#if you want to use these or something go nuts + with credit
mewochy · 1 month
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designs for pins i gave out at a con
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blissfullyecho · 7 months
March 2023 "That Girl" Challenge
Helloooo :)
This is the 31-Day Challenge that I've created for us to do together this month. It's just something simple and fun. Enjoy! - BlissfullyEcho
DAY 1: Deep clean your living space (bedroom, apartment, house, condo, camper, etc)
DAY 2: Deep clean your car (if you don't have a car, deep clean something else that you haven't done but should do: junk drawer, dresser, yoga mat, makeup brushes, etc)
DAY 3: Try a new (healthy!) recipe-- this could even be a healthy dessert or beverage
DAY 4: Try a guided meditation on YouTube for 10 minutes after waking up and before checking social media
DAY 5: Spend an extra 15 minutes working on something for school, work, hobbies, or your own personal development
DAY 6: Unfollow, delete, and block social media accounts and phone contacts that are just not part of your life anymore (or those who you plan on not having as a part of your life anymore)
DAY 7: Delete social media pictures that don't fit in with the best version of you. This could be the overedited photos, the thirst trap you put on there because that one person made you upset, etc.
DAY 8: Try a new workout that you haven't done. Pilates, ballet, barre, tennis, CrossFit, kickboxing, F45, cycling, running, swimming, etc.
DAY 9: Pamper your pet. Brush, clean, trim their nails, give them treats, etc. Go above and beyond for them today. (If you don't have animals, pamper yourself today!)
DAY 10: Enjoy the sunshine. Go outside (wear your sunscreen, sunglasses, and a hat) for 15-20 minutes and enjoy your own company and nature.
DAY 11: No phone 30 minutes before bed. Set your bedtime tonight, and set an alarm 30 minutes prior to that. Once your alarm goes off, put your phone on DND and read a book before bed. Read until you are tired enough to turn off your lights and sleep.
DAY 12: Watch a documentary about something and learn! Maybe it's something you've never had an interest in. Just please make it positive! No heartbreaking or tragic documentaries. Let's not invite that into our "That Girl" challenge.
DAY 13: Buy a self-care item. This could be a yoga mat, face mask, cleansing oil, the Bible, perfume, etc. It can be as expensive or inexpensive as you'd like.
DAY 14: Go out on a date with yourself. Take yourself out to do something you've never done/been to before.
DAY 15: Aim to drink at least 60oz. of pure water today.
DAY 16: Spend 30 minutes learning a language you've always wanted to learn (and if you love it, practice for 10 minutes a day afterward)
DAY 17: Turn your notifications off.
DAY 18: No social media today.
DAY 19: Do something creative today. Buy a canvas, paint, and a brush, and follow a Bob Ross tutorial; maybe buy a jewelry-making kit. Take today and be creative for at least 30 minutes.
DAY 20: 10,000 steps OR walk for an hour
DAY 21: Go through your finances and see where you can budget. Take this time to audit your subscriptions and see if you would like to cancel any recurring subscriptions to save you extra money each month.
DAY 22: Avoid eating animal products today. Just focus on whole grains, fruit, veggies, nuts, seeds, water, and vitamins.
DAY 23: Schedule any doctor appointments you might have. If you don't have to, then take today to create a to-do list for the next 3 days.
DAY 24: Spend some time deleting pictures and making storage space in your phone. Any way you can-- it doesn't have to be from deleting your photos.
DAY 25: Listen to a new podcast or TedTalk.
DAY 26: Check your credit report/score and see if there's anything you need to do/complete.
DAY 27: Clear your email inbox and unsubscribe from the companies you don't shop from anymore.
DAY 28: Touch up on your resume.
DAY 29: Sort through your closet and throw away, donate, and sell your clothes and shoes that you don't wear (and that you know you'll never wear again)
DAY 30: Sort through your bathroom drawers and cabinets and organize them.
DAY 31: Create a vision board for April.
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dancingcrowley · 24 days
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Hello friends, lovers, hereditary enemies, and fellow Good-Omens-brain-rot-afflicted!
Inspired by some lengthy conversations and the need for reassurance regarding a renewal for season 3, the lovely Eena @michaelsheens and I have decided to start a little Project!
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(Sorry, Crowley, we had to…)
Running from SEPTEMBER 25TH to OCTOBER 1ST, it’s all themed around season 3 and the assumption we’re gonna get that renewal. (Manifesting, baby.)
Every day will focus on a theme around which everyone who wants to participate is encouraged to create any kind of content they want to! Art, fanfic, edits, playlists, speculation, meta, go nuts!
(Also please don’t worry if something doesn’t fit neatly into a day’s theme; they’re only meant to give somewhat of a prompt and structure. Ultimately it’s not that strict and serious, we just wanna see your stuff :))
Share whatever your big heart and massive brain comes up with and use the tag #gomensnaap
(It’s like a long nap or something.)
You’re also welcome to give shoutouts to other people’s work you love and want to celebrate, but please make sure to link and credit properly (!!!)
Most importantly: have fun <3
(under the cut)
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DAY 1: “And there will be great lamentations.”
Let’s talk the Second Coming! We start off and warm up with everything plot-related. Theories, meta, crack ideas, let’s hear your thoughts on where you think the Big Main Plot is going to go!
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DAY 2: “I can make a difference!”
For day two, let’s focus on Aziraphale’s arc in season 3. Did he go to Heaven with a plan? Or is he winging it? (Pun only somewhat intended.) Was he threatened or manipulated or both or neither? Will he tell Heaven just where they can stick it or can he actually succeed? What’s in store for our favorite angel?
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DAY 3: “Hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”
Day three is all about Crowley and what we think he’s going to get up to. Is he going to go drink himself senseless and have a good cry? Go snek and hybernate for a bit? Hang out with Muriel and do some tempting? Does he have a plan and how will he cope being on his own?
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DAY 4: “There was magic abroad in the air…”
Let’s talk Ineffable Husbands! How are Crowley and Aziraphale going to resolve things between them? Will there be a massive fight? Radio silence for days/weeks/months/years? Will they learn to Actually COmmunicate? Will there be grudges, grand gestures, secret meetings, a big rescue mission from either side?
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DAY 5: “Extreme sanctions.”
On day six we wanna make ourselves anxious, sad and upset. (As one does.) What thing that may or may not happen in season 3 are you most worried about? Dark/depressed/evil/etc Crowley? Memory-wiped/brain-washed/archangel Aziraphale? Book of Life? How could Neil & Co hurt us the most?
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DAY 6: “Do you…want a hot chocolate?”
After day 5’s spiral, it’s time for a metaphorical treat. What are you most looking forward to in season 3? What do you really want to see? Headcanons coming true? Scenes you wish for? Things that’ll make you wanna name your cat/dog/fish/insert other pet here Neil Richard Gaiman or Sir Terence David John Pratchett?
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DAY 7: “It’s starts, as it will end, with a garden.”
Finally, to finish it all up, let’s speculate about the end of season 3. How do you think we’ll leave this story? Will things just go back to how they’ve always been? Will there be peace? Earth hidden from Heaven and Hell with a big 500 Lazarii miracle? Aziraphale and Crowley turned human? Or will they get their cottage in the South Downs for the rest of eternity?
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vaguely-concerned · 20 days
In light of the info about the properties of souls in The Unwanted Guest, I want to shout out that Gideon — with no grounding in the theoretical underpinnings of the subject whatsoever — actually makes basically the same observation about the permeability of the soul at the end of Harrow the Ninth, when she's in Harrow's body and (with some justification) is pretty sure she's about to die in the River:
Harrowhark, did you know that if you die by drowning, apparently your whole life flashes in front of your eyes? I didn't know, as I died and took you along with me—having kept you alive for what, a whole two hours?—whether it was going to show me both. Like, at the end of everything, if it was going to be you and me, layered over each other as we always were. A final blurring of the edges between us, like water spilt over ink outlines. Melted steel. Mingled blood. Harrowhark-and-Gideon, Gideon-and-Harrowhark at last.
‘As we always were’! ‘Melted steel, mingled blood’! (Also interesting that despite saying earlier in the book that all she ever wanted was for Harrow to eat her (oh Gideon), the metaphors Gideon reaches for here are not about consumption ala what Ianthe’s deal and thus traditional lyctorhood is presented as in TUG, it’s about similar and equal substances joining together to a new whole, more like what we see with Paul. I personally feel like a Paul-style merging for Harrow and Gideon is not in the cards and would not be a satisfying ending — it worked as a bittersweet conclusion specifically for Pal and Cam because those two are utterly nuts in all their sanity lol, but I don’t think the series means to present it as The definitive answer to the central question of individuation vs. connection. There is something so moving to me, though, in the fact that right at the end this is what Gideon wants for her and Harrow. Not for Harrow to eat her, not simply to be of use to her, but to be made together from the same stuff. It’s a longing for connection and union that’s finally at least in imagery free from the imbalance within the ultimately hierarchical roles of necromancer and cavalier that Gideon internalizes through her corruption arc in Gideon the Ninth, understandably so as it’s the only model she’s presented with in their society to understand intimacy and attachment and devotion through. But Gideon says Harrowhark-and-Gideon, Gideon-and-Harrowhark at last, mutually and equally. And I’ve written about this before, but at what must be almost exactly the same time, the same process is happening in Harrow’s mind through the evolution in the symbolism of her dream bubbles. Help I am emotions now) 
Palamedes is so right, Gideon is a lot smarter than most people -- including Gideon herself -- ever give her credit for.
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earthtooz · 2 years
warnings: semi-suggestive? sfw! allusions to hooking up or whateva idk. dialogue-heavy, kuroo is absolutely the main character. idk this is just a feel good fic inspired by girl in red's 'bad idea!'
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"you hooked up with suna rintarou!?" kuroo practically screamed in the little pod of the university library, knocking over his bottle of water in the process.
you hissed at him to quiet down, "kuroo! we may be in a private room but people can still hear us, shut up!"
he points at you, flabbergasted, "my best friend is a whore!"
"shut up and calm down!"
the black-haired pouts before plopping back down on his chair, picking up his fallen water bottle, "is that why you look like a mess?"
"i look like a mess? and you didn't tell me?"
"i could tell you got your shit rocked."
"i- what?"
"i mean, y'know... it seemed like you had a fun night so i didn't question it," he ignores your offended scowl with a wave of his hand, "but i had no idea you had it with suna rintarou!"
"don't make it sound like we fucked!"
"you didn't?"
"no! we just-" you groaned, putting your head in your hands, shaking it as you tried to rid the memories of last night, "-we only made out but that's literally the extent of it."
"okay... and how was it?"
"...it was fine. great. perfect, actually," the word document that currently had your typed out essay blinked at you disappointedly, "but it was most definitely a bad idea."
it was a bad idea because suna's touch burns and it's so hard to forget about, invading your senses, causing for you to forget all rational thoughts, replacing them with a certain middle blocker. you don't know if life will ever be the same after this.
kuroo tilts his head, "why are you crying over someone who's a good kisser? maybe i should go over to suna myself and-"
"shut the fuck up or i will throw a volleyball at your nuts."
he whistles, "might wanna save that volleyball for someone whose first name begins with an 'r'."
"retsuro kuroo, right?" you asked, giving him a sly smile as he rolls his eyes. "whatever, i've had enough studying. let's get outta here."
"can we get some tacos?" you nod, "perfect. anyways. i don't see why you're freaking out about this, haven't you had a crush on that guy since freshman year? because of the business course? i see this as an absolute win."
it's true. the lasting crush you've had on suna was all because of a business class you took in first year of university. the moment he walked through the doors you knew that you'd become down bad for the man who suddenly rocked your world without even knowing it.
you huff as a heavy tote bag weighs on your shoulder, "he's probably not even into me kuroo. chances are that i just happened to be there at the right place and time."
"you gotta give yourself a little more credit, y/n. you're hot as shit, otherwise i wouldn't hang out with you-"
"-i'm kidding. but seriously, suna's a guy that cares a lot more than he lets on. he's not like atsumu who plays with the idea of love. from what i've heard in the locker room, suna doesn't waste his time with hookups and other useless shit. i doubt last night happened because he wanted fun."
your heart skips a beat at the thought of last night meaning something- even if it's so sadly minuscule- to him, but the nonchalant appearance of suna rintarou gets the better of your thoughts, messing you up completely.
he probably didn't care about you, not in the way kuroo described.
it's not as though you were strangers. you've had a few classes here and there, a few discussions about each others degrees and whatnot. most importantly, you've spent a lot of panicked all-nighters together, messaging each other on instagram in your delirium.
in fact, texting suna when he was seconds away from crashing should've lessened your infatuation for him. the stupid, totally not-funny memes he sent should've been icks, but they weren't. it was actually really fucking adorable to see past his 'cool guy' facade as he sends you dank memes that came straight out of 2012.
you were fucked.
you were just as fucked as you were last night when he whispered soft praises against your skin, hands running up and down your sides.
'darling you're so pretty it hurts.'
kuroo's steps beside you suddenly slow down, causing you to turn around and ask what was wrong. "hey... uh, don't look, but suna rin and like his friends are 10 metres away, at 10 o'clock."
"you're fucking with me!"
"that's suna's job not mine! either way, he just spotted us!" kuroo's eyes widen, "he's doing the analytical look he always does!"
