#i dunno i was thinking about maybe figuring out a way to make some kind of bird box or bird feeder camera. it could be fun

[bmpmp3]

MAN i need to learn soldering properly i took computer tech for like 3 years in highschool but we learned to get rid of flux residue by going at the pcbs with a barbecue wire brush which makes every electronics nerd i know physically recoil to think about which is very funny but also. maybe i should. learn to use a solvent

[gender-trash]

I would be very interested in hearing the museum design rant

by popular demand: Guy That Took One (1) Museum Studies Class Focused On Science Museums Rants About Art Museums. thank u for coming please have a seat

so. background. the concept of the "science museum" grew out of 1) the wunderkammer (cabinet of curiosities), also known as "hey check out all this weird cool shit i have", and 2) academic collections of natural history specimens (usually taxidermied) -- pre-photography these were super important for biological research (see also). early science museums usually grew out of university collections or bequests of some guy's Weird Shit Collection or both, and were focused on utility to researchers rather than educational value to the layperson (picture a room just, full of taxidermy birds with little labels on them and not a lot of curation outside that). eventually i guess they figured they could make more on admission by aiming for a mass audience? or maybe it was the cultural influence of all the world's fairs and shit (many of which also caused science museums to exist), which were aimed at a mass audience. or maybe it was because the research function became much more divorced from the museum function over time. i dunno. ANYWAY, science and technology museums nowadays have basically zero research function; the exhibits are designed more or less solely for educating the layperson (and very frequently the layperson is assumed to be a child, which does honestly irritate me, as an adult who likes to go to science museums). the collections are still there in case someone does need some DNA from one of the preserved bird skins, but items from the collections that are exhibited typically exist in service of the exhibit's conceptual message, rather than the other way around.

meanwhile at art museums they kind of haven't moved on from the "here is my pile of weird shit" paradigm, except it's "here is my pile of Fine Art". as far as i can tell, the thing that curators (and donors!) care about above all is The Collection. what artists are represented in The Collection? rich fucks derive personal prestige from donating their shit to The Collection. in big art museums usually something like 3-5% of the collection is ever on exhibit -- and sometimes they rotate stuff from the vault in and out, but let's be real, only a fraction of an art museum's square footage is temporary exhibits. they're not going to take the scream off display when it's like the only reason anyone who's not a giant nerd ever visits the norwegian national museum of art. most of the stuff in the vault just sits in the vault forever. like -- art museum curators, my dudes, do you think the general public gives a SINGLE FUCK what's in The Collection that isn't on display? no!! but i guarantee you it will never occur, ever, to an art museum curator that they could print-to-scale high-res images of artworks that are NOT in The Collection in order to contextualize the art in an exhibit, because items that are not in The Collection functionally do not exist to them. (and of course there's the deaccessioning discourse -- tumblr collectively has some level of awareness that repatriation is A Whole Kettle of Worms but even just garden-variety selling off parts of The Collection is a huge hairy fucking deal. check out deaccessioning and its discontents; it's a banger read if you're into This Kind Of Thing.)

with the contents of The Collection foregrounded like this, what you wind up with is art museum exhibits where the exhibit's message is kind of downstream of what shit you've got in the collection. often the message is just "here is some art from [century] [location]", or, if someone felt like doing a little exhibit design one fine morning, "here is some art from [century] [location] which is interesting for [reason]". the displays are SOOOOO bad by science museum standards -- if you're lucky you get a little explanatory placard in tiny font relating the art to an art movement or to its historical context or to the artist's career. if you're unlucky you get artist name, date, and medium. fucker most of the people who visit your museum know Jack Shit about art history why are you doing them dirty like this

(if you don't get it you're just not Cultured enough. fuck you, we're the art museum!)

i think i've talked about this before on this blog but the best-exhibited art exhibit i've ever been to was actually at the boston museum of science, in this traveling leonardo da vinci exhibit where they'd done a bunch of historical reconstructions of inventions out of his notebooks, and that was the main Thing, but also they had a whole little exhibit devoted to the mona lisa. obviously they didn't even have the real fucking mona lisa, but they went into a lot of detail on like -- here's some X-ray and UV photos of it, and here's how art experts interpret them. here's a (photo of a) contemporary study of the finished painting, which we've cleaned the yellowed varnish off of, so you can see what the colors looked like before the varnish yellowed. here's why we can't clean the varnish off the actual painting (da vinci used multiple varnish layers and thinned paints to translucency with varnish to create the illusion of depth, which means we now can't remove the yellowed varnish without stripping paint).

even if you don't go into that level of depth about every painting (and how could you? there absolutely wouldn't be space), you could at least talk a little about, like, pigment availability -- pigment availability is an INCREDIBLY useful lens for looking at historical paintings and, unbelievably, never once have i seen an art museum exhibit discuss it (and i've been to a lot of art museums). you know how medieval european religious paintings often have funky skin tones? THEY HADN'T INVENTED CADMIUM PIGMENTS YET. for red pigments you had like... red ochre (a muted earth-based pigment, like all ochres and umbers), vermilion (ESPENSIVE), alizarin crimson (aka madder -- this is one of my favorite reds, but it's cool-toned and NOT good for mixing most skintones), carmine/cochineal (ALSO ESPENSIVE, and purple-ish so you wouldn't want to use it for skintones anyway), red lead/minium (cheaper than vermilion), indian red/various other iron oxide reds, and apparently fucking realgar? sure. whatever. what the hell was i talking about.

oh yeah -- anyway, i'd kill for an art exhibit that's just, like, one or two oil paintings from each century for six centuries, with sample palettes of the pigments they used. but no! if an art museum curator has to put in any level of effort beyond writing up a little placard and maybe a room-level text block, they'll literally keel over and die. dude, every piece of art was made in a material context for a social purpose! it's completely deranged to divorce it from its material context and only mention the social purpose insofar as it matters to art history the field. for god's sake half the time the placard doesn't even tell you if the thing was a commission or not. there's a lot to be said about edo period woodblock prints and mass culture driven by the growing merchant class! the met has a fuckton of edo period prints; they could get a hell of an exhibit out of that!

or, tying back to an earlier thread -- the detroit institute of arts has got a solid like eight picasso paintings. when i went, they were kind of just... hanging out in a room. fuck it, let's make this an exhibit! picasso's an artist who pretty famously had Periods, right? why don't you group the paintings by period, and if you've only got one or two (or even zero!) from a particular period, pad it out with some decent life-size prints so i can compare them and get a better sense for the overarching similarities? and then arrange them all in a timeline, with little summaries of what each Period was ~about~? that'd teach me a hell of a lot more about picasso -- but you'd have to admit you don't have Every Cool Painting Ever in The Collection, which is illegalé.

also thinking about the mit museum temporary exhibit i saw briefly (sorry, i was only there for like 10 minutes because i arrived early for a meeting and didn't get a chance to go through it super thoroughly) of a bunch of ship technical drawings from the Hart nautical collection. if you handed this shit to an art museum curator they'd just stick it on the wall and tell you to stand around and look at it until you Understood. so anyway the mit museum had this enormous room-sized diorama of various hull shapes and how they sat in the water and their benefits and drawbacks, placed below the relevant technical drawings.

tbh i think the main problem is that art museum people and science museum people are completely different sets of people, trained in completely different curatorial traditions. it would not occur to an art museum curator to do anything like this because they're probably from the ~art world~ -- maybe they have experience working at an art gallery, or working as an art buyer for a rich collector, neither of which is in any way pedagogical. nobody thinks an exhibit of historical clothing should work like a clothing store but it's fine when it's art, i guess?

also the experience of going to an art museum is pretty user-hostile, i have to say. there's never enough benches, and if you want a backrest, fuck you. fuck you if going up stairs is painful; use our shitty elevator in the corner that we begrudgingly have for wheelchair accessibility, if you can find it. fuck you if you can't see very well, and need to be closer to the art. fuck you if you need to hydrate or eat food regularly; go to our stupid little overpriced cafeteria, and fuck you if we don't actually sell any food you can eat. (obviously you don't want someone accidentally spilling a smoothie on the art, but there's no reason you couldn't provide little Safe For Eating Rooms where people could just duck in and monch a protein bar, except that then you couldn't sell them a $30 salad at the cafe.) fuck you if you're overwhelmed by noise in echoing rooms with hard surfaces and a lot of people in them. fuck you if you are TOO SHORT and so our overhead illumination generates BRIGHT REFLECTIONS ON THE SHINY VARNISH. we're the art museum! we don't give a shit!!!

[ddejavvu]

For Tyler Owens x shy!reader maybe it’s their first time sharing a bed at a motel after tornado chasing? Nothing sexual just like sharing a bed and being shy about it?

Heartbeat - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

You've always been envious of the universal man-ability to fall asleep within seconds of their heads hitting the pillow, but now you're feeling the hurt worse than ever. It's well past one in the morning, Tyler's been asleep for over an hour, and you've been staring at a suspicious patch of something that's probably mold in the corner of the motel room ceiling.

It's not the nicest place, but you're stranded in the middle of a backroad stretch of Arkansas, so any place with a roof, even a moldy one, is a nice place.

Tyler's phone rings, technically set to vibrate but humming nevertheless as it lights up the room. You're expecting him to sleep right through it but he stirs, extending a lazy hand to press at the power button until it stops buzzing. Then, with a hefty grunt, he heaves over onto his side, and comes sleepy-face to sleepy-face with you.

"Oh," He starts, eyes widening from where they'd been barely open, "You're-" He clears his throat, his voice raspy, "You're awake, darlin'?"

His strong arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close, drawing you into warmth you hadn't accumulated yourself despite laying for the same length of time. You huddle into it even though there's a fire burning your cheeks and scalding your mind.

When you don't answer, Tyler rambles sleepily, "Sorry, my- m'phone was goin' off. Some scam caller, 'm pretty sure. Were you-" A yawn cuts through his words, "Awake before that?"

"Mhm," You nod, thankful for the sanctuary of his clothed chest despite it being the reason you're so flustered.

"You ever get to sleep, sweet thing?"

That's the million-dollar question. Million-dollar question meaning the one you'd pay a million dollars to avoid answering.

Your answering hum is non-committal at best, but Tyler seems to know there's a reason you hadn't flat-out said yes.

"My poor baby," He frowns, bleary but still concerned, as he pulls back to free your face from his chest. You're still encircled by his impressive arm, though, and you can't meet his eye as he stares down at you.

"What's'a matter, honey-bun?"

"Hm?"

"Why can't you sleep?" He asks, then guesses, "Is it the smell'a mildew that's comin' off of everything?"

His bluntness startles you into laughter, but you know he expects an answer from the way he maintains your gaze, sympathy shining in his sweet, sleepy eyes.

Now starts the squirming, "Um, I dunno. I guess the bed's just not too comfy," You prod at the cheaply-made mattress beneath you, "And- I think I'm just not used to sleeping with other people, y'know, and then the bathroom fan makes a weird noise even when it's off-"

Your attempts to bury the lede had failed. Tyler's brows furrow and he leans in, your nose-to-nose positioning only making your bashfulness worse as he murmurs, "Is this the first time you're sharin' a bed with anyone, sweet thing?"

Even the little details, the soft gust of his breath on your face as he watches you makes your insides crawl with mortification. You're so close, and he's so there, and he's finally figured out that you've never done anything like this before, and- god, how do you play this off?

"No, I have, I- I've had, y'know, sleepovers with friends and, um, I had a cat growing up, that kind of thing. Just not-" You break away when your eyes flicker over his, and you hold eye contact for as long as possible, "Not like this. Nothing like this."

Tyler doesn't laugh, even though he probably really wants to. Even though you've probably made a complete fool out of yourself, and he's going to snicker at your predicament with his friends later, he doesn't laugh, and instead he- he presses a soft, barely-there kiss to your forehead.

"I think I'm a little more involved than a cat," He hums gently, "Are you okay with me touchin' you like this, angel baby?"

His arm is around your waist, and his face is up against your own- that's it. He's not getting handsy, not venturing lower than necessary or trying to shove his large hands beneath your clothes.

"You're not touching me." You attempt to answer, "Or- well, you are, but-"

"But it doesn't matter what I mean by it if you don't like it. So is it okay?"

You consider the feeling of his strong arm tucking you tight into his chest, as well as the intoxicating feeling of each breath he takes being fanned over your face, a privilege you hope you're the only one to have experienced.

"Yeah," You melt into his arms, even squirming closer as he lets you lead, "This is okay. It's- I like it."

"Good." He murmurs, and you feel it more than hear it from the way you're nestled against his chest, "What normally helps you fall asleep? Cat breath?"

"Maybe," You laugh, recalling your tuna-scented companion, "But I don't know. Just- this is nice. Your breathing and," You pause, listening, "The beat of your heart."

Tyler's fingers freeze a beat before they curl against your scalp, raking gently and soothingly through your hair.

"Good." He repeats, and you swear this one sounds shakier, almost thicker than the last one, "That's it, sweet thing, relax. I'll make sure you get to sleep. And tomorrow I'll act like a gentleman, 'won't just collapse into bed and get to snorin'. before you've even brushed your teeth."

Your laugh is the last one you release for the night- the last sound altogether besides the soft breathing that evens in your chest, and it's all funneled into Tyler's chest like a prize he's won.

[itoshi-s]

wld u have any input on perv!reo w an innocent/oblivious reader??

──✧ ˚ · “ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞

*.✧ ft. 𝐫𝐞𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞

*.✧ wc: 10.1k. nsfw & dark content / 17+ only / minors dni ! - fem reader, characters are 18+ (but meet as teenagers), dub-con, slow burn, reo's a whore and a sleaze, manipulation, corruption, slight obsessive behavior, misuse of power (reader sees reo as kind of a brotherly figure), cunnilingus, reo's needy, mentions of taking unsolicited sex pics, panty stealing. // notes: reo is either a perv or a sub and there's no in between ! reo fuckers enjoy (☆ω☆)

the first time reo sees you, he’s barely fourteen and  it’s in his family home, sitting straight in your seat at the dining table.

you look gorgeous with your big, curious eyes, long lashes, and a lip balm giving your pout a pink sheen. you’re different from all the other girls he’s seen around at school - you don’t try to look older, and actually look your age. a nice change for once. he steals a few glances upon your way from his seat diagonally across, fork digging into the tender steak on his plate. it was nice for a change to not be the only teen at the table, and actually, it was a bit surprising too. your parents were frequent guests at his house, due to the many links between their company and mikage corp, but this was the first time you tagged along. actually, reo doesn’t think he’s ever heard them mention having a daughter - but then again, his head is always anywhere but here, at the table, when the adults discuss over business details and joke around topics that make his head ache and confusion settle on his features.

“what about you, love? got any plans for the future?” reo moves his eyes from his glass of juice to his mother upon hearing her address you. she’s so sweet, just like always. 

you blink once, twice, and nod quickly, “oh- oh, yes, actually. i want to help people.” you beam, the smile you’re sporting making your cheeks plump and full. “maybe, um, set up a foundation, or something? i dunno, like the one that organized the ball a week ago, right papa?”

reo has to hold back a roll of his eyes, the interest you first sparked in him long gone. now this was something he’s heard from about every other girl he knows - the other option either being fashion or a family company heir, just like him. you sound a bit clueless, too, the sheepish tone of your voice making you seem even more childish. (not like he’s grown up, of course, but then again, you’re even worse.) 

despite how cute you are that day, reo doesn’t feel any interest in you whatsoever. the reason behind why you looked so innocent compared to his other friends, who already started to experiment with makeup and more mature clothing, doesn’t make it any easier to like you either. you are a year younger, and from what his mother tells him once you leave, your parents are very strict on keeping you unscathed by the pressure social media and society puts on young girls. now the thought of you hanging out at his place more often sounds so nohow, it doesn’t even make him excited to finally have some company. you seem immature and a bit naive, and while reo’s anything but aloof, he doubts that he’ll ever get along with you.

or, at least, so he thinks after the night you first meet. as expected, you start coming over to his place more often, now that a brand new deal between your families is about to be signed. while your parents discuss future plans over wine, reo is shocked to hear that for once, maybe he can show you around the house instead of sitting next to them and getting familiar with the investments. 

you’re not actually that insufferable, reo realizes after several long hours of you hanging out together in his room. you have an older brother that’s a professional volleyball player now, and he sees the longing in your eyes when you mention him playing overseas. it sparks his interest, how your brother began his career when he was just about his age - he had everything a teenage boy could ever dream of, and yet, he’d rather move to the other side of the world to chase a dream that didn’t gave him any certainty. the more you talk, the softer and less infantile you seem - reo realizes that you actually do know a lot about worldwide humanitarian issues, a lot more than any other kid your age. he listens intently as you tell him about the things you like to do after school, about the many hobbies your parents put you on, and somehow, you manage to find a common ground. you talk and game and laugh for hours, until the night falls and your mum comes up to reo’s room to collect you. 

reo gives you a little wave goodbye, and from now on looks forward to your visits - for a while.

years pass by, and while reo manages to keep up his spot on top of his every class, all while meeting up with friends and traveling the world with his parents, you just seem… the same. yeah, you got smarter - a scholarship from the states being the best proof - and prettier, too, which reo is sure other boys notice as well. but you still have this little dreamy edge to you, your laugh all too high pitched and random at times, and you still blush profusely whenever a boy comes anywhere near. you’re still nice, but just not as fun to be around; you're different, than him and the other girls he knows and starts to surround himself with. it’s not your fault either, as reo figures it must be your parents keeping you away from all the opportunities - better or worse - that teenagery has to offer. you’re busy with the scholarship now, thinking of going on a student exchange to the usa, even, and while reo sees it as praiseworthy, you two just seem to lose the common language you once had. 

second year of highschool comes by, and you’re merely just a thought at the very back of reo’s head when he meets nagi. the two get along as if they’ve known each other their whole lives, even though seishiro needs a little (uh, maybe a bit bigger) push, and the friendship and newly found passion about football gets reo going. he doesn’t even see you around too often anymore, considering he’s barely at home after school, and even if he is, the time is spent on arguing with his parents. the only times he remembers about you is when you’re brought up by his father - a prime example of how one should take advantage of the privileges they were born into, instead of picking up a worthless dream. he knows you’ve got nothing to do with this, and yet still, the thought of you makes reo hurl.

reo doesn’t really miss you a lot during his time at blue lock - and he doesn’t think it’s anything harsh, considering you were barely good friends and only ever hung out when your parents did, and it was still long years ago, back before you two even properly hit puberty. there’s enough going on during the selections to keep his mind busy and muscles taut with stress - he doesn’t need any interruptions in getting to the top and so, the thought of you is pushed to the very back of his mind. it only ever changes the day of the u20 match, when the buzz of the blue lock’s team victory is still making his skin crawl and blood rush. he’s tired, his legs feel like jelly, and yet, he still makes out the familiar voice from the front row stands as he goes to leave to the locker room.

