.

“Oh, good! I thought you were gonna say I looked stupid.” He chuckles bashfully and you silently curse again.

“No, you looked cute, dummy,” You think to yourself, feeling your cheeks warm. “And don’t chuckle like that—it’s too damn sexy.”

You quietly cover your face as you turn back to your cauldron and continue to brew your Laughing Potion.

Throughout the rest of the period, you and Fred joke around with each other—every once in a while you flirt, but you brush it off, thinking he’s just teasing—until you two have to laugh into your potions.

“And it has to be genuine hysterical laughter. You can’t force it.” You remind Fred as he just shrugs.

“I can make you laugh any day, this should be a piece of cake.” You roll your eyes at his confidence, but soon enough, the Weasley has you crying in laughter because of his idiotic pickup lines, and it soon turns into a pickup line battle.

This makes Fred start to laugh uncontrollably as well, and you two barely remember that you have to be laughing at your potions; not just near them. So, you redirect your laughter to the unfinished potions.

Even though you’ve laughed enough, you two continue with the battle.

“Hey, hey, I’m not trying to get in your pants, I just want to invest in them.” Fred cackles loudly when you manage to get it out, and his laughter makes you laugh more.

“I’m learning about important dates in history; you wanna be one of them?” Fred’s line makes you wheeze, and you two are laughing so hard it actually hurts.

Soon, Fred falls off his stool laughing. “Oh Merlin, are you okay?” You choke out, wiping tears from your eyes.

Fred’s laughter momentarily stops as he looks you dead in the eye. Your laughter dies down, expecting him to say that he’s actually hurt.

“Ugh, you see this? Now I need to visit Madame Pomfrey too, all because I fell for you.”

You two hold a dead stare, but it doesn’t last long, because soon you two are hysterically laughing again. After a few seconds, you find yourself fallen on the floor with Fred.

Snape comes over and whacks you both over the head when he realizes you aren’t working on your potions, and the two of you soon get back onto your stools. Quietly throwing jokes at each other, you both somehow manage to finish the potion just before class finished.

After you pack up and hand Snape your vial of Laughing Potion, you two exit potions together, still giggling about the class.

“That was so terrible, why did we laugh at those stupid lines so much?” You snort softly as you two make your way to the Great Hall for lunch.

“Hey, you’re still laughing.” Fred grins at you mischievously and you only playfully shove his shoulder in return.

“Hey, seriously though,” You look up, only to see Fred’s expression completely serious.

“Stop doing complete emotional 180s.” You think to yourself as you wait for the boy to continue.

“I really am sorry about the prank earlier.” Fred apologizes once again, and you can tell how genuine he’s being by just one glance at his face.

You only wave a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, I’m really sorry.” You can feel your cheeks heating up. Why? You don’t know.

“But, I think I might know a way to make it up to you.” Fred’s genuine expression is replaced with a slightly teasing, slightly flirty one.

You tilt your head in confusion, silently urging him to continue. Fred grins.

“Let me take you out on a date, and like I said earlier, it’ll be one for the history books.”

You stare at him, your eyes widening in confusion and disbelief. “…Huh?”

“Let me take you out. The Hogsmeade trip is tomorrow, we can go to the Three Broomsticks, Zonko’s, Honeydukes. Whatever you want. Just let me take you on a date.” You can tell that Fred is nervous despite his confident front.

When you realize how serious he is, you can’t help but laugh in disbelief. “You… you’re interested in me?”

Fred nods bashfully. “Thought it was obvious, with the pranks ‘n all.”

You shake your head softly, chuckling to yourself. “…Sure. Take me out.”

Fred brightens. “You won’t regret this.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” You sarcastically reply, only making Fred laugh.

“Meet in the courtyard?”

You nod, the two of you grinning like idiots at each other.