"i am not about to let you run away from your problems- you're not kenma! you're a bad bitch who's either about to wife a 6'3 guy up or get her heart broken, proceeding to have a massive glow up, what's your choice?"
"suddenly i'm an olympian."
"too late, he's walking this way and he's faster than you."
"kuroo tetsuro i am about to become a literal maneater-"
you turn around, meeting suna's concerned gaze as he raises a questioning brow at you. with a nervous laugh, you greet the middle blocker with a smile.
goodness, this is not what you needed at 4:30pm. what you needed was a volleyball. two of them.
"suna! what's up?" you asked casually.
"nothing much, how's your day been?"
"been writing a paper, but other than that, alright. did you want to talk about something?"
"i just wanted to check to see if you got home safely last night. you didn't respond to any of my texts."
"you texted me?" quickly, you log in to your phone and open imessages, only to be greeted by your previous game of uno against bokuto, kenma, akaashi and kuroo. "i'm sorry, i had no idea."
he rubs his neck, "it's okay, i figured you were busy or something."
"always on the clock."
suna huffs out a chuckle, "exactly."
it's awkward and the silence drives you insane, "about last night..."
his eyes widen a little, a small sign that he's been waiting for this conversation.
"did it mean anything?"
and yes, suna wants to shout that it meant so much more than he could ever express. that you were oddly special to him and he wanted more, wanted to know your favourite song and why, wanted to know what it'd be like to physically hangout with you at 3am instead of snickering to himself in his own dorm, he wanted to know what kind of lip balm you use.
there was so much suna wanted yet too little time to have them.
but there was no way of telling you that he kept you as close to him as possible for the limited moments he had with you, unsure when he'd ever have this opportunity again, so he answers your question with an indifferent shrug, "only if you wanted it to mean something."
you narrow your eyes at him, unimpressed, "that was lower than the bare minimum."
his heart races in his chest. "hypothetically, if i asked you on a date, what would you say?"
"whatever you want me to say," you shrug, smirking at him for a brief moment of silence. he rolls his eyes.
"i want you to say yes."
"then i'd say yes but you're not really asking me out are you?"
the corners of his lips quirk into a smile, "suddenly i am. i'll pick you up tomorrow, in front of your dorm, 7pm. we're going out, sound good?"
"sounds good," you chuckle.
suna grins breathlessly as he tries to conceal the explosions of nervous excitement in his chest, "great, cool, amazing! i'll message you soon."
"i won't leave you on delivered this time."
"don't go breaking my heart, pretty."
you watch as he jogs away with an amused smile, noticing the way he practically skips back to his friends. you grab your phone, finding his contact.
to: s*na r1ntaro > you're a really good kisser btw
atsumu shrieks from 10 metres away.
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angel-fics · 2 months
In The Room Where You Sleep
Summary: Dalton was just being curious and stumbles upon something he probably shouldn’t have. He then does something he shouldn’t have.
Warnings: Mentions of the Further, mentions of entities, Dalton being a creep, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), sexual fantasies
All credit to @glodessa who wrote the imagine that inspired this, so much talent there and you’re feeding my Dalton addiction
Dalton was your friend. His primary art class was in the studio next to the orchestra rooms where you practiced in. He’d wandered in on you playing a section piece on the violin after he’d forgotten that his class was cancelled.
Since you two had obviously seen each other on multiple occasions when going to and leaving from class, he’d felt comfortable striking up a conversation. He usually wasn’t into initiating introductions, but Chris had started forcing him to interact with more people and make friends. You were the first person he had introduced himself to without her assistance.
In a way, he felt a sick sense of possession when it came to you because of that. It made him feel funny, like he was gross and he tried to stomp it down, but it would crawl it’s way up his throat whenever you talked to him. He’d met you all on his on, without a buffer or cleverly charming segue. You knew him for him from the get go, and still liked him. You liked him enough to start waiting for him before classes for a chat. You liked him enough to exchange contacts and let him take pictures of you to save for his own personal enjoyment put into his saved contacts.
You liked him enough to let him walk you back to your dorms every time he had the chance to. Which he did, considering he started walking a different path to insure that he would run into you more often.
He didn’t think he was odd, not really. Lots of friends took secret pictures of each other. For fun, it was funny, like a secret joke. And lots of friends walked together in between classes, it was normal. Even if they didn’t share certain classes. Or if one of the friends wasn’t completely aware that the other friend was nearby.
Dalton didn’t consider it strange that he didn’t like when you talked to Chris, or any of his other friends. Or anyone that might find you attractive. In his eyes, that should’ve meant everyone. You were gorgeous and people should be falling over themselves trying to be with you, in his opinion. But you were his. His friend, at least. And he hated not having your full attention.
Nighttime was the worst, in some ways. You two had met up on occasion to help each other study or wind down from an intense test. But most nights, you turned in early to spend time with your roommate. Dalton hated your roommate, she was so clingy and always convinced you to go back to the dorms, cutting off his time with you. He thought she was off, or at least very selfish, and that she used every opportunity to guilt you and take advantage of your kindness and naivety.
Dalton would never do that, he was lucky to get to be your friend. You were beautiful, talented, kind and accepting. You even accepted his ability of astral projection without hesitation. You were beyond perfect to him, and if he wasn’t with you, he was thinking about you. Constantly, and usually aloud, much to Chris’ annoyance.
“Dolphin! Please, for the love of fuck, ask that girl out already. You’re driving me nuts!” She threw herself back onto the spare bed in Dalton’s dorm in dramatic agony, groaning loudly in complaint.
“No, Chris. She’ll just think that I became friends with her because I wanted to get in her pants,” he dismissed, tossing a dirty t-shirt into his hamper a little too forcefully.
“Isn’t that what all guys do? What’s the big deal?” Chris sat up again to try to convince him. It wasn’t the first time either, but she was almost positive that you liked Dalton back and would rather you keep his mouth too occupied for him to verbally obsess over you. Like he was doing right now.
“I’m not going to do that, Chris. Just drop it.” His voice was unnervingly firm and Chris snapped her mouth shut before another incentive could fall out. Dalton was usually mild-mannered, at least when it came to anyone but his dad, not really the aggressive type. Anti-social and surly, but not aggressive. Unless it had something to do with you.
Chris thought there was something not quite right about Dalton’s crush on you but she figured his abnormal childhood and resulting trauma made it hard for him properly process his feelings. And she was reluctant to ask in case it set him off.
“I heard her roommate is going home to her parents’ for her dad’s birthday, maybe y’all can hang out more this weekend,” Chris suggested instead, unfettered by Dalton’s tone. “She left earlier this afternoon.”
Something seized in Dalton’s chest. You hadn’t mentioned that to him. You didn’t have a reason not to. Was there someone else? Were you going to spend the whole weekend with another guy? Did you have a boyfriend? Anger and hatred for this secret man clouded his mind and he felt like throwing something against the wall until it broke.
“I hadn’t heard about that,” he replied to Chris coolly. “I’ve got some homework to finish, do you mind?”
Chris nodded slowly, grabbing her bag and quickly making her way to the door, watching Dalton worriedly. She gave a half-hearted wave goodbye and left without a word.
As soon as the door shut, he quickly locked it, tearing his ball cap from his head and flinging thoughtlessly towards his desk, knocking over a small stack of his sketchbooks and a tin of water. Cursing under his breath, Dalton begrudgingly trudged to clean up the mess before the water could stain or damage any of his work.
After mopping up the water, he flipped through his drawings to check if any of it ruined the paper. One of the sketchbooks was relatively new, but nearly full of pencil and ink sketches. Of you.
Most of them took up an entire page of their own. They were innocent, somewhat, just candids that he’d done while or after hanging out with you. You smiling, laughing, playing the violin, biting your lip awkwardly. Gorgeous and sweet.
There were some other ones, smaller in comparison to the rest and done with a light hand. You changing through the window of your room. You bending over at work. You crying to your mom on the phone after you tore your favorite dress right before a date you ended up not going on. Done in a hurry by someone who was sketching without a still reference.
It was not stalking. No, he wasn’t like that. He didn’t threaten you or send you lewd messages. He didn’t get off on scaring you or making you feel unsafe. He wanted you to feel safe around him, did everything in his power to make sure you were always comfortable with him. Plus, he never invaded your privacy, he just looked. Watched. It was friendly, protective even.
Plus, those sketches were nothing compared to the rest. Small enough for three separate drawings to fit on a page, and darkly filled in with a heavy and rough hand.
It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He was a guy. You were his crush. He couldn’t control his own thoughts, let alone his dreams. It happened, and it was completely normal and natural. Not at all creepy or perverted.
He dreamt of you often. He couldn’t keep his mind off you even in his sleep. Of course, his unconscious mind was different than his conscious mind. Mostly, anyway. A lot more eager for you, hungry for you.
The pencil drawings were of you as you appeared to him in his dreams. Bent over his desk, wearing a string of pearls and a sultry smile. You, on his bed with your legs spread out invitingly, your fingers scissoring your slick folds. There was even one featuring him, his lower face dripping with drool and your arousal as his tongue delved into your wet heat from under you. That one was his favorite, even if the drawing itself wasn’t exactly his best work skill-wise. He had a hard time balancing the pad with only one hand, which he was also using to draw.
Dalton sighed and picked up all of the sketch pads, putting them back where they were and collapsing on his back on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he should bring up your roommate leaving and confront you about not telling him. You must have had a good reason, right? It’s not like you were getting tired of him or anything. Right?
As he drifted further and further into his thoughts, the room became darker around him. Standing up to fix his lamp, he caught the sight of himself sleeping in his peripheral. He’d fallen asleep and accidentally projected.
He didn’t do so often anymore, the Further was a scary and dangerous place and he was cautious of bringing something back with him. But it had its advantages, for pranks or finding out things that others couldn’t. Surprisingly, he’d never used his ability to watch you. You were too pure and beautiful to see through the lenses of the Further, he liked seeing you surrounded by light and color, with no potential of evil spirits ruining the experience for him.
But just this once…
No! He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.
You trusted him, it would be so easy. And it’s not like he was trying to be a weirdo, he just wanted to see if you had plans that weekend without having to actually ask you. It would only be once, for a few minutes. He wouldn’t mess with you or your things. He would just listen in and leave.
He grabbed the lantern and walked out of his room. He could’ve found your dorm with his eyes closed, but since it was in a different building and he was traveling through the Further, it took him longer than he would’ve liked. But at least he didn’t encounter anyone. You lived on the second floor of your dorm house and yours was nicer and more expensive than his. You had your own bedroom and personal bathroom, not having to share with your roommate and the rest of your floor like Dalton did.
Your door was unlocked and after he entered your dorm, he locked it himself, knowing he’d have to unlock again it in order to leave. Your bedroom door was open and he could see you through it, sitting at your desk and typing on your phone. Silently and curiously, he peered over your shoulder to watch you text your roommate.
He rolled his eyes at seeing her contact but ignored it in favor of the messages being sent. Mostly average, just you being your considerate self and asking about her trip home. She, obviously, sent paragraph after paragraph detailing every insignificant second of her weekend away, not once asking anything about you. The entire conversation revolves around her and Dalton had to bite his tongue to avoid scoffing in your ear, which was inches from his mouth.
Finally she asked about you, specifically your plans for while she was gone. Luckily, she could serve a purpose for once, Dalton thought.
You mentioned work, homework and just relaxing and Dalton was tempted to leave and rid himself of his craving to kiss you. Then, he saw you type his name. You wanted to surprise him by inviting him over for a sleepover. Your roommate responded by teasing you about you and Dalton finally progressing to the next stage in your friendship; a relationship.
Huh, maybe your roommate wasn’t as bad as Dalton thought she was.
Dalton’s heart was racing as he continued to read all of your roommate’s suggestions for extremely sexual twists on common sleepover activities, all in order to seduce him. You didn’t have to try to seduce him, but trying any one of these wouldn’t hurt. He felt his cock hardening in his pants and knew that he probably should’ve left. Like, now.
But then you sighed loudly into the empty air. Your head dropped back, your lips parted and you shifted awkwardly in your seat, your thighs pressing together tightly. Dalton felt his mouth water just watching you and suddenly stopped in his tracks. He decided that he would wait until you either went to the bathroom or fell asleep. If he tried leaving before then, you might catch him.
So he stood off to the side and simply observed you from up close. You seemed more deflated when you weren’t around him, less animated and poise. Less…cheery. You continued to stay at your desk texting your roommate for a while before getting up for a glass of water. It seems like she was going to bed. You paced around the kitchen as you sipped your drink, looking slightly anxious about how the conversation ended. Dalton regretted not reading it along with you and now he couldn’t because your phone was off and locked.
Huffing out a tense laugh to yourself, you marched back into your room, passing Dalton to get to your phone. You continued pacing as you opened up your messages and scrolled until you found a particular contact, hesitating for a moment and then opening the chat thread. Dalton stood in front of you this time and read his own name from upside down. Why were you pausing when it came to texting him? Did this happen often? We’re you inviting him over?
He watched you type out a greeting and began pacing in your room. When the message delivered, Dalton panicked before remembering that his phone was next to his actual body. You wouldn’t catch him over his phone notifications sounding off in your otherwise silent room.
You turned off your phone and sat on your bed, your back straight and your eyes staring out into nothingness. Your leg bounced erratically and you started checking your phone every thirty seconds in case you missed his message. You were waiting for a response from him, Dalton realized. And he couldn’t do that while he was standing here with you.