“reo!” he turns his head upon his name being called out, brows furrowed as he wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. he recognizes the sing-song voice, but the memory is a bit blurry as violet eyes scan through the crowd and eventually fall upon the hand vigorously waving around - moving down, they lock with your bright orbs, a vibrant grin on your lips.

to say that he’s surprised to see you is an understatement - he takes a quick glance around you to check if you’re there with your parents, but he sees that you’re in fact alone. must’ve been your idea now, wasn’t it? reo jogs over to the barriers, and only after closing the distance between the two of you does he notice the changes in your appearance that must’ve happened over the past few months. 

he spots the way your features look way more mature now, and how you seem to finally have started to accentuate them with the right makeup. your skin still has the girly glow to it, though, or it might just be the wide smile on your face that’s lighting it up - either way, you definitely look even prettier than the last time reo has seen you, which must’ve been around his sixteenth birthday. 

“you won!” you exclaim happily, leaning against the barriers and reaching a hand out to high-five him once he’s in arms reach. he’s a bit hesitant, but only out of surprise.  “thought they would never bring you out,” you quip, watching reo roll his eyes. geez, thanks. “doesn’t your head hurt from that save?” your dainty fingers touch at reo’s reddened forehead, and it makes a foreign flutter wake in his chest. 

“not really,” he shrugs, letting you ruffle his hair slightly. were you really that touchy with him these few years ago, back when you were children? he can’t recall. “what’re you doing here anyway?” he rubs at his eye, the other one glancing up at you curiously. from his spot under the bleachers, he has just the perfect sight of your cleavage - and usually it wouldn’t affect him in any way, but to his surprise, his gaze is met with bare skin. reo has to swallow thickly upon the initial startle, eyes momentarily locked with the gold  necklace that he now remembers you wear even years ago - but this time, it rests right between the valley of your perky breasts, barely visible from the spot where your tits squeeze together. fuck - he knows that puberty can be a blessing sometimes. but could that really be the same you?

your voice brings him back to the present, gaze quickly tearing away from your chest, “i could finally see you play, reo! i never even heard you mention soccer,” you state, voice falling a bit near the end of the sentence. almost as if you regretted the way your friendship turned out. “do you still have the same number?” the question brings a hopeful tilt to your voice, and it makes reo smile a bit. there it is - the same awaiting, sweet sound.

“yeah,” he replies, looking up to lock his eyes with your doe ones. the clumpy, thick mascara on your lashes really does the trick, he thinks as he watches your lips stretch in a smile. “i don’t have my phone on me at blue lock, though - but we will catch up once i’m back, yeah?” now you were not the only one that has undergone a major change throughout the years, and while reo didn’t look all that different, there was definitely a shift in his personality. yeah, he was still real sweet with everyone, barely ever getting into any fights or arguments and staying on good terms with pretty much everybody. he always could have any girl he wanted - could pick and choose from tens of them at school, and then everywhere else he went - and yet, not even one of them grew suspicious of the way he is. not one of his previous girlfriends or the ones he only hung out with once or twice seemed aware of how his eyes naturally rested lower than on their face when they spoke. they only grew giddier at the way his hands would grope at the soft fat of their tits, their hips, squeezing at their bottom in a way that made their head spin - in a way they’ve already heard from their friends, who also got lucky enough to catch reo’s attention. maybe they were also just glad that it was finally their chance, and didn’t give his hungry touches any second thoughts? maybe they really did think that he was just like all the other horny teenagers, buzzing with hormones, and that his long days of practice only spurred him on even more.  sometimes, reo was surprised, even, at how quickly they would respond to his sly texts, a picture attached with no trace of shame. did they ever let the thought of him keeping these pictures linger, or were they really just this dumb?

the more recognition he gets thanks to the blue lock project and neo egoist league, the larger his range of possibilities grows. there’s girls flooding his dm’s, his name being thrown around different thirst tweets, and yet, it’s not like reo’s not used to it already. he's turned eighteen barely a few months before the blue lock project, and so he's already had plenty of time to finally let up all of this pent up tension. he meets up with a few girls during his breaks, spends the night, and is off early morning - with a pair of lace knickers in his back pocket, if he’s lucky (and the girl oblivious enough). some of them don’t even notice the flash going off as they ride him, their back to his face, taking just a little memoir to keep locked under a passworded folder in his gallery - something that he can play back in his mind, when he’s back at the blue lock facility, alone in the showers.

between his little hook ups, he still finds the time to keep his promise - and drives over to your house, which he is a little surprised to find with no sight of you the first time he comes by. “oh, she’s living on her own now! had to move closer to her university.” oh. "she'll be so happy to see you, though, reo! it's been ages since i've seen you, too." to say that he’s shocked by your mother’s words is an understatement - hell, you could even fly a private helicopter to uni each and every day if you only ever wished for it - so did your parents, always so overprotective, really let you move out and start living by yourself? nonetheless, reo is actually kind of content to be hanging out with you again. (the way you carry yourself, so soft and sweet as if your looks weren't enough to fill any guy's thoughts with pure filth, might just be the main reason.) he learns that you got into the university of tokyo on top of the acceptance list and are floored with not only work, but also the uni life that everyone else has been telling you about. ah. so that’s where the sudden change in looks came from, he realizes as you tell him about how happy you were that your best of friends managed to get in with you.

“she’s so cool! i think you would’ve liked her, reo,” you tease, a grin on your lips as you tell him about one of your friends and even go to show him her instagram pictures. he hums, “yeah, she's-" "if only she wasn’t into older guys.” you elbow him in the side with a giggle, and it makes him wonder how to wrap his head around the dissonance you’re giving him.

reo starts to feel less and less surprised with the way you turned out the more you tell him about the girls you befriended in high school, and then the ones you were hanging out with in your sorority house as well. you’ve always been kept in a bubble, as your parents’ greatest treasure - their sweetest little girl, as if you weren’t in your golden age to start experimenting with life and all it had to offer. it was honestly only a matter of time until you slipped away, the blinders your parents wore making them oblivious to your newly born adventurous nature. she’s not like that, he bet they’d say. have you seen her? she’s as innocent as they get! how the hell you managed to stay just that way, reo couldn’t figure out for the life of him. you’re wearing the skimpiest skirts he’s seen on a girl in a long time, your tits spilling out of your top, lashes curled to the heavens and yet, when you look at him, you have the same childish excitement in your doe-like eyes - and it feels as if you haven’t grown at all from when he first met you.

you were never really insufferably dumb to begin with, and reo knows that. your parents made sure you got the greatest education possible and you were a straight A student, keeping interest in many fields - starting from finances and economics, through arts and finishing at high tech. maybe that’s what makes it so appealing and easy to talk to you, spending long hours on bickering and discussing, even though your mind seems so, so much more innocent than his - hell, than any other girl’s your age, too. whenever he slips a dirty joke in the conversation, you frown slightly, a pout on your lips as if asking, what do you mean, reo?, and it doesn’t make any sense to him. yet again - how can that be possible, with the way all of your little friends are carrying themselves?

you start spending more time with each other, considering how close your condo is to the blue lock facility, and it becomes a little routine for him to come right over to your place whenever he gets a few days of break. you spend the time watching tv shows, stuffing your face full of snacks, going to the arcade and gossiping about reo’s teammates or whatever one of your girlfriends did since the last time you two have seen each other.

“m’so happy we’re friends now, reo,” you mumble one night, curled up to his side on the couch, nearly dozing off with some random action movie playing from the flat screen tv. “y’remind me of him so much, yanno?” 

ah, so there it is - the reason behind you always staying hooked to his arm. even though you were coming from a very similar background as him, reo was still a little more experienced in life - having seen more, thanks to the blue lock, among other things - and after all, he was a year older than you, wasn’t he? he carried himself with this confident, yet playful smile all of the time, and made everyone in his company feel warm - very much like your older brother did. thanks to him (or more like your stories about him), reo manages to get a good glimpse at how a sportsman’s life really looks like - how even though your family was so close, his visits happen thrice a year at most, and it leaves you missing him so bad, he even has to comfort you and wipe away your tears on one of your movie marathon nights.

sometimes, it seems like there’s two sides to him. one, that makes every girl’s knees buckle at just one glance; and the other, showcased by a bright grin and giddy behavior. either way, reo doesn’t really think of himself badly. it’s not like he’s doing any of it against the girls’ wishes, isn’t it? some would even consider it a good deed, even, he’s pretty sure, with the way he’s the very first one to be touching them that way, taking their innocence away. the only time he ever starts to feel guilt eating away at his insides is when the same filth spills all over his mind, clouding over his senses whenever you are around.

it’s been a year since the neo egoist league has ended - a year full of you, amongst soccer and other things that tore his mind and body down with exhaustion. movie nights, adventure parks, helping you study, going to frat parties with you, even - cause none of the girls are comin’, reo, please, just this once! - as if he really needed any convincing to come. some of the guys there were his high school friends, he realized, and so the thought of catching up with his old colleagues made the party even more appealing. (not to mention the tens of girls that would kill to have him lick the salt off their tummy, the tequila on his tongue bringing a bitter taste to their mouth as they kissed later - one of his favorite party activities, honestly, considering how hard it made him in his pants.) 

the first time it happens, reo’s by the makeshift bar, chatting up with a friend he used to sit with at chemistry lab as he pours them a drink - and his head lazily tilts to the side upon hearing your voice calling out to him.

“reo!” you sound as excited as always when addressing him, and he has to chuckle at the way you stumble over your own feet as you strut over to his spot by the bar. “reo, we’re- we’re playing beer pong. wanna team up w’me?” 

the amused laughter dies down in his throat as his eyes zero in on your cleavage, the fat of your tits jiggling with each step you hurriedly take towards him. he sees the slight sheen of sweat, watches the way it reflects the neon lights, how it accentuates the glitter of the body spray you put on right before you left the house. reo is glad he has his hand stuck in his pocket, cause now he can quickly fix his hardening dick without making it suspicious - he gives himself a slight squeeze and clears his throat as you approach him.

you smell of coconut, and the scent overwhelms his senses as soon as you press yourself up against him - a giggle leaving your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in to press a wet kiss to his cheek. “pretty, pretty please? y’know i’ve never ever played it, and if i lose it’ll make me a loser, won’t it now, reo,” you babble on, a laugh leaving your mouth as his friend gives your nose a flick. he must’ve told you something amusing, reo supposes, but the both of you are drowned out as blood thuds in his ears - as it throbs in his pants, cock aching by how ridiculously hard it got at the feeling of you pressed up against him. he feels your tits as they squish against his chest, feels the rumble of your laughter, the flutter of your lashes against his neck-

“‘xcuse me,” he mumbles, hurriedly, and pries your arms off - earning a surprised look from you (and a cute drunken stumble). making his way through the crowd, the smell of spilled liquor and sweat and mixed perfume makes his head even dizzier, to the point that he’s stumbling into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

one hand works on turning the lock while the other undoes the button of his plaid gray pants, a shaky groan slipping past his lips at the crumb of relieved tension. he dips a hand past the waistband of his boxers and pulls his throbbing cock out, thumb smearing the milky white pre-cum all around the reddened tip as he grabs onto the sink tightly for support.

“shit,” reo nearly whines at the image playing out in the very front of his mind. it’s almost like he can still inhale you, feel you as the heat of your body against his turns his legs to mush. he bites down on his lip, hard, in an attempt to quiet down the needy gasps that leave his mouth every so often, with every jerk of his hand. he tightens his grip on the porcelain, wrist flicking hurriedly and it makes him squeeze his eyes shut, strands of violet hair falling over his forehead as he groans quietly. please, pretty please, reo. it reverbs in his ears, but this time, it’s breathy, needy - as he imagines you giving him your prettiest wide eyes, tears sticking to your lashes, mascara running down your cheeks as he holds your thighs wide open, watching the way your pussy struggles to fit him in-

“ah- fuck, take it-” a mewl-like sound catches in his throat, toned abs spasming as white spills all over the bathroom sink. he struggles to catch his breath, hips needily thrusting into his hand as he rides out the high that leaves a loud ringing in his ears. throwing his head back, he groans softly as he feels the thick cum pool on his fingers, dripping down onto the pearly white porcelain - staining it with filth.

 it takes him a breather to finally flutter his eyes open, the bring white light stinging the bloodshot orbs - and he hums to himself, softly, a sigh following soon after as his shoulders relax. he lets go of the edge of the sink and instead turns the faucet on, cleaning his hands off any filth and patting any residue off his cock with a paper towel in relative silence. a random tune booms through the speakers outside, but the bathroom door do their job mellowing it out as he cleans after himself, taking his time to fully come down his high.

the realization only hits him when he’s finished zipping his pants back up and about to fix his hair, glancing up at the mirror - and sees the red tint on his cheeks and blood clinging to the torn skin of his bottom lip, glossy eyes staring right back at him.

maybe he is a bit fucked up, after all.

you wake up in your bed the next morning, a glass of water along with a tablet of aspirin left on your bedside table. loser :p, the note stuck right next to it says, and you honestly wish you remembered what the little joke is about. 

“this is so embarrassing,” you whine into your pillow a few hours later and reo chuckles under his breath at the way your legs kick out, body overcome with shame. “i can’t remember a thing! i don’t know what i was even doin’ most of the night,” you mumble, eyes almost teary as you pull your face away to give reo a discontented look. he hums softly, glancing over at you just for a split second before focusing back on the stocks on his phone screen.

“see, that’s why i told you not to drink this much.” he says matter-of-factly, “you’re lucky i was there. you never know who’s at the party with you, kiddo, so you need to stay aware at all times.”

now, reo has to admit that the sight of your eyes glazing over with tears, a subtle pout on your lips, shouldn’t be making him feel as hot as it does - and yet, he continues, and digs the hole underneath you even deeper. 

“there’s many bad guys around and you know it,” he mumbles, lilac eyes momentarily catching yours. you gulp and pull your knees up towards your chest for comfort, tears of shame tingling at your lashes. “you’re a smart girl, after all, yeah?”

were the things he said true? definitely - especially for such pretty and sweet girls like you, too good for your own good. but were you really in any danger last night, with him keeping an eye on you the whole time (except for his little… getaway)? not really - but seeing the anxious expression on your face was worth it. sometimes, it made reo feel like he should just grab you by the shoulders and tell you that you had to grow up eventually, for your own safety and comfort. but then again, he doubted it’d even work anyway, and besides, the adrenaline rush he experienced each and every time he instilled a crumb of fear in your heart was just too good to let pass.

it does feel good to have you cling to him even tighter, after all, he figures as you climb on his lap weeks later asyou two hang out in the evening. your hair blocks his view of the game he’s watching, but it only takes a little squirming for you to get fully comfortable and allow him the full look on the tv screen.

“who’s playing today?” you chime in, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn. reo’s voice catches in his throat, unable to help the way his eyes cast down, to where your ass is pressing firmly against his crotch and thighs. the waistband of your shorts sticks away from your flesh, allowing him to take a peek of the thin elastic of your thong - bright purple, just like his eyes. it makes him shudder.

