#god I have to tag a bunch of shit don’t I cause I don’t know What Is The Right Tags To Use

[engagemythrusters]

Okay. Watching The Bad Batch for the first time and I’ve only gotten 2/3rds of the way thru the first season thus far, but I feel I now understand the characters well enough to start making conjectures.

So here’s what I’ve got so far:

Due to the inherent Muchness of heightened senses, I wouldn’t doubt a sensory processing disorder for Hunter. It’s clear that he’s gotten a handle on it (aka learned to adapt to, compensate for, and understand it) by the time TBB appears in The Clone Wars, but I bet it was hard to deal with when he was younger.

Wrecker appears to have a developmental/learning/intellectual disability of some sort, compounded by a TBI. He struggles with bigger words and is impulsive, along with other notable markers. This could have stemmed from the accident that left the facial scar and blinded his eye, but it seems that, based on how the other three original bad batch clones act around him, that this has always been a thing. A TBI likely added to this, because he seriously just keeps getting smacked in the head, the poor guy. He’s just a walking headache.

That being said, he likely gets lots of migraines. Seriously, that much head-smacking can’t result in a fun, happy time up in his head, pain-wise. I suspect the other four get them, too. Hunter has to process a lot of information from all senses, and Crosshair from his sight. That’s a lot to deal with, and I know I get headaches from a lot less. Tech… he’s staring at screens all day. Blue-light headaches much? And Echo… he’s literally got so much going on up there, technology wise, that it’s undoubtedly the cause of many a migraine. He’s one bad interface connection from a seizure, practically.

Crosshair has some attachment issues, I think. Like I believe all the clones would, had they not been programmed otherwise. They never got held by a caring individual, for gods sake. Maybe later generations had older brothers to hold them every so often, but that’s not enough. They never got one-on-one care. And, since his programming never kicked in correctly, Crosshair has all of that just shoved into his twig body. So, RAD, due to his obviously avoidant nature.

Tech is autistic and I don’t think that’s debatable, really. Like that textbook autism (which leads to a discussion about his savant nature being paired with a highly autistic-coded character and the harmful impact that could create for us autistic people in real life. The same harm of Wrecker’s disability vs how he’s treated as an ‘it’ in the show (said explicitly by Cid) and how Crosshair, with evident attachment issues, is demonised as the villain. BUT THATS ITS OWN ESSAY TO WRITE.)

Omega has ADHD and that one’s not heavily coded like the rest, but I think it fits!

None of them have true favourite siblings, but each are easier to go to for different things. Hunter, for leadership and emotional advice. Crosshair, for silent understanding (pre-chip activation). Wrecker, for emotional understanding and grounding. Tech, for intellectual advice and rationality. Echo, for interpersonal advice. Omega, for intrapersonal advice and a fresh, new perspective on everything.

I truly believe, in my heart of hearts, that Hunter would have the highest, shrillest scream. It doesn’t make sense, but it just seems right (to me personally).

Tech and Echo spend a lot of time on Echo’s implants and prostheses. Echo clearly isn’t using them for their original intent—some not even used at all—so they have to be updated, modified, or taken out. (As evidenced by the—I’m assuming what is a—neural interface he now wears and the lack of other implants he used to have in TCW.)

Echo has chronic pain, due to phantom limbs. That, and it must take a lot out of him for those prostheses. They're melded to him in a way that seems... not user-friendly. Techno Union wasn't doing it because they wanted him to live a fulfilling life. They did it because they needed him. They wouldn't care about his pain. It's unlikely that he doesn't feel constant pain. I'm guessing his everyday average pain level it's equivalent to what normal people (i.e.: people who aren't me or other chronic pain-havers) would consider a 4 out of 10.

I have a feeling that most of them know the basics of swimming, but likely aren’t good at it—Wrecker especially. And, with all that armour, it probably wouldn’t matter if they could swim or not. That shit will absolutely sink them. Omega, once taught, would LOVE IT, though.

Crosshair would let a tooka adopt him. As in, he would let the cat follow him around. Whether or not he’d do anything for or about the tooka… I don’t know. But he’d allow it. (Wrecker would dote on the thing if it followed him. Lula and said tooka would be his best buds. He may like explosions, but he’s a sweet guy at heart!)

Echo and Crosshair have absolutely held staring contests. Asserting dominance. (Somehow, despite not having been involved in the first place, Wrecker has won at least two of them.)

Hunter has a taste for meilooruns. Tech does not.

All of them snore. Echo’s even has an electronic buzzing to it. Tech is absolutely the loudest. Omega has wished to smother them all in their sleep.

[ventisnumberone]

*ೃ༄ ❝ Freak ¡! ❞

Collage Au!

Bully!scaramouche x obsessive! reader

genre: angsty (a lil bit), fluff (at the end but it’s not that sweet so…), smut (18+ minors dni)

Tags: reader is afab! Dark themes(?), stalking, obsessiveness, reader gets beat up, violence, porn with plot, semi-public sex, degration, rough sex, fingering, humiliation, the reader is the biggest perv omg, he confesses to you after you guys…yk, orgasm denial, slapping, reader is a masochist and scara is sadistic, he’s so fucking mean oh my god, you guys cuddle!, not proofread so.

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Scaramouche, you have always loved him. ever since your freshman year when you met him you’ve been obsessed with him. you ‘coincidentally’ went to the same university as him. you ‘coincidentally’ major in the same thing. you ‘coincidentally’ are next door to his dorm room. you love him oh so much. but the problem is your pretty convinced he hates your guts. even in high school he picked on you. but you can’t get enough of it.

He calls you a wide range of names. you don’t know the particular reason why he targets you but he does. he trips you in the halls. he doesn’t open the door for you. he treats you like shit but you love it.

When you don’t have class and he’s out with his friends you have a bad habit of sneaking into his room. you know the code on the door and you managed to get a spare key to his room. you know everything about him, what he likes what he dislikes who he likes who he doesn’t like. he’s like a drug to you and you can only think about him. you love taking articles of his clothing. you will take a shirt or a pair of his shorts. but most of all you love his underwear. he owns calvin klein underwear. you love wearing his underwear under your clothes, but your so nasty that you touch yourself to the thought of him.

you finish up getting what you wanted from his room. you leave his room successfully without being caught. you go back to your room and you put the items you’ve collected into a drawer. it’s filled with a bunch of his things like, his clothes, pens, pencils, a toothbrush of his, pictures of him. your crazy about him.

you get hungry so you decide to go to the food court to get something small to eat because you haven’t had dinner yet. you make your way out of your dorm and into the hallway. you were stopped by none other than scaramouche. “hey can i talk to you for a second.” he says in a aggressive manner. “i-I uh..sure..” you stammer. he grabs your arm and pulls you out through one of the back doors and into an alleyway by your arm. your blushing because this is the first time he’s touched you before! “what the fuck are you doing going into my room and taking my shit!” he says letting go of your arm harshly. “I-I don’t kno” “you know exactly what i’m talking about you dumb bitch!” he spits cutting you off. he pulls out his phone and showing you a picture of you going into his room. oh shit. you stare blankly at the picture not saying a word. “the fuck is wrong with you? your such a freak!” he says pushing you causing you to fall on your ass. “i’ve known you had a crush on me since high school but god damn i didn’t think you were a fucking stalker!” he says. “I-I” you mumbled trying to get the words out. “I-I-I is that all you can fucking say? god you piss me off so bad.” he says grabbing you by the collar and pushing you against the wall. you can’t help but blush at the sudden closeness between you guys. “answer me you bitch.” he says slapping you across the face. “I don’t know..” you say with a few tears coming out of your eyes avoiding his piercing gaze. “look at me” he says grabbing your cheeks making your lips form into a kissing shape. “why are you such a creep?” “I don’t know!” you yelp. he’s so close! you want to kiss him so badly. he’s yelling at you but your to busy looking at his face to hear what he’s saying. “are you smiling? what kind of sicko are you.” he says smirking in disbelief. his hand slides down to your throat. you moan slightly due to the added. “did you moan? i knew you were dreaming of me giving you any sort of attention but this is a new low.” he chuckles to himself. you rub your thighs together to create some kind of friction. scaramouche doesn’t fail to see that though. “Aw, are you trying to get yourself off infront of me? how pathetic are you?” he says in a mocking tone. “how about i help you out..” he snakes his hand down and into your shorts. he rubs your clit through your his underwear. “is this my underwear? wow you are such a little pervert..” he says grinning at you. you can’t help but moan at how well he’s getting you off. all you can do is grab his shoulders and moan against his neck. “do you want us to get caught? how about you stop moaning like a bitch.” he says pinching your thigh. “sorry scara..” you say biting his neck a little. he puts his hand on your head to push it further into his neck signaling you to give him hickeys and bite marks. you start sucking on his pale skin leaving dark blue and purple marks and love bites all over his neck. his fingers are moving in and out of your sopping wet hole.

you can’t believe what’s happening your crush of 5 years is fingering you! it’s so surreal that your smiling like an idiot while sucking and biting at his neck. “Babe you are dripping wet for me..your sucking my neck so well. so good for me.” he says. “scara i’m g-gonna cum!” you say against his neck. “i think you can wait a little bit sweetheart.” he says as he pulls his long digits out of your hole interrupting your orgasm. you pull your head from his neck and pout at him. he licks his fingers clean and grabs your hand leading you inside the the building. he guides you down the hallway and into his dorm. you guys can’t even get through the door without him immediately smashing his lips on yours. you both start undressing clothes going everywhere. you and him were making out and eventually make it to the bed. he pushes you on the bed and lines his cock against your awaiting hole. he enters slowly and waits for you to tell him to move. you nod your head telling him it was okay for him to move. he started off slower then he got into a faster rhythm. he fucking in and out of your at a brutal pace. “cmon babe you can take it. i bet you were waiting for this day for 5 years.” he with a smirk. “oh scara~!” you cry. “you can moan my name as loud as you want, your my bitch now.” he moans out. you were drooling with a big smile on your face. you could have sworn you had hearts in your eyes. the sight of scaramouche fucking you was a dream come true. “oh shit im cumming!” he said loudly. “me too! cumming!” you moan out. you and him cum together and your panting looking at him. he’s so pretty. “you know, i’ve also liked you for a while.” he says looking at you with a smile on his face. “yeah me too..” you say kissing him on the lips. “hope i didn’t like you to bad.” “you didn’t…i kind of liked it.” you say shyly. he kisses your forehead. you wrap your arms around him and he wraps his around you and you guys fall asleep.

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Hope you guys liked this ! i wrote this on the bus home from a class trip!

[cringe-but-proud]

YOU FREAKS ASKED. AND GOD DAMMIT, I DELIVERED. HERE'S A PART 3.

Curbside Conversations

Hobie Brown x reader!!!! Read part 1 here and part 2 here <3

Warnings: swearing and a little suggestive for one sentence if you squint

A/n: I'm glad y'all are liking this little series 🤭 I could write a part 4, but it'll probably be a while cause I've got a bunch of shit going on right now. If you wanna be tagged in the next part, tell me. Requests are open.

Tag list: @th3h0nkz yeah, I see you 💋💋💋

Late, late, late, late, late.

That was about the only thing going through your head as you speed walked to work. You felt like a mess and you probably looked like one too. Messy hair, a jacket only zipped halfway up, shoes untied, and you were pretty sure your shirt was on inside out.

Finally (and 20 minutes later than you should’ve) you arrived to work.

“You’re late.” Sam, one of your coworkers said, looking up from her phone.

“And you’re chewing gum. We’re both breaking rules that shit doesn’t matter.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Some guy came in looking for you earlier.”

That caught your attention. “Really?”

“Yeah. Tall, big hair, he had a lot of piercings,”

That was a description you recognized. That was Hobie. He was looking for you? You had missed him?! Oh, God.

“Do you owe him money or something?” Sam asked.

“What? No, when have I ever owed anyone money?”

“You owe me three bucks from when I got you a drink from the convenience store.”

“You told me you stole that drink.”

“Yeah, and if I had bought it, it would’ve been three bucks.”

You blinked at her and marveled at the absolute lack of logic in that statement. “I don’t owe him money.”

“So, what did he want?”

You sighed. “I wish I knew…”

…

“... Dude, you’re weird.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

The hours of your shift dragged by like years. It was one of those shifts that genuinely made you consider quitting your job; and on top of that, you couldn’t get fucking Hobie off of your mind. God, you didn’t even know him. That guy Sam was talking about probably wasn’t even him. But, then again… No. You were being delusional. You needed to drop it.

“Hey, I’m going on break.” You announced to your two coworkers as you shrugged on your jacket, put in your earbuds, and left the small building. Once outside, you sat on the curb beside the building and let some sappy, sad music play in your earbuds.

Jesus, what kind of sentimental bullshit were you on? This was pathetic.

You wallowed in your own self pity, feeling miserable for a few more minutes until a voice broke you out of your pity party

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Your eyes had been closed, but once hearing the voice, they snapped open.

You stared, wide eyed at him.

“You?” You said in disbelief, looking up at Hobie.

“Yup.” He lowered himself to the spot next to you on the concrete. “Me.” He smiled at you and you felt your heart skip a beat. “I uh… I was looking for you earlier.”

“You probably would've found me if I hadn't been late for work.”

He laughed lightheartedly. “You find yourself in shitty situations often, don't you?”

“Yeah.” You agreed. “I got robbed last week.”

At first, he simply nodded which seemed like a bit of an under reaction, but then he widened his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. Shit was crazy.”

“Well… I'm glad you're alright.”

You bit your tongue, considering your next words. “Why were you looking for me earlier?”

He shrugged his shoulders and looked away. “Dunno. I uh…. I sort of was hoping to talk to you again, I guess.”

You hummed. “About what?”

“Anything.” He answered.

“Anything?” You repeated the word.

“Well,” He reconsidered. “I was kind of hoping to bring something up.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, uh…” He hesitated. Was he nervous? “I mean, you seem cool or whatever.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He nodded and then repeated the word quietly, under his breath. “Yeah.”