Now was definitely the time to go and you gave him the perfect opportunity when you started collecting your things to take a shower, muttering to yourself about how desperate you were. It was clear that you were agitated from waiting on his message, and he supposed it was because he hardly ever took more than 20 seconds to start typing back. He only took long if he was busy, and he would always tell you beforehand if he was.
As much as he wanted to watch you undress yourself and shower, becoming aroused slightly once more at the idea, he wouldn’t cross that boundary when you were so vulnerable and unaware. It was completely different from the times he watched you change your shirt or remove your bra from outside your window. He was in your home and you were going to be completely naked. Dalton wanted go reserve that honor for when you would strip in front of him eagerly, at least for the first time he ever saw you naked.
Gasping, Dalton sat up in his own bed, his erection pressing against his sweats and his body feeling sweaty. He immediately opened his messages and read your message asking him what he was doing. Getting his own clothing, he walked to the common bathroom in his dorm house and stripped, sending you a picture of his shower stall with the reflection of his bare torso halfway in the frame.
He’d never been so forward with you before. You’d seen him shirtless on occasion, he wasn’t shy about his body, but never on purpose and he hardly ever sent you pictures instead of just telling you what he was doing. But now that he knew you felt the same way he did, he felt confident enough to give actual signals to tell you that.
He turned on the shower and waited for the ancient water settings to actually heat up the water. As he was about to step in, you messaged him back with a photo of your own.
You were wearing nothing but a robe, tied at the waist, but doing a very poor job at concealing your cleavage, and your hair was soaked. The mirror that you had taken the picture in was fogged and he could see streams of steam swirling in the air around your head. So you liked really hot showers, fuck, that was attractive to him. You smiled shyly into the camera with one of your hands clutching a towel in your hands.
You: “I just got out of the shower, how funny is that?”
God, you were adorable without even trying. He wondered if the placement of your robe was intentional or if you were just that sexy without trying to be. It could go either way, you were as effortlessly cunning as you were absurdly oblivious to your affect on others.
He quickly went through his shower routine quickly, not taking his time to enjoy the water and relax like he usually did. He didn’t want to keep you waiting again. He decided to toe the line of flirtation and idle conversation once more by sending you another photo. This time following your lead with a mirror pic. He was still shirtless and brushing his teeth with an overly wide and sud-filled smile. His shorts hung low on his hips and his entire frame was centered in the photo this time.
D: “What’s up?”
It was a lame line, but he wanted to keep the conversation going and see if you were going to invite him over. He spit out his toothpaste and gargled mouthwash, accidentally swallowing some as you replied back. Coughing at the strong taste burning his throat, his eyes widened as he memorized every pixel of the photo you sent, catching on to his little provocation.
The mirror in your bathroom was still slightly fogged but he could clearly see that all you were wearing was a t-shirt. It was big enough to cover your thighs, so Dalton didn’t know what you were wearing under it and he could see your nipples poking through the material ever so slightly. He dragged his lip into his mouth and bit down hard, hand clenching on the edge of the counter. He gathered his shower stuff and walked back to his room, keeping his towel gathered in a ball in front of his crotch in case he ran into anyone this late.
It didn’t occur to him to read the message you sent until he was about to send one himself. He was so distracted by your selfie that he completely forgot that he was in the middle of a conversation with you. He wondered if it was weird to be more turned on by you in your pajamas than you soaking wet and in a towel.
You: “Nothing much? What are you doing right now?”
He sat down on his art stool, and angled the camera at the mirror that sat in the corner between his spare bed and the wall. He hadn’t gotten the motivation to actually put it up so it laid on its side and only showed from his waist down at this angle. The picture showed his bare stomach, shorts and legs, with one of his feet braced up on the leg of his seat.
D: “Chilling in my room now, you?”
You responded a minute later in much the same fashion. This photo didn’t show your face either, but he could see your hair and the junction between your neck and shoulder at the top of the photo. You were stretched out on your bed, your legs propped up in front of you and you holding the weight of your upper body on your other arm as you snapped a photo of yourself. From the way your shirt rode up on your thighs, you weren’t wearing any shorts, but he couldn’t see your underwear.
You: “Same. My roommate left to her parents’ house so I have the place to myself.”
Was this your way of implying that you wanted him to come over? How does he respond to that information without sounding weird or letting on that he’d already known? Should he tell you that he already knew? He decided that now was the perfect time to reorganize his desk and actually put up the mirror in his room. It took fifteen minutes for him to respond and the guilt ate at him now that he knew how you reacted when he didn’t message back quickly.
D: “Oh, really? Yeah, I kinda always have my place to myself, haha :)Look what I finally did.”
The added “haha” looked so stupid that he wanted to jump out his window. He hoped the selfie he sent to you would make up for it. He was standing in front of his mirror, acting as if he was only trying to show you the mirror you’d been bugging him about putting up. He was still shirtless and a light sheen of sweat made his body glow slightly from the exertion of his impromptu redecorating. He angled his phone to show a grin, but the rest of his face was covered.
You took a few minutes to respond yourself and Dalton thought he understood your anxiety about having to wait for messages. He felt the anxiety was all the more potent now that you were sending each other photos of yourselves. But he couldn’t deny that he liked the tension, the anticipation ate him up and he was beyond keyed up.
You: “I got bored being here by myself so I’m doing my makeup :p”
You: “Oml, finally!”
You were kneeling in front of the camera with your legs slightly spread. The lighting in your room made it hard for him to see what your underwear looked like and he felt like a pervert for being disappointed. Probably not as bad as he would’ve felt before he knew that you reciprocated his feelings. Your hair was put up into an updo so it was out of your face and it reminded him of that Pamela Anderson hairdo that you complained about not being able to do. You looked beautiful, your makeup was darker than you normally had it, more like dark seduction than pretty fairy. Dalton wondered if that was on purpose.
He sent you a closeup selfie of half of his face, his eyes mostly angled down at the phone screen instead of the actual camera and a slight smirk on his lips. His neck, collarbones and one of his shoulders were on display for you as well
D: “Guess I got bored too. Your hair looks like Pamela Anderson’s, btw”
D: “I like your makeup, it looks good!”
You responded quickly and without a photo.
You: “Are you joking me?! The one time I’m not bending over backwards trying to do it right…”
Dalton had to take a minute to recover from the mental image of you bending over backwards, particularly the image of how your breasts would look at that angle when your next message came in with another photo.
You: “Come over?”
This time, your phone was placed close to the floor and angled up for Dalton to see your knees pulled up to your chest and you dramatically and exaggeratedly pouted at the camera, your dark red lips shining in the camera flash. The flash also, probably unintentionally, highlighted the junction between your legs and he could actually see your panties this time. White lace. Son of a bitch!
Instead of responding, he jumped around his room and tried to gather all of his shit to take to your place and was pulling up his jacket when he noticed some papers on his bed. His homework that he had told Chris about earlier and completely forgot about. It was due at midnight and his teacher was a hardass about homework.
“Fuck!” His curse echoed loudly in his empty and otherwise silent room and he slammed his things down on the bed in anger.
As desperate as he was to go to your room and potentially spend the night inside you, he was stuck inside his dorm unless he wanted his grade to tank. With a heavy heart and tense motions, he sat in his chair, a different one from his stool, and faced his mirror. He spread his legs so that he was man-spreading and propped a leg up on the edge of his bed. He held up his homework in one hand above his head and made a faux-angry face at the camera, his expression not even making at dent when it came to showing just how angry he actually was. He gave himself a minute of fantasizing about your lips kissing marks all over his body before snapping the picture and sending it to you.
D: “I was on my way when I remembered I had homework. Fucking sucks! Raincheck? I’ll bring you breakfast in the morning?”
He ordinarily didn’t curse over text, or in general. He wasn’t a prude about swearing, but he just didn’t feel the need to do it. However, he also needed you to understand that he wasn’t blowing you off, and then he genuinely was upset about not being able to spend the night with you. He felt it was probably too risky sending you a picture where he was very obviously at half-mast and worried that he was being too forward and would make you uncomfortable.
Two minutes of complete agony imagining all of the ways that you would dismiss him and tell him to forget about it, or get angry and misinterpret what he was telling you. Now that the conversation couldn’t go anywhere, the anticipation wasn’t alluring and fun, it felt like acid burning his skin.
You: “Oh, please do your homework! Grades are important. Breakfast sounds good! Goodnight x”
A kiss, you messaged him a kiss. And you were completely fine with it. For the first time in his life, Dalton felt the urge to do a chest bump with a bro. He was on top of the world right now. He was tempted to rush his homework and run over to you as soon as possible, but as soon as he sat down to do it, he knew that the assignment required all of his time and attention. Fortunately, the assignment itself was relatively simple, but it was incredibly time consuming, which is why he’d been putting it off.
Two hours later, he took some pictures of his completed homework and sent them to his professor’s email. It was fifteen minutes til midnight and he wondered if he should risk going over to you now. You weren’t expecting him, though, and for all he knew, you were asleep or something. He debated texting you that he was done and seeing if you’d extend the invitation to come over again, but you hadn’t even brought up his last picture and that made him a bit insecure. What if you were trying to just ignore it as a way to say you weren’t interested? Even back in your room, when your roommate was encouraging you to take advantage of having your dorm to yourself, you had only denied all of her sexual innuendos. He knew you liked him back, but maybe sending you a picture of like the one he sent was too much too fast?
Oh yeah, astral projector. He could always just pop in and check without actually having to check. It was fine the first time, right? No big deal anymore. He wasn’t hurting anyone.
He relaxed on his bed and before long, he was picking up that lantern once more and leaving his body behind, making sure that all of his lights were on to protect his body before he left the room.
You had been in your room with your door mostly closed when he came in again. You really should make sure your front door was locked, he thought. He heard little whimpers coming from your room and was immediately concerned, automatically assuming that you were crying. Your bedroom door was swaying on account of the industrial fan that you insisted was the only thing strong enough to keep you cool at night. He had no problem opening your door and putting it back in place, making it look completely natural in case you noticed.
From what he could see, you were looking at your phone and were mostly covered by your blanket. Only one of your hands was holding your phone, which Dalton found odd because you normally preferred using both hands. Finally seeing your face, Dalton noticed that you had no tears on your cheeks or in your eyes. You weren’t crying. What the hell were you looking at on your phone?
Him. You were looking at a picture of Dalton that he’d sent to you. More accurately, you were looking at the second photo he had sent you, the one where he was brushing his teeth. It took Dalton several moments to begin thinking again to put the dots together.
Oh. Oh.
Just as Dalton registered what you were actually doing, you threw your blanket aside in frustration and essentially showed him that he was correct. He watched in rapt fascination as you rubbed your clothed center over your panties with two fingers. You kept focused on your phone, swiping over to the photo of him after he hung up his mirror, as your index fingers slipped beneath your lacy white underwear and into your slick heat. Your breathing was loud and shallow, the occasional moan slipping through as you touched yourself.
Dalton should not be here. He knew that. He knew what was and what wasn’t appropriate, his mom made sure he knew how to respect women, so he knew what he was doing was the furthest thing from okay. He also knew that he would have to be dragged by his teeth to get him out of your room. His cock swelled and twitched from under his shorts as he stood over, watching you masturbate to a picture of him. In the low lighting of your mostly dark room, he could see the shine of your wetness on your fingers and over your folds. He wanted to drag his tongue over your labia and savor every drop you gave him. It was all for him, after all, he was entitled to it.
You groaned in annoyance through your teeth and yanked your panties down your legs. Dalton’s severely dilated gaze zeroed in on them and he made a mental note to grab them before he left when your shirt joined it in the floor. You were completely nude and sitting up on your bed, in a very similar position to the photo where you had shown him your makeup. He’d never look at it again without thinking of this. He wished he had a picture of this.
You looked like a goddess or some kind of celestial siren as you arched your back and groped at one of your breasts and toyed with your clit. The chill of your room and the sudden banishment of your blanket had your flesh covered in goosebumps and your nipples hard. Dalton wanted nothing more than to cover your body with his and discover new forms of pleasure using his tongue, hands and cock. You were everything, you surrounded him and took up so much everything. And yet, he wasn’t actually with you, no matter how much he wished he could be. He didn’t know why he couldn’t try, you were his now. You admitted to it. Maybe not to him directly, and maybe you didn’t know he was there, but it didn’t make it any less true.
Dalton approached your bed and was about to rest his weight on it when you grabbed a decorative throw pillow from the mountain of pillows you had on your bed. You shoved it between your legs and adjusted it so that the woven seams pressed between your folds. You rested your weight on it and rolled your hips experimentally to find a rhythm and angle that felt best. Soon, you were panting and gasping, and Dalton could barely hear you over the stupid fan.
As you rode the pillow, Dalton lost his restraint. He either had to take care of himself now and fully condemn himself as an actual peeping tom and a pervert, or take care of you and risk you freaking out and losing you before he could actually have you. He’d rather hate himself for a little while than you hate him forever. He reached into his shorts, cupping his erection and squeezing lightly. He bit his lips and tried to keep quiet. He didn’t think he would last long, and he didn’t really care to either. He’d worry about that once he was actually inside you.