“real madrid and barcelona,” he mumbles, clearing his throat and his hand almost flies down to cup his growing bulge in a weak attempt to hide it. the idea dies down in his mind as soon as he realizes your full attention is on the screen, soft hums leaving your mouth every so often along with little comments about the play. you’re absolutely oblivious to his cock prodding at your bum, hard on pressing right against the fat cheeks and aching. some would say it’s embarrassing how quickly reo could stand to full alert, but honestly… who wouldn’t, right? he shifts in his seat, an arm reaching to rest on the backrest of your sofa. he tries, really fucking struggles to keep his eyes on the screen as well, but your small sounds of excitement or frustration make it near impossible. you fidget slightly, 

“ah! it hit the pole,” you mumble, brows knit in focus and hands resting on top of reo’s knees, bare and bruised up from the hours of training. reo closes his eyes, deciding to try his luck - and he bucks his hips up, slowly, as to not scare you off his lap. instead, he’s met with silence - and he glances at you shortly, just to make sure.

he has just the perfect view of your back, skin smooth and glowy, and his hands itch to rest on the curve of your waist. experimentally, he places a hand on your side, and feels you shiver under his fingertips.

“your hands are cold,” you whine, but instead of pushing it off your bare skin, you do the thing he doesn’t even dare to dream of right now - you squirm. reo moves his other hand to his mouth, leaning back into the plush sofa as his hips do the very contrary and thrust up against you.

you don’t seem to acknowledge how uncomfortable the position generally is, how it should be for any other male friend whose lap would be occupied by you. instead, you lean forward slightly, hips rolling against reo’s crotch just slightly, and you sigh softly as you give his knees a gentle squeeze.

can you really be this oblivious? honestly, it’s hard to tell which thought makes him harden more - you just putting up a little facade and actually just teasing him by this point, or, which is more likely considering your sweet nature - you being truly, absolutely unaware of how your fidgeting was making his dick throb and ache. the sounds of the game are long forgotten, barely a haze in reo’s mind, as blood pumps in his ears and mouth salivates at both the sight and sensation on you almost bent over on his lap. he feels your dainty fingers tap against his knees mindlessly, or giving his flesh a gentle squeeze whenever you tense up in excitement over the match. he has to lean his head back, eyes closed and teeth nearly sinking into his hand as to not make a sound.

he rolls his hips up against your bum languidly, the friction sending sparks down his thighs, and it feels heavenly. he thinks of how your small hands will feel as they rest in the same exact place as now, but instead, they work as support when you lower yourself down on his cock. he wonders how you’d squeal if he grabbed at your ass, left his hand prints all over the soft flesh, setting a rhythm for you to ride him. for a second, it even occurs to him that maybe, just maybe, if he pushed himself to make a move, the little sleepover with your best friend really could end up with him splitting you open on his dick. 

reo hears his breath hitch in his throat, the familiar tension in his abdomen growing stronger, and it urges him to grind against you just a bit faster. upon realizing that you really are absolutely oblivious to how he’s using you to get off, it seems like most of his limits broke loose. (it’s not like anything would happen if you ever did find out, though, right?) his cock throbs and pulses against the thin gray boxers, pre-cum already sticking to the material and it feels fucking disgusting, but so good. he tips over his climax, eventually, hips stuttering beneath you and just as he feels the first spurt of cum soak into the soft cotton, you let out a gasp, and jolt in his lap. 

the sensation is enough to make reo’s eyes widen, a choked groan leaving his lips at the way your ass rubs down on him just perfectly, as if helping him ride his high out. his head feels airy as he listens to your little squeal of excitement mix with the sports announcer’s lively comments, the sound tuned out and barely a buzz in his ears. the sticky and thick cum pools in his boxers, and he wonders if you really cannot feel the obvious wetness through the material of his shorts.

you shift in your seat on his lap, ripping a groan from his throat at the way you press down against his overstimulated cock. turning around to give him a puzzled look upon the sound, the sight of your eyes wide and bright almost chokes reo up. 

“you okay?” you ask, a hand reaching towards his face to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes. you don’t seem to notice the way perspiration clings to his brows as you touch him.

he gives a nod, swallowing down the saliva that pooled in his mouth, before clearing his throat. 

“yeah,” he speaks, and he’s surprised how collected he sounds for someone who had just creamed his pants. his eyes follow the screen, watching the player’s goal from a minute ago replay and it’s actually a little silly how lucky he is to get such a good cover, in fact, as he watches the camera zoom in on his favorite club’s goalkeeper and his sour expression.  “just really want barca to win, s’all.” 

reo gives up on the hope of you finally growing more self-aware anytime soon when a few more months pass and yet, you still don't notice how your panties would disappear from the hamper or how reo has to excuse himself from the room when you're around - only to come back minutes later, eyes glossed over.

you're starting to make it hard for him not to make a move, and he's honestly stunned that he went so long without finally having his way with you. hell, he even brings you along to the small weekend trip he's came up with, just before the new u20 squad was to be announced. the blue lock team deserves some relaxation before the season starts, even if it is barely a few days, and you do too, considering you had just finished your finals (on top of your class as always). and so, he brings you with him and the rest of the guys and their partners - who at first ask how long you two have been together and then give a surprised look when you laugh, oh! oh no, reo's like a brother to me, really! (something about his longing looks and the way he'd grab your hips tells them different, but oh well, that's not any of their business, right?) the sight of you in all the skimpy bikinis, skin glowing with the tanning oil and cheeks kissed by the sun might just be the breaking point - or at least, one of them, the other being you, going on a date with one of his teammates, and getting your little heart broken.

the sight of you on his doorstep, head hung low and soft little sniffles sounding through the rain outside, is a shock indeed - and reo only has it in himself to coo softly as you stumble right into his arms.

"hey- hey, what's goin' on?" he tries to pull you back from his chest, but the grip you have on his waist is surprisingly strong. instead, he reached for the handle and clicks the door shut, hands moving to rub up and down your arms afterwards. "what happened, bunny?"

your shoulders tremble once, nimble fingers tightening on the material of his white tee. "don' wanna talk," you mumble, and reo wraps his arms around your shoulders, lips pressing to the crown of your head soothingly.

"okay," he mumbles, breathing in the all too familiar scent of your shampoo mixing with the sweet, sticky coconut of your perfume. it brings him back to the frat party months earlier - and makes heat pool in his stomach, even now, as you're sniveling against his broad chest. "i'll run you a bath, okay? you'll get sick."

you don't have it in you to refuse, and in a span of an hour, you're already curled up in the middle of reo's bed, wearing a spare pair of your joggers and one of his sweaters. there's two half-empty cups of ginger tea on the bedside table, and you lay on your side, knees hugged to your chest as you ramble.

reo stares at your face as you speak in a hushed tone, propping his head up on his hand, the other busy with rubbing small circles into your hip. he knows it's bad, god, he knows it's fucked up, but he feels his abdomen tighten at the sight of crystal tears sticking to your lash line.

"and then i said..." you take in a breath, bottom lip jutted out. "said that i- i don't want to do it anymore. that maybe we shouldn't after all, so he got annoyed and tried to change my mind, but-" you cut your rambling off at the silence you're met with, eyes glancing up to check on reo's expression.

he's always been an attentive listener, but this time, the silence almost sounds different. the boy hums, and tugs you a little closer to him. "shouldn't do what?" he inquires; and if it wasn't for the tears smudging your vision, you would've noticed the way he swallows thickly.

you feel your cheeks heat up and scrunch your nose, shaking your head. "you know what, reo," you mumble and he has to force back a sly smile. you're so shy, and now also slightly shaken still from what happened mere two or three hours ago. "i told you already.."

you trail off, the topic clearly bringing you discomfort and yet, reo doesn't drop it entirely. you've grown used to him being so thorough in your conversations, but this time, it makes you fidget slightly.

of course he knows. god of course he does, and the thing keeps him awake some nights, especially after he's scored a goal or two and he has to blow off some steam.

reo's well aware that you've never been with a guy. you've kissed a few of them, yeah, sure. you could've even made out with them, had their tongues down your throat - but you were still innocent, in more ways than one. you were drop dead gorgeous, and yet, the way you would be absolutely oblivious to other guys advance's still hadn't changed one bit since you were barely a young teen. maybe that's why you've never had a man grope you, please you, ruin you - make you stumble over your own feet the morning after.

he's wonders if you've even ever thought of it - if you ever desired to be played with.

"i know," he chuckles slightly and dips his hand under the hem of the thick sweater draped over your waist. a thumb starts to smooth tiny circles across your flesh, mimicking the gesture from seconds before. "i know, bunny. but i've told you already, didn't i, how there's plenty bad guys around." he points out, hand giving your waist a slight squeeze upon feeling you tense up. "why didn't you tell me that you were meetin' someone, hm?"

you can't stand the intensity of reo's violet eyes boring into yours, and so you only give a slight shrug and avert your gaze, "i dunno, reo. just wanted to try something new." you admit, the words now sour on your tongue and you know that this'll be the last time you ever try to go out of your comfort zone for a long, long time. "everyone already did it. i stick out." you grumble, expression soft even as you frown.

your words don't leave him undisturbed - in fact, the expression on reo's face doesn't give out any of the things he's thinking about. if it did, he's sure his eyes would turn black with greed, and he'd most probably drool over the thought of him being the one you turned to instead-

oh.

"why didn't you just ask me?" reo sits up slightly, the arm used to support his head up now straightened. you look up at him, hand itching to brush the hair out of his face - something you seem to always do whenever he has his hair down - but the intensity of his gaze leaves you flustered enough to back down.

"ask you?" you squeak out. it's cute how shocked you sound, reo thinks.

"yeah, why not?" his hand moves further up, warmth resting on your ribs now, just barely below the swell of your breast. you're not wearing any bra - of course you aren't. it's not like you've ever thought of being the slightest bit embarrassed in front of him - not like you've ever noticed how he had to fix his boner at the glimpse of your nipples perking through the shirt you would wear at one of your sleepovers.

the feeling is so unfamiliar, it makes your head dizzy. you and reo have always been touchy with each other - but it's because you were best friends, and it was your way of keeping close, so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. but now, as he looks at you with such intensity and pushes on the topic that brings you so much embarrassment, the touch seems out of place.

"you know that your first time is really important, right? you'll compare all of your next boyfriends to this," reo hums, giving your flesh a light squeeze. "s'why you have to be real careful who you're pickin' to be your very first, doll." eventually, he pushes himself up straight, and it feels like the air around you has thinned and finally, you could breathe free again.

"still- wouldn't that be... weird, if i asked you to?" you prop yourself up on your elbows and you're surprised you even managed to force the words out. your heart hammers inside your chest, "we're best friends..." you mumble, and reo shrugs - nonchalantly, as if the ache in his boxers wasn't driving him crazy.

"that's what best friends are for," he points out and reaches a hand towards your ankle, fingers gently skimming along the delicate skin. it makes you shiver and fidget slightly as he massages along your calf. "it's nothin' weird. i could just help you out, so you know what you like and how to make a guy feel good, yeah?" you roll your head to the side, face burning. this sounds insane - reo, your sweetest best friend that almost feels like an older brother to you, telling you how he can be your first. what's worse, no matter how uncanny it feels, it surprisingly doesn't raise any objections in your mind.

you must be silent for a short while, because soon he drums his fingers against your knee. (you didn't even notice when his hand moved upwards, and how good it feels.)

"hey, we don't have to," not now, at least. but god, it's getting so exhausting to hold himself back. "but it would be easier for you that way, bunny.. you trust me, don't you?" your heart pulls in your chest at the words, teeth sinking into your bottom lip and reo almost feels sorry for how he's messing with your head.

but honestly, he's not even trying to - after all, he's just saying the truth. if only you gave him the green light, he could show you so much. he knows you better than anyone else, better than any guy out there ever will. he could make you feel things you didn't know were even possible, pull sounds from you that would make you blush with embarrassment. all he needs is just a chance.

the quiet rustling of the sheets brings him back from the train of thoughts and the sight of you, legs slightly spread in front of him, eyes glossed over and cheeks reddened, is enough to choke him up.

"f'course i do," there's a slight whimper to your voice, breath soft as your chest heaves. "s-so, reo, please..."

a grunt catches in his throat as he grabs your ankles, gently, and pulls you towards him - hands immediately moving to roam up your middle. goosebumps rise along your skin, back arching slightly, and you glance up as reo wraps your legs around his hips.

"will make you feel good," he promises, breathily, as he leans down. you can see how blown his pupils are - the pretty violet barely a halo around the black by now. he licks his lips, gaze darting towards yours, but goes to vocalize his question anyway. "can i?"

you would've answered, but the close proximity between you two and the way you can feel reo's soft breath his your mouth makes you act before you can think. you lean in, lips pressing against his in a chaste kiss, and carefully cup his face in your hands.

reo moans into your mouth, shameless, and brings one large palm to rest back on your hip to grab at the soft flesh. you're so sweet, so gentle - treating him with reserve still, but it feels heavenly anyway. just the way he always imagined.

his tongue slips into your mouth, a surprised little sound muffled against his mouth, as he deepens the kiss languidly. your head spins at the feeling of reo's warm tongue, sliding against yours and lapping lazily, fingers lacing together at the nape of his neck. you're pulling him closer, ankles locking behind his hips as he presses himself against you.

there's a bashful mewl slipping past your lips as you feel reo's hard cock rut against your clothed core.

"you're so pretty," he breathes into the kiss, breaking it as he pulls away just slightly, enough to look at you. "see? you're makin' me feel so good, bunny, and we're just kissin'." he grabs your hips with both of his hands now, moving them against his crotch.

the feeling reminds you of when you'd touch your little pussy yourself - late night, under the covers, when the tension and warmth in your tummy would just get too much. but never, ever would you ever think that someone else rubbing at your sweet spots could feel this good. your clit throbs against the cotton of your sweats, and it's almost as if reo feels it at the way he grinds your hips against his harder.

"reo-" you gasp, hand grabbing at his bicep 'cause it's starting to feel like too much. his hands are firm and heavy, holding you against him and handling you however he likes - however he seems fit. it's good, but you have a feeling that it might get even better.

"i know," he coos, chuckling at the way your eyes flutter when he pulls away. he gives your - well, his - sweater a tug, "take it off for me, doll."

you give a small nod and quickly work on taking the clothing off, the air cold against your heated skin. you shiver slightly, both from the change in temperature and the way reo looks at you.

he sighs shakily, hands moving to rest on your waist before slowly moving up and grab at your breasts. you lull your head back into the pillows, the feeling of reo's warmth palms making you shudder. it's new - you've never had anyone touch you like that, ever - and makes warmth pool in your abdomen.

"fuck," you hear him whisper under his breath as he massages at the plush of your tits - fingers experimentally giving a pinch to one of your nipples. you whimper at the feeling, jolting slightly, "fuck, feel how they fit right in my hands?" he flexes his fingers on the flesh for emphasis. "like they were made f'me." a soft groan leaves his mouth, before he leans down and wraps it around your areola.

your eyes widen slightly at the tickling sensation, reo's tongue warm and heavy against your hard nipple, and your back's arching off the mattress before you can register it.

there's a hand slipping past the waistband of your sweatpants, rough fingertips skimming against the skin of your abdomen, just right above your pussy. your hips stutter and chest heaves, making reo moan out at how you stuff his face full with your tits. you're so fucking needy, and you don't even seem to notice. your body acts on it's own, natural and by instinct upon feeling so much pleasure all at once, and it makes his head spin.

he gently dips a finger between your folds, drawing a little circle against your hole and his breath hitches in his throat at the way wetness oozes right out. he pulls away from your chest, a thick ribbon of saliva connecting his reddened lips with your nipple, and looks up at you.

there's one of your forearms resting over your eyes, lips fallen apart as soft little moans slip past. you only pull your arm away from your face when his hand pushes your pants down and doesn't return to it's previous place between your thighs - instead, he taps his fingers on your lips.

you look up at him, eyes tentative, as he breathes out, "lick them for me, baby. so it doesn't hurt."

he knows damn well that you're wet enough to manage a finger or two, even if it is your very first time taking something longer and thicker than your dainty fingers - but the sight of you obediently parting your lips, tongue lolling out to lap at his digits before softly suckling is worth the lie.

reo feels his cock throb as he watches you, intently, as you circle your tongue around his fingers and struggle to fit them in your mouth past his second knuckle.

"good girl," he croons and gives his hard on a firm squeeze through his sweats, just a little something to relieve the painful pulse. your eyelashes flutter momentarily, blood rushing to your cheeks, and he can't help but push his fingers deeper.

you choke slightly, eyes squeezing shut at the sudden intrusion as you feel saliva pool in your mouth and dribble past the corner of your mouth.

"open your eyes," you can barely hear reo speak over your quiet choking. "look at me."

you force your eyes back open, vision blurry with tears as you try to catch eye-contact. tears pool at your lash line as finally, he retracts his fingers from your mouth and pulls his hand away entirely, satisfied.

you sputter, gasping for air, and feel reo's other hand rest on your cheek. he wipes your tears away with a thumb, cups your face in his palm gently and sighs.

"see- that's what other boys would do if they saw you like that," he soothes, voice warm as usual and it brings contrast to his words. "s'why you have to be careful, bunny. don't want anyone to be rough with you, don't you?"

you shake your head quickly, throat still burning and scratchy as you look up. he really does look almost worried, with his eyes soft and focused on you entirely - but it almost seems like there's a haze behind the lilac.

you don't dwell on it too much, 'cause there's already a finger rubbing against your slit again, and this time it slips right in. the sensation isn't entirely new to you - you've played with yourself before, after all - but reo's fingers are so much thicker and longer than yours, feel so rough, and seem to press against your sweet spot almost instantly. you moan sweetly, hips bucking against his hands involuntarily as his fingertip rubs against the front of your pussy. it tightens around his finger, makes him dip it even deeper.