“Great. See you tomorrow, gorgeous.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fic #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n

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pillarsalt · 6 months

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How do you cope with loneliness? My friends are so important to me but sometimes I feel like I can't fully relate to them anymore, and I just think about how they would hate me if they knew I was GC. I have TIF and even a few TIM friends that I love and cherish very dearly because I can see that they've just fallen victim to a toxic ideology feeding their body dysmorphia and self-esteem issues. But I can't tell them how genuinely worried I am about their mental health or send them detrans testimonies that I think they would relate to because they'd think I was some hateful violent monster that I'm not. Even the content creators that bring me joy and comfort are all so fiercely anti-TERF and it just makes me sad. I don't want to hurt anyone. I even distanced from the radfem community a bit because I felt like I was becoming too hateful towards men and TIMs when I truly believe many of the ones in my life are just trying their best and fell victim to a manipulative ideology that myself and other women also fell for. It's not that I wish I was still a TRA, because I feel much more at peace internally with my identity and my belief system, but I don't know if I can say peaking has made me happier overall. I feel like I don't fit in anywhere now. Making radfem friends helped a little bit but it's not the same as being around people I've known for years and gotten close to for reasons other than this one shared belief. I don't just want to abandon them all. And it's FRUSTRATING to see people spew misinformed fearmongered nonsense and not be able to actually help them dissect those beliefs. Feeling like the only one who sees things for how they really are, but forced to play along regardless, is just so restrictive and isolating.

To be completely honest with you, I don't have a great answer. I've been lucky to have one or two close friends at a time to whom I can tell everything, including my uncensored feminism-related beliefs. I've also been (and currently am) in friend groups with multiple people who identify as trans or are dating someone who identifies as trans, and have had to keep my thoughts and opinions to myself to keep the peace. I agree it's incredibly difficult sometimes, and I know a fair few of them would instantly drop me if they knew I was a "terf". It's kind of funny because I know some of them have an inkling of what I think about the issue, but say nothing so they don't have to fight with me. If anyone asked my opinion directly, I wouldn't lie, but I admit that I lie by omission.

It is hard to watch the ones who take the medicalization route hurt themselves. My ex girlfriend and I still talk, she's a they/them nonbinary now and despite always and still being very feminine and never expressing discomfort with her body before (including posting thirst traps often,) she wants to get a mastectomy soon. It sucks because of course after having looked into this phenomenon for so long, I'm well aware of the complications and side effects that can result from a major procedure like this: phantom pain/itching, extensive and restrictive scarring, the risks of infection and necrosis, and of course the risk of regretting having an entire organ unnecessarily removed from your body later on when it's no longer fashionable to do so. It sucks that voicing even the mere suggestion that it might be a bad idea is enough to have you shunned as an apostate. I genuinely care about her and I would feel similarly if she was having any other radical cosmetic surgery like breast implants or a BBL. At the end of the day, our friends will make their own choices regardless of how we feel about it, and the only thing we can really do is be there for them in the end.

I feel similarly to you in that I don't want to hurt anyone, only to protect people and especially women from the harms that are intrinsic to trans ideology. Unfortunately, you can't help anyone who doesn't want to be helped. Sometimes though, you can play dumb and ask questions that might get them to think a little bit more about the rhetoric they're repeating. For example, I often go out for drinks with coworkers, one of whom is a she/they nonbinary woman. One time she said something about how she couldn't be a full they/them because she's still 'girly' sometimes. I said something like "doesn't it seem kind of regressive to associate how feminine you are with how much of a woman you are? what about butch lesbians?" She didn't have an answer and brushed it off, but I could see the cogs turning a bit. Playing the uninformed normie pointing out the obvious sometimes gets them to realize how twisted the logic in trans echo chambers can be. And I think sometimes expressing your disagreement with the dogma can show your friends, who know you well and know you're a good person, that, contrary to what they've been told, not everyone who disagrees with gender ideology is an evil nazi out to slaughter transwomen in the streets.