Dalton started off with slow and trading strokes before working up to the rhythm you set for yourself. You were grinding down on the pillow with slow and long thrusts, lowering your body slightly so that the seam of the pillow rubbed your clit. Dalton imagined his face replacing the pillow and started speeding up the movements of his hand, spitting on himself to help his hand move more fluidly along his shaft. Coincidentally, you started to quicken as well, humping the pillow desperately instead of steadily rolling your hips.
“Dalton! Oh…fuck! Daltonnn…” you cried out softly into the seemingly empty room. As the waves of your orgasm crashed over you, you lost strength in your arms and fell to the mattress, your hips still moving rhythmically as you came. Your limbs felt electrocuted and twitchy, and you could do nothing but gasp and whimper as you came down from your high. Rolling over, you reached down and caressed your soaked folds, moaning softly as your fingers became coated in the stringy remnants of your wetness.
Dalton nearly fell to his knees in his desire to suck your fingers into his mouth and devour your cunt. Luckily, he managed to stay upright and went rigid as he came in his hands, making sure the pearly white spurts of semen didn’t make a mess anywhere in your room, if they could. He wasn’t actually entirely sure how it all worked when he was in this state, but he wasn’t going to risk it.
He waited until you fell asleep to grab your panties and leave your dorm, falling back into his own body and finding it a mess. His shorts were soaked at the crotch with his cum because his actual hands couldn’t stop his real orgasm from staining his clothes. He tore off his shorts and decided to sleep naked, hiding your panties in his pillow case.
You woke up refreshed and well-rested the next morning, still not used to the stillness and quiet in the absence of your roommate, Carla. Usually, she was up by now blaring metal music while she got ready for the day and you would make the two of you breakfast. You went to do just that when you heard a knock at your door and remembered that Dalton was supposed to come over with breakfast.
You told him to wait through a text message and grabbed a pair of athletic shorts, yanking them on as you made your way to let him in. Much to your surprise, the door was unlocked, though you don’t remember leaving it that way. In all fairness, you also don’t remember the last time you had locked it, so it was fair game.
Dalton greeted you with a large smile, showing off his extended canines, and a bag from your favorite pastry shop. It was hard not to blush after what you did when you saw the pictures he sent you, but the food was also distracting. You excitedly took the bag from him and started rifling through it as he guided the both of you to your room. Had he ever been inside your dorm before? How did he know which room was yours?
Before you could ask him, he plopped himself onto your bed and settled onto his stomach. He then used a pillow to prop up his chin. The same pillow you had used last night.
There was something about the way he was smiling at you. The way he was watching you.
“So, did you sleep well last night?”
Lemme know if you want a part two or maybe a “What if Dalton hadn’t had any homework?” situation.
This was super fun and sorry if it’s too long
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lvrcpid · 8 months
headcannons - modern!au
— my personal headcannons for my modern!au
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- keeps his room really tidy
- he probably works at tillys or footlocker
- most likely has a newer car since he’s a top tier child
- had braces from age 10 to 15
- i think he keeps his locs short
- speaking of locs, he knows how to retwist so he saves money on that part
- he’s allergic to nuts and blueberries
- he loves 2pac and biggie
- his favorite holiday is most likely christmas
- cargo pants are his go to
- probably asked lo’ak to put him on with you
- has the prettiest smile ever
- he doesn’t wanna work , he kisses up to mo’at for money
- he wears glasses and sometimes contacts
- he has his permit , his 9 months aren’t up yet 💀
- probably makes soundcloud music but it’s actually good
- he doesn’t tell anyone this but he wants to be a vet when he grows up
- he’s a dog lover , wants a dog named rico
- always taking tsireya on dates cause his love language is quality time
- he vapes. i’m sorry he just does.
- probably still gets in hella trouble
- when and if he does get a job, he works at footlocker/tillys with neteyam (he didn’t wanna do the interviews , he thinks they’re cringe)
- his room either smells of his vapes, chips or the occasional wallflowers neytiri makes him use
- everyone thinks his name is so cool and unique
- she plays guitar. no more.
- has a pet guinea pig
- probably plays roblox in her free time
- stays cutting and dying her hair
- she probably doesn’t care she’s adopted
- she bakes a lot
- girl in red is her favorite artist
- vines and incense are a must in her room
- her and rotxo are dating but they probably have that “im not ashamed of you i just don’t want everyone in our business” type relationship
- she works at khols and gets khols cash for her mom
- she probably smokes weed
- she definitely does.
- she’s not like always high but she’s always high
- he loves sleeping
- he also wears glasses but hate the way they shape his face
- he probably has a few tattoos ngl
- he stays looking at fight videos on twitter
- idc he’s a big cuddler
- he’s the type to see crying as a weakness
- still has ronals smile
- speaking of ronal he’s a mommas boy
- the type to secretly take pictures of you and set them as his background and get flustered when you point it out
- he probably doesn’t work since being an athlete takes up most of his time but when the season is over he works at zumiez
- a big crybaby ngl
- pageant princess back in the day
- she probably knows how to play the violin
- head over heels for lo’ak
- she wants to marry this boy
- she probably wears a lot of vans
- i see her being prone to sickness really often like she’s always catching a cold and allergies are the devil
- i’m sorry but she vapes too , she does not CAREEEEEE
- avid starbucks drinker
- her favorite food is shrimp
- contrary to popular belief her and aonung are very close and have sleep overs all the time
- she works at a hair salon as an assistant
- that girl lives in claire’s
- reminder she is 8 , let’s give our girl some credit
- she’s probably not an ipad kid. she probably has her own phone and is surprisingly really responsible with it
- girl is so ready for high school and hasn’t even hit middle school yet
- i don’t see her as the type to kid to love sweets, something tells me tuk is more of a i’ll eat it but i know when to stop type kid
- lo’ak doesn’t watch her, she watches lo’ak
- probably mature enough to be left at home by herself
- she loves mac and cheese
- that is her MEAL
- she never knows what she wants to eat
- they’re always in the restaurant waiting on tuk
- i don’t see her as a big crybaby but moral support for her siblings like she’s always like “i’m here for you” when lo’ak and jake get into it , not like ranting but you get it
- her and neteyam are partners in crime
- her bedtime is 8:30 , 9:00 when she’s completed her homework early
- she’s so SASSYYYYY
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thankssteveditko · 5 days
An overly-simplified introduction to the "Marvel Method"
As I begin to cover Amazing Spider-Man, it's probably worth explaining the basics of this up front for anyone who isn't aware. Over on Thanks Ken Penders, I talk about comics generally made the "traditional" way. A writer writes a detailed script, and then it's handed off to the art team to draw what the script says, with perhaps a bit of interpretive wiggle room. That's what you'd expect, right? But back in the '60s, Marvel developed their own creative method that came to be known as... well, the Marvel Method.
It varied from team to team, but the steps of the Marvel Method (or the "plot script" method) are basically this:
The "writer" comes up with a basic synopsis of the story - not a full script
The "penciller" takes that synopsis and draws up the full story, determining the specifics of what actually happens
Finally, the art is handed back to the writer, who comes up with the dialogue based on what the artist has decided to draw
The argument for this process is that a comic artist should be a strong storyteller as well, and that the artist may know how to break the action down panel-by-panel better than a writer would. In reality, the actual explanation is that Stan Lee was working on way too many comics at once in the '60s, and so he offloaded some of the burden of storytelling to artists Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko because... well, they were Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko.
It should probably not be surprising that the Marvel Method created a lot of problems.
For one, before long, Kirby and Ditko were basically just plotting whatever they wanted for Fantastic Four and Spider-Man, then letting Stan fill in the dialogue... but Stan was still getting full credit as writer, making it seem like the stories were all his doing. (He would eventually start giving them credit for plotting.) Even when Stan did give them plots like he was supposed to, sometimes they'd go do something wildly different anyway. Stan intended to make the Green Goblin an ancient Egyptian demon found in a sarcophagus by a film crew, but Steve basically went "I'm not fucking doing that" and made him a human villain instead. Can you imagine a comic artist going completely rogue like that in this day and age? It's nuts! (But also, Ditko made the right call there.)
Because Stan had the final say when it came to dialogue, this also meant he could directly contradict the intent of the artists. Hilariously, I've found anecdotes about Stan both watering down Ditko's later attempts at giving Peter increasingly Objectivist views and also removing references to the ideology from a Kirby story seemingly intended to make fun of Objectivism. But while these examples are funny when juxtaposed like that, on the whole it's easy to understand how frustrating it is to have Stan Lee swooping in at the last second and completely changing the meaning of your story, then taking the credit for writing it.
Is it any wonder that Kirby and Ditko both felt they weren't being given their proper due at Marvel and left for other companies? Is it any wonder that the Marvel Method isn't used much in the modern age? But, basically, this method and this history of improper crediting are why it's difficult to determine exactly who did what for a lot of these early Spider-Man comics.
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mono-moonchilds · 1 year
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⤑ series: smutty song series (smutty little scenarios based around smutty songs)
⤑ pairing: idol!jungkook x femblack!reader
⤑ genre: smut!!
⤑ rating: explicit (18+)
⤑ word count: 1.7K
⤑ summary: Girl, I fuck who I want and fuck who I don’t. Got that A1 credit and that fillet mignon. She said, “I never wanna make you mad I just wanna make you proud.” I said, “Baby just make me cum, Then don’t make a sound.”
⤑ warnings: mean!junkook, shy/innocent!y/n, OC kinda dumb highkey lowkey, riding, creampie, jungkook is manipulative, player!jk, overstimulation, post nut clarity, producerdaugther!y/n
⤑ Song:  Love Me ft. Drake, Future
⤑ A/N: I feel like every time I write jk on the blog he is an asshole lmao. IDK why I just love writing asshole/mean jk, it's actually a problem. hope you guys enjoy it! and that it matches the song well enough. i was writing one thing and then it turned into something else. oh well  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I'm not gonna think too much about it just glad to be back writing on this account
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“Don’t even think about it.”
Was the first thing Namjoon said to Jungkook as they walked out of the room. He didn’t ask what he thought about the opportunity, didn’t even ask if he was excited. With a serious glare, he just turned to him and lowly told him, making sure to repeat it a second time just for good measure.
“Don’t think about what?” Jungkook questioned playing dumb. He knew precisely what Namjoon meant. Jungkook had known what the older was gonna say to him from the moment you’d introduced yourself.
“I’m Y/n,” You spoke softly, your hand stuck out for each of them to shake. You kept your head down, fidgeting nervously with your jacket. 
“This is my daughter.” 
From the way the man smiled brightly as he looked over at you it didn’t take much for anyone to come to the conclusion you were the man's pride and joy. From the expensive things you wore to the pricey handbag clutched tightly in your hand it was quite obvious you were a daddy’s girl. You kept close to your father's side, barely even sparing a glance up and when you did, you were quick to put your eyes back to the floor. 
You were shy. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile to himself. 
“Jungkook,” Namjoon groaned. “This is a big deal. He’s a big deal. He came all the way from America just to help us with producing this next album. Don’t fuck this up because you can’t keep your dick in your pants. No amount of sorry’s will fix it this time if you do.”
“I’m joking. The girl’s off limits. I promise.” 
And Jungkook had intended to keep that promise. He really did. He didn’t want to piss off Namjoon or potentially ruin an opportunity for the rest of his bandmates but saying no was always a task that was much easier said than done. 
You always looked so lonely, preferring to keep to yourself and stay by your father's side. You never really spoke unless spoken to. Jungkook could count on one hand the number of times he actually heard you talk. After a while, his perverted interest in you died down and a more innocent one came to play. It was obvious you needed a friend and Jungkook was going to be that for you. 
A friend. Was what Jungkook told himself and at the time he had truly meant it. When he first started asking you to hang out with him it was with the purest of intentions. Hell, he rarely would even hit on you when the two of you went places. Of course, he didn’t never hit on you because he was still him but it wasn’t with the goal of fucking you it was just because Jungkook was a flirt and couldn’t help it. 
So how the two of you ended up like this was beyond him. 
Him seated on his sofa while you sat on his lap working his cock with everything you had in you. Your neon pink nails dug into his skin as soft whimpers left your plump lips. 
“Suh-so…so big.” You deliriously whispered. With his head leaned back against the couch Jungkook watched you with low eyes, a smirk resting on his lips. You were so pathetic it was cute. Your body shaking like a leaf as you grinded down on his cock. At this point, he’d lost count of how many times you’d come, and by the way your eyes went crossed every few seconds he was sure you had too.
 “No..no,” You shook your head pushing his hand away. “I got it.”
“You’re doing so good, baby.” Jungkook encouraged not missing the lazy smile that spread across your face. “Lift up your shirt for me,” Jungkook ordered. “Play with your tits.” 
Following his directions, you did as you were told squeezing and rolling each of the brown pebbles between your fingers. “Fuck…” Jungkook panted softly. 
“Mmm…am I-am I…doing good right Kookie?” You questioned softly. Jungkook nodded his head rolling his hips up into yours pushing his cock deeper into your wet cunt. 
“Please don’t ever be mad at me again.” You whimpered. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked at him with those big glossed-over eyes. “Don’t ever want to make you mad. Just want to make you happy. Be your guh-good girl.”
Your voice hitched at the last word, thighs shaking, as another orgasm ripped through your body. Your body fell forward convulsing against his chest, a loud moan falling from your lips. The way you looked was pornographic. Skirt bunched up against your hips with the signature dark eyeliner you always had on smudged down your face. 