"right there?" he asks breathily, watching as your face contorts with pleasure, and it's enough of an answer. your tummy spasms slightly as you suck in a breath, hips starting to grind against his hand. there's another finger prodding at your entrance, teasingly, before slipping right in next to the other. "wanna see if you can handle two."

there's a slight stretch and burn as you try to accommodate to the girth of reo's fingers, much wider than anything you've ever played with and it is giving you a small struggle. you whimper and shift your hips, hand moving to push at his wrist instinctively.

"can't," you moan out, swallowing thickly as reo gives you a look - almost disappointed, yet intrigued at the same time.

"you've never had anything other than your fingers playing with this little pussy, didn't you?" it comes out as a slight groan, and you turn your head to the side to avoid his gaze. even as you act so sheepish, the slick that coats reo's fingers tell him enough - you're enjoying this.

you're getting off on listening to your best friend talk so sweetly about your pussy, playing with your body how he pleases.

you gulp heavily as you feel his weight shift on the bed, one arm resting across your abdomen and pinning you down firmly. and then, you feel a hot breath fan across your wet cunt, throbbing and creaming for attention, before he takes a long lick up your clit.

your hands grab at reo's hair, fingers tightening to tug and it vibrates against your pussy as he groans. "fuck," you whimper, and he chuckles breathlessly.

"watch your mouth," he muses, humored, before wrapping his lips around your throbbing little clit.

your eyes roll backwards, head pushing into the pillows and you have to bite back a cry at the overwhelming pleasure that seems to hit you all at once. it makes your muscles tremble and head spin how reo seems to work the same exact spot with both his fingers, massaging and thrusting inside, and his tongue, messily and hungrily slurping away. your hips stutter, but don't lift off the bed whatsoever as he keeps them stuck to the mattress with his arm, whining against your heat.

"you can- you can tug," he breathes, purple eyes glancing up at you as he knows exactly what you'll do - give him a little puzzled look, as if to ask you sure, reo? - and moans as his gaze meets yours. you look entirely fucked out already, spit wet on your lips and face pink, eyes wide and needy. he wonders if he looks just as filthy right now, hips rutting into the sheets and soaking his sweats with pre-cum and with his face stuffed in your pussy, devouring you as if he was starved.

he just might be, after years of trying to control himself.

he feels your fingers give a sharp pull at his hair, then push his mouth right back against you until his nose nudges against your groomed mound. it starts to get hard to breathe, he realizes, but you taste just to sweet - almost like honey, thick and sticky on his tongue as he suckles and licks and nibbles, soft little hums and whines buzzing against your twitching pussy.

you feel your back nearly stick to the sheets, thighs trembling against his head as you feel the strange sensation creep up - your muscles tense up as reo's hand presses on your lower abdomen, firmly, a breathy sigh hot on your clit. your eyes widen slightly and you jolt,

"aah- stop- reo, stop," you babble, tongue heavy in your mouth and head hazy from pleasure, but you have to go. embarrassment is dense on your mind as you push at his head, breath picking up and hips bucking up involuntarily. "please, please reo, it feels - ngh- feels funny." you don't realize there's big, fat tears running down your temples now, clear streaks streaming down the heated skin as your voice cracks.

why isn't he stopping?

you choke back a sob, the pleasure white hot in your veins as he groans and pulls back just slightly, enough to speak, "fuck, cum for me. cum on my face, baby." he sounds desperate - looks just the same, too, as you glance at him and the way he works his fingers in and out of your tight heat, fluttering and tightening. big, needy eyes stare up at you, bangs held back by your hand as your fingers pull at the hair, and he lolls his tongue out, grinding it against your clit messily.

you throw your head back, eyes unfocused, as it hits you like a heavy rainfall. the pleasure comes in waves, muscles taut and shaking as your back arches and quiet little cries slip out of your mouth - almost like a chant, and nothing like the sounds all of the other girls made, reo realizes. you sound so, so much prettier. perfect and sweet as you grind against his hungry mouth, cream oozing onto his tongue and juices spilling on his chin. he nearly whimpers, hips rolling against the bed and it takes all of his self restraint not to cum in his pants, too, at the sight of you trembling in his grasp.

the pleasure leaves your limbs warm and fuzzy, a soft buzz in your ears as your climax slowly dies down - but you realize that reo doesn't let up, fingers now having dropped their pace, but tongue still flicking against your oversensitive heat. you whine, swallowing back tears and pulling his mouth away, tugging at the roots of violet hair.

"reo," you sound broken enough, he thinks, and so he gives your clit a last kiss, the smack sounding so obscene it makes you close your eyes in shame. he eases his fingers out of you and gives the inside of your thigh a little peck as well before sitting back on his heels, breathing heavy as he takes you in.

you struggle to catch your breath properly, hair sticking to wet cheeks as you swallow thickly and grab at the sheets - as if you wanted to tug them over your body, cover yourself from his stare and the realization that sits heavy on your mind. reo sighs, nearly dreamily, and sucks your juices right off his fingers as you watch - too exhausted to show any sign of shame.

"m'gonna have you ride my face next time, okay?" he breathes out, giving your hip a squeeze - and before you let his words settle in, you're already nodding along, a soft little whimper leaving your mouth in agreement. it makes his cock jump in his boxers, the way you're so compliant and don't seem to realize the weight of his words.

if only he had known you'd be so easy to convince, he would've made a move a long time ago already, reo thinks to himself as he pulls you up for a kiss. grabbing your wrist to push your hand behind the waistband of his boxers, he drinks up the little moans that slip out your mouth, needy and sweet, nearly enough to make his teeth rot.

reo is so content he's met you, even if it took him long years to realize that your innocence and purity are actually the very thing he needs and wants.

and yeah, you're still different than the other girls - but you're just as oblivious with the way you don't notice his phone propped up on the nightstand.

reblogs are greatly appreciated ! :)

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.

[weebsinstash]

I'm sorry but I can't stop thinking about a certain angsty idea

Like pretty sure this is implying getting married is a canon event? But in a way, doesn't that kind of, really strip the choice and actual love and magic out of it? Or, could you at least understand the idea of a Spiderperson who may feel that way? Did you genuinely fall in love with someone if it was "supposed" to happen? And the universe could fall apart if you don't so you arent really even given a choice to say no? Isn't that like having a preprogrammed robot instead of a true lover?

Still kinda obsessed with the concept of a Spider Reader where you didn't get scouted by Miguel until after you had already lost your loved ones, but, it's clear that some Spiders are scouted before they have all of their events (Pav), and, I can't stop thinking about, you're in the Spider Society and making friends and having fun and stuff and you're. Still supposed to get married or have a relationship or something and you're just, completely avoiding having anything at all, not even dating anyone, nothing really feels natural to you and you just don't really want anything?

Months and months and months pass and you've turned multiple people down in your home dimension and Spiders at the Society are told not to interact with you in certain ways, which becomes overboard when no one ever seems to want to hug you or even high five you or touch you at all (because "oh don't let them get a crush on you, they can't break canon" or some dumb paranoia) which just eventually develops into isolating you from the Spider Society, and they all think, "ok good they'll spend more time at home and then start the route for this canon event and we can talk to them again" but it just. Doesn't happen. You're starting to show up to the Society less and less but the only thing that changes when you get back home is a loneliness that you fill with a pet and some platonic friends

Peter B is trying to "subtly" nudge you. "Ya know kid, aren't you in your 20s now? Isn't it time you try and, I dunno, get into college or something? You've got so much potential!" as he willingly omits how he met his wife in college and maybe it's in the model that you could meet your spouse there too as a potential option

But I like the idea and already lowkey established concept that canon changes and has tweaks here and there and can be bent in certain ways so, imagine like, idk, imagine Reader already being with the person who is supposed to your soul mate, and, you find out about The Model or whatever, the Arachno Humanoid Poly Mutiverse or whatever, and you just realize kind of on accident that, oh having a relationship at all is kind of just another prison for you to be in, huh? Another choice stripped away from you, another thing that made you feel like a rubber stamp in existence in the weird copy/paste Spider Society. So you just. You don't intentionally bomb the relationship but you become so extremely depressed and refuse to talk about it with your SO that they actually leave you, making the choice independently, changing canon but not breaking it

But here's Miguel, which I guess you could imagine as a protective obsessive romantic figure or even platonic parental, and he's all but grinding his teeth because, as he sees it, you're not only risking completely breaking your canon which you know Would Fucking Kill You, but, why are you constantly shooting down what are supposed to be good changes for your life? No relationships? No college? No aspirations at all? Why are you not living up to your full potential? He's so frustrated because he KNOWS you could "be better than this" and that you're "supposed to" be better than this, but you just seem. Depressed and defeated. He wants you to be better because it's better for your life, your future, your safety (even if depending on preference it absolutely gets under his skin to see you with anyone else romantically or sexually)

And I have no idea how they would externally force you into some kind of relationship but, I've also thought about, alternatively, the tried and true "Reader lost their home dimension but somehow didn't disappear and lives on Earth 928B now" (the movie specifics its 928b ok, pet peeve I know, 928 is comic Miguel, 928b is ATSV movie Miguel) and eventually, somehow, your bracelet comes off one day and you're about to freak out and it's like, wait, you aren't glitching??? Why aren't you glitching? I mean, you're happy to not be in pain and flashing colors, but, this doesn't make sense? And you don't wanna tempt fate but you don't bother to get a new bracelet or, other people are around to witness this weird event and so, Miguel is immediately investigating what happened. I imagine maybe they scan you with the Go Home Machine and it's just like "ha ha yeah you're home already :)" you know like some "Dimensional Match: 928B" and the machine doesn't even activate, it just scans you with the drone, is like "yeah you're good lmao" and goes back to sleep

And now Miguel is like, you know. Understandably concerned because now there are two Spiders for Nueva York, but, also, he's just like, unbeknownst to you absolutely over the moon necause if you're technically a part of his dimension now, maybe you can complete your canon and have some sort of happy ending. But. Miguel never had his wedding either? Or at least not the "true" one, like how Peter moves on from Gwen to Mary Jane? Cue Miguel suddenly spending suspicious amounts of time on his platform in the dark looking at holograms and algorithms and asking Lyla to calculate the probability of you two maybe becoming spouses for each other

AND YOU'RE SO FUCKED IF IT SAYS YOU CAN LMAO. Cause now not only is he all the more obsessed with you (you were BROUGHT to his dimension by a miracle, can't you SEE you're destined for each other) but now it's "don't you understand? Not only are we MEANT for each other, you don't have a choice! You CANT break canon!" And he's fucking putting a finger in your face and lecturing you about how, you know what, it's ok if you're scared and you're not ready. You know why? Because you two were made for each other, and, he must have been made to be this strong so he can protect you and make decisions on your behalf, right? It's all in The Model. It's all in God's Plan. The two of you are going to get married whether you think it's the love you're fantasizing about or not, and Miguel is more than thrilled that he was essentially just handed a certified excuse to keep you all to himself on a silver platter

Also. I guess this is preferential but. Imagine if Earth 928B's solution to two Spidermen, like how Miles' "corrected" itself with getting rid of blonde Peter, what if the universe and canon just went, "actually it's all cool though cause technically one of them isn't going to technically in name be a Spider anymore, they're going to be forcibly turned into a cute little pampered house spouse" and ON GOD he's getting children out of you if you're capable of it and that ISN'T optional. He's thinking you can start at AT LEAST three babies and then talk about how many more from there? He's always wanted a large family with lots of cute little girls and boys, you know 👉👈

[loveinhawkins]

The RV careens out of the trailer park and hits the open road with what pretty much amounts to ‘all speed, no grace.’ The turn Steve makes is, quite frankly, abysmal; he’s sure that if his driving instructor could see him now, the poor man would be weeping in distress.

Yet his passengers erupt into cheers as they pass the Leaving Hawkins sign, like he’s pulled some kind of James Bond move.

And, for all his insistence on being the absolute antithesis to so-called ‘jock culture’, Eddie rushes over to the driver’s seat, starts squeezing Steve’s shoulder with decidedly jock-like exuberance.

“Holy shit, holy shit, that was so fucking cool, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s definitely broken through the depression stage of the ‘finding out there’s an alternate dimension in Hawkins’ journey—landing firmly in the fuck it, might as well have some fun stage.

Steve could tell they’d reached that point even before the goddamn ‘big boy’ comment, when Eddie had taken one look at the Michael Myers mask, looked Max dead in the eye and said, “This is gonna be. So fuckin’ stupid. Let’s do it.”

Steve goes through a few seconds more of having his shoulder pummelled before saying, “Dude, you’re doing a shitty job at being undercover, stay down.”

“Like, do you have any idea,” Eddie says breathily, as if Steve hasn’t spoken, “just how perfect that was? That was, God, a childhood dream fully—”

“You dreamed of stealing an RV?” Steve says dubiously.

“Not in such crude literal terms, no. C’mon, Harrington, you must’ve had an imagination once—”

“Hey!”

“—didn’t you ever dream of, like, daring escapes, pulling the sword outta the stone, all that shit?”

Steve thinks about it. “I mean,” he says, “when I was a kid, I just kinda… climbed trees and stuff.”

Eddie sighs as if he can’t decide whether Steve’s done something especially annoying or endearing. “Of course you did.”

They reach a stop sign and Eddie finally flops into the passenger seat, facing Steve like he’s sitting side saddle on a horse.

“So,” Steve says, “I take a right after this, yeah?”

“Mm-hmm, well remembered, Mr Getaway Driver.”

Steve scoffs, glances over—finds Eddie framing him with his index finger and thumb, like a director trying to capture the perfect shot.

“James Dean,” Eddie says authoritatively, dropping his hands.

“What?”

“Was tryin’ to figure it out, your whole look, you know? Very Rebel Without a Cause.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “but I have a cause, we all do.”

Eddie just blinks at him, and Steve chuckles.

“You, idiot.”

“Oh.”

Steve has a moment to appreciate the way Eddie’s eyes go all soft and maybe just a little shiny, before he has to set off again. He takes the right turning.

“We should watch it,” Eddie says eventually. “Hell, I’ll take any movie. Just gimme, like, two hours of not having to think.”

“Tell me about it.”

Steve’s sure he’ll never complain about double VHS tapes ever again. Then a thought occurs to him.

“Shit.” He calls to the back. “Rob?”

“Yeah?”

“Y’know when we left Family Video, did we even lock up?”

“Yes,” Robin says followed immediately by, “No?”

Steve snorts. “God, we’re so fired.”

He hears Robin making her way up to the front, then Eddie saying, “Oof, Buckley, that was right in the ribs.”

“Why the sudden concern about our jobs, dingus?”

“I’m not concerned, I just got reminded of—Eddie was mentioning—”

“—Rebel Without a Cause,” Eddie finishes.

“Oh, Steve, I know you’ve seen it, I put it on last week!”

“Uh, maybe I was preoccupied doing, I dunno, my job.”

“It’s the one with—”

“James Dean,” Eddie cuts in.

“Yeah, I gathered, thanks,” Steve says sarcastically, but he can’t help smiling as he does so.

“—and it’s, you know,” Robin goes on, “troubled kid moves to a new town, and—”

“Aw,” Steve says, “you think I’m troubled, Munson?”

“It’s all in the eyes, Harrington. Such depths.”

“Right?” Robin says, and she’s laughing, tongue-in-cheek, “I’ve always said so.”

“You ever considered wearing a leather jacket?”

Steve laughs, too. “Tell ya what, Eddie, why don’t I just wear all your clothes?”

“Well, we know denim suits you.”

“If only you saw his last car-stealing outfit, Eddie.”

Steve sighs. “Robin, shut it.”

“Excuse me,” Eddie says, “d’you have form, Harrington? Grand theft auto form?”

“Literally once. Crazy circumstances.” Rest in peace, Todfather. “It was a Cadillac.”

“A Cadillac.” Eddie sighs dreamily. “Do you have any photos?”

“Uh, no, I was kinda busy.”

“I shall mourn the loss.”

“Take the next left here,” Nancy calls, which Steve is grateful for—the directions had gone completely out of his head.

“Wheeler, come up to the front,” Eddie says, “it’s a party.”

She must do, because her voice sounds much closer when she says, “Shit, I think I forgot to lock up, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Steve says, “no-one’s gonna ransack The Weekly Streak.”

Another stop sign—Steve looks over, smirks at how Eddie has ended up squished between Nancy and Robin, all of them sharing the one seat.

“They better not.” To Eddie, Nancy adds, “I think I gave your uncle the impression that I’m doing a big piece on you. Like, testimonials for an innocent man, stuff like that.”

For a flicker of a second, Eddie looks nauseated at the thought—Steve spots the shift, the decision to make a joke about it.

“Well, Wheeler, you better make me sound good.”

“Oh, I was going more for journalistic integrity.”

“Hey.”

Steve hears a couple of thumps behind him; without even glancing in the mirror, he says, “Sit your asses down, shitheads, don’t make me turn this thing around.”