But yes, in general, it is very very isolating to hold radical feminist beliefs. I'm sorry you're going through it. One thing to remember is, there are tons of women even in your general vicinity, who like you, don't buy into gender rhetoric but aren't saying anything in order to preserve their safety and social lives. I do believe that as the world seems to be becoming more aware of the reality of the situation, more and more people will feel able to be open about their dissent, and it will become less of a fringe opinion as the flaws in the ideology are exposed. Here's hoping I guess. Keep your chin up anon.

#ask

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oooohno · 2 months

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(sorry i saw you post about crocheting and couldn't help myself ily sorry if this is ass forgive me)

Sitting thigh to thigh on the couch next to Sugishita, you tilt your head curiously, putting aside your current project to appraise his. What was once an old t-shirt is about to become something new, the sleeves and collar cut off of it.

You love this about him - practical in nature, a good man with a heart as big as he is. The love inside of you ebbs and flows like a river, keeping you glued to his every movement. You technically started crafting before he did this evening, plopping down with your crochet bag a few minutes before he sat down next to you with crafts of his own in mind. The two of you have worked in peaceful silence but you find yourself drawn to him, unable to look away.

You watch as he precisely ties each of the flaps into a knot, each end pulled tightly to ensure everything will remain secure once he flips the fabric inside out. The tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips, a loose strand of dark hair hanging down his shoulder despite your best attempts to tie it all off of his face before sitting down to begin working.

Catching yourself exhaling dreamily, you glance away to hide your smile, focusing on the rows of stitches sitting in your lap. Keeping from sneaking glances proves difficult the longer you test yourself though and your eyes gradually drift back to him, trimming the excess off of each of the knots that have built the support at the bottom of the work in progress bag.

“It looks good so far, Kyo.”

He nods, eyes focused on his task. You decide to do the same, finishing the last of the stitches in the row that will officially complete your current project, tying them off just as you feel his eyes on your hands.

“It’s for you.”

You extend the headband in his direction and he takes it with a sheepish half smile, thumb and forefinger rubbing the soft yarn he knows you selected with him in mind. The practicalities of your nature make him feel all the more supported and loved, safe and secure in a place where he can bloom into the man he truly is beneath the tall dark shadow he carries.

“It’s funny you say that because this…” Hee reaches to his side and picks up the bag, bunching it in his hand. “Is for you.”

He smooths out the cotton and flips it inside out, showing you the design on the front of the bag. An ages old shirt designed for a community wide clean up, little pink stains splattered just above the screen printed graphic. You remember the day you first wore this like yesterday, plucking it from his closet during one of your first sleepovers and

“Is that the shirt from…?” You ask and Sugishita nods, chuckling. “Yeah, from that first time eating one of Umemiya’s ridiculous watermelons.”

You lean forward, collecting the tote bag. Taking it between your hands with a grin, you look over the painstakingly perfect cuts and effort put into making it something you’ll continue to enjoy forever, something he created after you fussed at him for making his own life unnecessarily hard.

“Remember how he had to haul it in on his shoulder?”

Kyotaro asks you with a chuckle, sliding the headband you made for him onto his head. It’s a better fit than you expected. The strand that was dangling over his shoulder is tucked back and away, now hanging down his back. Setting the bag aside, you crawl across the sofa on your knees and position yourself on his lap with your calves tucked beneath your knees on either side of his legs.

“I remember what a mess we made eating it.” Tucking a few errant strands of hair beneath the headband, you beam up at him while he nods in agreement. “Stained this shirt so bad you could never wear it again.” His dark eyes dart from the bag back to your pretty face, his hands naturally falling to your hips to hold you in place on his thighs. “Maybe this could be the next best thing.”

Giggling, you lean forward and kiss him, grateful for those big hands to steady you. Another kiss, and another, and just a few more and you have to break away to catch your breath.

“The headband works,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss you again. “Keeps it out of my face.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye that makes your thighs flex on either side of him, itching for comfort and relief, all too aware of what that look means. A few beats pass and you find yourself being gently placed on your back on the couch, thighs spread and pajama shorts pulled halfway down.