“Just want to make you happy.” You repeated with a cry. “Want you to be proud.”
“Shush, shush.” Jungkook hushed. “Make me come. You don’t want to be selfish do you?” 
You shook your head. “Shit…” You swore beginning to move your hips again. “So much.”
“That’s right. You're doing good.” Jungkook encouraged. You shook your head again, another loud whine falling from your mouth. 
“Can’t…too much.” 
Jungkook rolled his eyes in fake annoyance. He could take over any moment easily flip you over and fuck you into the couch for as long as he wanted but he didn’t want that and that wasn’t what you’d promised. 
“Jungkook please,” You begged, following him around his apartment like a lost puppy. “It’s been two weeks. I said I was sorry. Stop being mad at me.”
In all honesty, Jungkook had no reason to be mad and he knew that. The two of you were just friends and he’d never really shown any interest in being anything more than that. Of course, he did but he was trying to follow the rules. The stupid rules that Namjoon had put in place that apparently only applied to him. 
“It’s just…Taehyung? You want to be with him.” Taehyung was just as bad as him. He fucked anything with a pretty face.
“No-I just…” You shrugged. “He’s been nice to me and we’ve been talking.”
“He’s been nice to you?” Jungkook repeated in disbelief. “Are you fucking stupid Y/n? He’s nice to you so send him your nudes? The whole company has been nothing but nice to you does that mean you’re going to fuck them too? Wish I would’ve known how much of a slut you were.” 
That last part was too much and as soon as he said it Jungkook regretted the words coming out of his mouth. He expected you to go off on him and finally react properly in the way you should have all along. But instead, your head just dropped in shame. 
“Shit Y/n…I’m sorry. I should’ve never-”
“I’ll make it up to you.” You cut him off. 
“I’ll show you how good I am. I can show you that I won’t ever do it again.”
“Okay…” Jungkook’s voice trailed off. “But how?”
“Whatever you want. Just want you to forgive me Kookie.”
It was sick how quickly the idea popped up in his head. A sly smile filled his features as his eyes looked your figure up and down. 
“I’ve been nothing but nice to you too. I’m the one who started making sure you had someone to hang out with but Taehyung is the only one who gets rewarded?” 
For once the light bulb clicked in your head almost immediately. Your face grew flustered as you fidgeted around nervously. He almost expected you to say no but then your hands went up to your shirt slowly beginning to pop open the buttons. Within seconds your lacy white bra was on display.
“Didn’t think you liked me that way.” You said a shy smile filling your face.
 Despite being the one who initiated everything Jungkook couldn’t even make the first move. Too much in shock that it was actually happening he just stood there. He could hear Namjoon’s voice telling him not to do it but once your body was pushed up against his he quickly ignored it.
“I want to make it up to you. I want to be good for you.” Jungkook mocked you with a whiney voice. “You can’t even do that right.” 
“No, I’m sorry.” You apologized. “I can do it I promise.” 
With newfound energy, you slammed your hips down onto his cock. Your tiny pussy clenched tightly around his cock as you worked yourself through the overstimulation. Jungkook didn’t think you could get any louder, but you did, loudly moaning and repeating how sorry you were begging him to forgive you and promising that you wouldn’t talk to Taehyung again.
“I’m yours only yours.” You cried out. 
“Shit..shit.” Jungkook groaned. At your words, he could feel the tightness in his balls swelling up. “Say it again.” He demanded. 
“I’m yours Jungkook. I’m always going to be yours.” 
With that Jungkook came with a loud moan. This time it's his body that's shaking as the pleasure wracks through his bones as his brain goes black. By the time he comes too your body is laying slack against the couch. His lower stomach was soaked wet, something he would’ve just attributed to sweat until he saw an equally as big wet spot on the front bottom of your pleated skirt. 
“Shit,” Jungkook swore to himself. He hated that he missed that. 
A smile filled your tired face as you looked at him. Jungkook knows he should’ve felt the exact opposite as he looked at you right now but he couldn’t help the feeling of regret that began to settle deeply into his chest. Whenever you looked at him your eyes were always full of stars. Usually, it made him feel good, made him feel like he was important, but this time it only reminded him of what Namjoon had told him not to do. 
If it was any other girl Jungkook wouldn’t have cared. He got what he wanted and that was all that mattered.  But this was you and your dad was your dad. 
Clueless you reached over grabbing his hand and pressing your lips to his knuckles. “Think I love you.” You giggle tiredly.
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stray-cat-21 · 1 year
Meeting bat Eddie 🦇❤️‍🔥
Summary: Okay so Daytona on TikTok makes these adorable bat Eddie videos and they’re just so cute I decided to do a blurb (or a few) based on the concept. Please go check out her playlist it’s honestly the cutest thing ever. And the credit to this goes to her ❤️🦇
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A month and a half had gone by since the events of the upside down. Meaning it had been a long six weeks Eddie had been stuck in bat form. When he had woken up from being killed by the bats from hell he thought he’d get to be a cool blood sucking vampire like the movies but instead he couldn’t figure out how to change out of his bat form. He was incredibly annoyed but at least being a bat wasn’t so bad. And at least he wasn’t wanted for murder.
“I know you’re bored but I have to work! I’ll read to you later alright?” Steve huffed towards the small creature that was now pouting on the counter top. A flurry of squeaking erupted from the bat accompanied by dramatic wing movements. “Well I’m sorry not all of us can fly around and eat all day Munson!” Steve sighed. The two were so busy in their argument they missed the jingle of the bell signaling someone entering the store.
(Y/n) stepped into the store black boots lightly hitting the floor. Her black jeans with jagged holes on the knees was paired with a Black Sabath raglan tour shirt topped with a black and white flannel. She eyed Steve Harrington who had his back turned clearly arguing with someone she couldn’t see. (Y/n) cleared her throat making him spin around like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Uh hi hello welcome to um Family Video can I help you find something?” He asked leaning against the counter.
“Um no I was actually just hired I’m supposed to start today. I was told to find Steve or Robin.” She informs him with a kind smile. Unbeknownst to either of them Eddie is doing his best to take a peak at what’s going on. His small form leaned over too far falling down to the floor along with his book. (Y/n)’s eyes flashed between Steve and trying to peak behind him.
“Well you found Steve, Robin’s on lunch right now. I’ll go grab your vest and name tag and we’ll get started!” He said with an awkward smile. She nodded watching him duck down grabbing something before disappearing into the back. When he was out of sight she leaned over the counter observing the worn copy of the Hobbit laying against the floor. The corners were frayed evidence of dog eared pages shown on the pages.
(Y/n) let’s out a curious hum her eyes flicking to door Steve had disappeared behind and back to the book. Walking around the countertop she picked up the novel admiring how well loved it clearly was. She also noticed the small bowl of assorted pieces of fruit, nuts, and pretzels. Hearing Steve throw open the door she rested the book carefully back on the countertop. He smiled handing her the green vest.
“Thanks you’re uh Steve Harrington right? You graduated the year before me.” She inquired throwing her new uniform on. “Yeah that’s me.” He nodded far too used to the how the mighty have fallen speech. “Cool I look forward to working with you.” She shrugged wanting the awkward conversation to be over. There was a pause and for a split second (Y/n) would have sworn she saw something in Steve’s shirt pocket move.
“So um he really didn’t have you start on the best day there’s not really anything going on just helping customers and taking care of last nights returns.” Steve said gesturing towards a cart with a small pile of tapes in it. (Y/n) nodded moving towards the returns. “I think I can manage.” (Y/n) smiled grabbing a few tapes moving to put them in their places. While she was turned with her attention focused on the horror movie display she could hear Steve talking almost arguing with himself. She tried to listen in carefully wondering if Robin had gotten back from lunch.
“I told you I don’t understand I’m sorry!” He said in a hushed yell. (Y/n) carefully stepped around the shelf moving towards the older man. There was no sign of anyone nearby or even a phone being talked into. “Don’t understand what?” She questioned watching as he jumped surprised. “I’m sorry what?” He asked like he wasn’t the one caught.
“You were talking to someone Harrington who?” This time it’s accusatory. (Y/n) was not going to let one of Hawkins pretty boy jocks gaslight her. “No one or not a someone it’s nothing really.” He all but squeaks. “So Steve the hair Harrington was talking to himself like a crazy person?” She asks putting her hands on her hips. Steve attempts to come up with some explanation but can’t come up with one that won’t send her running from the store.
Before he stutter out some bad lie Eddie pokes his head from Steve’s pocket little ears pointed up. (Y/n) felt like her jaw was lying on the floor seeing the small winged creature. “I-is that a bat like a real live bat?” She gawked. Steve cursed under his breath nodding his head. “Yes this is my uh pet.” He sighed pulling Eddie from his pocket.
Cautiously she stepped forward slightly leaning down to observe the bat. Eddie looked up at her eyes his little heart just thumping away in his chest. Up close he realized he did recognize the girl from school. They were kind of friends at least as close to a friend as someone could be with the town outcast without making themselves a pariah. Eddie would even go as far to say he once had a small crush on her.
“Steve Harrington has a pet bat?”
“Yeah he’s new uh Dustin Henderson’s idea.”
“What’s his name?”
“And the little denim vest?”
“Also Henderson’s idea.”
“Aren’t bats supposed to be nocturnal?”
“Yeah but I guess since this one’s main diet is fruit it doesn’t hunt at night? I don’t know Dustin tried to explain it to me but I stopped listening.”
(Y/n) eyes move over the small creature from his pointed ears that sat in a nest of what seemed like curls of hair instead of fur all the way down to his little feet. She hums slowly reaching out brushing gentle finger tips against his head. Eddie leaned into the touch a small squeak escaping him. Steve’s eyes were as saucers taking in the exchange. It had taken him about two weeks before he could get past his heebie jeebies and let Eddie get close to him.
“Can I hold him?” (Y/n) asked her eyes meeting Steve’s instead of Eddie’s for the first time in probably ten minutes. Before Steve even gets the change to answer Eddie is flying into (y/n)’s hand. “Dude I told you to be careful in public!” Steve scolds. (Y/n) giggles bringing him closer lightly scratching a place behind his ear. “Aw don’t yell at the poor baby he just needed attention didn’t you sweet boy?” She coos towards Eddie.
Even in bar form being treated like a pet Eddie feels like he could melt. “He doesn’t bother you?” Steve questions his eyes peaking over at the beautiful girl entering the store. (Y/n) shakes her head grinning ear to ear. “Alright well you wanna hang out with him while I go help this customer?” Steve asked. (Y/n) didn’t even bother to look up just nodding her head.
“Cool well his snacks are on the counter and he likes being read to.” Steve explained before scurrying off to go flirt. (Y/n) took a seat in the computer chair resting Eddie back on the counter. “You hungry little guy?” She asks softly. Eddie slightly nods his small tongue poking out briefly. Starting with a chunk of strawberry (y/n) lowered a piece of food to Eddie.
She couldn’t help but watch in adoration as his little fanged teeth sunk into the fruit. Red juice dribbled down his chin collecting at the edges of his mouth. “You’re awfully cute sweet boy.” (Y/n) sighs dreamily. If Eddie had his normal skin he’d be a blushing mess so for right now he was grateful for the fur. She continued to slowly feed him bits of food from the dish.
“I’ve always liked the name Eddie. Actually used to know someone named Eddie.” (Y/n) starts taking despite the fact that she thinks she’s conversing with a normal bat. Eddie’s ears perk up at the mention of his old self, at the fact that she not only remembers him but thinks about him even still. Although he knew not to get his hopes up she probably only thought of him as a murderer now despite that he had been legally cleared by Hopper and his colleagues higher up than Hawkins finest. At least in his supposed death he wasn’t a legally wanted man.
“He was real cool too. My- I mean the other, human Eddie. His name was Eddie Munson we went to school together for a while. He wore a denim vest too except his was always over his sick leather jacket and the Hellfire club shirt.” She continued almost rambling. There was a fondness to her voice paired with a glint in her eyes that made Eddie feel like his heart could crack right in two.
“I hate what they say on the news about him, that’s not who Eddie was. He wasn’t a monster, a killer, he was just different. Eddie Munson was kind and looked out for people who were targeted by others. He was a lot better than anyone in this podunk town ever have him credited for, but I guess people see what they want them to see. Anyways I’m rambling like a crazy person to a bat.” (Y/n) ends her slur of words with an embarrassed chuckle.
Eddie wouldn’t have cared if she had kept talking for hours if it meant he could hear her say his name and speak so kindly. Minus Dustin’s relief to finding out Eddie was alive he hadn’t heard many kind words be used in the same sentence as his name, not since Chrissy. “You’re almost as cute as he was sweet boy.” (Y/n) giggled petting him once again. In that moment Eddie desperately wished she could understand his squeaking. “He thought you were the cutest girl in all of Hawkins.” Is what his little chirps meant.
“Is this what Harrington over there wouldn’t read to you baby?” She cooed reaching over carefully to pick up the book. Eddie fluttered his wings in excitement bouncing up and down on the surface. “Want me to read to you?” She asked. As an answer he flew right up to her shoulder nuzzling down into the fabric of her vest. “Okay okay let’s see where you left off sweet boy.” She giggled finding the page seemingly most recently dog eared.