“Don’t make me turn this thing around!” Lucas parrots.

Max scoffs playfully: “Nineteen going on forty.”

“Eddie was standing before!” Erica points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, Eddie’s a law unto himself. Look, just sit down and, like, make a list or something, I’ll stop off for food after we’ve—”

Dustin laughs. “You really are forty.”

“Uh-huh, one more wisecrack and you’re not getting any chocolate pudding.”

Steve’s hamming it up, he knows he is—smiles to himself as he hears a quartet of giggles.

“Can you believe they used to think I was cool?” he says.

“I dunno, Harrington,” Eddie says warmly, “at least one of them doth protest too much.”

Nancy stands in search of a pen, Robin following, insisting to Dustin that, “We’re getting one of those camp stoves, if I don’t eat something hot soon, I’m gonna die.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. Maybe it’s because they’ll soon be arriving at The War Zone; his levity slips just a little when he says, “It’s probably, like, a proximity thing. Henderson’ll have a scientific term for it.”

Eddie chuckles. “What, the Steve Harrington effect?”

Steve shrugs. “You get too close, the shine wears off eventually.”

He doesn’t realise until he’s said it that the joking, perhaps, has stopped somewhere along the way.

“Huh,” Eddie says. “I’m no scientist, but that doesn’t sound like the Steve Harrington effect to me.”

“No?” Steve says.

He can see the parking lot in the distance, and he gestures for Eddie to duck.

“Nope,” Eddie says. Steve can hear him moving, crouching to hide behind the driver’s seat.

He parks and everyone���s abruptly all business, deciding who’s staying in the RV, who’s going into The War Zone.

Steve hates it, has a sudden intense longing to keep talking about movies, to just be stupid.

And maybe Eddie can tell, because just before Steve heads out, he catches his eye, smiles.

“Hey, don’t worry, Harrington,” he says with a tiny, fleeting wink. “You’re still my leading man.”

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for 🦄 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Um, yeah,” Billy repeats, shrugging awkwardly. “And–you know, you need sun, right? Like for your powers and stuff so you'll be safer on missions, but also, um–Kryptonians just really like it, I think. Well, okay, I dunno if you know if you like it yet, but Superman definitely does. He spends a lot of time in it. So–windows.” 

Lynn . . . swallows, slowly, and tightens his grip on Tawky a little bit again. Billy wonders if that means he wants a hug. Lynn's still a baby, technically–he might not know how hugging really works in real life, or just not know how to ask for one when he needs one. 

Or just not know he's allowed to ask for one when he needs one. 

Or just wants, obviously. 

“I like it,” Lynn says very, very quietly, and Billy can't help perking up excitedly at hearing that. 

“Awesome!” he blurts, then clears his throat and tries to reel himself in and settle down a little more. “Um–awesome, yeah. Cool. I'm glad.” 

Lynn doesn’t say anything else, but he loosens his grip on Tawky a little. Billy still wonders if he wants a hug, but he really doesn’t know how to tell. 

. . . well, he guesses there’s the obvious option. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning forward a little to peer a little closer at Lynn’s face while trying not to be, like, pushy about it. Lynn’s just hard to read, that’s all, and he doesn’t wanna mess up with him. “Do you want a hug or anything?” 

Lynn’s shoulders immediately stiffen, and Billy represses a wince. 

“You don’t have to,” he puts in quickly. “Just, um–I didn’t know if you knew you could have one? If you ever do? Like–that’s a normal thing to want. And, you know . . . do? And . . . stuff?” 

Billy is very, very bad at this, isn’t he, he realizes, trying not to cringe at how awkward and lame he sounds right now. Like–babies need touched and carried and hugged, and really everybody does, but he definitely could’ve made that offer way less weird-sounding. Just–he really doesn’t trust that Cadmus told Lynn that kind of thing was okay or important or ever would be okay or important, so . . . yeah. So he said it.

Just he said it very, very awkwardly and lamely. 

Lynn is totally never gonna think he’s a cool dad, is he, Billy thinks morosely. He’s gonna think he’s uncool and weird and boring and– 

Lynn . . . hesitates, slightly, and Billy gets distracted from worrying about Lynn deciding he sucks and peers at him again. Lynn looks conflicted, and Billy’s not sure what to say to him. 

“It really is fine if you don’t want one,” he promises finally, because it’s the best idea he’s got. “Just it’s also fine if you do want one, and I kinda, uh, didn’t know if you knew that or not.” 

“. . . okay,” Lynn says, which still isn’t really a helpful answer but is also still better than a lie. Billy can work with noncommittal. Like, he’d much rather do a little extra work to figure out what Lynn’s okay with than accidentally upsetting or hurting him 

Lynn probably doesn’t even know what he’s okay with yet, in a lot of ways. How could he, when everything’s still so new and strange? 

“You could hug Tawky, if you want,” Billy suggests. Lynn’s already been petting him, kinda, so maybe he’s more comfortable with touching him than he is him right now. Which makes sense, really. Tawky is really huggable, and also, like . . . sometimes it’s just less intimidating to hug somebody who looks like a stuffed animal at the time and also isn’t currently a lot bigger than you, Billy knows. Like–that’s definitely been a thing for him, a lot of times. 

. . . honestly, he’s not sure who the last person besides Tawky he even hugged was, come to think of it. Some people hugged him, because they were grateful he’d saved them and all, but–yeah. That’s . . . different, obviously. Not as . . . comforting, or comfortable, or . . . anything like that. 

And if Lynn’s never gotten a hug before–well. Yeah. 

Tawky’s a good start, Billy knows. Like–really good. 

“. . . I don’t know how,” Lynn says, his tone just a little–distant, maybe. Or . . . guarded, maybe. 

“Oh, it’s not hard,” Billy assures him, then picks up one of the throw pillows off the couch and demonstrates, wrapping his arms around it to squeeze a little. “You just wrap your arms around somebody and squeeze, kinda. I mean, you’re gonna have to be careful not to do it too hard with baseline humans and all, but Tawky’s tough!” 

And, well–he’s pretty sure Lynn couldn’t hug him hard enough to hurt him, at least not ‘til he grows up a little more or gets a little more sun in him. But he doesn’t wanna push, so he doesn’t say that.

[cupidddd-d]

Sorry for the spam liking, your Vic's are truly amazing! <3

I was wondering if you could maybe make a yule ball fic with Regulus Black? Maybe how he asked her or the day of it ! 💗

no omg don't apologize for spam liking 😭 i truly don't gaf, it makes me happy to see that people are enjoying my writing :)

i hope you like it !!

heart burn

"no, that's stupid! stupid, stupid, stupid! why would she want roses? she has a pollen allergy!" regulus paced around his dorm, raking a hand through his now unruly curls.

once pristine, his anxious habits had caused his hair to become frizzy and tangled. his eyes were wide and bloodshot, his tie loosened and hanging limply down his wrinkled shirt.

"reg, who are you talking to- oh. should i come back later?" evan rosier poked his head into the room, hiding a laugh behind his hand. "why do you look like that?"

"shut up, i know!" regulus complained.

"does this have something to do with a certain girl? the yule ball's coming up-"

"you think i don't know that?!" regulus hissed frantically before clearing his throat to regain his composure. "excuse me. i was just trying to figure out a way to ask y/n out to the yule ball."

"that's easy, innit? just ask her. maybe some flowers, chocolates, i dunno. don't girls like that sort of thing?" evan shrugged. "anyway, i just wanted to come up here and tell you to shut the hell up. we can all hear you pacing around from the common room, so...."

sirius cooed at his little brother, pinching his gaunt cheeks. "my baby brother has finally come to me for advice on girls! i always knew this day would come! should i get balloons for this very special occasion?"

"don't make it weird," regulus rolled his eyes as he pushed sirius away. "it's just...a hypothetical situation, is all. how would one...not me, by the way....go about inviting someone to the yule ball? hypothetically, of course."

"well...hypothetically, what kinds of things does this person like? hypothetically, you should just center the invite around that person. i think you're overthinking this way too much, reggie."

"well, that's no help! obviously i should go for what she-- i mean...um, what this person likes. you've never had trouble with girls, so of course you wouldn't be able to offer any real advice..." regulus sulked.

sirius chuckled quietly, poking regulus' forehead. "c'mon kid, don't be like that. that's just the thing: it doesn't always have to be some big, monumental gesture. it's the quieter, more intimate stuff that they hold closer to their hearts. think love letters, buying that item they've been talking about for ages. to be loved is to be seen-- that's their favorite quote. that's why i told you to center everything around what she likes."

"you know, i don't care what everyone else says about you. you're actually pretty smart sometimes."

"thanks, reggie!" sirius beamed. "hey, wait a minute..."

"can i take you to the yule ball?" regulus blurted in the middle of your study date. "i-i mean, i had this whole plan, and sirius gave me advice and everything, but you just look so...pretty right now, so i just wanted to ask anyway. um, i'll just shut up now."

you let out a quiet laugh, the sound washing over him like warm ganache. "yes, reg. we'll go to the yule ball together."

"um...thank you." regulus cleared his throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant. "so...where were we? transfiguring candles?"

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part seven

part eight: i think about jumping off of very tall somethings

Eddie was fully convinced he had lost whatever remaining dignity he might have had when his friends had found him sunken into his beanbag chair with random detritus strewn around the room. He really thought he could not feel any lower than when Ronnie made it more obvious than necessary that she was picking her way through Eddie's junk to stick a hand into his nest and pull him out by his collar. He thought that was rock bottom, but being early for coffee with Robin and Nancy and having to wait with a cooling americano he spent way too much money on really gave that whole experience a run for its money.

Ronnie had suggested dming Robin and Nancy and testing the waters to see if they would be willing to broker some sort of reunion with Steve. Eddie stared at her like she had suggested he deliver the one ring to mordor alone; however, she obviously had a point since the newly announced couple suggested meeting up.

"Hey! Eddie! Sorry we're late!" Robin caught Eddie's attention as Nancy went to order.

"Oh, uh, no worries," Eddie fumbled, "I'm just happy you're here at all honest."

"I mean, Nance said it's only fair to hear you out but you were fucking brutal to my best friend, dude, so like the window to give you some grace is pretty fucking small," Robin answered.

"No, yeah totally understood. How do you want to do this?" Eddie asked.

"Why don't you just explain what happened from your side of things. From our angle, you look like kind of a douche but also I feel like maybe Steve didn't handle things great either? I dunno. I mean, you made him really happy, if we have a chance to fix that, I think I owe it to Steve, right?" Robin answered.

"Sure, yeah, no that makes sense," Eddie started as Nancy sat down with her and Robin's drinks.

"Keep going, Eddie, this is mostly Robin's thing anyway," Nancy prompted. She did not look quite as open to fixing things as Robin did and Eddie felt a little more nervous after he let himself relax in Robin's easy presence.

"For sure, so like obviously you know all of the like tabloid bullshit about Steve and whatever and like I kind of got it and understood but then without any warning I show up and Steve's like gorgeous and super successful ex was just on his couch and Steve isn't willing to explain? I mean that was pretty fucking hard to swallow," Eddie finished a little less certain of where he stood with Robin as she narrowed her eyes over her tea.

"So instead of trusting Steve and listening to him when he told you how much the tabloids have lied about him throughout his career you let the fact that I was present in his home be enough to trump years of what you all had built?" Nancy questioned. Eddie could see her journalism chops coming out.

"That's fair. I mean, I definitely acted without a lot of thought but like, why wouldn't you have looped me in? Did you guys not trust me?" Eddie asked still trying to figure out why he was left flat footed all those weeks ago.

"I think that might be on me," Robin piped up, "I was pretty nervous about coming out and I think Steve was being super protective and didn't want to ask me to come out to more people than I was wanting to. It's not that he didn't trust you, Eddie, it's that we had some pretty shitty years with different agents trying to push me in different directions and I think he just was sick of feeling like outside forces were making me move quicker than I was ready to. And it's not like you made it easy on him to reach out to you after. How was he supposed to respond when you blocked him on literally every platform?"

"I guess I didn't think he would want to explain or he'd try to like explain everything away even though it had seemed obvious at the time he was cheating on me," Eddie paused when both Robin and Nancy threw death glares across the table, "Jeez, I know now that was stupid but at the time it was the only rational I could see."

"I guess we should stop interrogating you, you do seem pretty serious, otherwise I don't think you would have agreed to meet both of us," Nancy jumped in.

"I really regret cutting him off like I did. I know I got way too in my head about everything immediately and just didn't give it time or let him respond," Eddie tried to sound as apologetic as he felt.

"We believe you, you two are both dinguses," Robin cut in, "more importantly, what are we going to do about that fucking song and how the hell do you propose apologizing for all the shit you stirred?"

"I thought we were done with the interrogation," Eddie held his hands up.

"Only about whether or not you're genuine, you still have to figure out how you are putting my bestie back together," Robin answered.

"So about that. I have a couple ideas. One, I feel like a song got us into this mess and my label wants more music anyways so I am kind of thinking of an apology song. The rest of my band has actually started workshopping some stuff with me to try to put it together as soon as we can. I'm kind of hoping to release it before Steve gets back so we are a bit under the clock," Eddie began, "And second, that's where I was kind of hoping you guys could help. I don't want to like ambush the guy but I also don't know if Steve will be interested in meeting with me or like ready to start dating again. I was kind of hoping I could crash one of your movie nights? Maybe once Steve gets settled a bit more?"

"Steve is not the best with surprises," Robin thought aloud, "but that's not a no, it's a convince me."

"I just figure he'll be in his space and relaxed and he also fully has an out to have you kick me out if he isn't interested. If he is, I was kind of hoping you too would be willing to make yourselves scarce?" Eddie hoped that was enough.

Surprisingly, Nancy was the one to answer.

"I think we have a deal, Munson," Nancy stuck her hand out for Eddie to shake.

Eddie left the cafe feeling more hopeful than he had in some time.

part nine

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast

@mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 @adealwithher @practicallybegging @lunaraquaenby @stripey82

@lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @mothmamhasyourlocation @mugloversonly @sherrylyn0628 @steddieinthesun @wonderland-girl143-blog @counting-dollars-counting-stars @bookworm0690

(if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

[eilidh-eternal]

Dancing in the deep end

Part of the Martyr in the Making series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

| 18 + MDNI | TattooArtist!Ghost x f!reader | CW dub con/non con themes, Simon being a possessive menace in general |

It takes a tremendous amount of effort to sit still today, fighting to keep a grip on the tense coil of compressed nerves within you. One wrong move—one wrong thought—and the tenuous bubble of calm that you and Kyle sit inside of is liable to burst.

It’s not the needles. Not the delicious pain of each pin prick that has you all keyed up.

It’s him.

And you’re doing your best not to think about it, focusing your attention instead on the collection of studs adorning Kyle’s ears and the glittering rhinestones that catch in the light each time his lips part to ask you another question. Inconsequential things about your work, plans with friends, or references you have saved on your pinterest board. 

“Who are you gonna book with for that?” He studies the picture on your phone while he changes tips, handing it back when finished and returning his attention to the detail work on your right forearm.

“I’m not sure. I thought about Johnny. He’s good with realism, but this is more… macabre. Not really his style. And I don’t think I want any color, not for this. If I did I’d already be on your book.” You’d book with Kyle every time if you could. Prefer his affable countenance and comfortable conversation over the others. But they all have their specialties, and one size certainly doesn't fit all when it comes to artists.

He hums thoughtfully and the corner of his mouth twists up into a wry grin. “Sounds like something Ghost would take on. Definitely up his alley; all that spooky shit.”

So much for not thinking of him…

“Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” he quips, breaking into a sharp-toothed smile.

“Grinning like there’s some kind of joke around here that I'm not in on.” When he pulls back to pick up more ink you shift in the chair, draw your legs up to cross underneath you and roll some of the tension from your shoulders.

“There’s no joke, hunny bun. Not about you.”

“Then what’s so funny?” 

He shakes his head as he returns to his work, still smiling to himself. “Ghost, that’s what. Bloke’s been broody these last few weeks. More than normal, anyway.”

Oh. 

“Had a bit of a tiff with Cap’ earlier. Dunno what about, but… I might have heard your name bein’ mentioned.”

“I thought you said this isn’t about me.”

“I said the joke isn’t about you. Never said what we’re pickin’ on him for isn’t about you.” He pauses his work just long enough to wink up at you, and you answer with a groan. “You don’t like him?” 

You’ve been doing your best to not think about him. Even if the feel of his hands, pushing and pulling to arrange you the way he wants, tracing roughened fingers over the letters on your thigh, lingers like a phantom touch against your skin every night. The memory of his eyes, depthless yet brimming with beguiling allure, is burned into your retinas, staring back at you everytime you close yours–every time you blink.

You’ve been doing your best not to think of him, and you've failed miserably.

“I don’t not like him, he just…” Kyle’s hand hovers over your arm, the numbing bite of his needle just out of reach, waiting for your answer. “He fucks with my head. Can’t figure him out.” 

Can’t get him out.

His smile shifts, full lips curled up at the edges and bright, intelligent eyes narrowed with a knowing glint. “Maybe that’s the point,” he surmises, and returns his attention to the half finished highlights.