“Let’s see who is the messier eater, Nana.” He taunts, hair pulled off of his face and giving you a view at the slope of his nose and the smirk on his face. “Can’t ruin this the same way you ruined that,” he looks upward toward the headband and downward to the bag which draws a giggle from you that is quickly swallowed by a salacious moan when his face dips between your thighs.

Hdnddndjbdudbeudue ueueueueueue KENDALL!!!! What if I sob and cry and whine and wail and yowl and DIE?!?! You can’t just drop this in my inbox, my fragile little heart can’t take all this 😭

I LOVE YOU!!!!!

#I wanna crawl inside this story and never leave :((((#I’m in awe and enamored with your characterization of him!!!!!#and istg my heart fluttered and squeezed and did cartwheels at the passage #describing how he felt loved and cherished and like he could truly become the man he wants to be 😭#I’m yearning for us to craft together side by side - to have those moments where we both bask in each other’s presence without saying a word #stealing glances and waiting to finish so you can share what you did :(((#also the dig at the end!!!! yes I’m a messy eater so what LMAO #letters to nana 💌#strawberrystepmom.ask #suginana ❤️‍🔥

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snoopyliker · 3 months

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final thoughts on the third season of ordem paranormal: desconjuração

desconjuração was a season like no other in the aspect of it feeling very experimental throughout all of it. i can’t say i enjoyed it as much as aop or osnf, which i believe to be in part of the pacing of everything, it felt incredibly slow at times and others too fast. and i think that is what makes it a season i’d struggle to rewatch. which is very unlike the other two seasons that’d rewatch in an instant.

don’t get me wrong it wasn’t bad. i don’t think anything done in this ordem universe can be bad. there were so many memorable moments especially between characters and so much world building alongside some amazing creatures and the new heavily implemented ritual mechanic. but i think what truly carried this season were the players themselves.

what unfortunately set it behind compared to the other seasons truly laid in the pacing for me, everything else was good! about 45% of the entire season takes place in one location which felt like a detriment to the story. even though arguably it seemed to make sense. i feel like it could’ve been disbursed more neatly as to not feel so repetitive and boring. as well as to not make the episodes feel like they just drag on and on as we watch our heros run back and forth in a single house.

additionally after episode 6 it feels like a rift between what comes after. almost like two completely different series. which isn’t surprising as it marks the point where their mission transforms into another. i found myself quickly losing interest after episode 6 where liz was killed. her inclusion in everything was cool and maybe this is my bias talking but it felt maybe even too early on in the season to kill her. i think i would’ve preferred for her to actually get the time to bond with the newer characters so they grow a similar attachment to her like joui, arthur, and kaiser had so that her death didnt feel so small for the huge character she was.

another issue i felt with this season is that the story itself felt unnecessarily convoluted. but not in the fact of the mystery because the mystery itself wasn’t that difficult i mean convoluted in the amount of side stories. there were so many individuals parts and so many pieces involved into this single story that it felt almost like the players weren’t quite following along at times. and i think that was in part with so much information being hidden in that house that it just started stacking upon everything and didn’t quite assist in the actual end of it all. in the finale the most important parts were just handed to them by the sumerian being translated for them and being told the order of the desconjuração, gal explaining kians backstory, and kian explaining his plan. everything else in that moment felt inconsequential. though a lot of it was interesting and i’m sure will be brought up again! i’m more criticizing the fact that the main questions in the investigation like what is desconjuração? who is kian? what is the end goal for the escriptas? were seemingly answers given to them at the end after spending literal episodes learning the history of a haunted house that didn’t actually assist in those main questions. awesome that we learned so much but the fact that so little of what they spent episodes learning made any difference in the end felt….. sacanagem.

anyways those were some of my criticisms for this season which i dont mean with any malice i did truly enjoy watching this season it just fell short in some areas for me.