With Eddie snuggled comfortably into her shoulder she began reading. Eddie could swear with each silly voice and exaggerated reading he felt himself swoon. She put so much passion and care into her reading even if in her head he was just an animal. His eyes get heavy and he tries to force them to stay open wanting to enjoy this for as long as possible. Little do they know Robin has returned and is standing by Steve watching the exchange the pretty girl long gone.
“Are you kidding me he’s a literal mangey furry animal and he’s still getting chicks?”
“Aww is Steve jealous of the wittle bat?”
“No I just mean he’s got her wrapped around his little claw already what the hell.”
“Looks like our new girl is gonna be the Eddie whisperer.”
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ladykailitha · 6 months
If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 10
The boys spend their day in Indy just having fun and getting to know each other a bit. Also what happens to Steve at the thrift shop actually happened to my husband. He and a group of friends went to a thrift store to find the wildest outfit they could put together and my husband’s outfit shouldn’t have worked, but did.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4 Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8 Part 9
Steve pulled away from the hotel parking lot and looked over at Eddie. “You ready for the only portion of this shindig that I’m paying for?”
Eddie laughed. “I still worry about breaking your bank, Stevie.”
“I’m using my dad’s ‘emergency’ credit card for this, sunshine,” Steve replied. “And if asked, I’ll just tell him that the earthquake caused minor damage to the house.”
“Steven Alexander Harrington are you committing fraud?” Eddie asked all wide-eyed with mocking shock.
“One, how the fuck do you know my full name?” Steve asked. “And two, it’s only fraud if my father didn’t authorize my use of the card, which he did. Regardless of what the use is for, I can’t commit fraud.”
Eddie laughed. “It was on your medical leave forms. I may have had Robin peek while you were still out from dehydration and low blood sugar. Something I still need to kick your ass for by the way.”
Steve snorted. “Traitors. The both of you. And until you can catch me, sunshine, I think I’ll be fine in the ass kicking department.”
Eddie pouted.
Steve reached out and stroked his cheek. “Did anyone tell you, you have the most beautiful eyes ever?”
Eddie leaned into the touch. “Not usually. Mostly they’ve been called dirty or muddy. Though, I do recall my mother calling them chocolate buttons, but that’s more cute, than beautiful.”
Steve dared to take his eyes off the road for a brief second to smile fondly at him. He turned back to the road. “You are by far the most amazing person I have ever met. But if we’re being honest, I think I was attracted to you before the Upside Down bullshit.”
“Right back ‘atcha, big boy,” Eddie teased.
They pulled up to the first thrift store and it was closed.
“Stupid places being run by religious nut jobs,” Steve groused on their way back to the car. “Don’t these assholes realize that poor people don’t work nine to five?”
Eddie shook his head. “And what would you know about that?”
Steve looked over at him confused. “You do realize that I have a held down a minimum wage job for the last year, right?”
Eddie frowned. “But why? You have access to your dad’s credit cards. Why work if you don’t have to?”
Steve buried his hands into his jeans’ pockets and leaned up against the door of the car. “Until I turned eighteen I was given an allowance to do whatever the fuck I wanted. Usually beer and weed. But when I didn’t graduate top of my class to get into all those fancy schools, they cut me off. The credit card I have access to is for ‘emergencies only’. And paying the house bills.” He cocked his head to the side. “And for making sure I continue to look the part of their dutiful son.” He waved at his clothes.
“But I decided to say ‘fuck it’, you know,” he continued. “Since I’ve turned eighteen I don’t think they’ve stayed in that house more than a week or two at most. And that’s total, not at a time.” He kicked at the pavement scuffing his sneaker. “If they can’t be bothered to come running home when the god damn earthquake was on the national news, then I’m going to go hog wild. I’m going to have fun and give the best, bravest boy a day of fun. Because he deserves it. Because I deserve to give it to him.”
Eddie pulled Steve into a hug. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Sometimes I forget that I’m not a mind reader and can’t actually know what goes on behind closed doors.”
Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and buried his head into his shoulder. “I just hate that even the people closest to me still apologize for me being a dick in high school or act like I haven’t changed. Like when Nancy and Robin picked me up from the hospital they were teasing me about me about something that Robin thought was misogynistic but it wasn’t. But they acted like they expected me to be. Just because of that’s how I would have been in high school.”
Eddie rubbed Steve’s back. “Maybe it’s because I’ve had time away from you since high school I can see that you’ve changed. You call me brave. But honey, I only did what I had to to save Dustin. But you? Darling, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but most people don’t literally put their bodies on the line for people that hurt them.” He leaned back so that he could see Steve’s face. He reached up and cupped his cheek. “People unconnected to them via blood ties. You and Robin could have walked away at any time. And probably should have after being tortured. But you didn’t. You stuck around. You fought against the toughest bad guy even in fantasy terms and you still stuck around. And that’s worthy of praise in my book.”
Steve let out a sigh and nodded. Eddie pressed their lips together.
“Come on,” he said, pushing Steve to the side so that he could open the door for him. “There must be thrift shop not run by poor people hating bastards.”
Steve laughed and got into the car.
Eddie hurried to the passenger side and pointed at the road. “Tally ho!”
Steve just shook his head and did as he was bid.
The next shop was open and while they were looking for band shirts, they also decided to see who could come up with the tackiest, most horrifically colored monstrosity of an outfit.
Eddie won. Even though Steve had picked outrageous colors, wild patterns, and a mishmash of styles when he put it all together, it looked good. Eddie laughed so hard.
“I don’t know what happened,” Steve whined.
Eddie looked around before pulling him close. “I do. You just have this perfect sense of style that even when it’s supposed to be awful, you make it look good.”
Steve huffed out a laugh. “I guess so. I wish I brought a camera to take a picture of this, so we can show them back home.”
Eddie’s eyes lit up. “I’ll be right back!” He took off like a shot running around the shop like a gremlin. He came back a few minutes later with an ancient looking Polaroid camera.
He took a couple of pictures of Steve in different poses and then had Steve do the same with him.
They paid for their purchases. Eddie having found and bought the camera at the thrift shop. What had taken the time was finding film for it.
They went out for lunch and Eddie took a picture of the two of them at the restaurant, smiling into the camera.
Eddie took Steve to his favorite record store. They wandered around and abused each of their music tastes. But they both agreed that Depeche Mode brought something new and interesting to the genre. So Steve bought “Black Celebration” on cassette for the ride home.
Eddie looked up at the guitars longingly.
“Wayne told me that he was only able to find your acoustic,” Steve said softly, “but not the Warlock after the earthquake.”
Eddie nodded. “I think it was because it got destroyed in the Upside Down, it didn’t exist in the Top Side anymore.”
Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Eds.”
Eddie nodded and they left soon after.
They palled around Indy for a bit. Taking in the sites and just giggling like school children.
They headed back to hotel to shower and change for dinner.
As they opened the door to the hotel room, Eddie said, “You don’t have some other mega star going to meet us for dinner, do you?”
Steve laughed. “Not for dinner, no.”
Eddie eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean not for dinner? Does that mean Ozzy was the only super star or does that mean I’m meeting someone else later?”
Steve just grabbed his bag and ducked into the bathroom without saying a word.
He just took a short shower and got out quickly. He came back out to see Eddie rummaging around a large black gift bag.
“Ozzy’s team finally delivered,” Eddie said. “You have one, too.”
Steve walked up to the bag that was on the fancy side table near the door. There was a tag that said, “For Steve, the guard dog.”
He just shook his head and took it over to the bed to look through what he got. There were a couple of tour shirts and some cassettes. A signed tour poster. At the bottom of the bag were two small boxes. There was a little note attached to the largest of the two boxes.
“Every good guard dog needs cool sunglasses.” Steve opened it up and on the inside of the top of the box was some designer from England that he only vaguely recognized because his mother had gone on and on about them the last time she was home. The glasses weren’t round like Ozzy’s but they weren’t sharp like Steve’s.
They looked like the guy in the suit’s sunglasses. Carefully crafted to cover the whole eye and rest comfortably on the bridge of his nose. He put them on and holy hell. He could see clearly but through the tint of the glass. They were far superior to fancy sunglasses he bought.
Eddie whistled. “Looking good, Stevie.” He saw the other box. “What’s in that?”
Steve looked down at the smaller box in confusion. “I don’t know yet.” He opened the lid and gasped. It was a simple necklace with a single red crystal hanging from it. The crystal shimmered like a flame.
“Wow,” Eddie murmured. “You’re wearing that tonight, yes?”
Steve could only nod. Not wearing it would feel like he was insulting Ozzy’s tastes or rather his wife’s Sharon’s. But also because it was beautiful in and of itself.
“You think it’s safe for me to take a bath or no?” Eddie asked as he stood up up from the bed.
Steve looked at his watch. “I’d wait until we get back tonight. We still have eat and get into our clothes for the concert.”
Eddie nodded. He got a quick shower and was back out in minutes. They put on clothes similar to the night before, with just the dinner jacket the same.
Steve kissed Eddie sweetly on the lips and Eddie hummed happily.
“This trip just keeps getting better and better, sweetheart,” he said, resting his forehead against Steve’s.
“It isn’t over with yet,” Steve promised. “There is so much more coming. So so much more.”
Eddie sighed. “You are too good to me, baby.”
Steve kissed him again. “I’m really not. It’s the perfect level of awesome for you.”
“But too good for Dustin, right?” Eddie teased, reminding Steve of what he said at the hospital.
“Taking him to Indy for the weekend would have been too good for the butthead,” Steve deadpanned.
Eddie burst out laughing. “That’s certainly true.”
Part 11  Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15 Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20
Tag List: @anaibis @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @whalesharksart @nburkhardt @snapshotmaestro @shrimply-a-menace @theotalksalot @child-of-cthulhu @bookbinderbitch @cr0w-culture @punctualhowell @obliosworld @eddiemunsonswife @sharingisntkaren @dididisrespectyourbridgegoatman @lillemilly
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captainrayzizuniverse · 4 months
i meeeeannn like so much shit man!
I spent the entirety of last year following on livestreams. That was my experience, dodgy sounds and extreme barricade closeups. So this was like a slap in the face a punch in the stomach.
-His voice is phenomenal. After watching almost every livestream last year I was always anxious what it would sound like actually live and it was beyond perfect. The confidence added to it as well. There was a discussion before the tour started on one blog saying how Louis doesn’t sound loud enough (as loud as harry’s show because surprise, that’s always the metric to measure) because he doesn’t turn his mic high enough. And the suggestion was due to his confidence and blah blah blah. Wow fuck man, you were wrong. His voice was loud and crystal clear. I’d say my seat definitely helped in that as well, but yeah no he was fucking loud!
-Him liking the SIBWAW lights and then telling us to keep going and us being like “yes master” and continued to lift our hands up and down to finish the song. Giving us an unnecessary workout. Like my right arm is going to be sore af tomorrow.
-Him completely forgetting his first speech. I’m like ‘why the fuck is he angry at us for?’. Me and my friend were discussing how he’s going to say Toronto because the Academic singer pronounced the second ‘T’ so heavily...but then he completely forgot to speak and I thought we’ll end the show without finding it out! It felt personal ok?!
-The screens malfunctioning and completely turning off during holding onto heartache, made me question every effect in the screens later. Like was everything on purpose or was it the effect of the screen fuck up esp since there was a dead pixel that was driving me nuts. Regardless, the visuals on the screens are unreal. I can watch them with the music overlaid on top all day. Also the color palette of the lights on the stage for different songs were so so so nice. Mixed with the smoke mmmm beautiful vision.
-The rainbow project. man oh man. I saw the videos and I saw my own video and it does it no justice. I was in the upper red section so I got to see it all with a good view and it was perfection. Literarily surrounded by light. I always admire the fan project organizers. They are so fucking good and don’t get enough credit. Honestly I want to send them a gift basket or something.
-505 killed me. Like on the floor dead. “I crumble completely when you cry...” is a moment. I want to be in a session with him when he picks a song to cover. Like what goes on in that process?
-The band. Incredible. Michael. Incredible. So grateful he gets to tour with Louis so he can give him his moments. Like he OWNS his solos.
-People at the first two shows were saying how young the crowd was...I was surprised by today’s crowd. From the moment we walked in, people were definitely younger than me (34) but it didn’t feel as young as I thought it would be. Also loved seeing plenty of people older than me being there with their friends and you can tell they’ve been here a while. Diverse age group is always welcome.
agh man the only reason I’m not keyboard smashing is because I did that already in the streetcar but out loud to my friend. But my reaction to the entire gig is essentially one endless keyboard smash.
-Also finally after the show me and my friend got the orange hoodies because we wanted to look like traffic cones.
Definitely suffering the post concert blues. But at least I get to visit new york in july and attend the final one. Although nothing will beat Toronto because Toronto is home!
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sarcasticfina · 2 months
For the prompts post if you are taking, 13 for buddie 💖
Im so glad to see you on my dash btw
i'm trying to get inspired to write fic so please send me some prompts from either of these sentence prompt lists: one, two (see original post for ship options)
13. Do you ever think we should just stop this? (credit)
It was late, and dark enough that Buck couldn't see much more than the outline of Eddie beside him. He should be sleeping. They had work tomorrow, and Chris had to be dropped off early for that science club he joined. Did Eddie pack his lunch already? They were a little distracted earlier...