In the days that follow, you start to think Kyle is right. That the reason Simon’s burrowed so deep under your skin is because that’s exactly where he wants to be, settling in with the same permanence as healing ink. An ever-present paresthesia that spreads like brushfire through the dried up remains of your resolve. Impossible to ignore.

Against your better judgment, you book your next session with him. This time, you’re determined not to let him get the better of you. 

It’s another large piece, stretching from the apex of your spine to just below your shoulder blades, and needs multiple sessions to get the finer details just right. In retrospect, you really haven’t set yourself up for success in this whole ‘don’t let him get to you’ matter with your choice of placement and the inherent lack of clothing involved, but you’re adamant about this time being different.

It’s John who checks you in and collects the same signature and waiver as they always do, making idle chat and asking how some of your pieces have been healing while you fill out the forms. Leggings cover the bulk of Simon’s last piece so you show him the work Kyle did instead, holding out your arm for him to inspect.

“Gaz certainly knows what he’s doing with pigment. Boy’s got a knack for vibrancy.”

“His work is as colorful as he is. And Johnny’s language.” His eyes crease when he laughs, a full-bellied sound that echoes through the studio. 

“Ghost should be ready for you. Same room as last time.” He gestures towards the hall with a tilt of his head, an unruly strand of hair escaping the hold of product and pomade to sway with the motion. “Good to see you, hun.” 

“Good to see you too, John.” 

No escort this time. You’re becoming something of a permanent fixture here, your presence something they’re quickly growing accustomed to. Ingratiated among their ranks and trusted to see yourself to each of their stations without need of their guidance.

Three short taps of your knuckles against the door, fading paint and a mess of stickers that are peeling around the edges dampening the sound, and Simon’s gruff voice grants you entry. When you crack the door open his back is to you, arranging his inks and tips to his specification on a rolling tray, clad in his usual monochromatic black. He’s silent as you slip inside, dropping your bag on the counter and shedding your jacket alongside it.

“Go on and get settled,” he directs, gesturing vaguely to the padded table beside him that’s replaced the chair from last time. His focus remains on setting up his station but you don't miss the way he cocks his head, watching you from his periphery. Once you’re comfortable, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the table, he reaches for the tablet on the counter beside him. “Gaz sent over the design? No changes?” he asks as he scrolls through the notes.

“Yeah, I’m really happy with the suggestions and revisions you made. It’s exactly what I’d envisioned when I sent over the references.” You fiddle with the hem of your tee, twirling a loose thread around your finger. “Should I…”

He looks up then, and it begins—the internal battle between logic and instinct. 

The latter begs to let yourself drown in his gaze. Swallow lungfuls of churning amber and nestle into the warm, mindless haze that creeps at the fringes of your mind like mist over the earth, tinged an ephemeral gold by the first rays of dawn. The former recoils from the flaring of pupils like they’re the unhinged jaws of a predator, swallowing all of the light in the room in a uniquely serpentine manner. Some fragmented imitation of self preservation screams for you to run.

It doesn’t scream loud enough.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” Pale skin puckers around his eyes. Fissures in granite, the molten core of him pouring through the cracks and searing every detail of them into your memory.

“Yeah, sorry…” The hum that reverberates in his chest ripples in the space between you in waves of gravel that settle against your skin like velvet.

“Gotta go print the stencil,” he begins, standing from his chair, and he draws your gaze up with him to his full height. “Be good while I’m gone, yeah?” Ink stained fingers brush against your cheek, and you realize it’s not a request but a demand when he doesn’t wait for your answer, worn leather creaking with each retreating footstep until the door closes behind him and you’re left in dazed silence.

You blink once. Twice. Drag a hand over your face to wipe away the feeling of phantom fingers, and release the breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding in a dejected sigh. 

This doesn’t feel different. It feels exactly how it did last time. 

Sit. Stay. Behave. These are his demands, and you’re powerless to defy them. 

Each word uttered from behind that inane mask has the effect of being yanked by a leash. Dragging you along with him until you learn to match his gait, the cadence of his steps careful and measured, but the collar around your neck only ever gets tighter, reeling you in to heel at his side.

It should make you angry. Should rattle your head with alarm bells and shrill, screeching sirens. But all there is, is silence. Thick, hazy, blissful silence that swaddles your mind in an ardent blanket of warmth. A proverbial pulling of wool over your eyes.

But perhaps that’s too kind, not cruel enough, for the man whose presence smothers rationale and suffocates logic. Who steals the air from your lungs to feed his own conflagration and feeds it back to you on words, whetted by a duplicitous tongue, that feel like licking honey from a honed blade. Warm and sweet–but at what cost?

You wonder briefly if the slow slipping of your sanity is the price to be paid, and balk at the probability that he has even yet come to collect. You wonder briefly, because that is all the time you have. All the time you're allowed before the door swings open and in walks the phantasm of a man with righteous intent. 

When the door clicks closed behind him, it sounds more, you think, like the striking of a gavel. A thunderclap in the court of the heavens. The sealing of your fate by something far beyond your control. 

“Up,” his voice rumbles in the echoing thunder.

What?

He’s standing over you, hands flattened and fingers splayed on the table on either side of you, staring down at you expectantly. “Gotta take this off to get started,” he explains when you continue staring blankly up at him, dragging a hand over to your hip and curling his fingers into the same hem you’d been toying with not ten minutes ago. 

You can’t decipher whether it’s by some divine puppeteering or an infernal possession that your arms slowly lift and you allow him to pull your shirt over your head. Allow him to guide you down onto the table, prone with a pillow tucked under your head, and your right arm folded underneath. To unclasp your bra, unhook each strap from its band, and slide it out from under you.

He smooths transfer paper over your back, cold solution causing you to flinch at first contact, and he quells the beginnings of a whine with gentle sushing and a warm hand at your nape. “Jus’ some cold. Save those pretty sounds for me, hm?”

Time moves slowly, cocooned in a heady smoke and honey scented haze, threads of it woven into his blanketing aura, and it weighs heavy on your limbs. Makes your body feel as sluggish as your mind. 

“That’s it, good girl.” Numb and high on praise, you barely register the added weight of his arm slung across your lower back. A faint humming permeates your cocoon, accompanied by a distant fluttering that traces slow lines over your back, and a small, contented sound resonates in your chest. “So pretty like this. Such a pretty, empty head.”

This feels different. Nothing like the last time. There are no nerves that hum like livewires in your head. No furtive glances or chills that creep across your skin when you’re caught staring. He welcomes it–encourages it–but like the rest of you, your eyes feel heavy, lids drooping under a lulling weight. 

When that golden mist appears once more at the blurry edges of your mind, there is nothing that stops it from surging forward and swallowing you down to the dregs of slumber.

Waking up feels like surfacing from molasses, thick and syrupy tendrils of sleep still clinging to you and trying to hold you under a little longer. But there’s a stinging sensation that prickles your skin and won't go away, wrenches your body and mind free of its sluggish haze.

Your back feels raw, skin overworked and leaking plasma, but it's the stinging of your arm that clears the fog from your head.

You blink sleep crusted eyes against the harsh overhead lighting of the studio, spots dancing in your vision as it slowly adjusts. It’s been a long time since you've fallen asleep while getting tattooed, and you wonder if maybe you slept on your arm–had it twisted under you at some odd angle that’s cut off its circulation and made it numb with staticy pin pricks.

No, this is different.

Bright color blooms before you, and for a moment you wonder if it's a result of phosphenes; if the pressure of confusion building in your head has somehow distorted your vision. 

It isn’t.

The bright colors are a result of the newest tattoo on your arm, more than several weeks old by now, and the burning, itching sensation that should have long since passed is a result of the thick layer of fresh ink that's been overlaid.

‘MINE’ stares back at you in the hauntingly familiar scrawl of Simon’s hand.

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[theroundbartable]

Arthur has been hexed. Again. It's not an evil one and technically, it doesn't hurt him in any way. It's just -

"im bloody red, Merlin!"

Merlin turns page after page. "Apparently that just signals that you're in love. It doesn't say with who, it's just... Apparently you're head over heels."

Arthur: that's stupid. I'm not in love. Show me the page.

So Merlin does and Arthur eventually has to relent. "What's even the purpose of this?"

Merlin shrugs. "Seems like a cruel joke to me. It only goes away in 25 hours."

"25? That's an odd number. Whatever." Arthur sighs. "I have no idea who this is supposed to be about. I mean... Shouldn't I want someone for this to make sense?"

Merlin shrugs again. "Hell if I know. But there must be someone you like. Why not just... i dunno, ask them out and figure it out. Perhaps it's not even meant romantically. I mean, sometimes the cook leaves me extra blueberries. I could swear I fall in love with her every time. And she's 64."

Arthur nods. "Hmm. Maybe. Well, I mean, the closest person to me is you. Maybe that's who they mean? I mean, you're an idiot. But you say wise things sometimes."

Merlin: me? That's hella weird. We already spend 99% of our time together. Why would you want to be with me?

Arthur: i don't. That's the point.

Merlin: hmm. You know what? It wouldn't even change anything. We could like... start dating. If it's annoying we just go back to normal. If it isn't, then we get some experience for dating life. I think that's kind of benefitial, don't you think?

Arthur: you're only say that because you can have more blueberries if you are my consort.

Merlin: yes. And you can't force me to polish your armor anymore. Or put me in the stocks for insulting you

Arthur: I don't see what's in it for me, then.

Merlin: hmm..... I would let you sleep in, in the morning.

Arthur: no, you wouldn't.

Merlin: ... Ok fair

Arthur: but you'd have to consult me before you do your self sacrificial bullshit again. And you'd be easier protected when we're attacked... Maybe it's not such a bad idea

Merlin: see? I'm a genius.

Arthur: do we have to make out?

Merlin: no, but i'm not against it. Are you?

Arthur: hmm.... No. Not really. So, it's a deal then?

Merlin: yeah, sure. Sounds fun

.....

5 years later

Arthur: I think we should get married

Merlin: hmm... Why?

Arthur: tax evasion

Merlin: ....

Merlin: we don't even pay taxes

[mindblownie2]

I think there's definitely something to Dankovsky not being entirely what you'd expect from a character like him, or not what he maybe would like to appear as - that is, him not really being that cold, calculating, purely "logic"-driven archetype at all; that he is actually so emotional and impulsive. I think it's also interesting how he can actually believe in the supernatural - there's the dialogue option in marble nest letting you say you believe in God, but especially in classic I think that's canonical, he talks about the soul, invokes concepts like providence or fate in ways that don't seem entirely just as figure of speech, he can very quickly turn on a dime and believe in Clara's healing powers or Artemy's traditional medicine or the Polyhedron's magical properties once he sees what he deems sufficient evidence, and he also has that line about "knowing there are things beyond our mundane perception". and you know what, I don't even think that's so contradictory. first of all, there are nowadays and there especially have been in the past, with less secular societies, plenty of scientists who also held some kind of religious beliefs. I think it's to a certain degree reconcilable when it's applied to different spheres of life - some things are relegated to spirituality, but where there are cold hard facts, you follow these; it doesn't inherently make you a hypocrite. also in the game, the thing he takes most umbrage with is not spirituality, but superstition - the kind of unreasonable and dogmatically held beliefs that lead people to, oh I dunno, say, burning innocent women for witchcraft instead of listening to experts? which you know I think is kinda fair actually? like I keep harping on about that but fellas I'd be mad too. anyway my point is, depicting him as a reddit atheist is in my opinion definitely a mischaracterisation.

however I was actually gonna talk about the whole "defeating death" thing because it's so interesting to me, people often point out how fantastical, almost mystical it sounds, and he sometimes strikes that tone - "could death be only a whim of the will that has shaped this world" is a fascinating line to me because it essentially implies that the way to attain immortality is to tell god to fuck off, but then at the same time. he is initially skeptical about Simon's immortality, though interested in the claims of his longevity and extraordinary immunity to disease; he says he wants to study tissue samples from Simon's body, which seems to me like looking for a material, physiological mechanism that could be potentially found in or applied to other people (and eventually, out of desperation or fascination or both, he can get into the Kains' whole soul transference/preservation thing, but it doesn't strike me as what he was really looking for before the game. as my friend always says, if immortality of the soul was all he wanted, he'd become a priest instead of a medical researcher). he says in haruspex route that his lab works on medicine against aging; he also notes iirc that death will never not be a thing completely because people will still be killing each other. there is that thing with the reanimated lady, which always struck me as a little off in some ways, but mainly - at the start of the game, he hasn't succeeded in his goal yet, so whatever happened there, he either was unable to reproduce it, or it wasn't what he was looking for either - I mean, the fact that you can resuscitate a person under certain conditions is a great achievement, but doesn't remove the fact that people die, same as, as he says, "doctors defeat death on singular occasions" - you can manage to rescue a person from injury or disease, but it's only postponing the inevitable, so what if it wasn't inevitable anymore? the goal, I think, is so that people don't just die of old age. and the thing about that is - is that really so irrational? I mean especially if you think about the setting, if you think about the incredible, sheer rapid change of the time period from the industrial revolution to mid-20th century, that pathologic sits somewhere in the middle of, is that not something that would appear to people as both fantastical but also within grasp, as taking the witnessed progress to its furthest conclusion? same as people imagined - and correctly so - that the next step from inventing the airplane was inventing a flying machine that will go to the moon, would they not also imagine, seeing the progresses of medicine and the extending average lifespan, that we will exponentially live longer and longer? like we know it's not that simple, and Daniil's goal is meant to be unrealistic, but I don't think it's "unscientific" in the sense that it's based on magical thinking. people don't really shoot for immortality anymore but longevity research is very much a thing and I think that's just essentially what he was doing.

on the other hand, it's funny to me to imagine that him sometimes framing his work in those less-than scientific terms might've been partly what made him unpopular; I think there's more to it, especially regarding his conflict with the authorities I think it's more about him representing "revolutionary" ideals, but with his peers? even what Isidor mentions in his letter, that Daniil's detractors claimed his theories were not scientifically viable - the accusation not being that he's a heretic or a necromancer or playing god, but that he's being unreasonable; and well, if the "groundbreaking theory of human mortality" that he claims to have formulated is in fact "people die because they just let it happen, don't let god or laws of nature dictate what happens to you", well. I can see that.

[billthedrake]

RECONNECTING WITH BRODIE

Mmm... that feels nice, bro.

Bring it in Brodie... your Matt's got you. There... lean back against me.

(chuckles) You're sweaty.

We're both sweaty.

Hm, didn't know you could get like that going slow.

Slow and long, buddy. We were at it almost an hour. That's why.

(Pause) I sometimes wish Dad would go slow. Usually, it's... I wish I could tell him to go slow.

(sound of a hand patting tight abs) You can, Brode. You should.

(sigh) I know. I just want it to feel good for him. It's weird but now that we're boyfriends, I dunno....

Boyfriends talk about shit. You should tell him.

(more resolved) I will.

(soft kiss to the head) You're all jacked Brodie... when did you get so big?

Since last Spring. Been working on it. You guys should come to visit more often.

I know. It's complicated.

I know. I just miss you guys. Dad does too.

I'll be back for your graduation. I'm sure Connor will, too.

Hmmm.... I like the way you touch me, Matt.

I can't stop feeling you up.

Then don't.

You OK with me shacking up with you tonight, buddy?

Oh yeah. I figured that was going to be the arrangement. You know, with Dad and Connor having their date night.

Doesn't mean you have to like the arrangement, Brode. You OK with them together?

I'm not jealous. And Dad... well, he kind of encourages me to be with other guys.

Have you?

A couple, yeah.... Damn, Matt, whatever you're doing with your hands is boning me the fuck up again. Already.

Connor doesn't like this... after he cums, he's done.

Dude, he's missing the best part.

(chuckles) Maybe you should tell him that.

I fucking will. Seriously, Matt, you should became a masseur or something.

I have a day job already.

I know, I'm just saying.... mmm, a little lower, oh fuck, right there.... making my cock leak and you're not even touching it.

So Brodie, be real with me bro... how's the boyfriend thing working out?

I know I seem messed up, Matt, but it's been mindblowingly awesome.

Doesn't seem like this bed's been slept in much.

Bro, I haven't slept in my own room since I got grounded.

(laugh) Dad grounded you?

(laugh) Yeah, back in the summer. For breaking curfew. Three fucking weeks. He thought he had to act all paternal, you know.

How was that?

Dude, I was pissed. And we were fucking blue balled for three weeks. The make up sex was pretty intense, though. Kind of made it worth it.

Yeah?

Oh yeah. Only time I think I really loved it hard.

Jesus.

You're getting bricked again, Matt. I can feel that big cock against my back.

(soft kiss to the head) Just hearing my little brother talk like that is wild.

Huh. I think that's why I wanna get big. So you guys will stop thinking about me as little.

(Pats chest) It's not about size, Brodie.

I know, Matt. Still, I wanna get big. Bigger than Dad eventually.

Bro, I'm bigger than Dad. He's solid, but he doesn't lift.

I'm surprised you ended up with Connor, actually.

I love Connor's body. But it's more than that.

Yeah?