now when i say that the players carried this season i mean THE PLAYERS CARRIED THIS SEASON. singlehandedly the reason i kept coming back. these characters were incredible. their development. their actions. their choices. everything about them i loved. i need to praise the players roleplay as well because holy fuck each and every one of them delivered some performance in this season that made their characters shine. each and every one of them. genuinely left me astonished at times. i wanna point out calango specifically here because not only did he do an amazing job entire season but even with kaisers death he gave us a moment i will not forget and then cellbit revealing the photos and the recorded message that he chose to do all by himself i wish i could hug this man for putting so much love and care into a character that im going to miss so fucking much.

i also wanna praise the npcs because cellbit has made me so attached to ivete and agatha and hugo i swear to god if anything happens to them. the way cellbit plays these characters so wholeheartedly is admirable. i also think his work as a master this season was incredible. he multitasked and juggled so much shit the entire time. genuinely massive props for telling such a great story.

another detail i loved this season was the rituals mechanic. i cannot put into words how i simply cannot go through another season without it. such a good choice for players to feel motivated to explore and search in their surroundings as well as to fight the paranormal. increase your exposure and get stronger, stand a better chance, live. its so fucking smart.

also i cannot lie despite the sadness im feeling right now looking back at every character death.. they were fucking sick as hell. every emotional scene in this season completely sold it. despite it being a season i know i’d struggle through again like i mentioned previously it is still a season i’d rewatch for the characters and all the badass scenes and dialogues the players gave us. i look forward to seeing if we learn anything else about joui despite him not exactly being all there. thinking of the reality where he didn’t join the sect and he was able to go home that day and make cake for his family and be with them all together just one more time. thinking about how kaiser sacrificing himself for everyone is exactly what joui had done. thinking about them giving everything to save the people they love. thinking about their shared grief.

you know i was gonna say the whole “a desconjuração é brutal” was a bit of an exaggeration until that last episode. it is in fact brutal. but before that it was a fucking walk in the park ya hear me!!!!

i still need to watch the revelando:) im excited to learn more about the more technical stuff

#doplivevodding #epi 20

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lem0nademouth · 2 months

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OKAY my complaints re: the new dnd phb/dms guide

(almost) everything is worse.

prepared casting across the board? AMAZING. PERFECT. but of course we can’t have nice things, so it has to be unnecessarily complicated. 5/10.

incorporating a bunch of stuff from tasha’s as core rules? AMAZING. LOVE IT. oh wait - replacing old core rules with tasha’s rules? like, fundamentally changing several classes? well fuck. 3/10.

no more half elves or half orcs? fuck you dude. 0/10.

“race” is now “species”. 10/10 no notes it should have always been this way.

completely and utterly fumbling the bag on rangers? -1000000/10. why is it so impossible for wotc to get rangers right. what do y’all have against rangers. is it the fact that DMs have to put in a modicum of work to fully utilize rangers? is it that the lead writers at wotc don’t enjoy or prioritize exploration and survival elements of dnd? is it a weird complex about ttrpg players not being “outdoor kids”? listen. i was a camp counselor for many years. my first dnd character was a ranger, because rangers are the camp counselors of dnd. rangers keep everyone alive long enough to actually go on the adventure. my ranger tav in bg3 is the most powerful member of the party without question. i don’t get the fundamental misunderstanding of what a ranger is and im sure it traces back to some deep seeded misogyny or elitism or something, as these things often do - but it has got to fucking stop. i know this is the most unimportant thing to concern myself with at the moment, but honestly the unimportance of it all makes me that much angrier. we’re not doing rocket science over here. we’re playing the lord of the rings dice game. so why is it so difficult for a TEAM of people to create a character that people want to play? i could write an essay on the way recent editions of dnd have ruined the ranger and atp i might have to.

in short: i won’t be playing the new edition, but i’ll probably incorporate some of it into my 5e stuff. 5e is still my baby and theres nothing about the new rules that feel like a drastic enough improvement to switch over completely. try harder next time wotc!