A brief pause passed between the two of you. “I think you're cool too.” You said eventually. “I mean, you definitely get that a lot. But, still.”

“Nah, I appreciate it coming from you.” He said. “You're… I think you're…” He hummed as if trying to put together his words. “I like you.” He settled on.

You'd sort of seen that coming, but you were still surprised. “Do you?” You asked.

“Yeah. Which is sort of weird cause I hardly know you. But, uh… I'd like to get to know you better.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I'd like that too.” You smiled at him and he returned the gesture, chuckling.

“Well, I'll start by asking for your number?” He said it as if it was a suggestion. But, he didn't need to. You wouldn't ever think of declining the offer. So, you stuck your hand out, motioning for him to give you his phone. He pulled out his phone, opened his contacts and handed it to you for you to put in your info. You quickly tapped in your number and handed the device back to him.

“There.” You said. “Promise me you'll text me later.”

“Yeah, promise.”

A silence came over the two of you. You looked down at your sneakers and tapped your heels together in an effort to hide the flustered look that had made its way on to your face.

And then, you felt his hand brush against yours. You looked over to him and he was staring straight ahead which made you want to laugh because God, this felt like two middle schoolers on a first date. Awkward, cringey, and sweet.

You decided to bite the bullet and take his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers with his.

His eyes darted down to your hands, laced together, and then to your face. You smiled at him and he smiled back, opening his mouth to say something when-

“Y/n, it's been 15 minutes!” Sam yelled, poking her head around the corner of the building to look at you.

Once she disappeared back into the building you groaned. “I should just quit this god awful job.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“Nah, you shouldn't.” Hobie disagreed. “How else are you gonna get me shitty free pizza?”

You paused before bursting into laughter. “That is so stupid.” You said as you got up.

“But it's true.” He said, finally letting go of your hand. “Have you got work tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You sighed.

“Well, when do you get off?”

“I've got the closing shift, so I'll be off at like, 9:00.”

“Well, if you're up for it, I think a late night date could be fun.” He said. “I'll walk you home from work, make sure you don't get robbed this time. And then we'll… See where the night takes us, I guess.”

You paused. How'd he know you got robbed after a closing shift? You hadn't told him that, had you? Well, it's sort of an easy assumption to make. Whatever. It's probably nothing.

“I'd like that.” You finally answered.

“Y/N!” Sam yelled.

“I’M COMING!” You yelled back. “Jesus… Anyways, uh… I'll see you tomorrow night?”

“Definitely.”

You smiled at him. “Cool. I'll be looking forward to it.”

With one last nod, you turned your back and walked back into work. For once, you were excited to have a closing shift.

[rookiesbookies]

COD Shit (P1?)

New intelligence joining the team.

Use of She/Her pronouns, no anatomy mentioned, no use of Y/N, might turn this into a series where there’s an X Reader for all my boys after this. I dunno this is my first COD Fic and first Fic in months, give me feedback. Im going to make hc for a bunch of the people next so give me your thoughts on who.

She thought back to the day she ended up at the coffee shop, the interview for a side job. She hadn't realized it was a government job. All she looked at was the good pay, need for a mild temperament, and someone good with communication and words.

After passing multiple psych evals and background checks, she was loaded into a plane like cargo. Her destination was some little island off the UK. She was greeted quickly by the ever charming Captain Price.

“Allow me to help you with your bags,” he said after pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand, making her face flush warm. He had quickly introduced himself, his facial hair tickled her soft hand.

“Captain, I don’t have much, it's nothing I can’t get myself -” she began to ramble. She was cut off quickly.

“It’s not a bother,” he said and began walking towards the dull green building. “And call me John.”

The meetings wouldn’t start for the next bit. She got acquainted in her new room before she began slowly exploring the building and the base itself. She had restricted access so more than most areas were off limits but she was told to make her way to the recreation center before dark.

The center wasn’t anything amazing. There was an old pool table that needed to be re-felted, a broken pool stick in the wall, and two men playing pool whilst another watched. The walls were a boring gray and there was a kitchenette in the corner next to a large fridge. There was a high top table with 10 seats in the kitchen area where a half eaten sandwich sat. A couch sat in front of a reasonably sized tv and there was an old leather chair with a sign on it.

PRICE’S CHAIR. DO. NOT. SIT.

“Message received,” she mumbled to herself. Her eyes fell back on the men at the pool table.

“Johnny, I swear to God if you shake the table when I try to shoot one more time -”

“What will ya do? Huh?”

“Guys, its pool. Does it really need to get this aggressive?”

She had been shown their files before coming, Price wanted his new intelligence officer to understand what she was walking into. She shifted her weight, causing one of the floorboards to creak. The three men looked over at her.

“Oi, who are you?” Soap asked, earning a playful smack in the chest from Gaz.

“She’s the new intelligence officer. The one Laswell picked.” The man mumbled. “Price told us she was coming, how do you not remember?”

Ghost cleared his throat and the woman awkwardly waved.

“I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself… also someone should really finish that sandwich before it goes stale.”

“MY SANDWICH!” Soap quickly rushed back to grab his half-eaten lunch, taking a bite, “see this is why she’s in intelligence.”

“Don’t chew with ya mouth open, Johnny.” Ghost said sharply, smacking him in the gut with a swift back hand. This made Soap choke a little on his bite of food.

She made an awkward goodbye before skittering out.

Let me know in the tags, comments, or asks what you want to see next or who I should continue the start for as an x reader fic

[illvmiimoved]

Does Your Mother Know?

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

TAGS/INCLUDED: reader is DRUUUNK * Miguel doesn’t take advantage hes a gentleman ofc * obviously alcohol * if he’s Spider-Man is ambiguous again

A/N: Two posts in like a 3 hour span is BONKERS anyways here’s a shorter one based on the song “Does your mother know” by ABBA.

New account cause I messed my shit up 😔

You were at a bar downtown, having a great time with your friends. It was one of your close friend’s birthday, so you and a bunch of girls were there, getting hammered and essentially making it hell for the designated drivers.

You weren’t super drunk at the moment, you’d only had a single drink. You walk to the bar to get another round for the table (against one of the drivers saying that really isn’t the best idea) and that’s when you saw him.

Oh. My. God.

He was so hot, are you kidding me?

He was easily 6 feet tall. Tan skin and pretty eyes, his hair was curly and he was dressed in business attire. His sleeves were rolled to his forearm, which was enough to make you swoon on the spot.

You purposefully stand next to him when you order the drinks, taking extra care to bump your sides together occasionally.

At the sixth bump of your side, he turns around to look down at you. He smirks as he leans on the bar, “Can I help you, little lady?”

You giggle drunkenly (maybe you were more dunk than you’d thought), “You’re just quite the looker. Can’t help myself!”

You sway in your spot a little as you look up at him. He chuckles to himself and sits on one of the stools to match your level better. He tucks a lock of your pretty hair behind your ear and smiles.

“You look pretty young to be in a place like this, girly. Your mother know you’re out?”

You giggle again and cover your mouth, “I’m not young, no worries,” You follow that up by wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Yeah, you definitely were not sober right now.

He leans on his hand, “You sure about that?”

“Sure about my age? I think so!” You count on your fingers to double check.

He smirks at you, “What’s your name, beautiful?”

You blush and tell him your name. To which he replies, “What a lovely name. I’m Miguel, sweet thing.”

The bartender puts your ordered drinks on the bar, so you perk up and attempt to grab them all. Miguel stops you and grabs them himself, so you lead him to the table. He places them down for you, your friends diving in without missing a beat.

You smile up at him, “Let’s dance, handsome!”

“Oh? You wanna dance now? But what about your friends?” He smirks, though he didn’t protest when you started to push him towards the dance floor.

You jump and dance to the music with zero rhythm, really just having fun rather than trying to impress Miguel with your ‘hot moves’. He didn’t seem to mind, he looked quite taken with how free your looked at that moment.

He just swayed in his spot slightly, he really wasn’t much of a dancer. You grab the sides of him and try to force him to dance. Of course you can’t, have you seen the man? He’s huge. He chuckles anyways, “What’s the matter, huh?”

“You gotta dance! You’re just standing there like a damn tree!”

He chuckles again, swaying a bit more to the music. He spots one of his friends (who he originally was here with) snickering at him, so he sends him the finger before turning his attention back to you.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing dancing with a man like me? You surely have a boyfriend to dance with you instead?”

You shake your head as you jump to the music, “Nope! I’m allllll ready for the taking, mister!”

He smiles at you, “Well ain’t that interesting? Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

You nod and loop your arm with his, leaning on him as he takes you to the bar. He has you sit on a stool and orders you a water and himself an alcoholic beverage. Though you begin to whine at that and say things like “I am a big girl! I can have a freakin’ beer if I want!”

You drink the water when it arrives anyways, slurping it down like you haven’t drank in days. He smiles gently at you, he really hasn’t seen a person as beautiful as you in a long time. Sure you looked pretty messed up right now, your makeup was smeared and your hair was crazy at this point. But he didn’t mind, not at all. He hadn’t had a good time at a bar in a long time. Mostly it was just sitting around with Peter or Jessica. He hasn’t gotten up to dance in a long time.

Peter always asked to dance, though Miguel has turned him down every single time and never plans to give in on that demand.

As you finish your water, you smile drunkenly up at him. You poke his chest with one finger,

“Are you married? You gotta be married. Look at you!”

He tilts his head with a smirk, “No. I’m single, actually.”

You gasp loudly. You were very obnoxious in your drunken state, clearly, “No freakin’ way. You can’t be telling the truth!”

He raises a hand to fix your hair so it isn’t in your face as he speaks, “Nope. I’m being honest, sweet thing.”

“Oh, you gotta date me then,” You say with a confident nod as he fixes your hair.

He snickers, “You seem really drunk, girlie. You sure you’re of age?”

You nod, “Yup! You wanna see my ID, officer?”

He leans back in his own stool, “I believe you, I believe you. What brings you to the bar tonight anyways, huh?”

You point to the table where half your friends are passed out in their seats, “My friend’s birthday!”

He nods, “So why’re you here with me?”

“Cause look at you!”

He chuckles and looks over at the group. He sees some sober-looking people stand and haul the passed out people to the cars outside. He looks back to you, “Looks like it’s home time.”

“Nooo! I don’ wanna go!” You pout like a child.

Miguel doesn’t listen and helps you off the stool, leading you over to the group. He nods to some of your friends and helps you to one of their cars. Before he helps you get in, you press a kiss to his cheek.

He smiles and buckles you in. He places something in your hand, then closes the car door.

As the car drives away, he reaches up and feels the lipstick mark on his cheek.

When you woke up the next morning, you found a note on your nightstand. You called your friend and asked about it and all she said was that “A real handsome man put it in your hand after he helped you to the car, so I put it on your nightstand so you wouldn’t lose it”.

Once you ended the call, you plucked the paper off the stand and read what it said.

On top was a phone number. Under it;

“Here’s my number, young thing. Hope your mother really did know you were out.

-Miguel”

Here’s another one, two in one day is super bonkers for me LOL. Hope you enjoyed. Also wanted to say I’m open to requests! Love you all ❤️❤️

don’t redistribute or steal or reupload pretty pretty please

[sixhours]

Chapter 5 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know &lt;3

~*~

Joel is waiting on your porch holding a large toolbox when you jog up at ten past the hour.

“Sorry, I’m late, got held up.”

He glowers, rumbling in his deep Texas drawl. “I said five.”

“And I said I got held up,” you reply easily, bypassing him to unlock your front door. “The kitchen’s through here.”

He follows with an exaggerated hmph and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“There,” you say, pointing up at the kitchen ceiling, a spot just above the cabinets, running down the back wall. “I think there was a leak at some point. Pipes froze, maybe.”

He walks slowly up to the wall and splays a hand against the drywall, testing its solidity. “Bathroom’s upstairs?”

“Uh-huh. Right above this.”

“Sounds like you already know what the problem is,” he says over his shoulder. “Whaddya need me for?”

“I need to make sure the floor in the bathroom is sound. And…I was hoping you could help tear out the old insulation and re-insulate so the pipes don’t freeze again.”

He shakes his head. “I told you–”

“I know, the committee, but I’m sure I can get the insulation for trade, and if you have a few free hours–”

“I don’t.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, hard.

God, he will not make this easy.

“Okay. Fine. But can you at least look at the floor?”

He sighs, “Alright. Lead the way.” 

You show him up the narrow staircase and into your bathroom. At the far end, a clawfoot tub and shower take up most of one wall. There’s barely enough room for both of you, so you let him go first. Yellowed stains creep up the floral wallpaper behind the tub, rippling across the floor underneath.

“If you step right here, you’ll see what I mean,” you squeeze tentatively past Joel in the tight space, using your foot to push down on the painted hardwood between the tub and the toilet.

You reach out to pull him toward you by the arm, but he jerks away as if burned by your touch.

“I can get it. Get outta there.”

You slide back out, hands up in mock defense, letting him take your place. He frowns at the dip in the wood when his boot puts weight on it, then stands up, hands on his hips, staring at the ceiling.

“Is there an attic in this place? Should check–”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’ve been up there. Just a bunch of junk. No water damage.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re sure? ‘Cause if there’s rain gettin’ in, there’s no point in fixin’ the floor until the roof is sealed up.”

“I’m sure. So...you think it’s safe, or…?”

“Only one way to find out,” he says, reaching for the toolbox and retrieving a hammer. He drives the claw into the wood and meets little resistance, pulling up on the first board, which bends too readily, like a twig. You wince as he goes back for more, ripping out three, four, five of the narrow oak planks like they were nothing. The subfloor underneath gives way just as easily. 

“Yeah, that’s all rot,” he says, digging into the hole he’s made, shining a flashlight into the gap between the floor and the kitchen ceiling. “You’ve got a joist here to support the tub…but it’s half gone.

“You’ll have to take out the wall on this side,” he stands up with a muffled grunt, the sound of a man with sore knees. “Plumbing’s on this wall, prob’ly leaked down from here.”