He's my brother, like you Brodie. But we've always been especially tight. Grew up together. And maybe I go for the smart ones. (chuckles)

That's cool. I guess go for the strong, silent type. Connor probably does too.

He does. (scoots) Here, let's shift a little.... much better, Brodie.

(soft kisses)

Fucking nice.

Yeah, Brode... fucking nice.

Man... your fucking arms are insane.

Connor likes 'em.

I bet he does. Fuck.

Brodie... I don't wanna be the older brother who's always lecturing you, but life is more than muscles you know.

(chuckles) Easy for you to say.

(smiles) Well, feel em all you want, buddy.

I will.

(More kissing. Deeper, longer)

You're so hard, Matt.

Guess I have a fresh pump from my workout this afternoon,

No, I mean your cock.

Oh yeah, it's been like that the last fifteen minutes. I got my stud little bro in bed with me.

I'm not little, Matt.

You're not. 6'5" (kiss) tight end body (kiss) D1 ready.

Hmmm.

You ready to break some hearts at Stanford, bro? (kiss)

I'm a little in denial actually.

Bro, that letter of intent is signed. Big fucking accomplishment.

I know. I mean about going off.

(sigh) You gotta, Brodie. Gotta leave the nest. Become your own man.

I know.

You know... Dad's gonna have empty nest syndrome like crazy. You can probably get your way for the next few months.

Yeah? (chuckles) No more being grounded?

No more being grounded.

Shame, I'll miss the make up sex.

Dude, homecoming sex is just as good.

Fuck.

(wet kissing)

You think that's what Connor's going to feel tonight?

I know that's what Connor's going to feel.

He's probably not going to tell Dad to go softer, is he?

Knowing Connor... no, no he won't. But don't compare yourself to him, Brode. Him or anyone else.

I guess.

You're Dad's favorite, buddy. He worships the ground you walk on.

Yeah. Matt... you wanna fuck me again?

You know I do Brode. But let's take our time. We got all night.

You must think I'm an impatient kid.

You're a horny fucker. I like that.

(kissing)

Jesus, Matt. I'm gonna try this out with Dad.

Try what, bro?

The whole slow thing. I'm so fucking horny with you.

(kissing)

I can only imagine what this would feel like with Dad.

Tell him, Brode. Make it happen.

I totally will.

(kissing)

Jesus, Matt, I fucking love your muscle. My big brother.

You're fucking jacked for 18, bro.

Mmm... does Connor get into it?

Yeah he does.

Does you guys, you know, ever do any worship stuff?

You mean body worship? (softer) We've done that.

Hot. (softer) I wanna ask Dad to try that too.

(chuckles)

You think I'm weird.

Hardly. I'm just picturing Dad doing a worship session with you.

He's not very verbal.

No he's not. I think I heard him say 10 words all through high school.

(laughs) Come on, Matt... he's not that bad.

I exaggerate. But not much.

(kissing)

(ooof)

Fuck yes.

You like that buddy?

I love you on top of me, Matt. How much you weigh?

250.

2-fucking-50. Fuck.

Does Dad know you curse like a sailor.

(laughs) He once grounded me for that, too.

I remember that. You were testing his authority.

Dad doesn't like that.

No, he doesn't.

Thought I was gonna get whipped, too.

Dad wouldn't do that.

I know. But fuck, I really thought he was gonna get the belt, he was so mad.

Brodie, you called him the c-word. In front of Mom.

I was there, remember? We laugh about it now.

Mmmm... feel my arms stud. You like those.

Yessir.

(kissing)

Damn, Matt.

Damn, yourself. Someone taught you how to kiss.

Yeah. Dad.

You're a better kisser than him, bro. For real.

(more kissing)

How do you think date night is going?

Sure you're not jealous, Brode?

Sure I'm sure.

Connor misses Dad. A lot.

You don't?

I do, too. But...

I know... it's complicated.

(kissing)

OK if I tease the hole a little Brode?

You gotta ask?

Sometimes it can get uncomfortable keeping your legs spread.

(smirks) Sounds like you speek from experience, Matt.

Some. Tried it but realized bottoming wasn't for me.

Dad?

Dad. And a couple of dudes in Chicago. Never felt good.

For what it's worth you're an amazing top, bro.

Thanks. I have some amazing inspiration beneath me.

Oh fuck, you're big.

You took me just now, Brodie.

I did. That was thirty minutes ago.

Who's counting?

Fuck.

Easy buddy, just gonna work it in and out.

That big brother cock.

Yep, that big brother cock. In my little bro's tight hole.

I'm not little, Matt.

(smiles) And you're not gonna be tight when I'm done.

Jesus.

(heavy breathing)

Connor's one lucky dude.

Mmmmh....

Hope that wasn't the wrong thing to say.

I can take a complement.... gonna go in with more.

Please.

Goddamn, that jock hole is amazing. So wet....

That's all you, Matt.

I can see why Dad has you sleep in his bed each night. Fuck.

He doesn't make me, bro. I wanna.

I know.

Jesus, how much did I cum?

You don't know?

(laughs) I thought I did. But fuck... (choked grunt)

Why'd you stop?

Shhhh...

(whispers) Is that them?

(whispering back) Yeah.

(kissing)

(quiet) They're gonna fuck.

Yeah Brode, they will.

So fucking hot.... you in me, while Dad bones C.

Shit...

That turns you on too.

Hell yes it does.

I can tell. You're rock hard inside me. Alive.

If I tell you something will you keep it a secret, Brode?

Course.

If Dad asked me on date night while I was here, I'd say yes in a heartbeat.

God you guys are so fucking stubborn.

I inherited his worst traits, Brodie.

And his best.... oh fuck me, man.

Like this?

Yeah, just like that. So fucking nice.... I don't know how you even go so slow.

It's because it turns you on.

You like me whoring out for you?

I don't like that word.

Sorry.

You don't have to apologize. I just don't like my little brother thinking of himself that way.

Unng.... deeper, man.

Ummmf.

Yeah. Fuck me.

Your voice even gets deeper when I fuck you Brode.

Just fucking shove it in me already, bro.

Slow, remember?

(laughs) You're killing me.

Like that.... yeah... you feel it.

God!

I wanna get us both there, bro.

You're gonna, Matt.

Feel me up, Brode. Feel my muscle while I fuck you.

You're bottoming out now.

I'm bottoming out.... I'm not as big as Dad.

You're big enough. Fuck.

You're a firecracker, bro.

Goddamn, Matt. I love this.

Me, too, buddy. Hang on.

Oh fuck... oh fuck.

Turns out I have more than one speed, little bro.

Fuck me, Matt!

Huhnng.... they're gonna hear us Brode.... they're gonna hear me fuck you.

FUCK ME!

You naughty fucker. Hot fucking ass.

So wet. I can feel your dick sliding in and out.

My cum. It's frothing up.

Dude, you're fucking railing me. Stirring it up.

Ung... ungh... ungh...

Matt, just fucking cum... Fucking cum up my hole.

Almost there, bro.... too fucking hot.

Fuck me like Dad fucks me.

Jesus. FUCKK!

YESS!!

(heavy breathing) God.... that was....

Stay in me bro... like that... saw that brother dick in and out while I stroke...

Go for it bro.... Your Matt's got ya.

Yes... oh, I'm gonna.... oh yeah... oh fuck... SHIT!

Stud!.... shit, that's a big load.

(laughs) Jesus, yeah. Guess the slow thing really works one up.

OK if I pull out?.... whoa I wasn't kidding... you're all frothed up, bro. Like a...

You were gonna say 'whore' right?

I wouldn't call you that, Brodie. But fuck...

We're even sweatier now.

Got my cardio in that's for sure.... damn these sheets are fucking soaked.

Maybe I should change them. Put these in the wash.

You're not doing a damn thing. Just relax. Bottom's prerogative.

Dude, is that even a thing?

(chuckles) For me it is. A man puts out like that, I'm taking clean up duty. OK?

OK.

(kissing)

Damn. Dad definitely didn't teach you how to kiss like that.

You haven't kissed him in a while, Matt.

I know. Still.... my brother's got game.

(smiles)

Where are the clean sheets? I'll go get them.

Wait a second, OK?

What's wrong?

Nothing's wrong. I just royally fucked twice. I wanna hold the man who did the honors for a second. OK?

Mmmh... yeah. Sorry. How's this?

Perfect.

(kissing)

You know, Connor chastises me for not being romantic enough sometimes.

You guys bicker a lot?

Our fair share. It's been more since Connor moved in with me.

I keep waiting for me and Dad to get like that.

Whaddya mean?

You know... argue... like a real couple.

Dude, he fucking grounded you.

(shrugs) Yeah, he was being Dad, though. That's different.

(kissing)

Mmm, nice...

I'll say.

You know... I think you should tell him, Matt.

Tell who? What?

Tell Dad you wanna go on a date. You guys are here, what? Three more days?

Bro, it's fucking Christmas.

So?

All right. (light slap on flesh) OK... time to change these sheets. They're fucking drenched.

You're totally going to listen in to see if you can hear Dad and Connor, aren't you?

(laughs) Maybe.

(chuckles) OK, perv. I'm gonna shower off. Maybe you can make me a midnight snack while you're out there. You know, bottom's prerogative.

You got it, Brode. And breakfast, lunch, and dinner tomorrow, too. Just now... that was frickin' incredible.

I agree, Matt.

[zan0tix]

Pleaseeee tell me more about that homescryption au

A little something between you and me and everyone else who happens to look at this post. Im working on a lineup for the four scrybes :D

Roxys design is subject to change and you guys have already seen D1rk. Jane and Jake are in progress!!! (Also D1rk and Harley are the names for dirk and jake but weve been struggling to come up with appropriately fantasical/magical names for Jane and Roxy that align with magnificus and grimora😞 Harley feels old-manish enough that it fits in well… im sure well get there but if anybody has ideas feel free to comment ✌️)

But yes i can tell you more!!! ILL PUT IT ALL UNDER THE CUT THIS POST IS GOING TO BE LONG o7

Working with cyrus repliiku to flesh it out x3 he was the one who got me into the game and im CRAZY NOW!!!!

The four alpha scrybes methods of inscribing cards are that Harley uses his magic blunderbuss and the things he shoots become cards, Roxys cards are the fantasical characters she creates in her stories, Jane will be a detective of death, uncovering how cards die and writing up a casefile in her detective agency about them (might give her a magic magnifying glass. Well see), and D1rk were trying to figure out something with Sburbs captcha card + ghost captcha system like how Po3’s cards are printed from real robots

The students/the scrybes underlings are going to be other homestuck characters or splinters!

D1rks will be the robots (aradiabot, arquius (wanted him to me more unique than just brobot + hal so he gets to be a robot) and jadebot.

Harleys will be jake-ish splinters rather than new characters. Thered be the Adventurer (prospector), the Hunter (trapper/trader), the Sailor (angler), the Ectobiologist (mycologists), and the Actor (woodcarver) and his campaigns would be more Action packed like jakes action movies type stuff hehe

Janes will be the dead trolls, nepeta, equius and feferi. Not much to say besides them being dead lol 😭

And roxys were still figuring out but nerm. Viceroy/Casey, Rose (maybe goobert but they are actually nice and kind to her) and Eridan….(lonely wizard he was banished to the shadow realm for being annoying 😁👍)

Luke Carter is going to be Calliope and Satan in the greater scheme of the daniel mullins-verse will be Caliborn/Lord English because i think itd be very funny for him to just. Be making video games and thats his evil plot. LOL and Sado would be Gamzee. (Will not expand to pony island or the hex this is just clearing up the ending of inscryption)

Kaycee would probably be Aranea but like just some normal girl. Not all that sure abt the OLD_DATA tho ??? Maybe just all the wrong doings Lord English has committed and influenced culminated into the files or the code that brought him into the universe I DUNNO.

Retconning the drawing i did when i first scribbled this AU, i believe when harley turns the other scrybes into preexisting cards d1rk would become a seagull (kingfisher replacement) roxy would become a jaguar (wolf replacement) and jane would become a jackalope (pronghorn replacement) 😁

And the way harley would be defeated would be using his blunderbuss on him with a special bullet instead of film. Po3’s decapitation fulfilled the Dirk prophecy too LOL

I think that of the gameplay/card gimmicks themselves would work basically the same but i might try and come up with more creative homestucky twists on them

Im planning on finishing the designs and making sprites and more mockup screenshots :3

I might write up or draw a comprehensive ref sheet for this au someday but for now heres what weve jotted down 👍

[jangofettjamz]

Confessions

Jenna Ortega x Autistic!Male!Reader

Summary: Unexpected events bring you and Jenna a lot closer

Warnings: Abelism

Words: 4430

A/N: You are Emma myers' twin in this fic.

Y/N pov

It's been too long since I've seen Emma. I'm so proud of my twin sister, she's come so far with her career and now she's in a Tim Burton production, like WHAT?!

Emma's so talented and she deserves every amount of success and fortune the world has to give, she's earned that much.

She's currently filming in Romania for her new show "Wednesday", a spinoff show based on the famous addams family, and specifically the daughter of the family: "Wednesday Addams"; played by Jenna Ortega.

I was invited to come and visit her and the cast and crew on set, flight and accommodation paid for and all. Though I was hesitant, being this far away from home wasn't entirely appealing at first, but I couldn't squander the opportunity to see my sister.

However, that's not the only reason I wanted to go. As luck would have it, I've had a crush on Jenna Ortega for a long time and Emma knew this. She visited our home a few times when Emma and her were getting to know each other. Emma had to introduce me to her as she knows I'm not the best at conversation, especially when meeting new people.

We've talked a little everytime she visited, but I was always too shy to say anything other than a few meger words. I never really got to know her as a person.

She assures me she's the most kind and gentle person she's ever known, I would never doubt my sisters word but it still doesn't put me at ease. Social interaction has never been easy for me, no matter how nice or kind the person I'm talking to is.

My sister has been my number one supporter, and I hers. She's never outed my condition to anyone and assured me she'd never tell Jenna if I didn't want her to know, she's always got my back no matter what and I'm beyond thankful for that.

-

My driver that was assigned to me dropped me off at the sets parking area, not far from the cast's trailers.

"We've arrived sir, Mr Burton will be waiting by the trailers for you." Sir? Gosh that makes me feel so imperial, like an important executive or something, I dunno.

"I er-thank you" I say nervously, my socially awkward nature getting the better of me. I got out of the black SUV and walked to the trailer.

I felt like an outsider here, like I didn't belong so kept my hands in my sleeves and my head down.

There's camera crews here, some extras to fill the background, I even see some of them in cast, but decided not to interact with them. They didn't know me and would probably think I'm some random weirdo who shouldn't be here.

I know that sounds a bit dramatic, but people have been cruel to me in the past just for trying to talk to them. That's always been my main deterrent from social interaction; the fear of what people will think of me.

These negative thoughts were starting to send me spiralling so I blocked them out for now, making my way to the trailers. I can't wait to see Emma.

I'm at the trailer area and see a man with unkempt hair and tinted glasses leaning against a trailer door, is that... TIM BURTON?! I knew I was gonna meet him but it's kinda unreal when you meet an icon such as him in person.

A smile formed on his face and he made his way towards me, my eyes avert his figure as my nerves began to set in. "Hello Y/N, it's good to finally meet you, your sister holds you in such high esteem." He says offering me a hand to shake.

Emma's been talking about me? To Tim Burton? Good things I hope. "I-I It's nice to meet you to Mr Burton, it's an honor to be here." I say nervously, shaking his hand and meeting his gaze with a nervous smile.

He chuckles "Please just Tim, no need for formalities. You're among friends here, Y/N."

I didn't understand, what did he mean I was among friends? He's just met me and he's nicer than most people have been to me throughout my entire life.

Though puzzling this maybe, I couldn't help but smile at being accepted for once among a group. It felt liberating.

"C'mon let's go meet the cast, I know two that have been dying to meet you." Two? I know Emma is one, but two? Who could possibly want to see me.

I followed to a trailer not far from where we met. I see a coat hanging from the railing of the trailer's steps, that's Emma's coat.

Tim gives me a warm smile and says "She's waiting for you kiddo, she'll be very happy to see you again." I nod and smiled back. I reach for the door know and open the door to the trailer, I see a girl with blonde hair and coloured highlights, is that...

"Emma?" She turns to face me. A smile forms on her face, an smile I would recognise anywhere.

"Y/N/N!!!!" She rushes towards me and tackles me to the ground in a hug, making yelp in the process. Usually this sort of surprising affection would make me nervous, but it was my sister so I all it. Besides I missed her dearly.

I reciprocated the hug, though it was difficult seeing as I was on the ground. "Hi sis', you missed me that much?" I ask playfully while standing back to my feet.

"Like you wouldn't believe, I miss all of you. How have you been?" She asks me, she knows about my struggles and I'm glad she still cares.

"Umm... things have been okay. Socialising is still really difficult, I almost didn't come here because of the distance. You know how much I hate being away from home" she gives a smile of sympathy and rubs my shoulder to comfort.

"But you still did it and I'm so proud of you for taking that step. You're still with family here in Romania, Jenna is excited to see you too, she's so lovely Y/N, you should get to know her" talk to Jenna Ortega? My stomach turns from nervousness.