#dnd #d&d #new dnd #2024 dnd #theres a lot more to complain abt but im tired #i think the new edition will turn a lot of players off of dnd #and not be very welcoming to new players #im sticking w 5e + home rules bc thats objectively better #5e wikidot my beloved #also critical role source material #and kobold press #anyway thats my cursory two cents #we shall see if my fears are confirmed when the whole thing gets released in september

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ronaestrider · 7 months

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A Reunion Long in the Making [Part I]

A familiar figure stands at the shoreline of an equally familiar place. The once-Commander of the Phoenix Guard still holds her same rigid posture as she looks out to the sea, sipping from a cup of tea. Her armor pieces, survival bag and other (few) belongings are neatly arranged on a table behind her.

Ruthar enters the old Guard stomping grounds quietly, though not silently. He stands there for a moment, his mind flooded with memories before slowly moving toward the shoreline. His helmet is removed, the wind tossing his silver-white hair.

“So, it seems the reports are indeed true.”

Ina'thia's ears flick as she hears footsteps. Her hand instinctively grasps her sword. Then, the familiar voice. Her grip loosens. "...Good to know that the Farstriders still do their jobs well. It'd have been embarrassing to have snuck in completely unnoticed." With a grin, she turns on her heel to face Ruthar.

Ruthar's typically stoic visage turns a smile, the glint of a tear in his eyes as the sunlight reflects off of the water. "Commander Dawnblade," he says softly, moving toward the water's edge. He opens his mouth to continue but finds words difficult in the present situation.

Ina'thia also struggles with a faint glimmer of a tear in her eye. Ever the stoic Commander, she forces an even expression by raising her chin a little bit. "Just Ina'thia, these days..." she gently corrects, "Ranger-Captain."

Ruthar places his bow down on the table next to Ina'thia's belongings. "If titles are now off the table, then Ruthar will do. Let's leave Ranger Captain to the Farstrider recruits."

Ina'thia slowly closes the distance between herself and Ruthar, appraising his appearance with the keen gaze of a commanding officer. Some habits never really die. On the other hand, she looks as though she hasn't had a good night of sleep in years.

"Tell me everything, Ruthar. How have you been? What about your brother? Have you heard from any of the others since we parted ways? Are you doing okay?"

Ruthar raises his eyebrows at that. "Everything? I'm not entirely sure all of is it interesting." He chuckles as he removes his unnecessarily pointy gauntlets and places them next to Ana'dal. He takes a step closer and places his hand on Ina'thia's shoulder.

"In the last six years, I've never been happier to read a report than the one claiming that you've returned." He smiles genuinely even though his features may appear older. "It really is good to see you, and here - of all places." He looks behind him with a pleasant sigh. "Where it all began."

Ina'thia, now without fear of being scratched by unnecessarily pointy armor bits, goes right in for a hug when Ruthar places a hand on her shoulder. It's a tight hug, going on far longer than she would have ever allowed in her days as Commander.

"It's the only place that made any sense to come to." Finally, she releases him from the hug, but not without taking his hand. "...I'm -so- sorry for leaving the way I did. It's shameful."

Ruthar returns the hug whole-heartedly, cherishing the moment. He allows her to take his hand as the emotion continues to flow freely. He shakes his head slowly, his voice soft. "There is no shame to be had. So many wars, so much struggle." He sighs as he looks out to the ocean before squeezing her hand and looking back to her. "It has affected us all in so many ways." He shifts away to gather a pair of chairs that he places overlooking the water. "There is so much ground to cover, Ina'thia." He gestures toward the open seat as he stands next to his own.

Ina'thia squeezes Ruthar's hand in return, then follows his gaze and gesture to the open chairs. There was so much to talk about, they'd need chairs and maybe a few nights to cover it all. "I took dissolution and reassignment of the Guard harder than I thought I would," she finally admits after a long moment of silence. "Surprise."