“Well…shit. I hoped it wasn’t that bad,” you lie.

“Look, if it were me, I’d ask to be reassigned,” Joel says, tucking the hammer back in the toolbox. “No shortage of houses around here.”

“I know. I’ve just…I’ve grown attached to this place,” you say, letting your voice waver. Even better if he thinks you’re crying. “It’s the first time I’ve had a…a real home in a long time, y’know? ”

You expect him to roll his eyes at this overplayed sentimentality, but he doesn’t, just considers you with that unreadable expression. You drive the point home with a shaky, hiccupy little breath.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I can do the work. It’s not gonna be pretty, drywall don’t hold up and we don’t have much. I need time to get the supplies, but–”

“Thank you!” you burst in before he can finish. “I mean, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.” You squeeze his arm, and this time he doesn’t pull away, only flinches.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go usin’ that bath,” he nods toward the tub. “And I wouldn’t use the kitchen until we get the joist replaced.”

“It’s fine. I can shower at the clinic, and I’m no cook.” He scowls as though you’ve given too much information, but you press on. “How can I repay you? Can I buy you a drink?”

“I don’t drink,” he says. He’s already picked up the toolbox and is headed for the stairs.

“Well…think about it,” you tell him. “I owe you one.”

“Right.”

~*~

You thought cornering Joel into helping with your house would give you time to work your way into his good graces, but he doesn’t make it easy. When he’s not on patrol, he’s working on community projects, leaving only a handful of free evenings to focus on your house. You always seem to be working at the clinic during those times, and part of you wonders if that’s his intent.

In the meantime, you try to get information about Ellie through subtle questions of the community. You learn her schedule, and you know who she hangs out with, and where she volunteers, but no one seems to know anything about her past.

Over the next few weeks, you come home to find your kitchen walls stripped to the studs, a steel support post holding up the clean half of the rotted floor joist. The bathroom closed off with a tarp, a note stuck to the blue vinyl.

Mold. Stay out.

He’s left an old plastic joint compound bucket on the floor, the implication clear.

What a gentleman.

He always sweeps up, wipes down the dust, and stacks his salvaged supplies and tools out of the way before he leaves. He takes out the rotted innards of your bathroom in fat black contractor bags.

You occasionally cross paths with him as he’s packing up to go, and each time you try to engage him in conversation, he answers in monosyllabic grunts and makes a wide arc around you to get to the door. Too many evenings like this and you realize you need to step it up, or the project will be finished before you’ve had a chance to learn his middle name. So on a particularly slow night, you feign a headache and leave the clinic in Shiela’s capable hands.

The whine of a saw echoes down the hall as you close your front door. You hear Joel’s low voice talking from the kitchen and you move toward the sound, keeping your steps quiet, feeling like an intruder in your own house. Through the doorway, you’re surprised to see Ellie at his side, both of them crouched over something behind the kitchen island.

“You keep your fingers clear, hand on the grip; no, not like that. It’s not a pistol. Here,” he reaches over and adjusts her grip on the drill. “This is forward. This is reverse.”

“Righty tighty, lefty loosey,” Ellie says. “I got it, I got it.”

Joel grunts. “You want a ninety-degree angle or the screw’ll get stripped. Put some muscle into it–”

There’s a mechanical whirr as the drill springs to life, the grinding of metal on metal. Then from Ellie, “Ah, shit.”

“It happens, try again,” Joel says. His voice is soft, and patient, lacking his usual gruffness.

“Hey–”

The pair startles, standing and wheeling around. You recognize the soft snick of a switchblade opening at Ellie’s side.

“Whoa, sorry,” you say. “It’s just me, I got the night off, I thought maybe you could use a hand–”

“We’re good,” Joel snaps.

“Yeah, I see you’ve got it covered,” you say, turning to the girl. “Hey, Ellie. How’s it going?”

“It’s fine,” Ellie says, shrugs. “I read those comics. They were pretty good. Maybe not as good as Savage Starlight , but still…pretty good, yeah.”

She’s wearing a purple t-shirt and her sweatshirt is piled with Joel’s jacket on the kitchen island. You step forward into the room, eyeing her exposed, scarred arm.

“So…what’s the damage?” you ask, turning to Joel.

He runs a hand through his messy hair, looking up to the ceiling, where the drywall has been torn out to expose the underside of the bathroom subfloor.

“There was mold in the bathroom drywall and the floor’s rotted out about five feet from the wall. The joist’s gonna need to be replaced, but that’s a two-man job. I might be able to talk Tommy into helpin’, but he’s got a new kid so...” He trails off as if he’s offered too much personal information, wiping his hands on a rag before tucking it into the pocket of his jeans.

“This should hold her ‘til we can get a crew in here to replace the joist. But no baths, I don’t trust this thing with that kinda weight,” he says, gesturing to the temporary support.

“You calling me fat?”

“What?” For a moment Joel looks panicked, then he rolls his eyes. “I mean a tub that size weighs a shit-ton and you fill it with fifty gallons of water, you got yourself a problem. It’s a miracle the damned thing hasn’t already fallen through.”

He continues to detail the project status, but your attention drifts back to Ellie, who’s playing with the cordless drill, holding it out in front of her like a gun. This puts her arm on full display, and now you’re close enough to see the snaking, vining cordyceps blisters under the skin, the imprint of someone’s dental work in the flesh.

“I won’t have the insulation ‘til next week, Tommy says there’s some extra up in the rec center but god knows what condition it's in. Salvage runs don’t usually turn up anything worth a shit…”

There’s no mistaking it; that’s an infected bite…

No wonder FEDRA wants this kid , you think, a cold seed of certainty planting itself in your stomach.

Suddenly Joel is in your face, stepping between you, pushing you back. “Ellie, go home.”

“But–”

“ I said go home .”

“Fucking hell, man,” Ellie huffs, snatching her sweatshirt off the counter and stalking out of the room.

He waits until you hear the front door slam before he speaks, slowly and deliberately cutting his words. “I know what you’re doing,” he growls, still standing too close; you can feel an angry heat coming off his body, the faintest kiss of his breath on your face, and your back is inches from the wall.

You hate to admit it, but you’re almost turned on.

“And what is that, exactly?” you counter. “Treating your kid? Trying to get to know my neighbors? What exactly am I doing that’s so fucking objectionable, Miller?”

He seems taken aback at your sudden venom, the use of his name. There’s a glimmer of sorrow in his eyes, but it quickly turns dark. “She’s not your friend. We don’t need no friends,” he hisses, the Texan drawl thick with agitation. “Just…back off.”

You gape at him, barking a laugh. “Wow. You’re a piece of work, you know that? Does this moody, macho-bad-boy thing go for everyone? Or am I just that fucking special?”

“I’m…” he starts, swallowing hard. You wait for the rest, but it doesn’t come. He scowls, and you feel him edge back. The rush of cool air between your bodies should be a relief.

He doesn’t clean up, doesn’t grab his tools, just shoulders his way around you and out the door.

You seethe, barely containing a sudden urge to break your fist on the wall while pretending it’s Joel’s stupid face. You settle for a few deep breaths, unsure if you’re truly irritated with him, or with yourself for letting the arrogant asshole get under your skin.

The headache you were supposedly faking has manifested behind your eyes, and you don’t fall asleep for a long time.

~*~

He’s standing on your front porch in the morning, blocking the doorway as you’re leaving for the clinic. He jumps, caught off guard when you open the door and find him there, looking lost.

“What–”

“What are you–”

You speak at the same time, cutting each other off.

“I live here,” you say, feeling a fresh prickle of ire reseat itself in the pit of your stomach. “What’s your excuse?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I…yeah.” Joel rubs at the back of his neck, visibly agitated. There’s a long silence before he finally mutters, “I wanted to apologize.”

Another long pause.

“By all means, go ahead,” you prompt.

His eyes narrow. “...what?”

“You said you wanted to apologize, but I didn’t hear an apology,” you smirk, knowing you’re being pedantic, but it feels too good to watch him squirm.

He gapes, mouth opening and closing for a few delicious seconds before he huffs. “Whatever. Need my stuff.”

He invites himself in, barreling past you and straight toward the kitchen. You follow on his heels. You don’t know you’re going to ask the question until it’s out of your mouth.

“Christ, Miller, why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He’s kneeling, shoving tools and supplies into the toolbox with force, but his head snaps up at your words.

“Shut your damn mouth,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

But you can’t stop yourself. You’ve spent the night tossing and turning, angry at yourself for how much you’ve let this stupid man get to you, and now you have him cornered.

“You get off on being a dick? Is that it?”

He’s suddenly on his feet, crossing the distance between you in two long strides. He’s so fucking close you can feel his body practically vibrating with rage. His eyes bore into yours, lit by an angry flame.

You sneer. “You wanna hit me, big man? Go right the fuck ah–”

His mouth descends on yours before you can comprehend it: The press of lips, the hard clack of his teeth, the scrape of stubble against your chin. Rough and hungry, almost needy, the kiss shocks you into a numb silence.

Your hands come up to his chest, pushing him away, too stunned to speak. You’re both breathing hard. He licks his lips, watching you, something unknowable flicking across his face before he turns, grabs his toolbox, and walks out.

What…the fuck.

You’re still trying to catch your breath, to make sense of this strange and abrupt shift, when you hear his boots thudding on the hardwood floor. He re-enters the kitchen and looks at you, flushed and contrite.

“I shouldn’t’ve done that,” he says roughly. “That’s not–”

You don’t let him finish. You turn and grab him by the collar of his flannel, throwing yourself against him, meeting his ferocity with your own. You kiss him with tongue and teeth and bite, pleased when he doesn’t pull away when his hands find your hips and dig into the soft flesh.

That’s more like it.

You tug at his belt buckle with skilled fingers and have it off before he knows what’s happening. He moans into your mouth when you bite his lower lip. You soothe the nip with your tongue, diving in, tasting him.

“Fuuuuck,” he hisses, hands fumbling at the waist of your scrubs. You help, undoing the front tie, letting the soft fabric slip down your legs. You anchor your arms around his neck and he takes the hint, pulling you up so you can wrap your legs around him. He turns you both around, slamming your back against the wall hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

More fumbling as he works his jeans down his hips–a challenge with you hanging off him, but somehow you manage. His breath is on your neck, the painful nip of his teeth at the hollow where your jaw meets your ear. Your panties are roughly pushed aside and he’s inside you, thick and hot, too full, too fast. You bite your lip to avoid crying out.

Braced against the wall, he thrusts into you, your head hitting the wall with each thrust. His brow furrows, head down in concentration, and you run your hands down his back, muttering encouragement. 

“Yeah, that’s right baby, fuck me,” you hiss, and his hand grips your jaw, covering your mouth, his eyes meeting yours in a silent warning as he punctuates his intent with a hard thrust.

Not a talker, should have known, you think, letting your teeth graze his palm, tasting salt.

You breathe, trying to stay open, to let him use you. A pleasant burn settles low in your abdomen as you get used to his invasion, but you’re barely there, just a vessel for him to fill.

His pace speeds up and you feel the telltale tensing in his back, his neck. Suddenly you’re unmoored, almost dropped, sliding down the wall. He turns away with a grunt, finishing in his hand. The emptiness between your legs throbs, half pain, half unsated desire.

There’s a long silence as the proverbial dust settles in around you. You feel a happy surge of triumph. After days of trying to breach his stony exterior, he’s finally in your territory.

“Miller–”

“I’m clean,” he says, moving to the sink, turning on the tap. His face is flushed, whether from embarrassment or arousal, you’re not sure, but his eyes are soft.

“Good. So am I,” you say brusquely, plucking your scrubs from the floor, pulling them up, and cinching them at your waist. “So this doesn’t need to be a one-time thing.”

He shakes his head, not meeting your gaze. “I’m not lookin’ for anything.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as if this encounter was the start of a romance, a prelude to anything but more fucking.

Barely passable fucking, at that.

“Neither am I,” you say. “But I have some experience with…relieving tension.”

This is as close as you’ll come to revealing your hand, letting your real-life identity bleed into this one. Not something you do as a general rule, but under the circumstances, you’ll take the risk.

He arches an eyebrow, and the expression is such a drastic difference from his stony glare that you allow yourself to admit that he’s incredibly attractive. He’s muscled from years of hard labor, hair just on the edge of salt and pepper, and when he’s not scowling, his eyes have a dark, seductive, come-fuck-me look that makes your stomach do pleasant somersaults.

“It’s a trade economy, right?” you continue, moving around him to wash your hands, smoothing loose strands of hair behind your ears. “Consider it a trade for work on the house. Payment for services rendered.”

He doesn’t respond, looks so confused that you have to bite back a smile, but you know he’ll take the bait. The desperation in his eyes, the frantic way he’d pushed inside you–this is a man who hasn’t had a physical connection in months, maybe years.

“Think about it,” you say flatly. “I’m late for work.”

You leave him standing in your kitchen, his belt buckle still undone.

~*~

He has you again two days later. You return from the clinic to find him in the bathroom on his back, wedged between the toilet and the tub. He grunts in acknowledgment when he hears you come in but doesn’t look at you, intent on his work. 

“You’re missing a shutoff valve for the shower. I’m not a plumber,” he says gruffly. “But I can do the work if we find the right fitting.”

“Oh?” you feign interest, seeing an opportunity, stripping off your scrub top and tossing it in the hamper.

“You’ve got three different kinds of pipe in here and they’re held together with fuckin’ bubblegum and spit,” he grumbles, as though the shoddy craftsmanship is somehow your fault. “No point in insulating until I clean this up and get the valve in, it’ll just leak again and you’ll be shit outta–”

When he finally sits up and looks at you, you’re standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a bra and panties. The nice ones.

“...luck,” he finishes, lips parting, eyes dark with desire, a catch in his breath. You bite back a smirk.

Men are so fucking easy.