In his defense, he hadn't seen Eddie outside of work for like... four whole days. That was a lot for them. Maybe he should double check the fridge. Chris had been snacking more lately. Another growth spurt. He could use an extra pack of carrot sticks or something anyway. Or maybe some of that trail mix he loved, even if he did add mini marshmallows to it, which wasn't exactly the healthiest snack...
"Stop thinking," Eddie grumbled. "Go t' sleep."
"Hey, did you pack Chris' lunch?"
Sighing, Eddie raised his head, hair in disarray, and squinted at him. "Huh? Yeah, I... Before. After dinner, I threw something together. Why? Is that what you're worrying about?"
"I'm not worried. I was just... wondering." Buck shifted around on the bed awkwardly and shrugged. "Did you add extra snacks? He's been eating more lately..."
"Uh-huh." Eddie dropped his head back down to the pillow. "Threw in some carrots and dip and some of that trail mix. Was like half marshmallows; you gotta stop letting him talk you into that."
"It was not half..." Buck rolled his eyes. "Anyway, it's balanced out with all the nuts and raisins and dried apricot."
Buck drummed his fingers atop his stomach, blanket pulled up to his chest. "Should I go out to the couch? He might have questions if he wakes up before us."
Silence answered him. But not an 'Eddie fell asleep' silence, no. This was tense, 'how do I respond to that?' silence. The worst kind of silence.
"I heard you. Just... Uh... Do you wanna sleep on the couch?"
Buck frowned at the ceiling. "Not exactly comfortable for my back."
"Okay. Then stay here. I can set an earlier alarm if you want..."
Buck hummed. "I should've planned better. I wasn't even gonna come over. I was going home but then I just... didn't." He glanced in Eddie's direction. "You know, we never really talked about what the like... boundaries are."
"...boundaries," Eddie repeated. "About sleeping over or...?"
"All of it. I mean." Buck shrugged. "We just kind of... started this... thing... and we didn't really talk about it."
"Historically, I'm the impulsive one, but you're not, so maybe I was expecting you to take the reins on how to handle this. Not that I was planning for us to become this. And it's not all on you, obviously."
"This thing?" Eddie sounded a little amused now and Buck frowned.
"I just don't want to overstep. Or make assumptions. Or... I don't know. I don't want to risk this... us... i don't want to do anything that might hurt Chris."
Eddie didn't respond immediately, and that heavy silence filled the room again. "What are you saying... exactly?"
"I guess..." Buck sat up and shuffled backwards. "I mean, do you ever think we should just stop this? Just go back to how it was before? Before we tried to be... more."
Eddie let out a quiet sigh and then he was shifting to sit up too, his back resting against the headboard. He rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay. First, Chris is fine. He will be fine."
"But how do you know?"
"Because he's Chris. Because he loves us and we love him. Because no matter what happens, I know you will always be a part of his life. Even if, somehow, this thing blows up in our faces, you will always put Chris first."
Buck swallowed a lump. "Yeah."
"And second, yes, we should've talked. Especially if you've been worrying about what we are. Maybe I had more time to figure out how I felt and come to grips with what it meant, I don't know. But... Evan, you're it. You're... I mean, I hope you feel the same way I do. I guess I just thought we were on the same page with how we felt. And now we're together. Boyfriend feels a little high school, but, uh, we've always been partners. Now we're just another version of that."
Warmth bloomed in Buck's chest. Partners. Yeah, that sounded right. He turned to look at Eddie, whose features were still mostly shrouded in darkness. "You're it for me too."
Eddie's shoulders slumped. "Yeah?" His voice was softer, filled with relief.
Buck grinned. "You're stuck with me for life."
Reaching over, Eddie took his hand and folded their fingers together. "Good."
"Sorry I was freaking out."
"You get in your head sometimes; I should know better. In future, we'll work on talking it out instead of waiting until..." He glanced at the old man alarm clock on his bedside table. "Dios, 2 am. Tomorrow's gonna suck."
"Whoops." Buck shuffled down the bed and pulled him along, turning onto his side to rest his head on Eddie's shoulder. He hooked an arm around him, fingers folding around his ribs. "You can sleep in. I'll bring Chris to science club and double back for you."
Eddie mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'I love you so much,' and then pressed a kiss to Buck's birthmark. "Go to sleep, cariño."
Anxiety assuaged, Buck listened.
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kazumie · 1 year
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i think i like you || miya atsumu
my mini birthday gift to my dearest meow meow honey nut cheerio annie ♡ @miyasann ♡ | cw: cheesy tsumu’s pov
word count : 3.1k
now playing : i think i like you + daphne blue by the band camino
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“I SAW THAT!” the darker haired twin screamed in accusation—clearly in the mood to make a fool of a certain blonde setter.
and of course to contest, atsumu screams louder in response. “YOU DIDN’T SEE SHIT, ASSHOLE.” he closes his phone and runs upstairs with his brother tailing after him.
miya “i never had and never will have a crush” atsumu was caught in the act of changing his lockscreen—to a photo of you and him taken during the birthday dinner he himself had arranged for you earlier.
he deems the dinner an act of appreciation for your support to the team but of course, osamu knows better—because who in their right mind would willingly leave their credit card for their sibling to use to make sure you would have the best meal onigiri miya had ever served.
“i was just—“ there was nothing atsumu could say to cushion what he had done. but in his defense, he thinks, it was a good picture (too fitting to be a lockscreen, actually) and you were his good friend—someone very important to him—there was nothing wrong with setting you as his lockscreen... right? people always set their friends as their lockscreen... right?
“i was just checking if we—I MEAN THE PICTURE!looked good on my phone. see?” the words quickly process and in an attempt to recover, he points at the space above your heads that was enough for the time and date to fill in the gap. “i was just curious—“
“you’re digging yourself a deeper hole.” osamu quips, eyeing his twin brother’s phone. a notification lights his screen up, showing that he indeed had changed the wallpaper. “just admit it already. you like y/n.”
“i don’t!”
“you’ve had the same plain picture as your background for seven years—“
“i was going to change it back—“ atsumu fails to hide the redness in his face.
“you literally paid for an overpriced rental of my restaurant for her birthday.”
“that wasn’t the real price?”
“i was kidding!” osamu laughs, watching his twin walk out of his vicinity. “i already considered closing as a favor but you went ahead and sent me the money.”
bokuto’s stupid proverb echoes in the faux blonde’s mind. love can make you do stupid things. atsumu scoffs at the impeccable timing of the thought—smitten was the last thing he wanted to be associated with.
but smitten he undeniably is.
miya atsumu was in love.
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maybe love does make you think stupid.
“happy birthday.” atsumu nervously rubs the back of his neck watching you peer into the contents of the striped paper bag he had handed over.
( as much as he liked you, he wants to keep his silly lil infatuation with you a secret...
and coming by your place is as secret it’s going to get. )
“that was last week, tsumu.” you look up at him with what he swears is the prettiest smile ever and almost dies crumbles on the spot. “but thank you so much. you’ve done a lot for me already.”
“it’s nothing.”
it’s everything. when miya atsumu asks for help, he’s desperate. the contents of that bag was the product of an unscheduled 2am discord call with his high school peers and a stress meal from mcdonalds.
i want to get something for y/n. atsumu hoped his words from that night would come off as innocent—no hidden meaning to decode whatsoever... but his friends know better. it was clear as day. poor guy was down bad for his first crush... or perhaps his first love even.
( aran had failed to hide his excited smile. “when did it start?” he had asked.
atsumu spun on his office chair in attempt to mask the giddiness in his system.
where does he even start?
the time you cut fruit for him? the time you agreed to help him bleach his hair? the time you walked him to his car with your umbrella to keep him from getting wet? the time you both went into a photobooth in the arcade? or all those times when he ended up looking at you during movie nights instead of actually paying attention to the tv? )
kita had suggested getting you a plant for your work desk. suna—after stalking your account with aran—had suggested some cute sweatshirt or those pricey markers that you could use. aran had sent a link to a small business that made really good blank journals with good paper. samu joked to give you one of atsumu’s own hoodies—something to make you think of him. (the blonde did not react lightly)
the need to impress you and the collective want to help atsumu required someone with experience. osamu rung their mother for help and after a thirty minute lecture on the phone with all participants in the discord call to hear, she cooperates and finally brought some sense into the conversation.
( operation happy birthday 2.0 seemed infallible with her input. )
i’m not in love with y/n, says the man who decided to get everything his friends and mother had suggested... and even added a box of churros to go along with all of it.
“ah. i wish to be able to do this too one day.” you sigh, hugging the bag. “be so rich i could spoil my friends any day.”
the devil works hard but atsumu’s stupid mouth works harder. “but you’re not just any friend to me.”
that wasn’t part of the plan... or the script he played out and practiced in his head in the shower.
“oh.” your response had only added fuel to the fire. “thank you?”
in some attempt to regain composure, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “you’re welcome.” the apple watch around his wrist buzzes with a notification for a message from his brother.
what the fuck was that??
atsumu whirls around to see osamu hiding around the corner—his onigiri miya cap and sunglasses giving him away.
“but yeah.” the blonde setter turns his attention back to you, the awkwardness somehow fading away. “happy birthday again, y/n.”
miya atsumu is undoubtedly in love.
“i’ll make it up to you on your birthday.” you promise. “somehow.”
atsumu rocks himself on his toes and heels, a little grin growing on his lips. “or you could make it up to me now? if you’re free.”
“i am, actually.”
“oh.” poor guy didn’t think this far.
“there’s... there’s this new store that opened near your campus.” he thanks whatever god was looking after him for giving him his genius brain. “they got all these cute notebooks and markers and everything. can i take you there?”
( internally, he’s hoping he got your interests right. )
you promptly open the door to your home to leave the gift bag inside. “okay but, how is this making it up to you?”
atsumu wishes you didn’t try to hide your pretty smile. “you’re making me happy by making you happy.”
you softly jab his chest—face growing warm. “ass kisser.”
“oh? is that an invitation?” he comically wiggles his eyebrows. “i’d be more than happy to.” and earns himself another nudge.
he offers his hand out for you to take and his poor heart almost comes to a full stop when you place your hand in his.
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birthdays are silly, atsumu thinks.
why should everyone treat someone differently for just one day and go back to normal the next?
“your birthday isn’t until october.” sakusa huffs, amused. “are you that excited?”
“i’m not. just thinking about if y/n had a good birthday.” atsumu turns his phone on to check the time.
he still hasn’t changed his wallpaper back—it’s still the photo of the both of you from the dinner.
sakusa grins a little too knowingly. “oh? why?”
“i know that look.” the setter frowns, ears turning red. “i don’t like y/n like that.”
“i didn’t even say anything.”
atsumu has got a smidge of an idea what his dear friend was thinking of... so much for keeping his crush on you a secret. “is it that obvious?”
sakusa gives him a sigh—an exasperated one, but a relieved one nonetheless. “took you long enough. we all could see how you look at y/n.” his thumb taps a message on his phone to update his partner waiting back home of his whereabouts (and to relay the message that everyone’s dear tsumu had finally realized his feelings for you). “and you invited me to lunch because y/n’s out with osamu.”
the blonde miya pouts. as juvenile as it may be, he was just a tad bit jealous that osamu had gotten to know you first... and better.
“but...” sakusa pats his shoulder with what atsumu would think is a proud grin. “good on you. i actually have two thousand yen on you confessing first so don’t fail me now.”
“wait, are you saying—“ atsumu swears his heart lodged itself in his throat. “does that mean—“
sakusa shrugs, pulling the conversation to a halt. “i’ll see you at practice on monday?”
with another pout, msby’s setter nods. “see you.”
“thanks for lunch again. take care of yourself and don’t worry too much, yeah?” with one last pat on his friend’s shoulder, sakusa leaves to go home.
miya atsumu feels like a stupid pathetic teenager in love.
but sure enough, he likes it.
he likes you.
and lately, he finds himself opening his thread of messages with you—just to look at the photo you sent him after your first date.
to others, it was a simple snapshot of the words thank you tsumu! with cute little hearts written on paper with the markers he bought you. to the nation’s hottest setter, it would probably be the cause of his passing written on his death certificate.
red isn’t the color of love—or whatever his mother said—it’s the color of the pen you used to write his name with.
daphne blue or so you say.
his hand finds your contact and rings your number without a second thought and by the time you pick up, he doesn’t give you a moment to ask what was wrong.
( it would seem that sakusa will be winning the bet. )
“i think i like you.” atsumu speaks—a lump in his throat forming as the anxiety finally sets in. “more than i should and i—“
osamu’s laugh cuts him off. “wrong number, tsumu.”
the anxiety only doubles with humiliation on the side when the blonde rechecks the contact name—he really did dial his brother instead of you...
“want me to hand the phone to y/n?”
atsumu hears a faint protest coming from the background and cursing and fumbling over osamu’s phone.
“hey, tsumu!” you chime with a voice crack at the end. ( he faintly hears his brother teasing you in the background )
atsumu ends the call and a soft holy shit leaves him.
phone calls with you used to be regular phone calls. whether he would rant to you about how stupid getting robbed by a homeless man was, fishing for samu’s wishlist for a secret santa thing, listening to you read out your reviewers, keeping each other company at 1am—it was normal. extra ordinary. nothing really out of this world.
but now with his attraction to you looming in the back of his mind? this not-so unfortunate smitten soul completely shuts down—rendered speechless. mentally absent. deceased.
it takes him a couple of moments—five minutes of debating and roughly a minute for a personal pep talk, to be exact—he pushes himself to call you back, getting the right contact this time.