Ruthar places his satchel down as he takes a seat, taking out a flask to sip on while Ina'thia enjoys her tea. He leans back, closing his eyes in thought for a just a moment. "You and me both," he admits. "The Guard was the closest thing I've had to a family since before the fall of Quel'Thalas." He looks out to the water again. "Between you and I, Rehmaar and I are just...not on the same path. We never really have been since we were reunited after we thought each other dead. The Guard filled that deep void, and by the Sunwell I miss it terribly." He lifts his flask in her direction. "There really was no greater honour than serving as your Lieutenant. From Hearthglen to being abducted in Draenor, I'd -almost- do it all again."

Ina'thia gives Ruthar a sidelong look as she sips her tea, frowning a bit. "The Guard was the family we all needed. It even included bratty younger siblings neither of us could stand," she laughs a little bit at that."We made a good family. I miss it terribly, but I'd be content never to journey to Draenor again."

Ruthar chuckles at that softly. "Deal," he agrees as the pain from his felfire chest scar throbs ever so slightly. "Bratty siblings, obstinate uncles, and relationships better left forgotten." He shakes his head with a smirk. "It really did have it all."

Ina'thia balances her teacup on her thigh and crosses her arms, gazing out at the sea. "Much as I miss everyone, there are some I'm still afraid to speak to. Gattius and I did not end things on a particularly good note," she frowns.

Ruthar allows that to hang in the air for a minute, considering his word choices with care. "Fear is a powerful thing. It has the ability to halt even the most prosperous of futures." He follows her gaze to the horizon. "When I first heard word that you had come back, fear was absolutely a factor - I truly had no idea how you would react to being discovered." He looks down to the immediate shoreline. "Overcoming fear is a path to great reward, a lesson it took far too long to understand."

Ina'thia can't help but chuckle a little bit, "I know better than to fight a ranger in their home forest, if that's what you were fearful about." After a bit of a lull, she wets her lips again to continue speaking. "Fear is what drove me away from home in the first place. After I came home from Kul Tiras, I heard the whispers. Then I saw the shadows. Little things, out of the corner of my eye. Then the obelisks. They were there, but they weren't."

Ina'thia hangs her head in a strange mix of shame, embarrassment and regret. "I had to leave before I hurt anyone."

Ruthar considers that for a long moment. "You did what you felt was right," he offers quietly. "There is no shame in that. More importantly, you are here...and N'Zoth is not."

Ina'thia 's face is hidden by her hair, which had fallen over her shoulders as she hung her head forward. "The Guard kept me sane through so many years by being something to focus on. Without it, I went actually gods-damned insane."

Ruthar nods, his mind spinning back to a time long ago. "In the aftermath of the Scourge, having lost truly everything, I was moments from fading to nothingness." He took a small sip from his flask as he watched the water roll over the sand. "Time and again, we find ourselves on the brink and yet here we are." His voice turns more declarative. "There is absolutely no shame in falling from grace in any capacity, Ina'thia. It is what we do after that truly matters." He looks her way with a genuine expression of care and concern. "And you don't need to do it alone. Ever."

Ina'thia would lean over to bump her shoulder against Ruthar's, but his armor was pointy there as well. "You're always so kind and reassuring to me, Ruthar. I... needed that," she finally admits, then downs the rest of her now cold tea. "I don't know what I'm going to do now, t hough. I just knew it was time to come home."

Ruthar nods, capping his flask. "It is time to come home. Time to be back in Quel'Thalas and re-evaluate. Nothing has reminded me of that more than being right here, right now." He gestures toward Quel'Danas in the distance. "For years now, I've served greater needs, needs far beyond what we have here in Quel'Thalas. But this," he reaches over to pat her knee, "Us. Our people. This place. These memories. -This- is what truly matters."