“Wash up,” you say. “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

There’s the brief sound of running water as you wait for him on the bed, then his footsteps over the threshold. He looks nervous, unsure, as though he hadn’t just taken you up against the wall two days ago.

You crawl to the edge of the bed, reaching out to undo his belt, and his jeans, sliding them down over narrow, muscled hips and thighs. He’s already half hard, not bad for a guy pushing sixty. You take him in your hand, watching his lids grow wanton, heavy with lust. You move to take him in your mouth, but he grunts and pushes you back on the bed, gripping your thighs to pull your hips flush with his. He’s inside you before you’re fully ready, and the sensation is more pain than pleasure.

Your hands come up under his shirt, running your fingers over the warm brown skin, the softness of his abdomen in sharp contrast to the hardness between your legs. You feel the edges of a scar.

A bite?

He’s lost in you so deeply, thrusting and churning, hips snapping against yours. He doesn’t notice you pulling the shirt up at first, doesn’t see you run your fingers around the outline of the bright pink, welted crescent.

“Fuck, so fuckin’…tight…”

Not a bite , you think, no teeth marks . Your doctor’s mind is already calculating the possibilities. Stab wound, maybe. Not a blade, too jagged.

He stills as he realizes what you’re doing, eyes meeting yours in furious betrayal before slapping your hands away. He pulls out of you with a low, angry growl, and strong arms flip you onto your stomach, gripping your hips where he’d bruised you yesterday. He re-enters you hard enough to take the breath from your lungs. His sharp, angry thrusts elicit a harsh cry from your throat, and this only serves to make him move faster.

“Fuckin’ whore,” he snarls. “Showin’ off your tits. Think you’re…so…fuckin’...smart…”

“You kiss your kid with that mouth, Miller?”

“Don’t,” he growls, a guttural warning, and you fight the urge to laugh as an almost vicious thrust pitches you forward, your hands splaying in the sheets to keep yourself upright. His fingers thread their way through your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your throat. His hand on your scalp is almost intimate, the way it kneads the tender skin, and you find yourself moaning with pleasure.

Before you can truly enjoy it, he pulls out and finishes with a groan on your back, warm liquid seeping down the crack of your ass. 

“So I take it that’s a yes?” you half laugh, half pant over your shoulder.

“What?” He’s pulling up his pants, fumbling with the belt buckle.

“Payment for services rendered.”

He glares at you and huffs an angry breath, but his final word is a whisper.

“Yes.”

~*~

There is a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. You learn more about Joel during these brief encounters than you have the rest of the months you’ve lived in Jackson.

He likes you up against the wall, or on your hands and knees, fast and rough. He never completely removes his clothes, just enough to get the job done, his flannel shirts like armor guarding his heart.

He never undresses you, either, never does so much as pull down your panties, preferring to push them aside.

He likes you to be silent, but he has a dirty mouth. He smells like wood smoke and sweat and gunpowder.

He hasn’t kissed you since that first time. When you try, he pushes you away, turns you around, and takes you from behind. He won’t let you go down on him. Maybe he’s not into that, you know some guys aren’t, but you suspect it’s too personal, too intimate. Too vulnerable.

He never, ever comes inside you.

Somehow you think this isn’t what your superiors had in mind when they told you to find out who this guy’s daughter is, but it’s progress.

“Y’know, you don’t have to pull out,” you say, wiping ejaculate off your stomach with a tissue. You’re tired of washing his come out of your nice underwear, your bedclothes, your hair.

He’s sitting on the edge of your bed, pulling on his boots. You feel him pulling away, as always, and it’s a desperate move to try to keep him just a little longer, to edge your way into the cracks in his stony facade.

He scoffs at this, shaking his head, pulling the laces tight with a snap .

“I know condoms are hard to come by,” you continue evenly, the crisp voice of a practiced physician reciting rote facts, “but there’s no risk of pregnancy.”

He stiffens but doesn’t turn to look at you. “And I’m s’posed to believe that?”

You bristle, surprised to find this lack of trust stings…a little.

“What, you think I want a kid with you? You think I want a kid in…in this ?” you scoff, gesturing outside. “Don’t flatter yourself, Miller. I just hate doing laundry.”

“Accidents happen,” he grumbles, and you get the sense he speaks from experience.

“Was she an accident?” you ask, trying to imagine a younger Joel’s strong, calloused hands cradling the tender skull of a newborn Ellie, but you can’t picture it.

“Ellie? She ain’t mine.”

Oh.

You’ve touched on something, you’re so close you can taste it. What’s more, he doesn't leave immediately. He seems to be lost in thought, defenses down. He’s rubbing absently at his arm, his shoulder, kneading the muscle where his neck meets his collarbone.

“Well,” you say, clipped and final, “I haven’t had a period since I was 25. There are no accidents here.”

He looks at you with an unreadable expression; is that sadness…or pity? You don’t like the feeling it stirs in you, the twist in your gut. You suddenly wish you hadn’t started this conversation, hadn’t bared this much of yourself. It’s sloppy.

He opens his mouth as if to reply, but you’re unable to meet his eyes. You climb off the bed and head for the bathroom. Cold water on your face brings you back to yourself as you wipe off with a rough washcloth, then pull on your jeans and a soft, worn t-shirt.

Fuck. Too close.

By the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s standing in the hall. He looks like he wants to tell you something, and you meet his eyes, silently pleading.

Don’t.

Seconds pass, and you can almost see the moment his expression shutters, closes up, and suddenly he’s Joel Miller again, the neighborhood asshole. He scowls and makes for the stairs.

“You wouldn’t know it,” you say, in a desperate move to regain the upper hand, to find your footing on the roiling ground beneath you.

He stops on the first step but doesn’t turn around. “Wouldn’t know what?”

“That she’s not yours.”

~*~

When he’s gone, you walk up to the attic to check for new transmissions on the recorder.

You follow a straightforward procedure: Play back the tape, log the messages on a notepad, then wipe the tape for next time. You stash the logs at the bottom of one of the boxes of junk in the back of the attic. If someone did find the radio up here, you could get away with telling them it’s a hobby.

She ain’t mine.

His words ring in your ears.

Was the girl kidnapped? She doesn’t act like a victim, but maybe she was taken before she was old enough to understand what was happening. Maybe she has only ever known Joel as a father, and the mother is out there trying to find her. Were you chasing after some petty custody battle?

You brush the idea aside. You can’t imagine why FEDRA would care, and it doesn’t explain the scars on her arm.

You finish your notes and store them for the night, left with more questions than answers.

[stealingyourbones]

I posted 4,197 times in 2022

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#danny phantom - 1,209 posts

#dp x dc - 1,171 posts

#dc comics - 1,065 posts

#writing prompts - 1,006 posts

#dpxdc - 920 posts

#dp x dc prompt - 810 posts

#and the thick plotens - 780 posts

#bones replies - 599 posts

#bones prompts - 491 posts

#dc - 309 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#the “’don’t u tell me u don’t know who i am’ ‘bro i literally have never seen you in my life’ interaction was almost exactly the emotions-

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Concept that I feel hasn’t been tapped into with dp x dc:

John Constantine begrudgingly being pals with Danny Phantom. When Danny was just barley ghost king, John summons him in some way to loophole his way out of another deal with a different entity he’s made a contract with. Ya know, a good ol “I’ll sell my soul to multiple entities so they can’t claim my soul or else start a war fighting for it and instead make myself unable to die” for the nth time. Danny doesn’t accept because the concept of owning someone’s soul as unnerving and not morally correct but helps John in whatever situation is needed and John is just bamboozled because he didn’t need to con and loophole his way out of whatever situation he was in and this strange ghost boy is doing it willingly and only asks to stop for some fast food after the fight as payment.

This is the start of a whole bunch of wild circumstances that make John Constantine summon/meet up with phantom to fix some dark magic shenanigans because Danny is one hell of a powerful entity and he doesn’t worry about having to owe back Danny in favors or debts that are magically binding which is a really nice change of pace.

Personally I imagine the vibe that the fandom has decided John and Billy Batson dynamic is like: A Concerned and frankly pitiful attempt of a parental figure with a kid who’s powerful enough to end the world if they felt like it. Added onto that is John freaking out because ‘why did the universe give this freaking child so much power holy shit oh god this could end absolutely terribly what the hell do I do’

Just Constantine and Danny combatting and stopping demons and curses of the hellish variety and just slowly meeting the magic users of the Justice League before meeting everyone as a gradual set up of Constantine, Justice League member, & Danny, stopping smaller arcane based entities/artifacts from causing damage to the world. Ending in Danny meeting the entire Justice League and stopping an insane threat and letting everyone really know just how powerful he is.

OR Constantine calling Danny for some big scale Justice league issue and the magic users freaking the hell out because ‘how the hell does John fuckin Constantine have a leader of an entire dimension/realm in his back pocket for emergency contacts and why do they have a good relationship with eachother’ ?!

3,678 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

#4

Submitted Prompts #5

After Danny became the Ghost King, the entire magic community learned that the King was available for summons again. Slight issue: Danny is different from the previous King. His summoning circle has completely different requirements that everyone is rushing to figure out for their own purpose.

3,848 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

#3

So what if the “No metas in Gotham” thing scared Danny Fenton away from Gotham City?

What if Danny gets a grant or scholarship at Central City University?

What if Danny gets an internship job as an assistant Forensic Scientist at the Central City Police Department?

Ok so hear me out:

The Rouges in Central City are much more chill and jokey than most superhero protected cities and have a good relationship with The Flash and would remind Danny of Amnity in that sense.

Danny’s entire obsession with protection and also a likely mentality of “Police and law enforcement have been horrible to me in the past so I will do everything I can to make sure what happens to me happens to no one else” would make him strive to be an honest protector of the people. He could be a cop and Barry Allen works with him because he knows that Danny isn’t corrupt. A reverse Batman and Jim Gordon if you will. He could also be a Forensic Scientist that recently joined CCPD and Barry Allen is assigned to be his mentor to show him the ropes. Either way The Flash grows to respect and care for this really strange kid who’s eyes sometimes look green as a trick of the light.

Danny using his powers to help solve murders, crimes, and ghostly shenanigans in Central City by talking to the local paranormal entities and recently deceased and pretending that he just is really really good at his job (well he is, but he has a bit of ghostly help.)

The Flash and Kid Flash notice this strange white haired meta zipping around and go to meet him and find out that he’s roughly Wally’s age. The speed force feels a bit strange around this kid, Like he’s been a part of multiple time altering changes. He doesn’t seem malicious though and the kid is really funny so Barry is going to let this ghostly meta do his own thing.

Phantom and The Flash start teaming up. Having an extra person in a battle is always nice. The Flash also notices that this Phantom kid is always DELIGHTED to fight Captain Cold. What The Flash expected to be a long battle that would end in almost frostbite and a long night with little to no sleep ended up being a five minute excursion. The Phantom reveling in the low temperatures and freezing Captain Cold’s cold gun and feet with a more crystalline and shinier type of ice. Instantly ending the battle.

Phantom fights Abra Kadabra and loudly complains to Abra while fighting how stupid Abra’s gimmick is and that it doesn’t look like real magic.

Phantom helps dismantle Weather Wizards plan to blot out the sun by simply turning the giant storm clouds that the Wizard summoned into snow.

The Flash is completely dumbfounded when the Reverse Flash shows up at his work, taunts Barry Allen, when Phantom comes out of nowhere, possesses The Reverse Flash, who then asks the location of the nearest containment facility that’ll house a speedster. Danny/Reverse Flash proceeds to run himself to the location, lock himself in, and exit Thawne’s body. The amount of awe Barry feels can’t even be put to words. Barry Allen’s arch nemesis. Defeated by a ghostly kid who has bi weekly hangouts with his nephew to binge watch D-list horror movies. What the fuck.

Danny has a great relationship with Barry. The two quickly bond over being quippy and aren’t annoyed when the other is consistently late to every possible meet up. Danny is incredibly dexterous and knows his way around the lab and Barry is happy to chat with someone who happily will talk back and ramble on about their life and has a genuine want to help others.

If Barry asks Batman on tips with how to take care of an overworked and constantly exhausted kid that’s between him and the Bat.

Barry mentally adopts this strange coworker and if he spotted the kid behind the CCPD building turning into Phantom? That’s none of his business and for Danny to reveal to him on his own time.

3,898 notes - Posted July 27, 2022

#2

I saw one of your Short DPXDC Prompts and was inspired by this….

I understand that cloning a Kryptonian was not easy for Luthor's people, so they added human DNA…

but I remember that it has been mentioned in some places that treatments/conditions are needed to mix the DNA of the two species and that they are mostly only accessible in Superman's fortress…

So I got to this madness… Somehow, (possibly GIW or even Vlad) Danny's ectoplasm gets to Luthor Corp. and some scientist had the bright idea to use it as a stabilizer, it wasn't enough to stabilize a Kryptonian Clone, but for a Human/Kryptonian hybrid. ..

And of course, nobody knew that said chemical substance was DNA of the new King of the Infinite Realms…

Mikami your MIND-

This is just beautiful. What would that make Connor? 1/4 ghost? 1/8th ghost? Idk but using halfa DNA to bind the two different species DNA together is SO GOOD dude.

Looks like Connor has another Dad and he’ll do anything to find him and get some answers

4,494 notes - Posted October 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Danny is walking along in Gotham and trips and falls into a massive puddle. Instead of making a splash or hitting the cold wet floor, he simply goes through the ground and turns invisible as he falls.

Now imagine you are a Gotham vigilante just chilling on the rooftops and you see this scrawny ass black haired kid just eat shit and fall face first toward a puddle and just sink into the puddle with barley even a ripple. Completely vanishing from sight. The bafflement and chaos that would ensue from that… truly marvelous.