“sorry.” atsumu grips hard on his steering wheel—sweaty palms sliding over the resin. “that was weird. i’m weird.” he inwardly groans at his terrible choice and lack of thought in his words. “weird signal over here.”
“it’s all good.” there is a pause on your end. “are you busy right now? samu says you’re on a date with saku—“
“the best advice i can give you is to never listen to him even if he’s the respectable miya. and omi already left so... yeah. i’m not busy.” his fingers drum on his thermos in the cupholder. “what’s up?”
“great. because i got you something i think you’ll like.”
“you could literally poison me and i would still take it.”
“i’m flattered.”
“where are you now? i’ll pick you up.”
there is a sound of shuffle of a coat and a bag. “i’m actually outside your door. samu left me here after you dropped the call and he took my bag and everything.”
atsumu clears his throat. if he had to let you in... the dread that comes with knowing he hasn’t done his spring cleaning yet pulls at the nerves in his spine. “we can go see him after and get your things.”
“thank you, tsumu.”
“i’ll see you in a bit.”
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“freeze! you’re under arrest!” atsumu holds his phone like a gun and comically rolls on the floor of the hall leading to his apartment.
you play along, clutching your shoulder in faux pain and half sliding down the wall next to his door—going over his doorbell in the process of your oscar worthy acting.
he stops at your feet on his knees. “so what brings you here?”
you happily raise a tupperware box hidden in a small onigiri miya tote—the one they used for deliveries. “i cooked you something.”
( he could already smell it. carbonara pasta—his most recent guilty pleasure—a food his personal trainer had banned from his diet. )
dusting off his clothes, he playfully scoffs and moves to welcome you into his home. “oh! so you are going to poison me.”
“that’s the plan, miya atsumu.” you follow him to his kitchen and laid out the still warm pasta on his kitchen island. “happy birthday.”
“but it’s not october yet.” it’s far from his birth month, actually.
shrugging, you dismiss his claim. “i know. but i also know you’ve been craving carbonara.”
( he guesses his brother must have dropped a hint. )
“i can’t.” atsumu giddily takes a seat on the barstool across you and softly pats the marble countertop. “my trainer would kill me.”
“he isn’t here right now is he?” you hand him a fork from his drawers. “and birthdays are essentially cheat days. so happy birthday, atsumu.”
the setter finally takes a forkful of noodles. “you are a terrible influence.”
“i really try.” you jest.
he holds out another forkful to feed you next—to which you indulge in his offer.
and it hits him.
this is nice.
eating a meal made by you. seeing you under the warm light of his kitchen. maneuvering around the setting as if this was your home too.
the way you’re looking at him (a little white sauce on the corner of your lips and still chewing), waiting for his comment on your cooking.
just you and him in the kitchen and a nice meal.
it was nice.
“it’s definitely a happy birthday.” a satisfied miya atsumu points at the empty tupperware. “ten out of ten. enough to dethrone my brother’s cooking.”
he almost melts seeing you cheer.
“y/n.” atsumu wipes his mouth on his sleeve—slightly staining the material. “you know how i never cut fruit right?”
you mirror him by wiping the sauce off your mouth too. “yeah. because you’re terrible at it.”
( it’s the truth. he almost somehow always manages to almost chop off a finger when he’s cutting up fruit. )
“i would cut fruit and peel tangerines for you.” he nods, timidly swiveling on his barstool. “you always cut fruit for me when i’m sick or when i’m craving melons.”
you almost snort at the randomness of his choice of topic for a conversation. “and what brought this up?”
“it’s like birthdays!” his chest is tingling and worms and butterflies start to mess up his stomach.
the anxiety seeping in at this moment was unmatched—almost much worse than the olympics anxiety he had experienced the first time he played for japan. ( not that he’d ever admit it. )
miya atsumu can be messy. he can be brash. he can be loud and he doesn’t think and can go off tangent at times.
but he loves with his whole heart and the last thing he would want is to drive you away.
“i feel special when you cut fruits for me. and you’re supposed to feel special on your birthday.” he gets up from his seat to stand in front of you, too aware of the lack of sense coming from his mouth.
“and i want you to feel like everyday is your birthday.” atsumu wipes his sweaty palms on his denim jeans. “i like seeing you happy and i...” he takes a deep breath, a little afraid and very much too timid of locking eyes with you. “i want to make you happy and i think i’ll do a very good job at it.”
miya atsumu has never gotten a crush.
but by god, he’s so sure about you.
soulmate? first love? crush? whatever stupid title that he has to label you as, all he’s got on his mind is you you you you.
now, he’s just waiting for an answer.
“oh my god. samu’s right. i can never shut up.” he laughs in an attempt to cushion his dread. “i think this is the part where you say no.”
you let out a breathy laugh. “who says i’m going to say no?”
“you’re...” a giggle slips out of him and he slaps a hand over his mouth. “you’re saying no right now.”
( he remembers bokuto saying something about laughing more when you’re around the person you like—and this moment solidifies the claim for atsumu... he just thinks it’s a little inappropriate for it to kick in right now.
but if it goes wrong,
perhaps it can be something you both can laugh about later on. )
“no!” you close the distance—your smile much giddier than usual. “i wanna say yes. i’m saying yes.”
“yes?” atsumu finally breathes when you carefully pry his hand off his face.
“yes!” you squeeze his hand gently, anchoring him to reality.
the setter brings your hand to his lips, softly pressing a kiss to the back of your palm—his adrenaline still running rampant in his system.
miya atsumu completely melts into your embrace the moment you hold him. and he nods. a little shaken. a little at a loss for words. a little too happy.
( he doesn’t want to admit how warm he had gotten over the past few minutes and he even lets out a soft whine when you try to pull away. )
atsumu tenderly leaves another kiss on the top of your head.
“happy birthday.”
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notmrkillwolf666 · 1 year
An innocent man was falsely accused/framed for something he didn't do, was sent to an alien jail and everyone in there think he is a Hired Killer.
(I post it on here: https://www.reddit.com/r/humansarespaceorcs/comments/ulhio9/an_innocent_man_was_falsely_accusedframed_for/ and I want to re-repost it on here)
A man named Willie was framed for something he didn't do, as punishment, he was sent to an alien jail on the far side of the galaxy. when he got there, one of the aliens ask him how did he end up here?.
"I was a cleaner" a janitor "I am still trying to understand how this all happen?!." the alien thinks 'cleaner' is a nickname for a contract killer and the news of that share like crazy in there.
it didn't help for Willie that he was actually really good at his job and clean up messes like they didn't happen in the first place which add more fuel to the fire.
(someone can take this idea and go nuts with it.)
(the person who replay that post)
A1: a large spider-like alien asks So Human Willie, answer my questions and we might forgive this transgression. What has cursed me with your presence in my cell? What is your occupation? And who is your sponsor?
Willie: Well I don’t want any trouble. I got assigned as your cell mate, but what does my job matter?
A1: mandibles rattling in a laugh Human you are in my nest. Either you answer or I will use your skin as my bedding.
Willie: Oooookay then…. I was a cleaner. Worked many gigs on many worlds, a few space stations as well.
A1: A….a cleaner you say? And…. Who did you say your sponsor was?
Willie: Sponsor? I don’t have a sponsor, never needed one. Jobs always payed well enough, I just ran on my own power. Sometimes Ive had to…. Haggle…. with my customers but they always paid.
A1: I apologize, please forgive my hostility. A cleaner is an honored professional among T’carians. I offer you the choice of bunk as tribute for my insolence.
Willie: I…ummm thanks? I think id prefer the bottom bunk if thats okay?
A2: in walks a giant mantis What is this? A tasty snack has found its way into your web on its own?
A1: SILENCE!!! This is the a Cleaner you are speaking to! You will show him due respect or you may find yourself washed up.
A2: Oh….oh no… I am sorry please forgive me, I ment no offence. Please, I have some food rations I was saving but they are yours. I will retrieve them. Please don’t hurt me. runs away
Willie: What the fu-in walks/slimes a slug like being
A3: Hahahah why did Clix’tiab run out of here looking like he was going to void his bowels? He looked like he’s seen a-notices Willie oh no…… hey man Willie I got your money, I wasn’t trying to hide from you I just have been locked up is all. Don’t worry, Ill get right on having those credits sent to you right now. runs away
Willie: ….Well at least hes gonna pay me after that bullshit party he threw. Fuckin mess that was. Had eggs everywhere but was supposed to get paid extra to make sure the place was spotless after. You ever have to scrape burnt eggs from a cast iron pan?
A1: I….I have to go. It….I…think I heard my name called. I must go. flees
(something I made/add on to this idea)
ok, imagine this. one of the aliens in the jail got curious and ask him "what kind of place did you hate...'cleaning' at?" and Willie is immediately started to talk about one of the worst places that he had to clean up, a 4 out 5 star restaurant.
"OH! you want to know?!, let's talk about... 'that place' which I can't say because for an obvious reason." they pay him a lot of money to not say anything about it "but oh my fucking god, the money they give was not enough, I had to ask them to double my pay or I was going to throw them under the bus. because... have you cleaned up rotten meat before?... it's a nightmare, the smell, look, and hell, even when I had the gas mask on, I can still taste it in the back of my throat right now."
"it was so hard trying not to throw up and make more of a mess that was already going on in their place. and I hope you like putting trash bags inside of trash bags because that is what you need to do or you have that shit leaking through the bag."
"it was pure nightmare but one of the important things I learn and for some reason, if you need to clean up rotten meat. use lemon juice, lemon juice is going to be your best friend if you want to clean up and remove the smell off of you." that job took him 10 hours to get it done.
the alien who asks that is now very scared.
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shy-urban-hobbit · 2 months
Hiii can I get a 47. “Trust me.” from the Angst/fluff Prompt List with Aiden/Lambert? Ty! 💖
You most certainly can!!
47 - "Trust me" Lambert isn't used to being anyone's favourite and is, in true emotionally constipated Wolf style, super mature about it.
Lambert was never anyone’s favourite. Geralt was once again The Golden Boy thanks to his bard’s songs; Geralt himself had his sorceress who only had to click her fingers for him to come running and Lambert knew that Vesemir favoured Eskel, however much the old man tried to hide it. It was fine, honestly. If anything his life both before and after he was claimed by the Witchers had proven that being the centre of anyone’s attention only led to trouble and pain.
And then Aiden had happened. Aiden, who would give Lambert his full attention when he was speaking, no matter whether he was ranting about something inconsequential or telling a particularly funny anecdote. Aiden, who had surprised him with a bag of candied nuts and a casual “You said once that they were your favourites.” Just because ( fuck, even his brothers would forget that small fact and he’d grown up with them). Aiden, who would see to Lambert’s swords and armour if Lambert was ever too exhausted or too injured to do it himself (although to be fair, he’d returned the favour a few times with that one).
Aiden, who had thrown him for a loop by being the first person in his entire adult life who wanted to know about him. Not his ‘famous’ brother, not Lambert The Witcher, just... Lambert.
He found himself unexpectedly sympathising with Geralt about his bard as he waited for the other shoe to drop - no wonder Geralt was constantly trying to chase him away! How long before Aiden got bored, before he decided Lambert wasn’t actually worth knowing?
And so, he’d done what Vesemir had tried to encourage him to do since he was wet behind the ears – he’d taken a leaf out of his older brothers book.
At first Aiden was gracious enough to not push Lambert on his sudden, constant surliness, just reassuring him that he was there if Lambert ever decided to talk about whatever was bothering him. The Cat had been more persistent than Lambert had given him credit for (causing him to once again sympathise with Geralt about stubborn traveling companions), however, after weeks of this Aiden’s reassurance had finally turned to annoyance, which Lambert had latched onto like a leech and had resulted in a shouting match in the middle of the woods with language that would have gotten them thrown out of any respectable Inn. After several insults towards each others mothers and respective Schools, things finally came to a head.
“Just fuck off, Aiden!” Lambert yelled, jabbing a finger towards the surrounding trees.
“Oh believe me, I’ll be glad to see the back of you at this point but first you’re going to tell me what I did to piss you off!”
“Fucking nothing!”
“Then why are you-“ Aiden gave a frustrated, bordering on dangerous snarl before tackling Lambert to the ground and having him pinned and immobile before Lambert even knew what was happening (fucking underhanded Cat training), “I’m not going to keep going in God’s damned circles about this and I’m tired of you acting like someone’s pissed in your porridge. Talk to me, damnit.” Aiden growled, visibly forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths from where he was perched on top of Lambert.
“Just fuck off, Aiden.” Lambert repeated with far less bite, “You’re going to leave anyway so may as well do it now.”
Aiden blinked, “What – what ? Why would I leave?”
“Because people only ever want my brothers.”
“It’s fine.” Lambert bit out, “I’m used to it.”
“Lambert,” Aiden shifted slightly to allow Lambert to sit up if he chose to, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I couldn’t give two shits about your brothers. Frankly, I think Geralt could stand to be knocked down a peg or two. I much prefer you.”
“Because I like you.”
Aiden made it sound so simple...
“No, you don’t.”
“I’m not in the habit of traveling for weeks at a time with people I hate, Lambert. I want to be with you, I like being with you.”
Aiden stood, offering Lambert a hand, “Trust me.”
Lambert took hold and allowed Aiden to pull him up.
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