Ina'thia rests the teacup on her thigh again, "I served the greater needs for so long. No regard for myself. And when I was finally relieved of that burden, I didn't know who I was. I've traveled the world, Ruthar, and I still have trouble defining myself beyond what I think I should do instead of who I am. Maybe making amends is a good place to start."

"That means talking to Magister Everblaze... if I'm set on fire in the coming days, you'll know why."

Ruthar would spit out his drink if he had liquid in his mouth. He composes himself in an attempt to hide his shock. "I'm not entirely sure that's the best first move. I hate to use the term, but hatchling steps. Jumping right to the Magister seems like a lot very quickly."

Ina'thia raises a brow at Ruthar, "Do you really think so? I've always thought to do the hardest thing first. Get it out of the way quickly. But, I see the strategic advantage in apologizing to the most people -before- I meet a fiery end." Ina'thia touches her chin thoughtfully.

“I mean, the Farstriders caught wind of you rather quickly. I would imagine the Magistry wouldn't be -too- far behind.” Ruthar sighs. "Regardless, what do you owe him anyway? I never felt that he did much for -us-."

Ina'thia anxiously fidgets with her teacup, "Oh, I know he already knows I'm here. He has spies everywhere. They hide in plain sight, instead of the trees." She sighs. "...He and I became... involved. I left him without so much as a word."

Ruthar raises his eyebrows at that and considers it for a moment. "Well, like you said - he has spies everywhere. If he wanted revenge or retaliation for your actions, he would already have it, no?"

Ina'thia runs her thumb over the lip of her teacup. "He's a stubborn and prideful man. If anything, he'd refuse to speak to me, especially if he knows I want to apologize. Or, set me on fire. It'll be the toss of a gold coin."

Ruthar considers her words. "Do -you- want to apologize?"

"...I feel like it's something I should probably do, yes. I guess."

Ruthar nods, watching the rim of her empty teacup. "There is a hard line to walk when it comes to doing what is right and doing what is needed." He looks up at her. "I just want you doing what is best for -you-, first and foremost."

Ina'thia peers over at Ruthar, "What I -want- to do is drink a whole bottle of Eversong red and fall asleep by a tree somewhere. But what I need to do is, well... make amends to those I've hurt."

Ruthar reaches into his satchel and produces a bottle of Thalassian red, ever-prepared for these sorts of things. "I think both can be arranged," he says slyly.

Ina'thia lets out an audible gasp at the bottle of wine. Of course he, of all people, would be prepared for such an occasion. "Light and Sunwell bless you for this, Ruthar. You know me well."

Ruthar slips it back in his bag with a chuckle, standing up from the chair. "I think there are some glasses still inside somewhere," he says as he glances back toward the pavilion. "I believe a toast is in order - to a reunion so long in the making."

Ina'thia snatches up her teacup and rises, following Ruthar to the pavilion. "I think the last time we shared a bottle of wine, we just drank straight from it. Legs dangling over the edge of my balcony on Quel'Danas," she gestures to the isle in the distance.

Ruthar chuckles. "That sounds about right. Perhaps we should pay the Shattered Sun a visit."

Ina'thia fusses with her hair as they head over to the pavilion, "I think that's a great idea. See what's happened to my old office! Something dreadfully boring, I'm sure. Either way... it's been far too long since I've gazed upon the Sunwell."

Ruthar smiles. "I can think of no better way than to celebrate your return to Quel'Thalas than a voyage to the Isle." He gathers his items from the table and offers her belongings to her. "Shall we?"

Ina'thia begins the task of donning her armor once again. Despite its many pieces and parts, she's well-practiced in putting it on by herself. Soon enough, she has secured her runeblade to her belt and looks at Ruthar with a smile. A genuine one, this time.

"Ruthar... you are my greatest, and truest friend. My brother. To Quel'Danas!"

@inathia

#roleplay #wow #ruthar #world of warcraft #phoenix guard #ina'thia #dawnblade #ronaestrider

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