5,498 notes - Posted August 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[rottencoyote]

for like, idk maybe for like four months i’ve been pissed off at my friend, FOR GOOD REASON BRO I SWEAR! so when i was still doing uni (studying in film for whoever wanted to know, and somehow graduated idea bro that was the big man upstairs doing me a solid for once), me and my friend went on break and walked around the city doing fuck knows what, cause that’s what uni students do ig. she was bored, and i was bored, so i was like “hey! wanna go see my favourite store? sells cool shit” (by cool shit, i mean cool clothing and jewellery and other neat lil nick nacks) and she said “sure id love to!”.

now a thing about my friend is that she likes to steal. actively steal. both because she thinks it’s fun and because she can’t afford what she wants sometimes cause she spends most her money on vapes and weed and a bunch of other psychedelics. before we entered the store, i made her promise not to steal, cause i love and respect the fuck out of this store and i’ve wanted to work there since i was fifteen (and i’m now twenty). she said she promised and swore she wouldn’t take anything, and me being a fucking hopeful and trusting dumb fuck, believed her. now i saw this really sick hoodie, where it was basically a cropped hoodie (STAY WITH ME ON THIS) but it was made to look like a rib cage, so it was fucking cool. the owner sold it to me for 45 bucks, but the hoodie originally costed 55 bucks, so she took ten bucks off cause i fell in love with this hoodie, so i got real fucking hyped and thanked her profusely. now, this is a key thing to remember, cause the tags they used were airtags. the type of tags where it needed to be unlocked with a type of pin at the front desk. otherwise you can’t take that shit off, unless you got scissors (this is also important).

so my friend went into the change room with a BUNCH of clothes, and i waited near the front and had small talk with the store owner, asking if it’s been busy, slow, shit like that. i noticed that my friend is taking a long fucking time, so i go to check on her and ask if she’s good, and she said yes, paused then asked “hey coyote? do you have any scissors in your bag? i need it for my nails”

now this is where a lot of my guilt comes in, cause i genuinely didn’t realise my mistake until it was too late. i said yeah in my bag (which was in the change room with her) and she said thanks. i always carry scissors on me cause i like to scrap book, and if i see anything interesting i cut it out and sample it to put into my sketch book so i get inspired for any future projects.

after like another ten minutes she finally comes out, but i notice two things. the first was that there were significantly less clothes than when she walked into the change rooms with, and the second thing was noticing something sticking out of her pocket.

SHE CUT THE FUCKING TAGS OFF WHEN I TOLD HER NOT TO FUCKING STEAL. SHE EVEN PROMISED ME MULTIPLE TIMES TOO!!!!

like????

now i’m freaking out, cause i don’t want to get roped into this. and she kept on trying to reassure me and said it’s fine she’s a ‘pro’ at this. bro idgaf you promised me and BROKE that promise. the lady asked where the clothes were, and my friend said in the free clothes box. so i go and check, literally emptying the box while thinking “she’s fucked, i’m fucked, we’re BOTH fucked, god PLEASE no” just planning out my fucking funeral atp, and the woman goes to the BOTH OF US “empty your bags, now.”

i watched her empty her bag, fucking cringing and mortified, just watching the store owner tear into her, saying she has to pay for all of it. i started apologising profusely, telling her i didn’t know she was going to do this, just kept on saying i’m sorry over and over again, cause i’m livid, mortified, just fucking humiliated at my friend. BRO, THE STOREOWNER DEADASS LOOKED ME IN THE EYE, AND SAYS THAT I WAS IN ON IT?? HUH??? KEEP IN MIND THERES LIKE FOUR OTHER PEOPLE IN THE STORE WATCHING THIS HAPPENING AND WERE JUST JUDGING US. (which i don’t blame them, cause it was a fucking shitshow and a half). the storeowner asked her how did she even do this, and she said “i used my nails to cut the fabric”…bro come ON LIKE-

you could tell she used scissors, CAUSE SHE DID. MY DAMN SCISSORS THAT WERE IN MY BAG. CAUSE IM A STUPID FUCKING DUMB FUCK WHO REALISED WHAT SHE WAS DOING WAY TOO FUCKING LATE.

i genuinely wanted to fucking cry AND die man, right then and there. i was so unbelievably humiliated and embarrassed cause my fucking friend couldn’t keep her damn hands to herself and couldn’t keep her promise. the storeowner said that she did the same thing at our age, and said she wouldn’t call the cops on us, i tried saying sorry again and that i never meant for my friend to do this, and pretty much got shut down again and that the storeowner didn’t want to hear my excuses. i ended up dragging my friend out from there and tearing her a new one, saying how i can never show my face there or even step foot into that store again, and she kept saying sorry, but also tried to joke about it?? which only made me more fucking angry, cause any chance i had of working there was just fucking trampled, chewed and spat onto the fucking dirt because of her.

i feel guilty cause i was unknowingly involved until it was too late, but i’m angry and hurt because she promised me that she wouldn’t steal from there, but did it anyways and didn’t give two shits, and that i got pulled into it and blamed because if she was stealing, then that meant i was stealing too. idk man, cause it’s been four months and it’s STILL bugging me, cause it was literally MY DREAM to work there. it sucks man. it really fucking sucks.

[shy-peacock]

Idk if you’re still taking requests for Ratld, but could you do a snippet of a Romeo and Juliet/ star cross lovers fic? I’ve been obsessed with that trope recently.

I love your writing so much. The work you put into it is phenomenal to me.😁☺️happy holidays!

Thank you! Sorry it took so long to post something. Here’s…a snippet of whatever this could be XD rated T-ish??? I guess?? Modernish (kinda reminds me of west side story era 😂)

The bell rang and students in bright white and black uniforms filed quickly out of the old school building, practically racing away from the grounds that had held them captive for the last eight hours. Eager, at last, to be done with the school day.

At least Ati was, who felt a major headache tearing through her that would just not relent. Pounding, making her mood sour as she walked the path home. Alone at first, until a familiar face began to walk at her side.

“You look like shit-“ Namaari, her cousin, commented as she found her amongst their fellow students. A shit-eating grin on her lips, clearly wanting to have some fun at her cousin’s misery now that the long school day was over.

“Fuck off-“ she huffed, “I’m not in the mood.”

“When are you ever in a good mood?” Namaari pointed out as she nudged her with her fist, “honestly?”

“On the weekends, when I don’t have to be here.” Atitaya replied, “thank God we have only one more year here and that’s it.”

“Then college.” Namaari sighed, dramatically.

“Then…college..” Ati grumbled.

College, where they either stayed in the same private academy and took some courses while they lived in the dorms they’d always known, albeit in the young adult district, or- what Atitaya wanted to do, find a college far away from Fang Academy and this boring ass town for something much better off in the land of anywhere but here.

It’s what a lot of them did.

Though Namaari was still on the fence about it.

“You decide yet-?” Ati asked, mentioning what they both probably were thinking at the moment. Her eyes focused on Namaari as they walked, watching the way her eyes fell and she shrugged at the question.

The same response she always gave Atitaya. Her uncertainty still as such since they first entered the halls of Fang Academy.

“You should come with me-…I mean, just cause your Mom runs the school doesn’t mean you have to stay here!“ Atitaya suggested, “we could actually wear normal clothes to school instead of these uniforms every day.”

Namaari chuckled. But, before she could say another word, her footsteps slowed until she had come to a complete stop. Atitaya first looking back at her cousin, then forward at the scene she had her eyes focused on. An irritation coming back strong and heavy, along with her headache, as she spot the blue and black uniforms walking ahead of them from a distance.

Heart Society students.

Even worse, it was a particular group of them that always seemed to come around just when Ati was having a bad day. The girl with blue hair, the young freshman that looked like he was eight more than thirteen, other rag tag members of their little gang walking about now that the school day had ended. The most annoying of the bunch, plenty of whom she and other Fang students had fought before with both words and fists.

It honestly couldn’t have been more perfectly timed. Ati was itching for a reason to get out her frustrations that afternoon. Spying the group from a distance as they saw them. Comments and fingers pointed in their direction, nasty glares that could kill. Some of her other fellow Fang Academy kids noticed them as well, falling behind Ati as she began cracking her knuckles, ready to go.

“They just made my day-“ Ati smirked, nodding towards Namaari, “care to join me?”

Namaari shrugged, which she apparently was doing a lot of lately.

“Nah- let’s just go…”

“Seriously?!”

“You know the cops still keep an eye out for us whenever we start gathering like this!”

“So what, I don’t see any around- do you?”

“No- but, I don’t have time to get into stupid fights with our rival school-…” Namaari stated, “they’re just some dumb lackeys anyways- their ‘appointed leader’ isn’t with them.”

Ati looked at them again, seeing that their so-called leader wasn’t actually with them. As Namaari said. Another advantage, in her opinion, since Fang’s had their leader with them.

“Come on- you have to face them!” Atitaya practically growled, “the others at Fang look up to you, what’ll it say about us if you walk away now!”

There went that shrug again.

“I’m not anyone’s leader-“

“You know that’s not true-“

“Okay- but even so, I’m trying to stay out of trouble-“

“Since when?” Atitaya laughed, playfully shoving her, “you’ve been a trouble maker since we both were kids-“

“And we aren’t kids anymore.” Namaari shot back, playfully, yet the weight of the words were heavier now. Especially as she patted Atitaya on the shoulder. “Just ignore them…I mean- remember, we have the winning score so far on account of our group beating the snot out of them a few weeks back..“ Namaari pointed out, “why risk your winning streak?”

Atitaya rolled her eyes, still wanting to fight all the same. Especially as she swore one of those rotten Heart Society kids gave them the finger.

Yeah- she was definitely gonna let them have it today.

She turned, ready to tell Namaari just this when she realized her cousin was no longer by her side. The young woman several steps down the road, making a quick right before waving her off.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Atitaya called after her, throwing her hands out angrily.

“I told you, I’m busy!” Namaari called after, “see you tomorrow!”

“Wha-…Busy with what?!”

But it was too late, Namaari high tailed it out of there before she could shake her down and demand an answer. That, along with bombard her with plenty other questions she had about Namaari’s recent activities she got up to that had her so “busy” for not only Ati but pretty much everything else in her life. Family, friends, hell- ….even school! Her cousin’s head in the clouds it seemed, elsewhere, even when she was right before her.

A sigh tore through her, rolling her eyes.