The door to the trailer suddenly opens, a small Latin girl appears sporting black pigtails and black blazer. Jenna Ortega.

It's not surprising that she's here, she's playing the main character of the show after all. However, it's still messing with my mind that I'm standing in front of MY crush. I didn't know if I was just lucky, or if the universe just wanted me to humiliate myself in front of my crush.

I was quickly pulled out of my thoughts when she turned to me after she stopped talking to Emma. My twin did me a solid and introduced her to me so I didn't have to talk, she knows I don't have great speaking abilities when I meet new people.

She started her introduction "Jenna, you remember Y/N right? My other half." She says which makes Jenna laugh.

"Hi Y/N, it's so nice to see you again. Emma talks about you all the time" Of course she does. I shyly wave at her, averting eye contact away from her, my nerves completely taking over.

She stepped closer to me "Hey, are you okay?" She says sweetly, Emma's right she is really nice. I nod my head to reassure that I'm okay, even though I'm most definitely not and Emma knew this.

The trailer door opened again revealing a tall, dirty blonde guy with long hair. I had never seen him before, he didn't look very nice.

"Hey Jenna, Emma" he says happily, then his eyes fall to me. "Who's this?" He says, his voiced indicating his clear annoyance by my presence.

"Hey percy, this is my twin brother, Y/N" I shyly wave at him, he scoffs and moves swiftly to talk to Jenna. What a dick.

Emma's phone rings "Ah shit, guys I have a scene to do. Please look after him and get to know each other, love you Y/N" she says kissing me on the cheek. Great, now I'm left with two people I don't know, one being my crush, the other, a massive dickhead. Great.

I sit down on the couch behind me, Jenna taking a seat next to me much to percy's dismay. I start playing with my hands, something I do when I'm very nervous. Jenna picked up on this so she decided to ask me a question to ease the tension.

"So Y/N, do you have any interests or hobbies?" She's says to me with a smile, that same sweet tone still consistent.

I started "I-I like movies, I'm a massive horror fan. I build legos, play video games as a hobbie, and do programming as a side job. I find the arithmetic nature of programming to be quite fascinating, keeps my brain constantly at work." I say quietly.

She started to speak again "Programming? Wow you must be quite intelligent to do that" I shrug, my lack of confidence really shining through.

Percy scoffs "Jeez do you just sit there looking depressed all the time." I gave him a pleading look, I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

"N-no I didn't mean t-to--" I cut myself off, not wanting to embarrass myself anymore than I just did. I don't even know what I did wrong, just goes to show my complete lack of social awareness.

But something unexpected happened "Percy, why are you being such an asshole. He's just shy and that's fine. He didn't do anything wrong." She actually came to my aid and defended me.

"I heard he was autistic, Jenna. I overheard Emma talking to him on the phone one time. He's a freak." The moment I heard the word freak my eyes started to tear up, sniffles followed afterwards.

I started to hastily rock myself as a grounding technique, a shaky breath came from my mouth trying to contain the tears within.

Jenna was standing there with a her phone out recording the whole thing, I thought she was doing this to laugh at with percy later, however what happened next changed that theory.

Jenna slapped the smirk off his face, he was on the ground and fear replaced his shit-eating grin. I could see the fear flashing in his eyes as Jenna loomed over him, a fiery anger in her brown orbs.

She raised her right hand and pointed at him while speaking "Don't you ever say that again you abelist dick. Even if he is autistic, I would never think that as a bad thing. Get out Percy, once I show this recording to Tim, you are done" she says calmly, yet angrily simultaneously.

He didn't need to be told twice as he stumbled out the door; fear still emanated from his person after the bitch slap he received.

Jenna POV

What an asshole, like seriously how the fuck could anyone be so shallow to immediately hate someone because they're different. Fuck that guy honestly, the moment we're done filming I'm cutting contact with him completely.

Y/N looked destroyed, I'd seen him a handful of times and this is the longest interaction we've had, but it was heartbreaking nonetheless. I wanted to comfort him since Emma was busy filming. I sat down next to him and started to talk.

"Y/N it's okay now, he's gone and if he knows what good for him, he won't come back." He nodded, seemingly no change was made to his demeanour. I decided a more physical approach was necessary.

"Y/N can I touch you?" He hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded. I touched his shoulder, my thumb rubbing in circles. "Are you autistic, Y/N? It's okay you can tell me, I know you don't know me but I promise I would never judge you, never ever."

I hope he knows my words are genuine, perhaps even comforting. He gives me with one more glance before signing under his breath then nodding, confirming what percy had told me. He shouldn't have outed Y/N like that, it's his right to tell me when or if he even wanted to in the first place.

"You're so brave, you know that?" He looked at me confused. I continued speaking "You're braver than you know sweetheart, I'm so sorry that we had to meet again under these circumstances but I want you to know that I'm so proud of you. I can only imagine how hard it must've been to come here so far away from home, only to be ridiculed by some asshole who doesn't know his head from his own ass." He laughs, making me smile knowing I'm doing something right.

I make a solemn vow to him "I swear to you, that recording I took will be shown to Tim and the producers, he will be dealt with accordingly. I promise you." Percy will not go unpunished for this.

"We've only met a couple times, but you're bravest and sweetest person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I can tell that everything you're sister told me about you is true." I wipe his tears from his face with my thumb, his eyes still glassy and red from the crying.

"Why are you so nice to me? You don't even know me." He says barely above a whisper.

"Because unlike Percy, I accept you for who you are and I'll help you whenever you need me. I'm with you now Y/N and I'm not going anywhere." His lips begin to quiver, indicating that he's about to cry again.

"Would you like a hug?" I ask, unsure if that amount of physical touch is something he would want. He nods and I open my arms for him "c'mere honey" he fell into my arms, head on my shoulder as his tears shower my Wednesday outfit, but I couldn't care less.

His arms wrapped tight around me, my arms securely around him. I began to rock him gently to comfort him, my hand carding through his hair. "Shhhh, you're safe now honey, it's just me and you, nobody else. I'm so sorry for what happened but I promise you that everything's gonna be okay, I'm not leaving you."

I feel something for this boy, and I know he feels something for me, Emma may or may not have told me about the crush he has on me. I didn't make him feel embarrassed, now's not the time.

"I-I shouldn't have come h-here, e-everyone hates me!" My heart broke hearing those words. Percy had destroyed his self-esteem with his heartless words, his confidence had vanished into the aether.

I held him tighter against me, wanted him to feel all the affection I can give to counter his negative thoughts. "Nobody hates you Y/N, I certainly don't and neither do your sisters and parents". Percy's words were awful and further projects his insecurities."

"He's right though, I'm am a freak. Emma's normal, my other sisters are normal, my parents too. I can't socialise properly, can't read social cues, I'm only good at messing things up! I'm useless!" He was shaking violently, a barrage of new tears came streaming down his cheeks, Percy was going to pay for what he's done.

I lift his face from my shoulder, holding his cheeks in both my hands. "You are not useless! You're anything but useless! You're incredible Y/N, just like your sister and I've got your back just like I've got hers. Percy is done after today, mark my words."

He smiles at my words, convinced by them even. "You wanna know something?" He looks at me with intrigue. "I've admired you since the day we met, you're so beautiful, sweet and kind. You're not useless at all, you're perfect, just the way you are."

"Everytime your sister talks about you I listen to her in awe of you, you're an amazing person sweetheart, don't ever let someone make you think otherwise." I say with sincerity.

He looked shocked. "You're just saying that." He says not believing me.

"Can I prove it?" I ask a little nervously. He nods and I ask him another question. "Can I kiss you?" A bold move by me but he needed to know just how serious I am.

His cheeks turn a bright pink, very much akin to a rose. He nods and I lean in the kiss his lips softly, a gentle kiss to show him my intention are indeed pure. "I like you alot Y/N, and I'd love to be a part of your life from now on, If you'll have me."

He smiled, genuine and real "I like you too, Jenna. I'd love to have you in my life." I take him back in my arms, in the position we were previously in, rocking him gently in my arms. His eyes began to droop a little, he looked exhausted from all the crying.

"You can fall asleep if you want, just relax darling, everything's gonna be okay now." We sat on the couch, his head on my chest, my arms locked around his figure. "There there, you're okay darling" I cooed softly.

His eyes shut, nothing was heard expect the soft breaths coming from his nose. I kissed his temple and let him sleep until Emma returned from filming, she need to know the truth.

- 2 hours later

I've been catching up on breaking bad while Y/N has been sleeping peacefully on my chest, really good show this is. My hand has been absentmindedly carding through his hair.

God he looks so adorable, I never want to let go of him. I'm honored that he trusts me enough to be apart of his life, to be his girlfriend, an honor I certainly don't take for granted.

The door to the trailer opens, Emma walking through the entrance. She was shocked to see the position me and Y/N laid in, though this was expected as she didn't know what had transpired a couple hours ago.

"We need to talk" I say, she looked at confused but nodded. I began to get up as gently as possible to not wake up Y/N, though it was more tricky than anticipated. He groaned sleepily, not completely aware of his surroundings.

I put him at ease, "it's okay honey, I'll be back don't worry" his body eased at the words and untensed around me, allowing me to lift his head off my chest without waking him. Emma and I walked out of the trailer and gently shut the door behind us, it was time she learned the truth.

"What happened in there?" She asked with concern.

"Watch this video" I show her the recording on my phone, the horror she felt was palpable, her own brother being reduced to tears; by her own co-star no less. "I'm so sorry, Emma" was all I could say.

She turned to me and embraces me in a hug which I returned immediately. "Thank you for helping him, he won't ever forget what you did for him" her voice wobbly, she was crying. "I should've been there to stop him! He's gonna pay for this!" She storms off, presumably to find percy.

I chase after her, jesus she's fast "Emma wait!" I called out but she didn't falter in her movements, she was on a mission to find the asshole who hurt her brother.

After about 5 minutes of searching we found Percy talking with Tim as if he did nothing 2 hours prior, we stormed towards him. Percy's noticed us walking towards him, fear replaced his expression, Tim however was more confused by our angered demeanour.

"YOU ASSHOLE! HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT TO HIM, HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!" Emma exclaimed, tears falling fast down her face. "HE'S THE SWEETEST PERSON IN THE WORLD AND YOU DESTROYED HIM! WHAT FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU! She sobs out, I rubbed her back in comfort.

Tim looked even more confused now "What's going on, Percy what is she talking about?" He says raising an eyebrow, demanding to know what happened.

I answer for him, leaving no chance for Percy to alter the truth in any way. "Watch this video, Tim." He watched the video of what went, disgust was etched onto his face, all the while I was staring down the asshole who caused this mess. The look on his face is priceless, as though his career had flashed before his eyes.

Tim finished the video and turned to percy, inhaling before he spoke. "Percy once you're scenes are finished, you're done, fired. You have no future here." He says coldly, disappointment lacing his rough tone. "You will be paid for your work, but we will cease all contact after that."

Percy was distraught, he begged and pleaded for Tim to reconsider "Please Tim, I'm sorry I really am! It's was just a joke!" Emma was disgusted with him, so was I.

Emma was face to face with percy, she may have been shorter, but her anger made her far more imposing. "I'm not a violent person percy, but if you EVER say or even look at my brother in a way I find offensive ever again, you will be dealing with a far different side of me." He gulped and nodded, knowing better than to test her.

She continued "For your sake, I will not leak those videos, but so help me god I will not hesitate to ruin your life if you step out of line again." And with that she walks off to see her brother.

I walk up to Percy and warn him one final time "Be thankful you're only losing a Job opportunity Percy. Make no mistake, if you make any attempt to contact me, Emma, or dear Y/N, I will leak those videos to everyone and destroy your life within seconds. Do you understand me?" He nodded and I walk away with the knowledge that Percy Hynes White is a coward.

I return to the trailer to find Emma and Y/N talking about what went down with him and Percy "No matter what Y/N, I'll always protect you from people like him, and so will Jenna" he looks over to me and I offer a gentle, reassuring smile and sit down next to him. I kiss his cheek and pulled his head onto my chest and pressed play on the TV.

"So what did I miss with you two?" Emma asks playfully and we both laughed uncontrollably, forgetting the last few hours for a while with laughter and love.

- 9 months later

Wednesday was a massive hit with critics and viewers, my career has skyrocketed to heights I never thought imaginable. Though, I never let that inflate my ego and become someone who I depised, you know who I'm referring to.

Percy was promptly fired after he finished all of his scenes, nor was he allowed to attend any of the press events to promote the show. He hasn't tried to contact me or any of my friends, the first smart decision he's made.

Y/N and I are still going strong, though I wouldn't have doubted that for a second. Like I said to him all those months ago, he's perfect just the way he is.

Socialising is still a struggle for him, so is communicating with me sometimes. However, I vowed to help him and understand his condition, to guide him in a world that misunderstood him.

He's laying on my chest, me stroking his hair. He's asleep after coming with me to a press junket to promote the show. Even if he's behind the cameras, his support is so appreciated.

Emma has been so supportive of our relationship, which is great because I would've hated things to be awkward between, and potentially ruin Y/N's relationship with her.

Fans of mine have began to notice Y/N after his appearance at the premiere, the Internet practically exploded when they saw us hand in hand. Y/N isn't fond of the attention but loves the nice comments people have left, any boost to his self esteem he cherishes.

Suddenly the phone rang, it was Tim Burton, probably discussing plans for season 2. I picked up the phone, being careful not to wake Y/N.

"Hello Jenna, is Y/N with you?" He says. What could he want with Y/N?

"Yeah I'll get him" I gently shake him to wake him up. He groaned as I shook "Babe wake up someone's on the phone for you" he rose from my chest and groggily took the phone from my hand.

"Hello, Y/N speaking" he says lowly.

He talks with tim, his groggy expression is replaced with shock, a stark contrast from earlier.

"Yes ill talk with her about it" talk with me about what? What is Tim planning?

"Thank you I'll see you soon" he hung up and turned to me, a smile etched onto his face like he just won the lottery.

"What?" I say laughing

He opened his mouth, only to stutter when trying to form words. He eventually got his words out "He wants me to replace Percy as Xavier" I scream out of excitement and he quickly covered his ears.

"You're gonna do great, I'll be right there with you" his smile is replaced with worry.

"What if they don't like me as Xavier? What if my acting is bad? I have no acting experience, Jenna. What am I gonna do?" He starts to ramble a bit so I kissed him, calming his nerves within an instant.

He drew back for air and reassured him "You're gonna be great babe, way better than Percy, I guarantee that." I pulled him back to a kiss.

The kiss turned more passionate, only pulling back for pockets of air. "You're so beautiful baby, my beautiful boy" he blushes intensly at my praise. "I love you Y/N, so so much" I say breathlessly. He picks me up while kissing me, leading me to the bedroom. I would love to describe how the rest of our day was spent...

But some things are best kept secret... if you know what I mean. ; )

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷ now playing

?: Go with the whiskey, it’s your favorite.

Atlas: I see your memory is still sharp as ever.

?: Always.

Atlas: What are you doing here, Rowan?

?: That’s no way to greet an old friend. 

Atlas: I’d prefer it if you stayed away.

Rowan: What’s the fun in that?

Atlas: I’d be happier. I dunno, some kind of repose for my soul.

Rowan: Ah, see, you must be mistaken if you think I’m what’s holding you back. People like us, well, we run towards trouble if given the opportunity.

Atlas: You’re a dirty liar.

Rowan: It’s the truth. You can pretend all you want in that pretty little head of yours but eventually it’ll all come out.

Atlas: Shut up. Shut. Up. As a matter of fact, get out. Go.

Rowan: Whatever you say, bunny. Looks like you’re about to have your hands full anyway. When you’re ready to stop pretending, you know where to find me.

Atlas: [ huffs ] 

Kai: Aren’t you mature? 

Atlas: Kai, we’re not doing this here.

Kai: Honestly, the nerve you have to show your face around here is appalling. 

Atlas: I’m only here for Dan.

Kai: Really now? Does she know that?

Atlas: What are you hoping to gain from this conversation? The passive aggression is getting old. 

Kai: Oh that’s rich! Maybe I shouldn’t have to throw hints at you to be a better friend!

Atlas: Christ, it’s not like I expected you to do that! Besides, I tried to make things right.

Kai: No you didn’t. I wanted you to be there, Atlas. I wanted you to actually put in some effort for once. 

Atlas: Really? Because you made it seem like it was a lot more than that the other day. 

Kai: You’re wrong-

Atlas: [ interjects ] Actually, I’m not done. You wanna know what your problem is? You expect every single person to figure out your petty feelings. Some advice? Be honest.

Kai: About what?! God you’re such an asshole I don’t understand how I liked you for that long!

Atlas: Huh. 

Kai: I, uhm.

Atlas: Is that why you treated Taryn like that?

Kai: What? No, I wouldn’t. 

Atlas: But you did. Wow. I can't believe you.

Kai: Wait. 

Atlas: So much for your concern over her, as if you actually cared or was that all a front too?

Kai: It wasn’t! I do care!

Atlas: You don’t know the first thing about sympathy!

Kai: I-I’m sorry.

Atlas: It’s too late for that now. Tell Dan I said bye, I can’t stand being here knowing you’re around.