Whatever Namaari was up to, she was sure her cousin would tell her…eventually.

~~~~~

An abandoned shed isn’t the best place for this sort of thing, but they manage it just fine.

Before- it was Namaari’s secret hideaway. A place she fixed up as a kid with an old couch, a few battery operated lights, some posters and plenty of splinters and busted thumbs from trying to hammer things into place. Making the shed sturdy enough that she didn’t have to worry about it caving in when she was needing space to work on homework or just simply be away from people.

Or, as she was now, make out with her girlfriend- Raya.

The pair of them on the couch she was sure was harboring mold somewhere underneath it, Namaari sitting back with Raya practically in her lap at this moment. Leaning into her while they kissed, the air thickening with more than just dust particles. Her hands exploring her curves and down against her thigh, feeling how goosebumps pebbled here as her fingertips pressed roughly into Raya’s skin. Especially when Namaari’s hand rose higher, moving under her skirt that had hiked up amidst their not-exactly-innocent movements. Just barely touching her underwear before she felt a hand take her wrist and move it back along the couch, a breathy laugh slipping out of her girlfriends lips as she pulled back.

“Over the clothes.” Raya warned, her voice teasing still as she gave Namaari a knowing smirk.

“I was?” Namaari joked, immediately sighing in defeat when her girlfriend gave her a pointed look, “I was over your underwear..that’s clothes right?”

“Sure- just like you’re on top right now, huh?” Raya playfully jabbed, pointing out what Namaari had said she wanted to do earlier when they met here in this secret place. Only for her to sink back into the couch as Raya hovered over her, melting like butter to her touch.

As usual.

“Oof-…okay, fine.” Namaari laughed, “I’m sorry-“

Raya smirked, playing with Namaari’s shirt between them.

“You can touch me all you want when you take me on a date this weekend-“ she teased, “and when we have an actual bed and the privacy of a locked door.”

“I put a brick at the door-?” Namaari pointed out, both of them chuckling at the absurdity of the comment. As if a brick was going to stop someone from walking in on them or peaking in at the broken window, “I know- I’m teasing..” she soothed, leaning up to kiss Raya then, “I’d want you to actually enjoy it- not worry about if someone was about to walk in.”

Raya sighed, kissing her back.

“I know,” she husked, “I’m hard to resist…”

“Incredibly..” Namaari said back, falling right back into it.

This had been their usual for the past year. Coming here in private, seeing each other on the weekends. No one knew they were together, Raya of the Heart Society- their proclaimed leader,and Namaari who was the Leader of Fang Academy as appointed by her peers. Both of them falling in love sometime amidst all the fighting. The popular schools, run also by each of their parents, having a negative effect on even the community as it seemed everyone had taken a side. Branding the colors blue or white- thinking one was better than the other.

Meanwhile, in the shadows, Raya and Namaari had shed those colors and left them at the door, wanting to be together despite their differing connections. Their love breaking through those differences and yet being the very reason why they still hid this love away. Knowing that if anyone found out, they’d be forced apart.

But next year? Next year they at least had the chance to leave this place behind. To be together without anyone around to question the sincerity of it or remind them of what they should be.

Enemies, rivals, anything but what they were. Which was lovers, girlfriends, someday maybe even wives to one another.

They had to make it through this year, then everything would be better.

Time went by far too quickly for them that afternoon. The streetlights came on when they left the shed, the night quickly growing darker- yet giving them some extra moments together as they walked up the alley to where they’d part at the street.

Raya first, then Namaari

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Raya asked, the both of them standing close just before the opening of the alley. Knowing and seeing no one around.

“Same time, same place.” Namaari assured her, kissing her one last time before they parted. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Raya sighed, happily, before leaving her side.

Namaari watched her go, wishing she could follow her, then turned towards home. Eager for tomorrow to hurry along and get here, so that she could be with Raya once again.

.

.

.

.

.

As they left the alley, moving quickly through the night. Neither of them noticed a third shadow lurking down the path, spotting them, seeing what had happened before they left. Eyes wide, heart hammering in her chest at their shared kiss- the betrayal that rocked her to her core.

Her cousin-…with one of them.

Atitaya waited till they were out of sight before stepping out into the light of the street. She glanced one way, knowing she could easily approach her cousin and demand an explanation for what had just happened. Try to understand it, to make sense of how she could do this to not only her friends but her family!

A moment passed.

Then she moved.

Instead of following Namaari, she turned the opposite way- towards the leader of the Heart Society. A wicked idea forming as she followed after her.

(Continue???)

[lexyvey]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐔)

I didn’t really have your typical upbringing. I mean, even before, when I had no mom and an alcoholic piece of shit father. All it did was make for a 12-year-old runaway burdening his Uncle Wayne’s doorstep. And sure, that’s normal-ish, but then the world ended. I don’t think anyone was really shocked – mean, yea it was shocking to the masses of mindlessly pathetic capital pigs twiddling their thumbs never asking questions of why or should I – but I digress. It wasn’t really much of a shock to those whose lives had been shaped by the Upside Down before the end of times. Robin kind of always thought it might after all the times it had screwed our little rag-tag group over, but then it finally happened. How it happened, now that’s where it gets interesting.

In 86’ we thought we’d finally defeated Vecna. I had only just joined in on the fight, but apparently, this guy was tired of waking, eating, and sleeping —or I think that’s how his evil cliche monologue went (truth be told I remembered every word because… well… he wasn’t exactly wrong on that front, but whatever) – and decided it was his purpose to turn earth into some monster fucked hellscape. The superhero girl gave him a hell of his own using magic powers though and the world was saved… except that didn’t quite end up happening. See, Max… she didn’t quite make it to the hospital before letting go. It wasn’t until two days later that everything changed.

And by “everything,” I mean cold-blooded creatures. 

And by “changed,” I mean supernatural cancer that caused temperatures to plummet and weather to shift, an overwhelming increase of fungi and sense of rot, and an unhealthy appetite for death. Flower-faced-face-sucking-fuckers, giant spider thingies, mutated bats: You name it. There’s a lot of them.

I knew this one kid, whose cat was eaten by his “pet lizard,” Dart, which turned out to be one of those juvenile flower-faced-face-sucking-fuckers. Man, Dustin loved Dart… and that cat.

So, for most of human history, if you wanted to kill a bat, all you needed was a glue trap. Well, suddenly you needed a shotgun – thank God for Nancy Wheeler. And sometimes even a tank. And sometimes… even that doesn’t work. Especially if you don’t stay in the tank.

Eventually, the really big ones and our military took each other out. We lost 95% of the human population in about a year. Mean, that’s one way to combat overpopulation issues, but… that’s a lot of Bobs… and a lot of Barbs that never deserved to die (Billy can suck my --).

Those of us who survived, we hid anywhere we could. Bunkers, caves, panic rooms, all around the world. So, for the last seven years, I’ve been living in an underground bunker. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Really. It’s a great group of people, and we all love each other. It’s kinda what I imagined college would have looked like (not like I’d ever be caught dead there even before all this shit).

“Are you sure he’s asleep?”

“Who?”

“Eddie. Who else?”

“Yeah, he’s asleep.”

“Hang on. Shh.”

“He’s not awake.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s just you.”

“I just… I don’t…”

“Eddie. Eddie.”

“See? He’s not awake. It’s just you.”

Dear Stevie,

I am wide awake. I’ve just gotten really good at not really moving or breathing. Being stuck in a survival bunker with a bunch of people who have all found their soul mate is less than ideal. Karen and Ray got together a few months ago, so they’re still kinda in their honeymoon phase. It is super physical. Good for them. They’re both very attractive and apparently quite flexible.

Hey, life’s short. Especially down here.

After Tim’s parents were eaten by a swarm of demobats, he and Ava became inseparable. So, pretty much everyone’s coupled up down here. Our first baby was born last winter. It was super emotional.

Welcome to the apocalypse, kid.

The food sucks. At least you’ll never know what you’re missing.

Kala and Connor got together after Sharon died. Sharon was a cow that ate a box of laundry detergent – it was a pretty Ozzy move – and now we only have one cow. Her name’s Debbie. Debbie is great. Debbie’s not our only food source. We actually have a hunting party that brings back whatever they can from the surface. It was easier in the beginning, you know, before we ran out of bullets. Facing down one of those things with a janky handmade weapon is no walk in the stuck-up suburban neighborhood dog park. Or so they tell me.

I don’t go on the hunting parties. They need me in the kitchen. I’m kinda the, uh… the chef of the bunker. I know, I know. Ironic that the guy who lived off a diet of Yoohoos, weed, and Combos is the chef. Laugh it up Harrington, but everyone likes my Minestrone.

Being the only single person in the bunker has its perks too. I get to hang out with Tomy Omnibot 2000. Of course, he’s not much for conversation. The core battery’s shot, just like every other Tomy, I’d imagine. Actually, I’ve never seen a working one.

Sure wish you were here, Stevie. I’d love for you to meet everyone.

[crowlore]

complaining about tristamp under the cut so if you liked it just keep scrolling. it’s not going in any tags because this isn’t an invitation for discussion, just venting. i’m not pulling my punches with this and i am not looking for a rebuttal if you felt differently. warning: this will be a Very Long Read, and probably contain trimax spoilers. now that the boundary’s placed, let’s go.

this is gonna be pretty stream of consciousness, so i’ll type as i go and then double back to break up the walls of text for easier reading.

now. i’m very critical. i criticize the things i love, mostly out of love, because i want them to be better! so just keep that in mind whenever i talk shit about this show. i don’t like to post when angry, because i think i get a little too mean sometimes and have to walk it back a bit later, but my god. i can’t say i enjoy this as an adaptation, or retelling, or reboot, or what have you. it’s gorgeous, there’s clearly heart in it, but it’s just some incredibly sloppy narrative composition/pacing, blatant disregard for the emotional impact of the original by chopping it up and rearranging the pieces, watering down of the characters, like. this feels like lazy fanfiction.

it’s just like... maybe if i grab some things out of the discord server that i wrote when more level headed my point will come across better. this should cover my issues with the entire season as a whole, not just the finale (cause honestly...i haven’t been able to fully articulate my problems with it yet). to preface this, i DO have good things to say about stampede, and you’ll probably catch glimpses of it in some of these screenshots (i keep 99% of my discussions of trigun contained to the Greater Gamer Polycule in order to avoid internet strangers who think a differing opinion is invitation to debate someone). but we’re not here for praise. we’re here for criticism.

so, i had some speculations about the reworking of the timeline we were seeing in stampede, and now that the season is over i can concede that they really did waste an entire season of my time to set up trigun proper. i say wasted cause like. nothing happened lmao. we got hardly any real plot and ZERO character development. these people are not friends. it’s aggravatingly bad character writing. i originally thinking they were ‘remixing’ the plot because they did just move a bunch of mid/late game trimax plot points up into their drawn out prologue. it...does not sit right with me, because it makes these plot points, which were very impactful in the manga, feel unearned.

as you can see, it’s NOT that i’m close minded to the potential of the reboot on principle alone. i have found some joy in the (very rare) moments of levity, intentional or not, that we did get in stampede. but overall. you know. just some bad adaptational changes.

^ me explaining the concept of stampede to a friend thinking of looking into trigun for the first time, as secondary evidence that i don’t hate stampede at all, especially not on principle.

i had hope! i wanted to believe this would be a version of trigun i could love as sincerely as i loved the manga and 98 anime (we’re not gonna talk much about 98 in this post, because i recognize stampede as being more of a retelling of the manga, and my complaints today are centrally about the narrative structure, emotional tone, and characterizations of the cast, etc)

speaking of narrative structure! here’s one of the pitfalls i found in how stampede handled its pacing and character dynamics

more of what i had to say about the characterizations just being...off, alongside the mismanaged (imo) emotional tone and pacing of relationships. this example Does mention the 98 anime but was part of a larger discussion comparing all three versions of the story. overall we just don’t get to see these characters being given room to breathe and really get to get to know one another, have fun and bond on an adventure. and that consequently has a severe negative effect on the weight of their interactions the deeper we get into the show. these people just aren’t friends.

lucian’s gay ass summoning the horrors moment... but yeah. let’s lean into this topic actually. because i’ve had a LOT to say about how important vash and wolfwood’s relationship is for both their characters in the manga and how my knowledge of the manga and 98 anime has to do all the emotional heavy lifting for me to feel anything when watching their stampede iterations interact.

got a little mad about this one, huh!

to wrap things up here i’ll leave you with one of my longer rants from after episode 11

so. yeah. i’m like super mentally and emotionally drained after this finale.

[greatyme]

8 Shows To Get To Know Me

Thank u for tagging me @jyuubin!!

Invader zim

I was a big nick/cartoon network kid & invader zim is just such a classic. I would watch the shit out of it, I’ve bought the whole series, the whole deal. When I was little I based my identity off of gir and when I was rewatching not too long ago I realized I still have so many lines memorized… it’s so silly and stupid and smart and gross I love it

My babysitter’s a vampire

Since this is a get to know me tag we’re like going through time with these series. This is another one I have lines memorized from! If I were to say which character I am it would be Rory and that is Important to know. A bunch of my friends love it too and we’ve rewatched it together it’s so fun whenever we do <3 another classic if u ask me

Merlin

If u asked me in like 2015-2017ish what my fav show is I probably would’ve said Merlin. And it stayed up there as a fav show for a WHILE. I’ve never been able to rewatch it bc of like. The Pain the finale caused me but I was obsessed with it when I did watch it. I had some huge multiship mindset going when I watched it and was shipping basically everyone together which I don’t think I’ve done for any other show… I watched tf out of the bts for it too. Like I was kinda in deep…

Skam/druck/skam austin

Is it cheating if I put a show and my two fav remakes LMAO… I’m a big skam girlie. We should all know this. I made this acc when druck was airing as a skam + remakes blog. I had a skam austin username for the longest time (rip gracefulnosplinters). The og is such a classic and gave me some of my fav pan rep (so did druck)! I was so so so obsessed and in my heart I still am. I’ll defend skam austin to the ends of the earth. I met some of the druck cast members (heyyy Lukas). I lived and breathed those clip drops in real time like they were AIR. I completed the Norwegian duolingo course and my streak is still going. But really which skam viewer has ever been not entirely invested in the series. I’ll stop now cuz I could talk Forever about it all…

The untamed

Oh god. If you knew me when I first watched cql I’m genuinely so sorry… I would NOT shut up. It was every other word out of my mouth. I related every goddamn thing I saw to the show. It consumed me for MONTHS. As in I literally couldn’t watch anything else until a few months later after binging all sorts of bts, adaptations, and reading parts of the novel (funny thing is I still haven’t seen all adaptations/everything lmao). I always say it’s a good thing I couldn’t legally drive people when I was in this phase cuz I ONLY listened to/played the fucking character osts in the car for months like I knowww my mom was sick of it (she’s the only one who had to deal with me in the car lmfao). It was also the first time I ever actually made a sideblog for anything. I found the show at a very fitting time in my life too. Probably one of the hardest times ever but some of the themes in the series stuck with me in ways that felt so personal. A lot of love here

Kinnporsche

Another one I was super invested in at the time. Would not shut tf up about vegaspete. Very annoying about. Rewatched tf out of it. You know the drill. The few months I spent watching it was so eventful

HIStory2: crossing the line

Okay I think I’m really just in a HIStory mood lately but this fucking show. THESE TWO. YU HAO AND ZI XUAN. WHAT THE FUCK. The best way I can explain this is in a way no one else can understand: it appeals to a younger part of me in a very specific way. Like it’s scary. The chemistry is insane like going back to it after about a year still made me feel the exact same crazy way. One of the greatest losses caused by covid was the sequel that got cancelled 💔

Bad buddy

We all saw this coming. Gotta end with a bang. My favorite ql of all time. Insane to experience live and such a perfectly crafted show (thx p’aof). Layers upon layers of depth to write about (which like tbh every bad buddy fan basically has, me included). Just so much to love. Speaking of love: milklove origins too!!! We get it all from one silly little series. I remember exactly where I was so vividly when I experienced so many iconic scenes. It’s legendary!

I’m gonna tag @dumpsterslugz (I can tag you in things like this now >:D) @pondphuwin @heart-ming @markpakin & anyone else who wants 2 do this !!

[residentdormouse]

Reiterating those Rogue ‘R’ Words

I will reluctantly but respectfully relinquish the reins on the ‘r’ alliteration and renounce any reclaim, regardless of ‘Resident’ reoccuring in my repertoire. In retrospect, your ratio of resounding ‘r’ rhythms ring more readily than my own. Remarkably, even with more reserves running rampant, I’m rubbish at rounding up the required rolling resonance. Maybe I should rethink my rapport with the reverberation before rescinding my right and reaping any resulting repercussions, but really? Any further redundant repetition on my part would be rudimentary at best.

(I’ll give you the “r”s @mrsmungus , not sure I can find any good alliteration using them in mine; I just like saying ‘Fuck off, Flagg’😂)

My Words: Rather, Rest, Reveal, Road, River

Your Words: Support, Scared, Sincere, Star, Safe

If you feel inclined to join, don’t hesitate to ‘@’ me! -OPEN TAG-

Rather

(I thought I used this more than I did. Weird. Ah well, a lot of them are very spoiler-ish, so this is the least of the bunch I think? TW referenced drug use in case that’s an issue.)

“Both of us. Attachments only cause problems.”

“You really are full of shit, you know that? Problems? Pretty sure the way you're living, causing problems is exactly what you're doing right now. Fucking people you consider desposable while doing coke in the back of clubs. You’re saying attachments are more problematic than that?! That makes zero–”

“Because people leave, Harold! They die!”

And there its was, the raw nerve that needed the walls, that required her to wear a mask. Running from a past that would never leave her.

“So you’d rather not even bother, then? Hm. I guess, you just didn’t seem like the type.”

Everything stopped. Her movements, expressions, breath. She was frozen until the words were fully actualized.

“What did you say…”

“Being afraid, playing it safe. Hiding away. Never would have guessed that was the real you, Max.”

The rise and fall of her chest was staggered, and he could tell she was doing her best to control herself. After a few moments, she let out her short but articulated reply.

“Fuck. You. Harold.”

Rest

"Mother Abagail said that we need to have faith. I'm not sure what's beyond here. God. An afterlife. Heaven. Hell. I don't have much faith in all that. But I have faith in you. If this is going to be successful, you'll need to be ready for him."

He put a hand on her cheek, and her shoulders slumped down, head leaning forward to rest against his. A brief moment passed before he urged her to look back at him. Still wet, her eyes shimmered, but held anything further at bay.

“So what do you say, Giggles? Give this another shot?”

She nodded her reply, took a deep breath, and adjusted herself into a comfortable position. She let her eyes close and let her mind focus solely on his words in the moment.

Reveal

(I can only use one sentence because both before and after are spoiler heavy, but its a reference to a canon joke, and it made me laugh when I read it.)

Teddy fired a couple shots, finally revealing the gun he had yet to shoot his dick off with.

Road

(Road and rest in one go - double whammy.)

“Ah, c'mon, nobody saw that coming… Come here,” he held out his hand to her, and she pushed the blanket to the side to take it. In a quick movement, she was pulled up and wrapped in a hug. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she couldn’t argue; this warmth was prefered to that of the blanket. As she continued to regulate her breathing, he continued with his thought. “You can’t just stop all the bad things from happening. Bad things happen to good people, for no good reason, all the time. You can only try to help, and I think you are doing that more than you’re giving yourself credit for. So no, it's not for nothing. Who knows how much worse it would be right now if you didn’t try. No sense going down that road.”

The speech gave her thought; who knows, really. But somehow she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was meant to be, that she was fighting a losing battle.

“It's what he said… I’m afraid of who I was, failing at who I am, and I’m not able to help anybody…just wasting energy on dead men.”

He pulled back slightly, holding her by the shoulders, looking directly in her eyes, searching her face.

“You’re letting him get to you is what you’re doing. Don’t give him that.” He gave her a kiss to the forehead, and she leaned into him again. “Let's get some rest though, this is going to be top of the agenda for tomorrow's meeting.”

“So much for enjoying the win tonight…”

River

(Only two instances of River between both stories. This ones in reference to the song ‘The Humbling River’, which I definitely listened to more than I should have while writing this.)

"You sure about that? You think I don't know your type? Haven't gone rounds with a few tough guys that thought they were some kind of hot shit? Rough exterior, but all raw nerves underneath."

"Lot of assumptions you're making."

"You want to tell me I'm wrong?"

Her eyebrow arched to further advance the question, but there was no response from him. "Nobody here's going to hold you to your past beliefs or practices. Past mistakes. We all have our demons, blood on our hands. Some more than others. As long as you're making an honest effort to change, want to change... Well, what you were back then, it isn't the only path forward, and you might be surprised what you’ll find on others."

"Hmm, again with the mission statements. You all pitch it alot…"

"Not really. Only have to pull it out for the stubborn assholes who think they can do everything themselves.” This time she wasn’t waiting around for a response; he heard it or he didn’t. It was, however, a calculated strike, and she was rarely wrong about these things. She breezed past him into the kitchen to pull the curtains. “Never gonna make it over the river that way. Alone. You need help, and you have an opportunity here. One I'm sure you're not getting anywhere else."

Lack of an immediate answer told her she hit a spot.

[something-about-sunflowers]

Not tagging this with any of the fandoms or characters involved because this is honestly just a me problem but. I kind of hate the prevalence of the taking of canonically queer men/masc presenting characters and either feminizing them or making them women (trans or otherwise). Like I said this is entirely a me problem but it feels the same to me as being misgendered does, even if its characters that I don’t particularly connect with?

(read more cause this is a rambly mess and probably a controversial take)

Like for example in GO, I fully get and appreciate they’re genderless despite how they present but it fucks me up to see people making ‘ineffable wives’ stuff because it feels to me like people dismissing them choosing to present as masc (most often at least, I know Crowley has presented as femme) to say ‘I’d like you better if you were how I want you to be’ and, don’t get me wrong, I know that’s not what it really is but I can’t exactly help how I feel about it. I’m not going to go tell anybody they’re wrong or to stop doing it, just avoid it where I can.

Another example being transfem Ed. That one fucks me up for a lot of reasons, mostly being down to like. He really isn’t. Feminine? In the show? I know I know, how someone presents can be different from how they identify but, I’m fairly sure the headcanon came from how people perceive Ed presenting? The wearing of the robe and the shaving of the beard in particular. Also the. Wanting nice things? Folding socks? It just feels very. Yeah. Like none of that is inherently feminine.

I. Wonder if. Maybe. People see ‘this is a show that tackles toxic masculinity’ and think. Like. ‘The solution is to remove masculinity and replace it with femininity’? Like that’s what it feels like. I suppose it goes hand in hand with a lot of the fandom’s particularly shallow read on Ed? ‘Big uwu baby man, lets make him a woman cause he’s too soft to be a man’, kinda thing?

Don’t get me wrong I know for a lot of people it does just come from seeing themselves in Ed and wanting to express that, or people going ‘I just think its neat’, but I also am so positive there’s a non zero number with. I’ll call it ‘radfem motivations’.

And this purely comes from the ‘Ed is a woman’ thing, like. Gender-fuckery Ed is perfectly fine by me, let that man be GNC AF. But ‘Ed is a woman’, to me, feels a little 1. Misogynistic and 2. Honestly? Homophobic?

The ‘radfem motivations’ are why I’m also bothered a bit by ‘but what if they were all women?’ Again, I know a lot of it is people seeing themselves in the characters and wanting to connect with them better but god does it fuck me up to have this unique show with canonically queer men who are able to and encouraged to be who they are by the narrative, and see people saying ‘it’d be better if they were women’. Like queer men don’t deserve to have this story? This is not a 1:1 comparison but it feels the same to me as ‘show has canon gay male couple > homophobes complain about it a la “men can’t just be friends anymore?”‘

I’m honestly not sure whether to be surprised or not at how little pushback the idea of transmasc Izzy gets by the fandom at large with this idea of ‘but women better’ floating around but like. I also know that at least part of that is people wanting to demonize Izzy and not caring if transmascs get hurt in the crossfire. ‘He can stay a man cause men are evil but he can’t have a dick cause that’s gross so he can be a trans man because he’s evil’, kinda thing?

Anyway this is just a bunch of shitty rambly stream of consciousness shit so try not to take any offense from this (unless you’re one of the radfems, then be as offended as your vile little heart can manage and then fuck all the way off ❤ ✌). This is just coming from a bit of frustration I’m having being vaguely transmasc and enjoying/participating in these fandoms, again, its a me problem and I’m not trying to make anybody do anything different I just needed to rant a bit about how I’m perceiving things to get the ‘feels bad’ demons out of my head about it.

[xocasper]

rough, jealous sex with fem reader and frank pls 🫶 ur writing is so godly i love it sm, keep up the good work!!

Tell Me You're Mine

Pairing: Frank Iero x Reader Summary: Frank drags you to a party and you run into your ex-boyfriend, who makes it his mission to piss Frank off. After a tense ride home, he decides to remind you whose girlfriend you are. Warnings: NSFW content Tags: oral sex, jealousy, angst, rough sex Word Count: 2317 A/N: The first and only time I ordered DoorDash, my driver, Stephen, forgot my Baja Blast. Stephen has now been turned into a shitty ex-boyfriend. Thank you for the request!

The sound of shitty pop music filled your ears, the stereo blasting bass so loud the lyrics became indecipherable. You clung to Frank as you made your way through a sea of partygoers; you didn’t want to be here anyway, so losing him in the crowd would make things considerably worse. He had told you it would be quick, only stopping in to see a few friends, and then you’d be off. He had practically begged you to come with him, not wanting a bunch of drunken strangers to hit on him when he was very happily taken by you.

Frank was waist-deep in a conversation, somehow able to hear Gerard over the cacophony of loud chatter and blaring speakers. You were bored and decided to go get a drink–you would still be in his line of sight, so what was the worst that could happen?

“I’m grabbing a drink, alright?” you practically shouted, giving him a quick kiss as he nodded, watching you walk off. You shoved through a wave of sweaty strangers, not recognizing any of them. Honestly, you weren’t even sure whose party you were at–some friend of Mikey’s. The kitchen was messy, with several solo cups getting crushed under your shoes as you made your way through. You weren’t really sure what you wanted other than to busy yourself.

“I can make you a drink if you want,” someone said behind you, drawing your attention away from the liquor labels. You knew that voice anywhere, so you took a deep breath to prevent an unnecessary outrage. “Stephen.”

There he was, the douchiest guy you’d ever dated, wearing a shit-eating grin as usual. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he said, clicking his tongue and eyeing you up. Maybe you should’ve stayed with Frank.

“C’mon, let me make you a drink,” he offered, pushing you aside. “No, I’m all set.” You reached for a soda instead, not wanting a drink from anyone, much less your ex. “What, you don’t trust me?” he laughed, and you shrunk a bit against the counter. “No, I don’t.”

You looked over to where Frank was, and luckily he glanced over at the same time. He said something to Gerard before heading your way, looking slightly pissed. Stephen was already talking your ear off and inching uncomfortably close, paying no mind to the obvious look of disgust on your face.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Frank asked, wrapping an arm around your waist, ignoring your ex. “Hey Frank!” he smiled as if he hadn’t been hitting on you moments ago. “Stephen,” Frank responded, tensing up already.

“You’re hanging with them now, huh?” he said, pointing between the two of you, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Frank’s grip on you tightened as he answered, “They’re my girlfriend, and we’re leaving now.”

You leaned back against his chest and Stephen scoffed. “What a downgrade; I mean you’re not really going back home with him right?” God, he was such an asshole. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Frank asked, clearly fed up with the other man’s bullshit.

“Woah, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m just saying we used to have some fun times, isn’t that right?” He glanced at you for support, a cocky smirk on his face. You couldn’t help but laugh at his absurdity; if having fun meant never coming, then sex with Stephen was fucking Disney World. Unfortunately, Frank misinterpreted the reason for your laughter and found himself getting angrier because your ex was the cause of it.

Stephen really didn’t know how to shut up, persisting with his taunting. “You’re free to go, man, I’ll drop your girl off tomorrow morning, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a fucking death wish to me.” You seriously had to get Frank out of there before he clocked the guy, shoving Stephen away and pulling him out of the kitchen. Thankfully, he had no issue leaving, squeezing your hand and striding out the door. He didn’t bother saying goodbye to Gerard or speaking to anyone else, too focused on getting home.

The ride back was tense; his knuckles were practically white from how hard he was gripping the wheel. “Look, he was probably drunk,” you tried to reason, hoping it would calm him a bit. “No, he’s just a fucking asshole. Drunk or not, you’re my girlfriend.” Stephen overstepped and you knew it. “Besides, you didn’t say anything to him. Not once did you tell him to stop.”

Frank rarely got this jealous. Typically when guys would flirt with you, he’d walk over, sling an arm around you, and they’d be gone, muttering half-hearted apologies for hitting on you. He could tolerate that, but the second things progressed, he’d raise hell. You were getting a bit impatient as well; did he not trust you?

“What the hell was I supposed to do? Castrate him on the kitchen counter?” you huffed, tossing your hands in the air. “You don’t see me getting pissed when girls are practically hanging off of you.” That last part wasn’t entirely true; you got just as bitter as him when this would happen.

“Yeah, because that’s worse than saying they’re gonna take me home with them,” he spat, rolling his eyes as he slammed the car door. “At this rate, maybe I should’ve stuck around,” you said, immediately regretting it. You didn’t mean it and Frank knew that, but at the moment he was seeing red.

“What did you say?” Oh fuck. He stormed into your apartment building, and for a minute you considered getting back in the car and sleeping in the backseat. He continued to stare you down as you fished for the keys; jealousy was a good look on him. You were already lacking solid judgment and his behavior was only making things more difficult, so you bit the bullet and repeated yourself.

“I said maybe I should’ve stuck around.” He took hold of your hip as you swung the door open, walking you just past the doorway before kicking it shut. You were pressed against it before your mind could catch up, still in a lust-filled haze. He peered at you through slit eyes, hands on your hips to hold you to the door.

“You wouldn’t have,” he said, words laced with venom as you glared at him. “You could never do better than me.” Frank knew he was bluffing; if he had this level of confidence he wouldn’t have gotten so pissed seeing you with another guy.

“Prove it.”

Without a second thought, he pressed his mouth to yours, and you were nearly thrown off balance by the force of it. He held your chin, keeping your lips on his as he pulled you closer. You didn’t want to back down that easy, arms hooking around his neck and hands threading into his hair, stress and aggression evolving into sexual desire.

He broke away to breathe, pupils blown wide as he scanned your face. Impatient, you tugged him back, his eyes falling shut when you pulled on his hair. His tongue prodded at the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth the first chance he got. With his hands on your hip and head, the two of you stumbled to the bedroom, unbothered by the rough journey there.

Your hands slid under his shirt as you backed him up against the bed, Frank still claiming every inch of your mouth as if it were new territory. He hummed against your lips when you reached his waistband, petting him through the tight denim of his jeans.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded, his wet lips nipping the crook of your neck before tugging your top off. He bathed in satisfaction as you sunk to the floor and eagerly popped the button on his pants, already lust drunk on a few kisses. He held the back of your head, fingers threaded in your hair as you tugged off his jeans. You traced his bare hips with the tip of your nose, biting gently on his pale skin before he drew you back to his dick, confined and dripping in his boxers.

He glowered at you, undoubtedly frustrated that you were taking so long. “Take any longer and I won’t touch you,” he warned, barely noticing your small pout in the dark room. You complied anyway, getting rid of his boxers and brushing your lips against his tip.

His hips jerked at the contact, the bitter taste of precum filling your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks around him, sucking at the head of his cock while he tried to push deeper. “Only I get to see you like this,” he told you, sentence cutting off with a deep moan. “So fucking dirty, aren’t you? Always so desperate to suck my dick.” He murmured more obscenities under his breath while you worked him with your tongue–long, flat strokes that dragged across the length of his cock before he slipped past your lips once again.

He choked on his words, sticking to curses and moans as you touched him, delicate hands jerking him off as your tongue flicked against him. Frank didn’t like that you were in control, so while grateful for the killer blowjob he was receiving, he took matters into his own hands. He sunk deeper into your mouth, cradling the back of your head as your hands drifted from his dick to his thighs, nails digging in gently as he used your throat.

You were enjoying it as much as him–if not more–and he could tell, grinning as he threw his head back. “Christ, you liked being used like this, yeah? You like when I fuck your throat?” You moaned around him, a gruff ‘fuck’ rolling off his tongue. He glanced down at you, relying on a sliver of moonlight to study your expression–your eyes were half-lidded, mouth wide, practically begging to be filled, lips and chin wet with saliva and precum, and easily heaven on earth.

“Stop, shit,” he breathed, yanking you off with a bit more force than necessary. It took all his self-control not to come down your throat, but reminding you who you belong to was his top priority at the moment. A short cry of protest fell from your lips, which only stroked his ego more. He pulled you up and caught your lips in a rough kiss, needy and aggressive as his hands got busy unbuttoning your jeans.

“Bet you’re already soaked, aren’t you? I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already so wet, so desperate to be fucked.” You shivered as he spoke, his thumb brushing across your panties while he sucked a bruise below your ear. He discarded the rest of your clothes, kicking his jeans away and pulling off his shirt before falling back on the bed, tugging you down with him.

His skin was void of any abrasions, an invitation for the inevitable hickeys and scratch marks that he always wore proudly the morning after, proof to himself that no one could fuck you like he could. You were his, and he was yours, and that’s how it would stay if he had any say in it.

Frank propped himself up above you, watching each of your reactions as the pads of his fingers trailed from your tongue down to your cunt, gathering slick before pushing in. “No one ever touched you this well, did they?” he asked, thumb grazing your clit. “Can’t believe you let that bastard see you like this. I want you to think about this every time he crosses your mind; think about how well I fuck you.”

And with that, his fingers slipped out and his dick slipped in, giving you little time to think; a strangled moan was all you could muster. His thrusts only grew deeper, pouring all the anger and jealousy he felt that night into each snap of his hips. “Tell me you’re mine,” he said, intentionally slamming his hips against yours again as your lips parted, grinning at the reflexive moan you let out. “I’m all yours, Frank,” you promised, hardly able to get the words out with his rough pace.

That was all he really needed, rubbing tight circles on your clit, your incoherent cries a telling sign that you were close. He kissed you again, quick and messy as you tipped over the edge. “Make a mess for me,” he breathed against your skin, coming in time with you as you marked up his back, moaning while he filled you.

He laid there for a moment, head resting on your chest as his dick pulsed inside of you. Frank was calm, the sound of heavy breathing filling the room as you held him against you. His eyes were glued to you as he pulled out, the sight of his cum dripping out of you fixing almost every insecurity he had that night. He groaned softly again, and you perked up, staring down at him. Your eyes drifted to the point of interest, slightly embarrassed that he was so mesmerized by it.

“How do you expect me to not get jealous when you look like this?” he asked, laughing softly as he motioned for the tissues on your bedside table. “Covered in cum? Damn, that’s a tough one.” He just looked up at you, eyes softer than they were before, the party long forgotten, holding no significance to him anymore. All that mattered was the two of you, not Stephen, nor any other prick that tried to woo you into their bed.

“My cum,” he corrected proudly, pulling you into his chest. “Because you’re my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I think you made that pretty clear,” you teased him, receiving a pout that you happily kissed away. He smiled against you for what felt like the first time that night, knowing for certain that you were here to stay.

taglist: @lubbockshusband @yachiiko @newgirlinhell @tomoora @blackberryblossom @whothefuckisfranklero

[dreamcatcherrs]

Hey! I just had a random idea I think would work good; a first date preference seems really cool :) (I hope you haven't done this already and I've just missed it) I love your writing <3

+ it seems very very cool indeed :)) hope you like it! <3

++ if you squint, a couple of nsfw references

first dates; mcyt x reader

dream:

restaurant

when it’s your first date, he won't go all out with a very fancy place

but generally likes spoiling you

a lot

but he’ll save that for later

as long as you feel comfortable, he’s happy

maybe you’d go to his place afterwards👀

to play video games of course🙄

he’s not shy at all on your frst date

and is pretty confident in himself that the date’s gonna go great

smooth pick-up lines

maybe a couple of touches here and there

compliments you the whole night

and really just wants a laugh with you

overall, he’s great at first dates

georgenotfound:

ice skating, his place

he likes for a first date to be pretty simple

just chilling

enjoying each other’s company like you usually would

but with some romantic undertones of course ;)

so going to an ice rink or hanging out at his place;

it would be perfect

I feel like george is definitely more nervous on a first date

just because the whole “first date” concept is very intimidating in his head

even though it isn't a lot different from when you hang out usually

… it’s just with a bit more feelings involved

he’d probably ask dream for advice before going on the date with you

he eases up once he gets comfortable with your presence

realising that it’s just you and he can always be comfortable with you :)

cute first date

sapnap:

concert

nick would definitely want to go to a concert with you

I’m sure anyone can vibe with his music taste

and even then, I don't think he cares which concert you go to

the experience is what matters to him

he’d slip in some pickup-lines every now and then

but his cheeks would be so red after every line he spoke

the whole night he just wants to kiss you

but resists, just because he is a little scared of rejection

puts his jacket around your shoulders when it gets colder

and maybe wraps an arm around your waist

as you just vibe to the songs

would kiss you when he walked you home if the date was good

and then text you the second he left

very nice first date

badboyhalo:

park

would bring rat along :D

you’d find a bench or similar to rest by after walking around for a while

and just sit there together

and eat some fresh foods you’d made before going there

and just chat for hours on end

playing around with rat every now and then

and also trying out the swing set nearby

where you’d push each other

you wouldn't have noticed how much time had passed before you both realised it was super dark

it’s a really comfortable and fun date

cause he’s just so easy to talk to

he’d definitely go for some hand-holding

and aim for a little peck on the cheek

technoblade:

escape room

this would literally be the perfect opportunity to get to know each other

and to see if you were worthy of the blood god

you’d help each other find the clues

he’d definitely tease you if he managed to find the key before you did

but then would gently pat your head

cause he couldn’t deny how cute you looked when you were all pouty

a great date

with lots and lots of fun

he’s very nervous to start off with

but manages to hide it behind his monotone voice

though he likes teasing you, he’s also very sweet

sometimes let’s you find the clues “first” even though he’d already spotted them

just to see the smile on your face

wilbur soot:

museum, café

of course wilbur would take you to one of these places

or even both

the museum first, then the café

why not get a learning experience out of the date?

and then get to know each other afterwards

on a more romantic level than usual

he would be really smooth with his movements

even if he was nervous

sneakily puts a hand on your waist

or goes to grab your hand

with no hesitation or shakiness

he’d sooo be the type to say “you’ve got something right here” pointing to your lip

and when you’d searched for the whipped cream on your lip to no avail, he’d lean over and wipe the non-existing cream away

very slowly

and then have a smirk on his face when he pulled away again

honestly, a big tease even for a first date

corpse husband:

dinner and movie

pretty classy, but very nice

he’d want a first date to not be too much

but still be enough to impress

he’d be pretty anxious of what you thought of him tbh

but those were mostly just the nerves talking

would spend a long time putting effort into making the dinner

after asking you what your favourite dish was

you’d eat it together, a candle lit in the middle of the table with some wine (all on my white tee)

and you’d just start up a conversation very naturally

getting to know each other on another level

and when you’d get to watching the movie, he’d definitely attempt to get closer to you

like by throwing an arm around your shoulders

pulling you closer to him

maybe a hand on your thigh

and a small make-out session

a very successful date to say the least

skeppy:

theme park

would want to do something really fun for a first date

so I feel like a theme park would be perfect for that

like, you’d just spend the whole say together

having the time of your life in the craziest rides

or the more chill ones

whatever you like

and in between you’d just take a break

and buy some waffles or churros to eat together

zak is veeery talkative

like, there would not be any worry about awkward silences

cause he would always have something to talk about with you

as for affection

he would probably go for holding your hand

and that’s probably his farthest goal for the day

he likes taking things slow

and just having a fun time with you

karl jacobs:

arcade

like skeppy, he would also wanna go someplace fun

yet not as crazy you know?

like, just hanging out and playing a range of different games with you

you bet he’d just be like “oh, I just wanna get this one prize.”

and when he finally won it, he’d hand it over to you

because he’d planned to give it to you from the start :]

he’s mostly just himself on your first date

giggly, cute, funny

he’s a little more nervous around you than ususal

but that's only natural

would leave a lot of affection on you

like, a supporting hand on your back when you're trying to win at a game

or hugging you tightly whenever either of you won

really just finds any excuse to give you affection

maybe you’ll end off the day with a little smooch😙

or spending the rest of the night playing video games at his or your place

fundy:

sight-seeing

he’d take you to so many buildings, statues, viewpoints etc.

he wants to explore the city with you

even if you both know it very well already

he’d want the memories of the sights to be with you

you’d take cute pre-couple photos by the sights

and grab some delicious lunch while sat right by one of the nicest sights

he’d be subtle with showing affection

like grabbing your hand when you’re about to go the wrong way

and then not let go of it for a while

or he’d let you borrow his sunglasses

to block out the sun in your face

he wouldn't lay heavy on showing affection on the first date

he’ll leave that for the second one ;)

quackity:

cooking together

chaotic but cute combo

I feel like he would really want to impress you

yet still be able to make you laugh

and this is just the perfect way to do just that

he’s surprisingly good at cooking when he tries

and remains his usual quackity alex funny self

he’d show you how to do different stuff

especially if you didn't know how to already

and would overall be very playful with you

throwing flour at you, splashing with water etc.

and then afterwards you would just chill on the couch and eat the dinner you’d just made

talking about the most random shit

and without realising it, the two of you would be cuddling

and you’d wake up in the morning to find you’d fallen asleep on each other🥺

punz:

laser tag

mans loves competition

and would definitely want to be a show-off to you

you'd have an room just for yourself

hiding behind walls and obstacles until you stumbled into each other

and he wouldn't hesitate to raise his laser gun at you

and shoot you right in the chest with a menacing laugh

after a while it’d just be a battle between two

tackling each other all the time

and at some point he’d have you up against the wall

and as you were about to kiss

you’d lift you gun at him and shoot him right in the chest

which won you the game

afterwards, he’d follow you home

and maybe give you that kiss he tried to give you before

he’d be very down to stay with you for the night if you wanted him to

awesamdude:

the beach

you’d bring a bunch of fun activities with you

like card games, a beach volley game, etc.

and maybe even join in on a game of mini golf near you

you could also just be chilling on your towels

under the sun or under the shade

whatever your preference is

and then go into the water eventually

playing around together and just having fun

splashing water at each other

he’d sneak his way over to you

and just lift you up from under the water and onto his shoudlers

just laughing at the way you were screaming for him to let you down

when you got on the shore again, it felt easier to be affectionate with each other

you’d definitely go for ice cream on the way home

holding hands👉👈

eret:

karaoke bar

it would literally be the funniest time with him

you’d gotten one of those private rooms

so it would just be the two of you in the room

and you’d have so much fun choosing your favourite songs

and sometimes you'd just sit there and chat

while karaoke music played in the background with none of you singing

he’d want to duet with you at some point

bringing you close to him just to see you get all flustered

I could definitely imagine a first kiss right then

if it had all gone right throughout the night

when you were on your way back home

he’d lend you his jacket

and just tell you to keep it

“I’ll just pick it up tomorrow.”

tommy:

the zoo

tommy would be walking around commenting on literally every animal

“y/n look. hey, y/n. look at this ones’ face.”

takes a lot of pictures of the animals

and of you with the animals

and when you suspiciously asked if he was taking pictures of you after you’d spotted him

he’d just brush it off, immediately hiding his phone away

“of you? obviously, it was of the giraffe behind you.”

“tommy, there is no giraffe behind me.”

doesn't show any affection

he’s super nervous about the whole “touch” thing

so he just stays away from it

but if you were to grab his hand

he wouldn't pull away

he’d just stand there with red ass fucking cheeks

and would be praying for the animals to save him from any awkward situations

tubbo:

picnic

you’d be picking flowers together

flowers for the flower boy :)

and even make flower crowns if you felt really creative

enjoying the delicious foods you'd brought with you

he’d also be quite intimidated by affection, like tommy

but would very very subtly show it

only a little bit though

like, it would be pretty obvious whenever he got caught up staring at you

just looking at you as you picked at the grass outside of the blanket you were sat on

and sometimes he’d place a hand on you without really realising that that was something more unusual than you were used to

you’d bring a bracelet kit

and make cute little matching bracelets for each other

a really enjoyable date overall

with lots of laughter and chatter

ranboo:

an aquarium

even though c!ranboo is clearly not the biggest fan of water

this ranboo finds it quite fascinating

a pretty chill and easy-going first date

exactly what he wants

you’d walk around the whole aquarium

and make fun of the fishes with funny-looking faces

and then proceed to take pictures of each other by the fishes with the funny-looking faces

he would find it so adorable whenever you would point at one of the sea-creatures

and just look so amazed by it

he would literally almost melt right beside you

the closest thing to affection he would do, is putting a hand on your waist

it doesn't really progress further than that unless you initiate it

a proud moment of his was when he almost fell into the penguin inclosure

and you couldn’t stop laughing at it

a successful date to his eyes

___________________________________

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